Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4647687.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Sirius_Black/Remus_Lupin
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley, Draco_Malfoy, Severus_Snape,
      Sirius_Black, Remus_Lupin, Albus_Dumbledore, Voldemort, Dolores_Umbridge
  Additional Tags:
      Magical_Inheritance, Phoenixes, Powerful_Harry, Mates, Bonding, Creature
      Fic, Attempted_Sexual_Assault, Hogwarts_Fifth_Year, Dumbledore's_Army,
      Torture, Past_Child_Abuse
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Phoenix_Prophecies
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-24 Chapters: 7/? Words: 71498
****** Harry Potter and the Power of the Phoenix ******
by RosYourBoat
Summary
     In this sequel to "Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Phoenix,"
     Harry returns to school for his fifth year much changed. The powers
     that he gained over the summer are becoming fully realized as his
     phoenix side searches for his mate. The distraction of hormones and
     bonding seems to be the last thing he needs to deal with while
     Voldemort continues to gather power and the wizarding world prepares
     for war, but his friends and family are with him every step of the
     way.
     This fic is unfinished, and will remain so.
Notes
     Part of my recent excavation and expunction of all of my old fics
     from my hard drive to an online form, where they can be held as an
     indelible and inescapable memento of my past obsessions. These fics
     are all unbeta'd and heretofore unseen by anyone but me. I hope
     someone else feels some of the enjoyment I received from writing
     them.
     "Harry Potter and the Power of the Phoenix" was written in April of
     2008, and is incomplete. Underage sexual content (Harry ad Draco are
     still 15, regardless of how maturely they are written), as well as
     continued violence and aftermath from Harry's abusive past eases this
     fic up to Explicit. This chapter contains a sexual assault.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
    Draco Malfoy was certainly not ignorant. Nor was he dull or unobservant or
slow or compassionate or any number of things that Malfoy's were not supposed
to be. And so, even though he had certainly noticed Potter's rather...
significant changes over the summer he, at least, had been able to hide his
reaction in the depths of his mind to be visited late in the night with a
silencing charm on the door. It disgusted him that the rest of the population
of Hogwarts, apparently, did not share this trait.
    He had to admit that it had been quite funny at first to see the reactions
of the student body when they had finally caught a good glimpse of the Boy Who
Lived at the Gryffindor table before the Welcoming Feast began. Other than the
rest of the Golden Trio, the entire Gryffindor table had suddenly found it much
more difficult to pay attention to the Sorting because they were too busy
drowning in their own drool, and the rest of the tables weren't that much
better. Even the Slytherins had barely been able to insult the boy properly,
and there were several audible groans when Dumbledore had announced that Harry
had contracted a rare form of dragon pox that wouldn't allow him to touch
anyone for at least three weeks. It had been funny, until Draco had noticed
just how much Harry's looks were affecting the student body. It was to a point
that people were deliberately reaching over or across him so that they could
touch him, and a small, rather dusty part of Draco's mind had heatedly noted
the winces of pain that crossed Harry's face frequently. Not to mention the
absurdity of the student body becoming whores overnight.
    Vaguely unsettled at the emotions Harry's plight had stirred in him, Draco
had sat at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall and simmered silently, the
brooding expression on his face making it clear that anyone who interrupted his
thoughts would find their hand pinned to the table by his fork. They probably
thought he was jealous that Potter had stolen the limelight with his looks.
Draco couldn't really care less what they thought at that moment. He knew that
Potter was so utterly oblivious when it came to the affect he had on others
that Harry would never even dreamof using his looks to his advantage. Draco was
even beginning to doubt that Harry even realized how attractive he was, so he
had no worries of the Boy Who Lived using his looks like Draco used his own.
    As the Sorting Hat was put away and dinner appeared, Draco took the time to
actually look at Harry Potter, if only to see what had caused such a
disturbance. As a rule, Draco tended to only glance over the physical features
of those around him. He didn't want to give the impression that he was actually
interested in anyone in particular, and it was rare that he wanted to start a
conversation, so the only purposes to an extensive visual groping would be to
insult, to suggest, or to imprint images that could be used later that night
(however, such a glance could only be taken when it was certain that the victim
would not notice). Since Harry was really the only person that Draco had
actively flirted with for the purpose of seduction, Draco had given the other
boy a look-over several times, but he had been careful to not look tooclosely.
With how volatile the summer (and their relationship) had been, it was always
dangerous to linger too long over certain features. But now, safely across the
room, Draco allowed himself to actually look.
    Harry was hunched over his barely picked-at meal, looking miserable as he
tried to avoid any possible contact from both Ron and Seamus Finnegan, who was
particularly eager in his attempts to reach the pot of honey across from Harry.
Finally, the Granger girl across from Harry seemed to snap at the Irish boy and
stood up, stalking around the table to yank him out of his seat. Seamus was so
surprised that he only managed weak protests before he was forced to find
another seat as Granger took his (Draco smirked at this, feeling oddly pleased
at the Irish boy's ousting). The relief on Harry's face was palpable as he
stood to make more room for Granger to sit. Draco slid his gaze down the lean
lines of Harry's body, disappointed that they were mostly hidden by his black
robes. No help there. His eyes gravitated once more to Harry's face, which was
now more relaxed with Hermione comforting him.
    Even at this distance, Draco felt his breath catch at the otherworldly
beauty of the Boy Who Lived. His lips were full and red, so easy to stretch
into a smile that just barely uncovered his white teeth and yet made the
recipient feel as though it was just for them. It made the room ten times
brighter. His skin was pale, almost too pale as if he had spent the entire
summer inside, and yet it nearly glowed with... something beneath the surface.
Words like "power", "life", and "youthfulness" didn't seem to describe it
accurately enough. His skin was as smooth as a duckling's down, untouched by
spots or freckles, and Draco imagined that it felt even softer. It was
perfectly enhanced by the pitch black of his messy locks of hair that
occasionally tumbled over his eyes and brushed his delicate jaw. It gave him a
wild, untamed look that belied his obvious innocence. It made him look like he
had just been shagged. Draco suddenly glanced away from Harry, both to not
attract attention to the fact that he was staring and so that his mind wouldn't
venture into dangerous territory. After a moment, however, his eyes swung back
to Harry's face seemingly of their own volition. By chance, he happened to
catch Harry's gaze as he did so, and his heart stopped for a beat.
    Time seemed to slow. Harry's eyes were so deep and piercing that Draco felt
as though he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. They were bright, so
overwhelmingly bright that he wasn't entirely certain that they wouldn't glow
if he turned off the lights. A beautiful shade... not quite grass green or tree
green, but the prismatic colors of an emerald captured in those large, innocent
and yet haunted eyes framed by a thick fan of long lashes. They completed
Harry's fey appearance, making him seem like something from another planet,
unique even in the Wizarding World.
    Then, Harry looked away, his smile dimming noticeably but not completely,
and Draco blinked as the spell was lifted off of him. A blush almost rose to
his face when he realized how horribly Hufflepuff his thoughts had become, but
he managed to suppress it to a faint dust of pink over his cheeks that still
had his housemates staring at him like he had burst out into song. His heart
continued to beat fast, but this time for a different reason. They can't
suspect a thing... He scowled at them dangerously, stiffening his spine and
hardening his expression until there was absolutely no doubt that there had
never been a softer look in the Malfoy heir's eyes. There had been no warmth.
No touch of affection or desire. Only hard, flat emptiness.
    Inwardly, Draco was holding his breath in fear. He had been stupid.
Idiotic. Granted, he hadn't expected to be drawn into Harry's appearance so
fully, but it would be better if he was more careful where his eyes wandered.
Not just for his safety from suspicion, but also for his own sanity. After all,
it was still Harry Bloody Potter, even if he was hotter than hell, and they had
hated each other for four years. Two weeks and an utterly hellish summer
couldn't change that completely.
(Could it...?)
===============================================================================
 
    Harry Potter sighed as he collapsed into his favorite armchair by the
Gryffindor common room fire and he rubbed his face tiredly with a soft groan.
School had only been in session for three weeks and he was already exhausted.
The schoolwork wasn't difficult; in fact, with the study and training he had
had over the summer at Grimmauld Place, he was finding school easier than he
had ever had before and had no trouble understanding the material as well as
Hermione did. In order to keep a low profile, however, he purposely made
mistakes until his work was just about on par with what it had been in past
years.
    No, schoolwork was not the problem, and neither was the mocking articles in
the Daily Prophet that suggested that he was an attention-seeking nutter. Not
even his horrifying nightmares or the visions he received from Voldemort on a
regular basis were what caused his exhaustion, though they did contribute to
it. Harry had been dealing with these things for so long that he had become
somewhat accustomed to them and had his own ways of dealing with the stress
they caused.
    What caused his limbs to constantly tremble and his body to tense nervously
was, in fact, the presence of the students around him. Nothing about them, in
particular, was different from before; they were as normal as they had ever
been. It was Harry who had changed. After a traumatizing summer suffering his
uncle's abuse in tandem with Voldemort's visions of death and torture, Harry
had been a broken shell of himself; forced to mature even more than he had been
before. When Remus, Sirius, and the Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks
discovered what had been happening to him while at the Dursley's, they were
quick to become his surrogate family once he arrived at Sirius' old family home
after a Death Eater attack on the Dursley's. He had slowly but surely recovered
both mentally and physically, though the scars of the summer were deep and
still healing in his mind.
    It was the night of his fifteenth birthday that Harry's body had been
bonded to that of the golden phoenix Zephyr, through a painful process that
left his body and magic permanently altered. In the following month, Harry's
life had become a confusing and distressing whirlwind of training, life-
changing prophecies, death, pain, and a confusing new relationship with Draco
Malfoy, who had also been changed in his own way by the events of the summer.
The two latched onto each other as a means of staying sane and had fallen into
a tentative, cautious friendship borne from similarity and understanding.
However, with the amount of pain Harry was receiving from the constant visions,
Harry's "inner phoenix" had accelerated its instinctual search for a life mate,
forcing his body to become hypersensitive to the touch of anyone who wasn't his
mate, which was a constant source of pain and the cause of his current
exhaustion and jumpiness.
    Harry had never realized how often casual and accidental touches occurred
in an average day, but he was feeling the pain of it every time it happened.
The school's occupants knew that he couldn't touch anyone else, but the
Headmaster had told them at the Opening Feast that it was because of a rare
form of dragon pox, and few people knew the real reason. In fact, only the
Order of the Phoenix and Ron and Hermione knew that it was because he was
searching for his mate, but Draco, who had stayed at Grimmauld Place for the
last two weeks of summer to escape his father, knew that Harry had never had
dragon pox and was highly curious as to the real reason.
    Shifting in his armchair to face the warmth of the fire fully, Harry closed
his eyes and leaned back, rubbing the back of his right hand absently. There
was another reason that Harry's body and mind were straining under the constant
stress of his life, and this came in the form of a large, squat, pink-shawled
monster by the name of Dolores Umbridge. "Professor" Umbridge, the new Defense
Against the Dark Arts teacher that the Ministry of Magic had sent to Hogwarts
when Dumbledore was unable to find one fast enough, had fallen rather nicely
into Harry's definition of the term "evil", and considering the life he led,
that was saying a lot.
    Other than her goal to expel Harry, as Dumbledore had warned, Umbridge also
seemed to be under Fudge's orders to find out if Dumbledore was amassing an
army of students and teachers within Hogwarts to take over the Ministry. Within
days of the term beginning, Umbridge had named herself Hogwarts "High
Inquisitor", which gave her the power to inspect the teacher's curriculums and
the teacher's themselves and report back to the Ministry. Hagrid was missing at
the moment (Harry suspected he was on a mission for the Order), and Harry
thought that Umbridge would have a field day with the half-giant's class if
Hagrid wasn't warned when he came back.
    The first day that they had had her class, she had informed them that her
teaching would be entirely theory-based and even Hermione, who loved learning
in any form, had to protest that they could hardly learn to defend against Dark
Arts when they didn't even use their wand the entire year. Umbridge had ignored
all protests however, and continued to teach from her worthless textbook while
taking every opportunity she could to try and get a rise out of Harry by
antagonizing him constantly. True to his promise to his godfather and
Dumbledore, Harry had just taken this new form of abuse silently even when
other members of the class were horrified by the low remarks and insults that
the toad-faced woman sneered at Harry daily in the hopes of getting him
expelled.
    Despite the fact that Harry never responded to her words, Umbridge had
still managed to punish the Boy Who Lived by assigning him ridiculous amounts
of detentions for, more often than not, imagined slights that quickly became
legend around school as Harry was forced to spend hours on end in Umbridge's
classroom, sometimes as often as three times a week. This alone was not what
classified the woman as "evil" in Harry's mind, however. It was the punishment
she administered during her detentions that nearly broke the bonds of his self-
control in his desire to curse her into oblivion. The first time that Umbridge
had used the Blood Quill, a Dark object, was during his first detention and she
informed him that every time he had detention with her, he would write the
words "I must not tell lies" over and over again until the detention was over.
He had thought that it would not be so bad, but when the words he was writing
began to etch themselves into the back of his hand and his blood appeared as
the ink, Harry had realized that the woman was not to be underestimated.
    After so many detentions, those words had stopped fading and instead took
longer and longer to heal and scabbed over, becoming white scars that were hard
to notice if you didn't know they were there. It had quickly become a new habit
for Harry to rub his fingers over the words on the back of his hand when he was
nervous, thoughtful, or lying, and Harry was still unsure why his friends had
not yet noticed that the scars were there. Of course, he had never told them
what Umbridge made him use a Blood Quill when he wrote lines and they were busy
worrying about their own schoolwork and such, but some part of him was still
hurt that they hadn't noticed. Draco, on the other hand, had noticed Harry's
new habit when he watched the green-eyed boy from across the room, but Harry
knew that the blond had never been close enough to see the scars.
    Draco had carefully kept his distance from Harry while still "fighting"
with him on a regular basis to keep up appearances, but he had always made sure
that Umbridge was not nearby and that the "fights" never became physical.
Unfortunately, the two had not been able to find the time or place to continue
the conversations they had had so often while at Grimmauld Place, and they only
had glances and their knowledge of each other's body language to convey their
feelings to the other. Harry wished they could return to the casual bantering
of the summer and he silently despaired that he had thus far been unable to
locate his mate, desperate for the return of some normalcy to his life. The end
of the month was swiftly approaching, and the end of the effects of Harry's
"dragon pox" would end with it. He was so desperate for the constant pain to
end that he had reduced himself to brushing up against anyone he met to see if
they were his mate, but his efforts had yielded nothing but pain thus far. The
only people he hadn't come into contact with were the Slytherins and the
teachers.
    Harry shuddered in horror when he thought of the possibility of Snape or
Trelawney being his mate.
    However, despite the lack of a mate, there was some sign of the emergence
of other phoenix abilities he had inherited with the bond to Zephyr. At the end
of one of the more recent detentions with Umbridge, the toad-like woman had
approached Harry's desk and grabbed his right hand. She liked to do this
occasionally, knowing that it caused him pain to touch other people, but this
time pain had not only lanced through the skin of his hand and through his
body, but it had also flashed across his scar. A very familiar pain, but it was
a little different and was accompanied by a swoop of foreign emotion in his
stomach. Later, Harry realized that the emotion was happiness. After checking
with Zephyr, it was confirmed that he had experienced a mild connection with
his latent empathic abilities. He had not been able to sleep that night.

    Harry was brought out of his brooding thoughts when someone approached the
couch adjacent to his chair and flopped into it. Glancing over in surprise, he
smiled when he saw Ron sprawled across the couch and Hermione sitting next to
him with a huff. Though they hadn't noticed Umbridge's abuse during detentions,
they had been instrumental in Harry staying somewhat sane. They had seemed to
make it their duty to protect him from forgetful students in the crowded
corridors and also help him find his mate by finding excuses to bring him into
contact with other students around the school.
    "That Umbridge woman is- is impossible!" Hermione sputtered, glaring at the
fire as if it were Umbridge herself. "I can't stand it anymore! Three weeks
into the term, and we haven't learned a single hex, a single shield! How does
the ministry expect us to be able to defend ourselves!" Ron rolled his eyes and
sent a pleading look to Harry, as if begging him to cast a silencing charm on
the girl. Harry held up his hands in a helpless gesture and shook his head. Ron
sighed and took a deep breath before turning to Hermione.
    "'Mione, you've been saying the same thing for the past week, but you
haven't done anything about it. We all agree with you, so you should either be
quiet about it or start a Defense club or something like Lockhart did in second
year. Complaining about it won't change anything, so... you should, um, do
something about it... er, right, Harry?" Ron sent him a panicked look. By the
end of his little speech, Hermione expression had become frighteningly blank as
she stared at Ron, running her fingers along her wand absently.
    "Is that what you really think, Ron?" She asked calmly, a hard edge to her
voice. Ron began nodding his head, but then quickly changed his mind, shaking
his head vigorously with a gulp.
    "Er, no, not really. Of course not, it was just the... um, hunger getting
to me, you know. I haven't eaten in a few hours, and... er, my brain's not
really, um, thinking well, you see..."
    Harry chuckled inwardly as Ron continued to fumble for an excuse to calm
the bushy-haired witch. Some things never changed.
    "Erm... why don't we go down to dinner?" Harry suggested before Ron could
find himself on the wrong end of Hermione's wand. Ron jumped at the suggestion
and was halfway to the portrait opening before Harry even stood up, chuckling.
    "Honestly," Hermione clucked, annoyed. As they followed the eager redhead
into the Great Hall, she turned her head to look Harry over critically. "How
are you, Harry? We haven't had much time to talk with school starting up, but
I've noticed that you're looking peakish again and you're not eating as much as
you used to. You're not letting Umbridge get to you, are you? Or is it...
something else?"
    Harry ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the soft tresses until they
stuck up again, and shook his head tiredly. "No, it's not Umbridge; I don't
care about her. This whole dragon pox business is starting to get to me,
though, and I just want it to be over with as soon as possible."
    They had nearly reached the Gryffindor table by now and Hermione hesitated
before saying, "Don't worry Harry, I'm sure it'll be over with soon. You'll
just have to keep an open mind and keep your hopes up." Harry nodded,
understanding what she was trying to say. She understood that his mate was now
more than likely a Slytherin or even an adult and she was telling him that she
would stand by him and support him no matter the outcome. Harry hoped that Ron
would be the same way.
    He sat at his usual spot next to Ron, across from Hermione, and facing the
other three tables with his back to the wall. He had always been more
comfortable where he could see everyone and he scanned the tables absently as
he served himself some vegetables, meeting Draco's eyes briefly before sliding
away to meet another person's eyes, which were staring directly at him.
Startled, Harry blinked and focused on the person again, brilliant green eyes
flickering over the non-descript face and Ravenclaw patch on his robes before
glancing back up at the face. The boy - a seventh-year, Harry thought - didn't
remove his penetrating gaze from Harry, and Harry grew a bit uncomfortable,
sending him a small smile in the hopes of making the boy aware that Harry knew
he was staring. The older boy smiled briefly in return and Harry's discomfort
eased a bit.
    He returned to his conversation with his friends, but was now fully aware
of the eyes that continued to watch him. The boy - Bryon Bradley, his mind
supplied uncertainly - seemed vaguely familiar, as if Harry had seen him in the
halls once or twice, but then again he had the kind of face that you forgot not
long after seeing it. Harry didn't really understand why he was dwelling on
someone who probably just wanted to see the Boy Who Lived in his "natural
environment", but he had a strange feeling in his gut that told him to keep an
eye on Bryon Bradley.
   Harry had become used to being stared at over his years at Hogwarts and in
the wizarding world, but he had always been able to tell the difference when
someone was staring just to stare at his scar and when someone was staring for
a completely different reason. As the next few days passed, Harry "tuned in" to
the kind of stares he was receiving and found that most of them were still-
curious first- and second-years, some were hateful Slytherins, and the most
disturbing was the calculating stare of Bryon Bradley. Harry didn't know how he
didn't recognize the boy, it seemed that he turned up everywhere that Harry was
except in class; brushing by him in the halls, sitting a few tables over in the
library, staring during meals...
    Harry was starting to think the Ravenclaw had put a notice-me-not charm on
himself.
    When he told Hermione and Ron about it, they were concerned and told him
that they would hex Bradley into next week if he tried anything, but really
there was nothing they could do until Bradley did something first. However, one
night after detention with Umbridge (this time for dropping a book and
"disturbing the class"), Hermione drove all thoughts of the strange seventh-
year out of Harry's mind for quite some time.
    He had been frantically completing an essay on a table by the common room
fire when Hermione and Ron had sat down at the table with him. The room had
emptied before he had gotten back from detention with Umbridge and now the fire
was beginning to die down as he tried to finish his homework. He barely noticed
Hermione putting up privacy and notice-me-not charms around their table,
looking like she was preparing for war. To her credit, however, Hermione did
wait until he finished the essay before dropping the bombshell on him and
completely ruining his day.
    "Harry, Ron and I had an idea that I think would fix the Umbridge
problem..." She began, and Harry automatically turned to look at Ron. His
expression told Harry that Ron thought that Hermione was mad to talk to him and
that Ron would rather be somewhere else. That meant that it was mostly
Hermione's idea.
    "Hermione, Ron talks about throwing Umbridge off the Astronomy tower nearly
every day. You're not starting to listen to him, are you?" Harry asked
amusedly.
    "Not that idea," Hermione huffed. "I meant the idea that we start a club
like in second year. A sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts club for people
who are tired of Umbridge. Honestly, even the Slytherins are complaining about
her teaching by now."
    "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea," Harry mused. "Everyone needs to
learn Defense, especially the seventh years, but I doubt that Umbridge will
stand for it."
    "I thought about that," she admitted. "We might have to be a secret club."
    "Right, if you could get a system that works without her finding out about
it, what would you do? Look up jinxes and shields in the library and try to
practice them in what little spare time you have?"
     "No, I think we've moved beyond the point of learning from books. We need
a real teacher, someone who knows what they're doing and can tell us if we're
doing it right or not. And this is more important than grades or homework, we
really need to know how to protect ourselves."  Harry and Ron stared at her in
awe.
    "Wow, I never thought that I'd hear you say that anything was more
important than homework." Ron whispered, as if speaking too loudly would cause
her to change her mind. Hermione rolled her eyes.
    "Right, ok, so a teacher," Harry said, frowning and furrowing his brows.
"Where are you going to find a teacher that would teach an illegal club? If
you're talking about Remus-"
    "No, no," Hermione said quickly. "I've already thought about him, but he's
probably busy with the Order and Sirius, and that's the same with all the other
Order members. Besides, people are still a bit worried about the fact that
Professor Lupin is a werewolf; they might not want to be taught by him."
    "Wait, just how many people are you planning on getting into this club?"
Harry asked, confused. "Practically everyone we know loves Remus and they don't
care that he's a werewolf."
    "Er, well..." Hermione's face turned a bit pink. "I kind of already
discussed my idea with a few people, and they really loved it. Ravenclaws and
Gryffindors especially, but Hufflepuffs might join too, so probably around...
thirty people?"
    Harry stared at her incredulously. "Are you mad?" He asked. "You're signing
people up for a club that doesn't exist with a teacher you don't have?" Ron
nodded vigorously in agreement, looking relieved that someone was attempting to
talk her out of it.
    "That's not true!" Hermione said indignantly. "I was thinking that we could
sort of... teach ourselves. I sort've got a teacher in mind, one of the older
students, you know..."
    "An older student..." Harry said slowly, feeling his stomach sink. "Who?"
Hermione took a deep breath, shooting him a quick glance, and Ron groaned,
covering his eyes like a train wreck was happening right in front of him.
Harry's breath caught and he stiffened. She wouldn't...  
    "Well... you, of course."
    Harry stared. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire.
Harry turned to share an exasperated look with Ron, but was consternated to see
Ron giving him a sheepish grin, his ears a bit red. He shrugged. "It's not a
bad idea, mate," he offered. Harry blinked, a disbelieving smile tugging at his
lips.
    "You're joking, right? I can't teach."
    "Harry, you're the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts in the entire
school! You always have been!" Harry's smile faltered, realizing that they were
actually serious.
    "You're mad," he said blankly. "If you're thinking about going underground,
there's no way that I can even be a part of it. Umbridge is watching me like a
hawk and I can't risk doing anything against the rules."
    "Oh, but Harry-!" Hermione pleaded anxiously.
    "Of course not, don't even think about it. There's no possible way I could
join, even if I needed or wanted to; what with Umbridge on my back and classes
and Quidditch starting up. Don't even think about it, Hermione, don't ask me."
    "But people are expecting you to be there!" She cried, taking full
advantage of the silencing charms she had put up. As it was, Harry was finding
it difficult not to shout or storm from the room. Ron glanced around the room
quickly and looked back at Harry, wincing at the darkened expression on his
face. Harry gripped the edges of the table and leaned across it, eyes blazing
like emerald flames.
    "Are you insane?" He hissed, making her flinch. "You've already told them
that I would teach? If Umbridge catches wind of this-"
    "Of course I didn't, Harry," she snapped, regaining her composure. "I only
said that we needed a teacher like you; someone strong and kind and generous,
someone who has experience in fighting. I only mentioned your name, but I
guess, er... it kind of got blown out of proportion and now everyone thinks
that you'll be teaching us how to fight."
    Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair and giving her a hard look.
"I know you're not stupid, Hermione. You know as well as I do that all they
want is to see the Boy Who Lived."
    "And they all have good reason to! I'm not saying that it's right or fair,
but the fact is that they all look up to you and respect what you say. I mean,
just look at what you've done! First year - you saved the Stone from You-Know-
Who-"
    "That was luck," Harry protested, "that wasn't skill-"
    "Second year," Ron interrupted, grinning, "you killed the basilisk and
destroyed Riddle."
    "Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I-"
    Hermione spoke right over him. "Third year, you fought off about a hundred
Dementors at once-"
    "You know that was a fluke, if the Time Turner hadn't-"
    "Last year," Ron said loudly, "you fought off You-Know-Who again-"
    "Listen to me!" Harry said, almost angrily. With every incident they
mentioned with those smug smiles on their faces, a suffocating feeling of anger
and helplessness had slowly crept up through his stomach and to his lungs. They
had no idea what it was like! "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great
when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck - I didn't know what I
was doing half the time, I just did everything I could think of and I nearly
always had help. I was just being stupid-"
    They were still grinning as if he was just being modest, as if he didn't
know that he was lucky to be alive, and Harry felt his anger spike. He
controlled it with some difficulty, however, not wanting to bring it to
Voldemort's attention.
    "Look, you don't know better than I do; I was there, wasn't I?" He said
lowly, tightly. "I know what happened, and I didn't get through any of that
because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all
because - because help came at the right time or because I guessed right. I
just blundered through it all, I had no idea what I was doing - stop laughing!"
He stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Sparks of green light snapped up
from the surface of the table around his hands, but he didn't notice. Hermione
and Ron's smiles had vanished.
    "You don't know what it's like! Neither of you have ever had to face him,
have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at
him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing
between you and dying except your own - your own brain, or guts. It's trying to
think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or
tortured, or watching your friends die - they've never taught us that in
classes, what it's like to deal with things like that. And you two just sit
there and act like I'm a clever little boy, that Cedric was stupid, like he
messed up - but it could have been me, it would've been me if Voldemort hadn't
needed me-"
    He broke off, panting, before he lost control completely. He collapsed back
into his seat and buried his face in his hands, rubbing hard before running
them through his raven-black hair.
    "But- but, don't you see, Harry?" Hermione said hesitantly. "That's why we
need you to teach us. You know what it's like, and we all need to learn and be
prepared for the war. We're all going to be right in the middle of a war when
we graduate, and we need to know how to deal with that. They don't just want to
see the Boy-Who-Lived - they all want to be able to protect their family and
friends, they all want to survive, and they all want hope. Hope you can give
them!"
    Harry sighed, calming down slightly as he registered the truth of her
words. "I understand, Hermione, I really do... and I sympathize with them. I'm
just tired of standing out. Defense against the Dark Arts is my life; I don't
learn it for fun or to get a good grade in class, I train so that I can
survive. With my track record, I'll end up fighting Death Eaters or Voldemort
himself again, so I need to learn all I can and keep it a secret as I do so. I
just don't have the time or the luxury to teach a bunch of kids how to defend
themselves - that's not my responsibility."
    "Just think about it, would you Harry?" Hermione pleaded. "We need you!"
Harry nodded wearily, more to get her to stop looking at him like that, and
stood again. He shoved a bunch of his books into his book bag and slung it over
his shoulder, waving his hand in a casual movement to remove the charms around
their table.
    "I've got to go to bed or I won't be able to wake up tomorrow," he said,
ignoring their gobsmacked expressions as they stared that the blackened
impressions of his hand prints in the table. Without waiting for their
responses, he left the room, stalking up the boys' staircase with stiff
movements.
===============================================================================

    Over the next few days Hermione and Ron mostly left him alone, acting like
nothing had happened, but the worried, slightly guilty glances Hermione sent
him every once in a while grated on his nerves. Almost unconsciously, he had
been watching his fellow students in class and knew that they weren't ready for
the war that would inevitably come. Most of them learned spells quickly, but
failed to draw their wand properly or they needed work on their aim. Small
things, things that could be easily corrected and taught in a Defense class,
but with such disastrous consequences should they find themselves in a battle.
    Despite himself, Harry was considering Hermione's request. He couldn't
ignore the fact that a whole generation that had gone almost their entire
schooling career without a proper Defense teacher would soon be graduating into
a world of war. However, he couldn't even consider taking on another
responsibility without his mate; he was barely scraping through without going
insane as it was.
    The third day after Hermione asked him to teach, Harry sat in Umbridge's
office contemplating the problem as he repeatedly carved the words "I must not
tell lies" into his hand. The almost constant pain that had become part of his
life was nearly driving the phoenix part of him insane without his mate, but
the human majority of him had become somewhat used to it. After a life of
Vernon's abuse and Voldemort's visions, Harry had a very high threshold of pain
and though the throbbing pain of the wound on his hand was getting worse each
time he was forced to cut into it, for now it was easily ignored.
    He paused for a moment and stretched his fingers slightly; they were
beginning to cramp. Glancing out the window, he saw nothing but pitch black and
realized that his detention would soon be over since it must be approaching
midnight. Far past curfew, but Umbridge never sent him an excuse note in case
he got caught by a prefect.
    "Well well, let's see how we've done today," Umbridge's high-pitched,
sugary voice broke into Harry's thoughts and he put down the quill gratefully.
The woman waddled over to his desk and snatched his hand, gripping the fingers
tightly as she inspected the cuts on the back of his hand. Harry gritted his
teeth, nearly whimpering at the amount of pain her touch caused him. Satisfied
that the wound was bleeding freely and wouldn't heal for quite some time,
Umbridge dropped his hand with a smirk that stretched across her toad-like face
like molasses. Harry let out a gasp of relief.
    "It looks like your hand will be in no condition to write tomorrow; a
shame, really, but I'm so glad that I finally managed to make an impression,"
she said sweetly. "You've finished up the last of your detentions at the
moment; do try to watch what you do from now on, won't you dear? You may return
to your common room now."
    Harry mumbled a farewell and left the kitten-laden classroom as fast as he
could. As soon as he was out of sight of the room, however, he slowed to a walk
and glanced over his hand carefully. With a sigh, he pulled a length of
bandages from his pocket and wrapped them around his hand as best he could,
pulling on his gloves afterwards with a worried wince. The gloves that he was
forced to wear everyday prevented anyone from seeing the bandages, but in some
classes, like Potions, he was required to take the gloves off, and he wasn't
sure what Draco would do if he saw the bloodied bandages around his hand. Maybe
he could put a notice-me-not charm on it...
    Harry was broken from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps mirroring his
own somewhere down the corridor and he sighed disappointedly. The halls were
deserted as it was past curfew, and the prefects were probably still scouring
the corridors for people snogging or playing pranks, which meant that he would
probably get another detention for being out late. Harry would have had Zephyr
take him to his bed with phoenix travel, but he had never let her remain in his
body after the first detention with Umbridge, knowing how it distressed her,
and she was out hunting at the moment. However, Harry was startled when he saw,
not one of the House prefects, but Bryon Bradley round the corner behind him.
    "Bradley? What are you doing out past curfew?" Harry asked cautiously; he
still hadn't forgotten the strange, foreboding feeling he got whenever he was
near the Ravenclaw. The tall boy shrugged his shoulders easily as he approached
with a faint grin on his lips. Harry had never heard him speak before, and when
he did, it was with a somewhat deep voice that had an edge of excitement to it.
    "I was looking for you; everyone knows that you get out of detention with
Umbridge past curfew."
    He had come within an arm's reach of Harry before he paused, still smiling.
Harry frowned, confused. "What? Why would-"
    Harry was cut off when the Ravenclaw moved like lightning, snapping his
hand out to grasp Harry's wrist and throw him against the nearby wall. The
breath was knocked from Harry's body with a gasp and he was momentarily
stunned, providing an opportunity for Bradley to pin both of his wrists to the
wall by his head and press his body close to Harry's, preventing any movement.
Beneath his surprise, Harry's mind was racing frantically, wondering how all
the Ministry Aurors and Dumbledore could have missed a Death Eater spy in
Ravenclaw; weren't they checking for those things?
    However, all thought stopped when the larger boy pressed even closer, his
body flush against Harry's and his head dropping to rest in the crook of his
neck. Harry could feel a length of hard heat pressing into his stomach through
his clothes, revealing the other boy's prominent arousal as Bradley breathed
Harry's scent deeply and began suckling on the soft skin of Harry's neck. What
the hell?This was almost too much. His head buzzed with dizzy confusion and his
stomach rolled against the sickness and pain that the other boy was causing in
his body; the phoenix in his mind screeching its horror and dismay.
    "Oh, I've waited for so long, Harry," Bradley groaned into his neck, biting
down at the junction between his neck and shoulder. "Ever since your first
year. You were so cute back then, so tiny and innocent; I wanted you back then,
too, but I waited. I knew you wouldn't want me back then, you were too young,
but you can appreciate my love for you now, can't you, Harry?" He ground his
hips into Harry and tightened his grip on Harry's wrists almost to the point of
pain.
    I bought us some new toys to play with, freak! Try to get out of these!
    "What- I don't- get off of me!" Harry stuttered, thoughts scattering as
memories of his uncle's abuse unexpectedly rose up in his mind. "Let me go!"
    You're going to listen to me now, boy, aren't you?
    Bradley was saying something again, reassurances and promises of pleasure.
Harry barely understood what he was saying anymore. He did understand, however,
when Bradley cast a spell with the wand clamped in his left hand and removed
his bruising grip from Harry's wrists. Immediately, he began struggling, but
his wrists seemed to be superglued to the wall and no amount of tugging or
straining would move them. In the next second, he forgot all about his wrists,
as Bradley snaked his cold hands through Harry's open robe and up his shirt,
making Harry's flesh simultaneously burn and gooseflesh at his touch.
    Oh, so the worthless freak is cold? Too bad! You can't come in until you
finish painting the shed, even if it takes you all night!
    He let out a whimper of pain that quickly broke off into a pained cry as
the aroused Ravenclaw pinched his nipples roughly, Harry's shirt bunched up
around his wrists. Harry's mind spun with this new pain and his defenses seemed
to have seized up completely. All he could do was stiffen when he felt that
hard heat against his stomach again, this time velvety smooth and dripping
silky fluid that was spread across his skin as Bradley thrust harshly against
him. Apparently the Ravenclaw had not worn underwear, making it easy to unzip
his trousers beneath his open robe for easy access. Harry's mind seemed frozen
on the fact that the Ravenclaw was practically humping him against the freezing
stone walls of the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, his home.
    You have no home, boy. This is our home that you're infesting; no one else
loved you enough to take you in, so we got stuck with you!
    Harry let out another cry of protest as Bradley began biting the sides of
his neck up to his jaw, but the Ravenclaw just clamped a hand over his mouth.
His thrusts were coming faster now, his hard erection sliding wetly against
Harry's hip and stomach as the Ravenclaw reached down with one hand and
unbuttoned the top of Harry's trousers before he growled in frustration and
used the hand to stroke himself instead. Harry's whimpers of pain escalated
into a muffled wail as the pain from Bradley touch abruptly spiked.
    I bet'cher wondr'in what th' knife's for, eh boy? It's ter make sure that
ev'ryone knows wha' ta freak you are so they'll shtay away from you and shtay
alive!
    Suddenly, the taller boy stiffened and let out a hoarse cry, and Harry felt
his stomach get splattered with ropey strands of warm liquid that burned even
more fiercely against his skin. Realizing what had happened, his struggle
renewed and he bit savagely into Bradley's hand, causing the sated boy to rear
back in surprise and slap him. Almost instantly, however, Bradley was back and
caressing Harry's cheek, murmuring apologies and promises to pleasure him in a
few minutes.
    No one's going to love you, freak!
    "Get away from me!" Harry spat, shaking his head to clear it and remove
Bradley's hand. The Ravenclaw's eyes darkened, but before he could do anything,
something barreled into his side and he was thrown to the floor, ripping away
part of Harry's shirt in the process. Bright slivers of silver flashed in the
flickering light of the dim corridor and Harry gaped as he watched Draco
Malfoy, the proud, cultured aristocrat, kick savagely at the Ravenclaw on the
floor. Draco's hair was mussed and out of place, his face pale and tight with
rage as he viciously kicked the older boy in the groin and ribs. Bradley never
knew what hit him.
    Harry noticed the exact moment that the Ravenclaw fell unconscious, because
the invisible bonds holding his body to the wall abruptly vanished and he
collapsed to the floor. Draco noticed as Harry sat up and he slowly stopped
kicking the unconscious body, still breathing heavily. Finally, he spat on the
floor and snarled "Bastard," before turning and crouching by Harry's side.
    "Draco? I- he-" Harry stared up at him dumbly, stuttering as he tried to
express his disgust. "Oh Merlin..." 
    "Don't worry, Harry," Draco said, his voice almost gentle as he looked the
Gryffindor over for immediate injuries. "He's going to be expelled. After he
spends some time in St. Mungo's, of course."
    Harry didn't smile. "He nearly..." he trailed off faintly. "Why couldn't I
do anything? I had - there were- so many places to - to get away. I just - I
just let him do that! What the hell is wrong with me?!"
    Draco reached out a hand hesitantly but stopped himself before he touched
the smaller boy. "Don't think about it like that," he said instead, his grey
eyes concerned as he took in Harry's stricken expression. "Come on, I've got to
take you to the Hospital Wing, but I don't think I should levitate you. If it
hurts to touch someone else's magic, then it'll hurt less if you just touch my
skin. Brace yourself."
    Harry had barely comprehended Draco's words before the Slytherin was
picking him up easily, cradling him against his chest as he set off at a fast
walk. Harry clenched his fists into the front of Draco's robes and tensed in
expectation, but to his utter shock, it was not pain that greeted him, but
pure, unadulterated pleasure. It swamped his senses as he was enveloped by
Draco's warmth. All the pain that he had been experiencing became muted and
shoved to the back of his awareness as he was swept up in feelings of joy,
relief, excitement, pleasure, and utter contentment. His inner phoenix was
instantly calmed and now sang with happiness, causing his breath to hitch and
tears to come to his eyes. He had never felt so joyful or complete in his
entire life; it was if he had been living in a dry desert for years and was
just getting his first drink of cool, clean water. He couldn't get enough.
    And in that moment, Harry knew.
    When Draco glanced down at him again, worry creasing his brow, Harry just
stared up at him in complete shock and awe. "You're..." Was all he managed to
say before everything became too much and he fainted.
===============================================================================

    "You're..."
    Draco only had enough time to register the surprise and realization in the
Gryffindor's face before his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell limp in
Draco's arms. Even as he sped up until he was almost running, Draco rolled his
eyes and thought, Why do all Gryffindors insist on being so dramatic? Bursting
through the Hospital Wing door, he called for Madame Pomfrey as he rushed to
Harry's "official" bed and laid him down gently. Within a minute the
overprotective mediwitch swept into the room and was by Harry's side, barely
acknowledging Draco except to raise a surprised eyebrow at him.
    "Mr. Potter again?" She exclaimed, not looking very surprised. "What's he
done this time, then?" She asked as she cast a few diagnostic charms on the
unconscious Boy-Who-Lived.
    "He didn't do anything," Draco replied, not taking his eyes off Harry. "He
fainted, probably from shock or pain. I was on my prefect rounds when I heard
Harry shouting and I saw that bastard Bradley practically raping him." He
didn't mention that that corridor had been out of his rounds and a rather
intense tug somewhere in the vicinity of his heart had actually led him in that
direction. Such a claim would have gone against somany of the Malfoy ideals.
Madame Pomfrey's face paled and her lips thinned, though she didn't say
anything except, "It had to happen to him." After a few seconds, she told him
to sit on one of the beds and left to firecall the Headmaster.
    Instead, Draco sat in the chair next to Harry's bed and stared at his pale
face with its stressed, haunted expression that never quite faded, even in
sleep, until Madame Pomfrey re-entered the room with the Headmaster following
her, a grave expression on his face. His ancient blue eyes flickered over
Harry's still form before focusing on Draco with a penetrating stare.
    "Mr. Malfoy, if you would tell me the circumstances?" He said. It was not a
question. Draco's hackles raised automatically in defense; sure, Dumbledore had
helped him when he had had to get out of his house during the summer, but that
did not mean that he was a puppet for the old man to order around! But with a
glance at Harry, he calmed himself and repeated the story with a bit more
detail.
    "You should probably send someone to find the bastard before he dies,"
Draco added nonchalantly, silver eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction.
Dumbledore sighed, but didn't rebuke him.
    "Very well, we will attend to the matter of Mr. Bradley soon enough. Poppy,
what's Harry's condition?" The mediwitch glanced pointedly at Draco, but he
just stared right back, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair as if
he had all the time in the world. "He can stay, Poppy, they're friends." Madame
Pomfrey sighed and gave him a hard look before returning her gaze to Harry and
conjuring a Scribing Quill, parchment, and camera, which she sent to circle
Harry.
    "He's lost weight again," was her first pronouncement. "He hasn't been
eating as much lately and he stopped taking his nourishment potions, so he's
back down to 110 pounds, but it could be worse, I suppose. No signs of sexual
abuse, thank Merlin. Stress levels are at an all-time high and his body is
reflecting that; his nerves are shot again from pain. You could say that he's
lucky that his threshold for pain is so high, because otherwise he would've
gone insane a week ago. Of course, I always tell him to come to me when he's in
pain, but he never listens... Odd, it says that he has extremely deep scarring
and lacerations on the back of his right hand. Those weren't there at his last
check-up."
    Puzzled, the mediwitch gently tugged off Harry's right glove with her hands
and carefully unraveled the clumsily-wrapped bandages underneath. She summoned
a bowl of warm water and cleaned off the blood with a wet cloth, sucking in a
breath when Harry's hand was slowly revealed. The unobtrusive camera clicked.
    I must not tell lies.
    The words, violently red and still seeping blood slowly, stood out in sharp
relief from Harry's pale skin, filling Draco's vision until the image seemed
burned into his mind. Distantly, he heard Madame Pomfrey sigh, "I don't know
why I even bother to be surprised anymore. So many scars..."
===============================================================================

    Harry woke to a slow burning beneath the skin of his stomach, nowhere near
as painful as it had been before, but enough for him to force himself to open
his eyes. The bright light that stabbed his eyes and the sterile smell that
assaulted his nose indicated that he was in the Hospital Wing. Again. He
groaned softly.
    "Mr. Potter? Are you awake?" Madame Pomfrey's voice filtered through his
mind slowly and Harry braced himself as he opened his eyes once more. Blinking
several times to clear his vision, he saw that the rest of the Hospital Wing
was dim and the window was dark, indicating that he had probably only been out
a short while. The next thing that he noticed was that the room's only other
occupant, Dumbledore, was sitting calmly in the chair next to his bed and
Madame Pomfrey was perched on the edge of his bed. He noted with a sigh that
his clothes were gone and he was naked beneath the sheets, which were currently
pooled low around his hips. The reason for this quickly became clear as he
watched the mediwitch dip a cloth into a bowl of warm water and wring it out
before sweeping it across his flat stomach, picking up dribbles and traces of
the semen that had painted his skin.
    He winced slightly at the burning sensation this caused beneath the cloth
and Madame Pomfrey paused, handing him the rag and bowl silently and motioning
for him to continue. Harry stared at the stained rag in his hand and at the
last few milky ropes that slid down his hipbone and shuddered, wiping the cloth
across his hips and stomach thoroughly before dropping it into the bowl and
putting it on the mobile bedside table. He then pulled up the covers to his
chest to cover himself properly.
    "Oh Merlin..." He muttered to himself, scrubbing his hands viciously with
the edge of a towel that the mediwitch handed him. It was then that he noticed
that he wasn't wearing his gloves and a proper bandage had been taped over the
words on his hand. He stopped scrubbing. "Er, diagnostic charms ratted me out
again, huh?" He asked, a shaky smile on his face.
    Neither Dumbledore nor Madame Pomfrey smiled.
    "We will discuss the circumstances around those scars in a moment," the
elderly wizard said firmly, his eyes betraying nothing. "First, tell us what
happened concerning Mr. Bryon Bradley."
    Harry sighed, but carefully explained his foreboding feelings when Bradley
stared at him and then described the entire scene in an emotionless voice,
omitting Umbridge for now and the memories of his uncle for always, and his
voice only trembled slightly when he ended with Draco's rescue. He hesitated at
the point where Draco picked him up, glancing at the mediwitch.
    "Don't worry, Harry," Dumbledore said, interpreting his reluctance
correctly, "I have brought Poppy into our confidence as she is your main health
care provider and should know as much about your condition as possible."
    Harry nodded tensely. "Draco's my mate," he blurted, a blush spreading
across his face in embarrassment. "I'd never touched him before, but when he
picked me up, I just felt... overwhelmed by happiness and relief and belonging,
and all my pain was just pushed away. I've never felt so... good - so accepted
- in my life, like I've been missing out on the key to happiness all these
years and he was right there... It was amazing, perfect. There's no words to
describe it... I just know." A wistful expression came over his face as he
tried to find words to describe the feeling.
    "And now, nothing hurts as badly as it used to - it doesn't hurt too badly
to touch people, I mean. But I also feel a bit... empty, hollow, now that he's
not here. Like I'm missing something and I want it back. Er... where is Draco,
anyway?"
    Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling slightly in his knowing way as Harry
finished speaking. "After bringing you here and lingering over you for some
time, Mr. Malfoy returned to his room. I believe Zephyr has returned to you,
also. She was quite worried, I believe, and seemed to be somewhat irritated
that we weren't taking very good care of you." The twinkle in his eyes dimmed.
"Again, Harry, I cannot express to you how sorry I am. I seem to have failed
you, once again."
    Harry looked up from stroking the image of Zephyr on the palm of his hand
and shook his head, frowning. "No, it's not your fault, sir. This time it was
mostly the Ministry's fault; if Umbridge wasn't here, I probably wouldn't have
been at detention tonight and I probably would've taken Bradley more seriously
than I was. It was also my fault... I don't know what came over me when he had
me pinned to that wall. I know that I could have protected myself against him
and stopped him from getting even that far with me, but... I don't know - I
just don't know. I choked, I was just so surprised; I thought that he was a
Death Eater at first and I was ready to hex him into next week, but then..." He
shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.
    "I need a shower. I feel like I'm never going to get clean again."
    "I'm sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid that we will need to address another
issue before you can start healing," Dumbledore said gravely. "Your hand."
    Harry looked down at the bandage on the back of his right hand and absently
ran his fingers over it with a resigned sigh. Silence reigned in the room for
nearly a minute as he gathered his thoughts. "You were right about Umbridge,
sir," he said finally. "She's trying to get to me, but I haven't said anything
against her. You must've heard about all of the detentions that she's giving me
for the most ridiculous things; I must have had over ten detentions with her
already. Every time she has me use a Blood Quill to write 'I must not tell
lies' over and over again until the detention's over." He shrugged. "It's not
that big of a deal anymore; I've had worse and there are more important things
at stake than a little pain."
    "You are right, Harry, no matter how much I wish it was not so. And I find
myself wishing that I was the one bearing all of the pain for you, but alas,
Fate has not decreed it to be."
    "Yes, Fate," Harry said, a bitter edge to his voice. "At least something
good came out of this whole mess: I finally found my mate. I'll have to ask
Zephyr what to do next."
    "Before you do that, Mister Potter, you will sit there and listen to me
very carefully!" Madame Pomfrey interrupted firmly, eyes flashing, and Harry
gulped a bit. "I will never know why you insist on causing yourself pain,
Harry, but because of this whole mate business, we're halfway back to where we
started at the beginning of summer! Until I tell you otherwise, you will eat
every single meal, with nourishment potions; you will be back on the post-
Cruciatus and healing potions every night; and you will soak that hand in a
murtlap solution I will give you for thirty minutes every day and for one hour
after detentions. The scarring is too deep to fix now, but it will help. I must
also insist that you get a hobby or something to relieve your stress."
    "Touching Draco seems to relieve my stress just fine," Harry mused out loud
before he realized what he had said and his face flushed brighter than Ron's
hair. "Er, I mean - just touching his arm, or something. Not, I mean - you
know. I won't be ready for that for a long time; I don't even know if I'm ready
for this! I thought - well, I thought I was ready, but... Draco Malfoy..."
Harry fell silent, his thoughts whirling as he comprehended just what this
meant. Before he could brood too long, however, he was brought about by Madame
Pomfrey huffing in annoyance.
    "There he goes again! I meant that you would need to find a stress-reliever
besides your mate, especially with that foul Umbridge woman here."
    "Right, well, Quidditch is starting up again soon..." Harry said absently,
glancing at the door anxiously. He really wanted to see Draco. "I should tell
Draco about being my mate. Soon. D'you think he's still awake?"
    "Mister Potter, you will not be waking up other students at all hours of
the morning to give them a heart attack!" The mediwitch shrieked indignantly
and Harry cringed in surprise. Suddenly, he felt Zephyr move from his hand to
his forearm and automatically leaned back as a pool of golden light shimmered
into existence above his arm and the phoenix emerged from it smoothly. Not
wanting to injure his bare shoulder, the golden bird settled next to Harry's
side and let the green-eyed boy stroke her back as she eyed the room's
occupants with intelligent amber orbs. A moment later, Harry heard her melodic
voice trickle through his mind with the familiar connotations of feeling and
thought that provided such a complete understanding. From Poppy's awed
exclamation of "Oh my!" and Dumbledore's intense focus on Zephyr, Harry assumed
that she was speaking to all three of them.
    I believe I should explain things in more detail now, while some of the
most important people in my charge's life are together for perhaps the last
time in quite a while. Healer Pomfrey,"Zephyr turned her head in the
mediwitch's direction and inclined her head.You have always been an important
part of Harry's life and I thank you for your loving care when he was injured,
when I was not with him. Your knowledge of medicine and his changing
circumstances will bring the two of you closer together as he experiences the -
at times - painful but necessary changes his body will undergo in the next few
years as it integrates fully with his phoenix abilities. Please listen
carefully to what I will explain next concerning Harry and his mate, Draco
Malfoy.
    In the next few days - or perhaps even as long as a week - several life-
changing decisions will have to be made by the young Malfoy. A phoenix who has
found their life mate is required to give their mate a grace period, a space of
time in which the mate may choose to accept or deny the "proposal", in a sense.
Normally, this is not such a problem as phoenixes understand the consequences
of such a bonding and can easily make their decision within the grace period.
However, in this case, which is quite complicated as it involves humans - with
human thought, human feelings, and human events to consider - the grace period
may not be sufficient time for Draco to choose.
    "But what about me?" Harry asked, a bit affronted. "Don't I get a choice? I
barely know Draco at all, and we've hated each other for years!"
    Come now, Harry, you already know the answers to those questions.The
phoenix chided gently.The two of you are perfect compliments to each other. You
complete each other in ways that can never be completed by someone other than
your life mate; have you not felt it already? You are two halves that will make
a whole; you cannot exist without the other, just like black and white, yin and
yang, good and evil. You know this already, but Draco doesn't.
    The decision to accept you as his life mate will be difficult, complicated,
and he will not understand all of what he will be told. It is more than likely
that he will be angry and confused, especially considering the past that you
two have had together, but if you want to live without a broken heart, you must
persuade him to bond with you, to accept you as his mate. After you have at
least accepted each other, you can begin the true process of falling in love.
    Now, there is always the possibility that Draco will refuse to accept Harry
or that Draco will take too long in deciding and the grace period ends. If
either of those situations occur, the phoenix part of Harry's mind will
interpret the rejection to mean that if the one being in all the world that was
completely suited to him rejected him, then no one else will ever love him. To
the phoenix, Draco is The One, the only one that he could be happy with, and if
Draco rejects him (or dies), the prospect of living for eternity without the
love or companionship of another would utterly destroy the phoenix. As
creatures of emotion, the pain of a mate's rejection or death would cause to
other half of the pair to eventually waste away or commit suicide. With a
connection as deep as Harry has with me, it is impossible to tell what effect
the death of the phoenix part of his mind would do. It could shut down his body
and thus kill him, or it would completely die within his mind, thus ensuring
that he would never reach his full potential. Either way, as deeply connected
to him as I am, I would die as well.
   There was complete silence in the room as the occupants absorbed that
information. Harry stared down at the white sheets of his bed, contemplating
the irony that he was entrusting his body, mind, and life to Draco Malfoy in
the hopes that the Slytherin would become his mate. He decided that the Fates
were either laughing their arses off at him right now, or they were punishing
him for having survived the bloody killing curse.

     Zephyr began speaking again.
     The odds of Draco rejecting Harry are higher than I would have liked,
especially considering human nature, the phoenix admitted, but I trust the
young Malfoy to make the right decision. His heart is in the right place, and
he will know what must be done. So for now, we will continue as if it is
certain that Draco will accept.She turned her head back to face Madame Pomfrey,
who was looking quite teary-eyed.
    Healer Pomfrey, I would suggest moving Harry into one of the private rooms
here in the Infirmary, one that is warded and, preferably, not well-known. He
will most likely never leave these rooms until Draco comes to tell him his
answer, for Harry has tasted the joy and completeness that comes with being
close to his mate and as the grace period passes with them being separate,
Harry will become more and more desperate. In the final days, he will not be
able to control himself; the need to touch Draco and be close to him is so
strong that he his nearly driven mad. Thus, the private room must be warded,
both inside and out, against magical and physical attack. Draco will not feel
the pull to Harry (or, if he does, he feels only a fraction of it), and he
would most likely be repelled by such forceful feelings.
    As Harry's nurse, it may hurt you to see him in such pain and distress, but
calming potions will only work for the first three or four days at most and it
is dangerous to be in the same room with him after that. I must warn you that
should Draco accept Harry as his mate, Harry will become extremely protective
and somewhat volatile for two or three days afterwards, after which point his
normal emotions and responses will return to him. It is up to you to decide if
you would keep them both in here during those days, but I would recommend it,
unless you have an excuse for Harry's violent reactions that would prevent him
from being expelled. Perhaps it would ease your mind best to think of Harry as
little more than a phoenix; a magnificent animal, but an animal nonetheless.
   "I can tell that you're thinking of me like that already," Harry grumbled.
"I'm right here, you know." She nipped his finger.
    Enough of your cheek. You'll be a mindless, quivering mass of hormones in a
few days, so I'm explaining what's going to happen to the people that will be
making sure you don't blow everyone up while you wait for Draco.Seeing that he
was properly embarrassed, she turned her attention back to the amused adults.
After the two have accepted each other and Harry spends a few days getting his
hormones back in order, they will be able to return to their normal daily
activities and classes as they sort out their emotions toward each other. Given
the fact that they are humans, and also one of those rare couples that hated
each other before becoming aware that they were mates, this stage may take some
time as they get to know each other.
     They will not have to share a room (though that would be helpful) or do
anything out of the ordinary, except that Harry will need to be close enough to
touch his mate for a short amount of time at least twice a day. This will ease
the pull Harry will feel after spending the day away from his mate. As time
passes, this pull, or urge, will become less and less, but it will not fade
entirely until the final step is taken to consummate the bond between life
mates. This, of course, is sexual intercourse.
   Harry choked, mouth gaping wordlessly as his face alternated between beet
red and sheer white. "What?! You didn't - you never told me that!" He squawked.
Quite literally, as nothing but a shrill cry of offense was apparent to human
ears, but Harry froze as he realized what had happened. Zephyr flapped her
wings once in approval and her eyes glittered with fierce pride.
    Well done, Harry! Your first full sentence in the phoenix language!
Unfortunately, it wasn't a very intelligent one. What else did you think that
two creatures with such deep love would do? Become very good friends?
   Harry flushed. "Well, of course not. I just- I don't know - I've never...
Well, you didn't have to say it so plainly!" He sputtered finally, in English.
The occupants of the room chuckled at his embarrassment and he scowled down at
his bedsheets.
    "Well, I'm afraid that it is quite past all of our bedtimes," Dumbledore
said after a moment. "Unless there is something else..?" He looked
questioningly at Zephyr, who bobbed her head from side to side in a negative
gesture. Nothing that I will not tell Harry later.
   "Then I will contact Mr. Malfoy tomorrow and inform him of the very lengthy,
very complicated circumstances. If I may, Harry and good lady, can I have your
permission to use some of my memories of Zephyr's introduction and my
subsequent encounters with her? I believe those would be a most comprehensive
summary of the circumstances for Draco." Both the green-eyed boy and the golden
phoenix nodded their heads in tandem, and Dumbledore thanked them.
    "Then I must bid you all good night. Harry, I will visit you tomorrow at a
more convenient time to discuss the fate of young Mr. Bradley, but for now,
please get some sleep and try to remember that none of this is your fault."
Startled, Harry furrowed his brow and nodded.
    "Alright. Good night, sir."
    And thank you both for helping me watch over young Harry.Zephyr added her
own farewell and bowed her head in their direction before melting back into
Harry's body in a flash of fire. Within moments, Dumbledore was gone, and
Madame Pomfrey was left shaking her head in awe and bewilderment.
    "I must say, things never get boring when you are around, Harry Potter,"
she said exasperatedly as she bustled around to the potions cabinet.
"Phoenixes, life mates, Draco Malfoy... Far too much excitement, in my opinion.
Here, if you won't take Dreamless Sleep, take this calming potion and try and
get some sleep. Tomorrow, I'll move you into your private room."
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Draco makes a choice.
    Draco Malfoy was pissed.
    Or, more correctly, he was mostly confused and the rest of his emotions
seemed to be out of control, which resulted in him being pissed. Malfoys hate
being out of control.
    It was nine o'clock on a beautiful Tuesday morning, and he should have been
in class, but after the bombshell that senile old man had dumped on him
directly after breakfast, he had decided to skip. If they think I'm going to
just agree and go to class like a good little boy, they're more insane than I
had thought. At the moment, he was pacing his bedroom (Thank Merlin for small
favors; Slytherin prefects get their own rooms so I don't have to live with
Goyle's incessant snoring) rather furiously, his thoughts moving contrary to
the uniform path he was beginning to wear into the rug in front of the
fireplace.
    Damn Dumbledore, damn phoenixes, damn the Dark Lord, damn increasing
powers, and damn the great-Harry-Bloody-Potter! What the hell do they think I
am? Some slut to just sell off to Harry Potter to make him happy? Sure, he's
hot (Damn, who am I kidding, he's downright sexy), and kind (To everyone else),
and fair... But he's also stubborn, pigheaded, a target of the Dark Lord, and a
perfectGryffindorto boot!
   As the day passed, his thoughts continued to run in circles as he tried to
process everything he had been told. Ever the Slytherin, he analyzed every
piece of information and every memory the old Headmaster had shown him, even if
he didn't want to, and tried to see which scenario would benefit him the most,
considering the new development. He was the life mate, or soul mate, of Harry
Potter, the most sought after teenage wizard (besides Draco himself, of course)
by teenaged witches (and wizards) and dark lords. And although Potter seemed to
be clueless about the first, he was certainly not stupid when it came to the
Dark Lord considering the training and visions he had received all summer.
    If he accepted Harry as his mate, Draco would not only receive the eternal,
undying love (eventually, of course) of a powerful, attractive wizard, but he
would also receive a boost in magical power and attend training with Harry.
However, the downside was that Harry was still a huge target for the Dark Lord,
which meant that he, Harry, would undoubtedly cross paths with the Dark Lord
and his Death Eaters (which included Draco's own father) again. The odds of
dying during such meetings were certainly high. And the whole business with his
father... Draco may as well join Potter now if his father ever found out who
Draco had stayed with during the summer.
    After revolving all possibilities, advantages, and disadvantages in his
mind for the better part of three days (during which he returned to classes and
noted that the rest of the Golden Trio were pale and shooting him scalding
glances, as if it was his fault that he was Harry's soul mate), Draco was still
unsure. The majority of him, the Slytherin part, insisted that he should cut
his losses and forget all about Potter and phoenixes and tell Dumbledore to
bugger off. Another part reasoned that if he went to the Dark Lord with the
information now, he would be promoted to heights and powers that even his
father and Potter could never give him.
    And yet, he was still uncertain, for a very, very small part of him (the
Other part), still wanted to live a happy life, even if he had given up hope of
ever having one years ago. He wanted to be loved by someone unconditionally; he
wanted someone who, when he hugged him, made all the problems in the world go
away; he wanted and wanted... and with his life, this would be the best chance
to get it.
    But would he find any of that with Harry Sodding Potter?
    After all, if he accepted Harry, he would essentially be married at the age
of fifteen. He would never have the chance to date other people (much less shag
them), but that would also mean that he would never have to go through the
arranged marriage that his father had set up before he was born. Draco doubted
that Harry would take kindly to him shagging someone on the side; the
Gryffindor would probably die of a broken heart, if he didn't blow Draco up
first. No, it meant that Harry Ruddy Potter would be his first, last and only
shag.
    And so Draco debated within his own mind, becoming more and more pissed as
he did so.
===============================================================================

    If Harry hadn't known he was going mad with desire for Draco Malfoy, he
would have thought he was just going mad for no real reason. He was currently
pacing the confines of the comfortably-sized private room at the back of the
Hospital Wing, rather furiously, like a caged tiger waiting for the opportunity
to strike. For the first few days, he had felt almost completely normal.
Hermione and Ron had visited, pale-faced with shock (or in Ron's case, complete
horror and anger), and they had talked everything through rather thoroughly
until they understood completely what was happening between Harry and Draco.
    Surprisingly, Ron had been almost calm after the explanation. "It's not
much different from Veelas, or Frygenies," he said with a shrug when they asked
him about it. "For most of the wizarding world, it's an honor to be chosen as
the mate of a Veela, since they're always so beautiful and they'll love you
unconditionally. It's like a muggle 'fairy' tale for some kids. I'm just
buggered that it had to beMalfoyof all people." He pulled a disgusted face.
    Harry had confessed that Draco had been at Grimmauld Place for the last two
weeks of summer and they had actually gotten to know each other fairly well,
though now Harry wasn't sure if they would be considered friends or just
allies. Hermione seemed to be a bit reassured at that, but she still insisted
that she would go to the library and try to research the entire topic more
thoroughly. After that, they had done homework ("You can't be gone for over a
week and expect to understand anything if you don't do the homework!") and
played a few games of chess and Exploding Snap before his friends had to leave
at curfew.
    Remus and Sirius (in his Animagus form) had managed to visit him once in
the early stages. Considering their own relationship, they had no problem with
the fact that his mate was a boy, but they were mostly concerned with who the
boy was. Over the last weeks of summer, they had become used to Draco's cold
personality and they knew that Draco was no longer on the Dark side, but that
didn't keep them from worrying about the danger that such a relationship could
present. Harry had acknowledged their points, but he was strangely unworried by
the whole situation. Mainly, he just wanted to see his mate. Once the adults
had realized this, they abandoned the issue for the moment in favor of teasing
the black-haired boy and catching up for the short while they had before they
needed to return to Grimmauld Place.
    Each day after that, Hermione and Ron had visited him several times under
the pretense of visiting their "sick" friend, but as each day passed, it became
harder and harder for Harry to concentrate on anything. The day came where he
was forced into isolation when he tried to leave the room at the same time that
his friends had and he had had to be stunned before he could leave the Hospital
Wing. After that, he had woken to an empty bedroom, completely alone; even
Zephyr had refused to stay in his body during this time, and almost immediately
he had begun pacing.
    He had rarely stopped pacing ever since then; food magically appeared on
the table in the corner of the room, but he barely even looked at it and he
only slept when his body collapsed in exhaustion. Occasionally, he tried
throwing wandless Reducto's and other such curses, and he would feel the
magical wards bending and straining to contain his magic, but it wasn't enough.
He knew that Dumbledore himself came by each day to strengthen the wards
against his attacks.
    By the fifth day, he was certain that he was mad; he couldn't get Draco out
of his mind, remembering every detail of his face, his hands, the way his mouth
quirked up and his eyes warmed when he was amused. Every instance where Harry
had been close enough to touch the Slytherin or smell his scent or see his grey
eyes was dragged up in Harry's mind and he nearly wept at the ache and loss he
felt.
    By the seventh and last day, Harry was completely exhausted magically and
physically. Having not eaten for nearly four days, his body trembled slightly
and his stomach gnawed at him as he lay on the bed. He had curled up on his
side away from the door and now stared at the wall with dull green eyes that
were bordered by the dark purple circles that came with little sleep. He was
certain that he had been rejected by his mate; Draco would never have waited
this long to give his answer and that meant that there was no hope for Harry.
Uncle Vernon had been right; no one would ever love him.
   As he contemplated his utter despair, Harry barely noticed the sound of the
door opening and closing quickly. In fact, he had barely even recognized that
there was another presence in the room before the voice he had longed to hear
began speaking.
    "So this is what the great Harry Potter has been reduced to, eh? Oh how the
mighty have fallen." Harry stiffened in surprise, a numb realization spreading
through his body. That voice, that wonderfully clear but perpetually sarcastic
voice could only belong to a Malfoy. Harry quickly sat up, head swimming with a
mixture of delirious joy and exhaustion, and gaped at the blond, who was
standing just in front of the door.
    "Draco!" Harry gasped, voice hoarse with disuse. "You came." Eagerly,
hungrily, he ran his eyes over the Slytherin's slender frame before moving his
gaze up to lock on those mesmerizing eyes. Almost unconsciously, he moved to
sit with his legs tucked beneath him, hands grasping the sheets as he held
himself steady.
    "Yes," Draco said simply, looking over Harry as intently as Harry had
looked over him. "Merlin, Potter, you look like death warmed over." Harry
smiled thinly.
    "I'm sorry, if they'd let me keep my wand, I would've put a glamour charm
on, just to ease your eyes." He joked weakly.
    "Who ever said you were easy on the eyes to begin with?" The Slytherin
snorted. He took a step closer as if to sit on the bed next to Harry, but the
raven-haired boy quickly protested. As his shock began to wear off, Harry felt
the urge to latch onto Draco return, just as powerful as it was before, and he
actually swayed in the blond's direction before tightening his grip on the
bedsheets.
    "Wait! No, d-don't come any closer," he panted. His shook his head slightly
in an attempt to clear it, but it didn't help. "I-I can't... control myself
very well right now. I d-don't want to pressure you into anything or overwhelm
you. Just... Just tell me your answer before you come any closer!"
    Draco considered him very carefully with thoughtful grey eyes, taking in
Harry's rumpled clothes, distressed expression, and the way his hands clenched
into the sheets. He saw that the bandage had come off of Harry's hand and he
could clearly see the words engraved there into the skin. Slowly, deliberately,
he took two steps forward until he was nearly next to the bed. Harry's head
ducked and his body tensed so quickly that his limbs shuddered as they cramped
up. Harry whimpered, clutching at the sheets beneath him so hard that his
knuckles turned white.
    "D-Draco..." he moaned. The Slytherin leaned down a bit, eyes narrowing
calculatingly, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper.
    "Tell me, Harry. Do you want to touch me?"
    "Damn it, Draco, don't play with me!" Harry snarled, shuddering with want
and need. "You know I do!"
    Draco's eyebrows lowered almost angrily as he took several steps back.
"Wrong answer," he said coldly. "I want to know if you, Harry Potter, want to
touch me. Not the animal, not the phoenix part of your mind, I want to know if
you as a human being want to knowme." Harry just panted in relief for several
seconds, gathering his thoughts. Finally, he tentatively raised his brilliant
green eyes to meet Draco's own cold grey ones.
    "Draco, before my body decided to start searching for my mate, you and I
had already been friends. With you staying at Grimmauld Place, we got to know
each other better and I, at least, was glad that we were able to become
friends. I think you're smart, witty, bloody sexy, and I knowthat you can be
nice when you want to be. I also think you're arrogant, possessive, stubborn,
and vain. But... if I hadn't known that I was promised to a life mate, I would
have been interested in getting to know you even better. And to tell the truth,
I still am. I know that we're soul mates, so I'm willing to find out what makes
us such a perfect fit."
    Silence fell upon the room. Draco's emotionless eyes bored into Harry's
expressive orbs, weighing, assessing, searching. Finally, he spoke.
    "What would you do if I said no?"
    Harry's head dropped, despair and hopelessness pressing down on him. "I...
I would probably die. I can't and won't force you to do anything you don't want
to, Draco, I just want you to be happy. So if you really don't want to be my
mate... I would accept that, and never bother you again."
    More silence.
    "Merlin knows why, but I believe you, Potter. But if I accept you as my
soul mate, I am quite literally placing my life in your hands. I'm going to
have to trust you to protect me and cover my back; if anyone Dark were to find
out that we were together, my life would be just as sought after as yours, if
not more so."
    "I know." Harry whispered, the urge abating slightly as guilt filled him.
"I know, and I hate it. I wish I wasn't such a burden, such a threat to
everyone who is close to me, but... that's my life. I didn't ask for any of
this, but I ended up with it all anyway, so there's nothing I can do about it.
All I can do is promise that I'll try and protect you with every part of my
being; with my life, if necessary. We don't know each other much at all, but if
anything bad happens to you because of me, then - that's m-my r-responsib-
bility." By the time he had finished speaking, Harry's body began to shudder
again as Draco took a step forward; the urge was back in full force.
    "Ah! D-Draco..." Harry gasped, forcing himself to huddle close to the bed
as Draco took another step. "N-no... stop, please! Just tell me your answer
before you drive me completely mad!" Draco paused and there was a beat of
silence. Then...
    "I accept."
    Harry's body froze for a second before his head snapped up so fast that it
was a wonder that he didn't get whiplash. "W-what?" He whispered, eyes wide
with shock and hope. Draco held his eyes firmly, not hesitating as he repeated
himself formally.
    "I, Draco Malfoy, accept you, Harry Potter, as my life and soul mate."
    With a strangled cry, Harry shot off the bed and collapsed into the blond's
arms, nearly sobbing with relief and joy. "Oh God, oh God, oh Merlin! Thank
you, thank you..." He murmured over and over as he buried his face into the
taller boy's chest and fisted his hands in Draco's robes, holding on as if it
was the only thing keeping him on earth at the moment. That was nearly what it
felt like. The amount of joy, completeness, and relief that swamped his senses
made his head whirl and his knees wobble like jelly. Suddenly, it wasn't enough
to be close to Draco. He needed to be closer, he had waited so long, he needed
to feel the warmth of Draco's skin beneath his hands.
    The blond stiffened in surprise when the Gryffindor ran his hands down to
his waist and slid them back up underneath his shirt, but he didn't make a move
to stop him. A slight keening noise rose from Harry's throat that soon turned
to a throaty moan as he ran his hands across the smooth skin of Draco's back,
sides, and chest, and Harry pulled up the shirt high enough that he could rest
his cheek on the warm skin above Draco's heart. With a sigh of contentment,
Harry snaked his arms around Draco's waist and pulled him closer as he nuzzled
the blond's chest. Tentatively, Draco raised his own arms to wrap around the
Gryffindor's thin shoulders and back, and for a long while they both just stood
there, contemplating the consequences of their decision.
    In the following two days, Madame Pomfrey entered the room and gave both of
them check-ups to determine if anything harmful had occurred as a result of the
acceptance. Draco had been fine, but Harry had had to sit through another stern
lecture as she catalogued the results of his self-imposed fast and he had had
to down no less than four potions before she was satisfied. It seemed that he
was back to taking daily potions in order to return his body to a somewhat
healthy state.
    After Madame Pomfrey had left, Hermione and Ron had entered the room
hesitantly, sighing in relief when they saw him sitting on the bed next to
Draco, unharmed. The interaction between his friends and Draco was somewhat
stiff and cold, but Harry was merely glad that they were being civil to each
other. He figured that Ron had been warned that Harry would be somewhat
protective of Draco. As it turned out, they didn't stay long, but they brought
homework and games to keep them busy for the following days.
    At first, it had been quite awkward between Harry and Draco as they tried
to sort out what they felt for each other and what their relationship had
changed into, but eventually they reached a silent agreement to act as they had
before, at Grimmauld Place, until they got to know each other better. While
they both had to get used to sitting close enough that Harry could touch Draco
at odd intervals, they were eventually able to get used to this also. By the
time they were finally able to leave, however, both were glad to return to
their normal lives; even if Harry was a bit reluctant to leave Draco's side,
they needed to spend some time apart to put everything back into perspective.
===============================================================================

    For a time it seemed as though everything had gone back to normal. Draco
went back to antagonizing Harry (somehow managing to get close enough to touch
briefly), the Gryffindors celebrated Harry's return, Umbridge was as suspicious
and evil as always, and Bryon Bradley was expelled on charges of sexual
harassment. However, as some things resolved themselves, the others just became
more complicated.
    "Er... Harry," the Boy-Who-Lived glanced up from his Defense book and
looked questioningly at the fidgeting witch in front of him. She had long blond
hair and blue eyes that sparkled with innocence; Harry thought that she was a
second- or third-year. "C-can I talk to you?"
    He nodded, setting down his book and turning his attention to her. "Sure,
what can I do for you... er, Molly, wasn't it?" Nodding furiously, she squirmed
and blushed under his brilliantly green-eyed gaze. Harry wondered if something
was wrong with her or if all young girls did that when they talked to him.
    "Er... I w-was wondering... you were sick during the f-first Hogsmead
weekend, s-so I was wondering if you, um, wanted to go to the next one with
me?"
    Stunned, Harry blinked a bit and a blush spread over his cheeks. She's
asking me out? "Oh, erm... I'm sorry, but I wasn't planning on going to the
next one..." seeing that she still looked hopeful, he quickly added, "And
besides, I'm really not interested in, er, seeing anyone right now... OWLs, you
know. I'm sorry."
    She looked crestfallen, but at least she didn't seem like she would burst
into tears at any moment. "Oh... well, t-that's all right, I suppose. Er, well,
I'll see you around then, Harry." She blushed again and scampered off before he
could reply. Harry stared after her, gobsmacked. A tall, lanky body suddenly
dropped into the chair next to his and a hand clapped him on the back, causing
him to flinch instinctively. A few familiar faces from nearby leaned over.
    "Smooth, Harry." Seamus Finnegan said with a wince. "Blimey, I thought that
you would get better, but you're still blushing and stammering like a dumb
fool. You'll have the girls laughing at you instead of asking you out if you're
not careful." Harry dropped his head into his hand and rubbed the bridge of his
nose hard.
    "Ugh, that was the third one this week," he groaned. "Do I have a gigantic
'Date me' sign on my back or something?"
    "Nope, it's on your forehead," Ron quipped, leaning back and giving Harry a
strange look. "You really are blind, aren't you? Merlin's balls, Harry, how can
you be so good at Defense when you don't notice anything? Girls have been
fawning over you since our first year; they follow you around and moon over you
like lost sheep and you don't even notice!"
    "Oh, they do not!" Harry said dismissively. "Besides, I've got a lot on my
mind; trying to stay alive every year and weasel out Voldemort's spies trying
to kill me."
    "Well, there is that," Dean Thomas admitted. "But, honestly, I think that
girl was part of the Harry Potter Fan Club. They had a meeting last night, you
know, and I overheard it." Harry stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
Thewhat?
    "Staking out young prospects, eh Dean?" Seamus said with a wink, elbowing
the other boy in the ribs.
    "Wait, wait. H-Harry Potter Fan Club?" Harry stammered incredulously.
"You're joking, right?"
    Ron stared. "Are you serious? I thought you knew about the club at least;
it's been going strong ever since the Patil twins started it up in our first
year. They don't lead it anymore though."
    "The Patil twins?" Harry squeaked. They were notorious gossipers and love
advisers. "Why don't you tell me these things? I think I have a right to know
if I have my own bloody fan club!"
    Seamus clasped his hands together and sighed dramatically as he looked up
at the ceiling with fluttering eyelashes. "I can see it now: dozens of young,
nubile girls gathered together to share stories and descriptions of their
encounters with the famous Harry Potter. 'He's so shy and gentlemanly,' they
say, 'I could tell that he didn't want to go out with me, but his blush was so
cute that I just don't care!'" The surrounding kids broke up into laughter as
Harry blushed and glared and Ron made a face.
    After dinner, Hermione somehow cornered Harry and Ron in the common room
and ordered them to meet her there after everyone had gone to sleep, and with a
sinking in his stomach, Harry agreed. He knew what she wanted.
    At the appointed time, Harry and Ron crept down from their dorms and waited
until the common room had cleared out before Harry cast a few silencing charms
and they huddled close near the fire.
    "Harry-" Hermione began hesitantly, but Harry put up a hand immediately to
quiet her.
    "I know what you want to ask," he said neutrally. Really, after he had
given the idea some thought, he found that he couldn't just sit around and do
nothing. "And... I accept. Umbridge has had her way long enough; everyone needs
to start learning some real defense before they go home for the holidays, and
if I have to be the one to teach them properly, then... I will."
    "Oh Harry!" Hermione cried, launching herself at him and hugging him
tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Harry winced a bit from a tiny
twinge of pain reminiscent of the agony it had been to touch someone else, but
endured her hug anyway. He rolled his eyes and glanced over at Ron with an
exasperated smile tugging at his lips. Ron's ears were a bit red at first, but
then remembrance dawned on his face and he smiled broadly, clapping Harry on
the shoulder and ignoring the instinctive flinch this caused.
    "It also helps that you found a certain someone and got them to accept you,
right?" He said mischievously, and a blush instantly spread across Harry's
cheeks. Hermione sat back and watched him with a warm smile, glad that some
normalcy had returned to his life (even if Malfoy had brought it about) and
that he was slowly returning to the Harry they knew for five years.
    "Maybe..." Yes.
   They sat for an hour longer discussing how the group would start up and what
things they planned to learn during the year. Harry immediately volunteered to
check out possible members to see if they were trustworthy and he had an idea
of what he wanted to teach, but other than that, he mostly let Hermione talk.
She had practically organized the entire thing already and showed them the
Galleons she had used the Protean Charm on, giving Harry the "master" coin that
would be the only one that could change all of others.
    "The only thing we need," she said, eyes glittering triumphantly, "is a
place to meet." Ron and Harry rolled their eyes in exasperation.
===============================================================================
 
    The next morning, Harry woke with a start and sat up in the darkness of his
enclosed bed. His breath was coming in soft pants, his heart racing, and a cold
sweat had broken out on his forehead. He was really beginning to hate sleep.
Although he had not experienced a vision, he continued to be plagued with
nightmares involving people he had seen die... and a recent addition to his
nightmares, Bryon Bradley, occasionally attempted to molest him.
    Sighing, Harry wiped his forehead and stared sightlessly down at his red
sheets, finding comfort in the warmth of Zephyr's sleeping form against the
skin of his inner wrist. He didn't know how long he sat there, brooding over
the contents of his dreams with a foreboding feeling in his gut, but eventually
he emerged from his bed and padded quickly across the cool stones to the
bathroom. It was not much earlier than he usually woke up, so Harry showered
quickly and slipped down to the common room to finish up a bit of last-minute
homework. It wasn't long before Hermione, the first person to wake up in the
mornings, joined him.
    "Hey," she said quietly as she settled into an armchair next to his table.
"What are you doing up so early?"
    He shrugged. "Woke up early to finish homework," he said. Hermione eyed him
suspiciously for a moment, knowing that he would never get up early voluntarily
to do homework of all things, but she let it go. They sat in silence, Harry
finishing his homework and Hermione reading from a thick tome, until people
began making their way down from the dorms. When Ron finally emerged, blinking
owlishly, the trio headed down to breakfast.
    Harry sat in his usual spot and glanced over the tables, a smile twitching
his lips as he saw Draco speaking imperiously to a wide-eyed first-year, and
over the Head Table as well, feeling a pang of worry as he saw that Hagrid had
still not returned from... wherever he was. Harry hoped he was alright. Hagrid
had been his very first friend. Shaking himself from his worry, he tuned back
into his friend's conversations, but not long afterward he felt the same
foreboding from that morning seeping into his gut as the fluttering of wings
filled the hall. Mail had arrived, but Harry couldn't see the distinctive white
feathers of his snowy owl anywhere. Harry had sent a letter to Sirius back at
Grimmauld Place several days ago, and Harry had expected Hedwig to be back by
now.
    Shaking off his uneasiness and worry, Harry left with his friends to
History of Magic when breakfast was over. The class passed slowly at first as
Harry took notes on several promising hexes he was reading from one of his
Defense books, but eventually an interested stirring that came from his
surrounding classmates drew him from his single-minded thoughts and he looked
up. Blinking, he looked around and his eyes widened in surprise when he spotted
the familiar white owl tapping her beak on the window nearest to his desk. A
letter was tied to her leg.
    Brows furrowing in confusion and worry (Hedwig had never sought him out
during class before), Harry barely cast a glance at the rambling ghost at the
front of the room before setting his quill down and quickly moving over to the
window. He carefully opened it, expecting Hedwig to hold out her leg for him to
untie the scroll before flying back to the Owlery, but he was surprised when
the owl hopped inside with a doleful hoot.
    "Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful." Harry heard Lavender
sigh to Pavarti, and he rolled his eyes before gathering the owl into his arms
and heading back to his seat. Just as he was about to untie the letter from her
leg, however, he froze, eyes fixed on the bright crimson splotches covering
Hedwig's right wing and side. The wing was bent oddly and the feathers were
ruffled untidily. Harry reached out a disbelieving finger to touch the wing,
but Hedwig just fluffed her feathers defensively and glared at him
reproachfully.
    "Oh Hedwig..!" Harry breathed, dismayed. Who had done this? What had
happened? Keeping his movements deliberately slow so as to not draw attention,
Harry pulled out his wand and gently tapped Hedwig on the head, murmuring a
Disillusionment Charm, and the injured owl disappeared from sight. Waving off
his friend's concern, he gently picked up the invisible animal and asked the
clueless Binns if he could go the Hospital Wing. Thrown severely off-balance by
this abnormal request, the ghost eventually gave his permission and Harry fled
the room.
    He broke into a run as soon as he was out of eyesight and let his control
over the Disillusionment Charm slip away, revealing the injured owl in his
arms. His first instinct was to find Hagrid, but since the half-giant wasn't
here, he would have to make do with Professor Grubbly-Plank. Praying that
Umbridge had a class right now, Harry made his way quickly to the teacher's
lounge and knocked on the door. He waited impatiently for it to open and he let
out a sigh of relief when McGonagall's frowning face appeared.
    "Mr. Potter!" She cried with exasperation. "Not another detention!"
    "No, Professor, I need to see Professor Grubbly-Plank about my owl," Harry
hastened to reassure her. Blinking in surprise, McGonagall looked down at the
bloody bundle in his arms, but before she could say anything, the substitute
Care of Magical Creatures teacher appeared next to her, peering at the owl with
some concern. Harry carefully handed the injured bird to the teacher, untying
his letter and stuffing it into his robes quickly as he explained what
happened.
    "It looks like something attacked her," Grubbly-Plank tutted when he
finished, indicating the bloodied wing. "There's a rather bad cut along the
ridge of the bone here, but nothing that is too serious. D'you know where she
was coming from?"
    "Er, near London," Harry responded, sending McGonagall a pointed look. Her
eyes widened in understanding.
    Professor Grubbly-Plank grunted. "A rather long way, then. You've got a
good bird here, Mr. Potter, very loyal. Don't worry, I'll take care of her; you
should head on back to class now." Harry nodded reluctantly, thanked her, and
turned away with a final glance at one of his first friends. However, before he
could go too far, he was stopped by his Transfiguration teacher's voice.
    "Mr. Potter!"
    Pausing, Harry waited for her to catch up with him. "Yes, Professor?"
    "I don't believe I have to warn you about... certain people," she began
quietly, glancing at his now-exposed right hand with a dark expression on her
face, "but I do need to tell you that some methods of communication are being
watched. It would be unwise to send such a recognizable owl on such dangerous
errands."
    Harry's own face darkened and he nodded in understanding. "I know. Tell
him, won't you?" She nodded, not bothering to ask who he was talking about.
===============================================================================

    The attack on Hedwig seemed to have stirred up some painful memories for
Harry, and he found himself sitting up in his bed with a strangled cry that
night, the pleading eyes of a young girl bored into his memory like a brand.
His mind nervously jumped over the memories of the attack that night so long
ago, skimming over the images of torture, pain, and hatred. Twitching his wrist
to release his wand into his hand from his holster, he summoned his journal and
turned it over and over again in his hands. The edges of the cover were
streaked with sweaty fingerprints from endless nights such as these and it was
with a frightening familiarity that Harry opened the journal to the second
page. Trailing his eyes down the list of names there, his eyes paused on a
single name. Sara. He didn't know her last name, since it was the last word
that the girl's muggle mother had spoken before the Death Eaters had torn her
other arm off and cut off her screams with the Killing Curse. He didn't think
Sara lived through the night either. Suddenly, Harry felt incredibly closed in,
his heart refusing to calm it's pounding, his breath hitching in distress, and
he threw the covers of his bed away from his body.
    Only pausing to snatch his Invisibility Cloak, Harry scrambled out of his
enclosed bed and slipped out of Gryffindor Tower with the cloak wrapped tightly
around his shoulders. Countless blocks of stone passed from beneath his bare
feet as he blindly fled from the formless wraiths of his nightmares. Finally,
the adrenaline seemed to abandon him and he slowed to a stop, panting as he
pressed his head to the cold stone and slid down the wall. Drawing his knees up
to his chest, Harry buried his head in his knees and closed his eyes, listening
to his uneven breaths and firmly drawing his thoughts away from the guilt of
watching countless people die from Voldemort's perspective.
    He knew that he could never get used to feeling Voldemort's pleasure and
satisfaction at the deaths of muggles as if it was his own, and it was becoming
increasingly difficult not to be dragged down into depression and despair, but
Harry refused to let Voldemort win. He locked the pain away, deep in his heart,
but there were times like tonight where it was just too great. Harry's
shoulders shook and clenched with suppressed sobs, hot tears dampening the
knees of his pajama bottoms, as he huddled close to himself to try and gather
some comfort for his pain.
    However, he froze when a clatter of metal suddenly rent the air, followed
by a soft curse. Tears forgotten, Harry stood shakily and pressed himself close
to the cold stone despite his invisibility cloak. He barely dared to breathe,
suddenly realizing that he was standing in the corridor off of the Entrance
Hall near the Defense classroom, and cursed silently at his stupidity. If he
got caught by Umbridge or one of the Ministry lackeys, he would be in detention
until the end of the year. He held his breath as footsteps hurriedly approached
his location, echoed by other footsteps farther behind.
    Harry barely managed to keep his gasp of surprise silent when he saw
Draco's familiar silvery-blond hair enter his vision, the Slytherin's mouth
pinched with worry as he glanced back behind him. Harry snapped out of his
stupor when the footsteps following his mate suddenly sped up, and he didn't
stop to think before he threw himself away from the wall and collided with
Draco. Harry quickly covered Draco's mouth to stifle any sound, and let their
momentum carry them into the open door of an empty classroom across from where
Harry had stopped. The room was dark and unused, much to Harry's relief, and he
quickly moved them out of the way of the doorway, pinning Draco to the wall.
Wandlessly, he pushed the door shut silently.
    "Quiet," Harry breathed, feeling Draco stiffen with surprise and slump with
relief as he recognized Harry's voice. They stood silently in the darkness as
the pursuing footsteps moved without pausing past their hiding place. As the
footsteps faded, Harry dropped his head into the crook of Draco's neck, sighing
with relief. They waited several more minutes in silence, listening intently.
Eventually, Draco stirred.
    "Po- Harry?" He asked quietly, shivers running up his spine every time the
Gryffindor's soft, warm breaths ghosted over his skin. "They're gone." There
was no reply. Harry's body was pressed close to Draco's, every nerve on fire
wherever they touched, and Harry's mind buzzed with the warmth, comfort, and
acceptance he had been so desperate for only minutes ago.
    "You prat, you better not fall asleep on me." Draco's voice, cold and
disgusted but with a warm undercurrent of amusement, washed over Harry and he
just moved a little bit closer in response.
    "Is that any way to treat someone who saved you from detention for the rest
of the year?" Harry murmured, feeling Draco shiver as his soft lips moved
against the skin of the Slytherin's neck. Harry wasn't sure why he wasn't
embarrassed that his body was still pressed so closely against Draco, but Harry
was feeling a bit reckless and insecure from his nightmare and Draco wasn't
pulling away, so he continued to indulge in his mate's soft skin.
    "You never seemed to mind before," Draco was saying in reply, turning his
head slightly. However, he froze when he felt the wetness of Harry's lingering
tears against his jaw. Gently, he grasped Harry's shoulders and pushed him far
enough away to see his face, reaching into his silk nightrobe and pulling out
his wand to whisper a quiet Lumos. The light caused both of them to flinch and
blink rapidly, but Draco's eyes adjusted first. Spotting the glistening trails
beneath the Gryffindor's large, haunted green eyes, Draco frowned, a trifle
concerned.
    "What happened, Harry?" Confused, Harry's hand automatically lifted before
he remembered that he had been crying when he had been interrupted by Draco.
Blushing furiously in embarrassment, he wiped his tears away with the back of
his hand and let his eyes drop to the floor. "Just nightmares," he said
hoarsely, shrugging. "I'm fine, I just had to get away for a bit."
    Draco just watched him silently, eyes sweeping over his thin form
calculatingly, before he rolled his eyes. Sighing as if it pained him to do so,
he reached out and pulled Harry into a soft embrace. Harry stiffened
momentarily in surprise but almost immediately melted against his mate's warm,
firm body, clutching soft fabric of Draco's nightrobe uncertainly and burying
his face in the crook of Draco's neck again.
    "It's hard, sometimes," Harry admitted very quietly, as if revealing some
great secret. "But I'll get used to it. Eventually." He sounded as if he was
trying to convince himself more than Draco, who just snorted softly.
    "Liar. No one can get used to seeing the things you do, except the people
who enjoy it." Harry didn't reply for a long moment, but pressed himself closer
to Draco.
    "I'm glad you're here, Draco," he said finally. "I'm glad I found you."
Draco didn't say anything in response, still somewhat uncomfortable with the
nature of their... relationship, or whatever it was. "What were you doing
wandering the halls in the middle of the night anyway?" Harry asked, moving
back a little to look up at Draco, but taking care to remain in the Slytherin's
embrace.
    "I was on my way to meet Umbridge for our nightly dalliance," Draco said,
rolling his eyes. Harry made a disgusted face and an evil little smile crept
over Draco's face. "Honestly, Potter, how little do you think of me? I was
actually looking for the kitchens and, I'll have you know, avoiding all those
bumbling Aurors just fine until that blasted suit of armor decided to leap out
in front of me out of nowhere. Speaking of which, why the hell is half of you
still invisible?"
    Harry grinned and pulled his invisibility cloak, which had slipped down,
off completely and held it up. Draco's mouth dropped and he slowly reached out
to touch the silvery, fluid-like fabric, eyes brightening with understanding
and child-like excitement. "So that's how you get away with everything," he
breathed. "Do you know how rare invisibility cloaks are? I'm surprised
Dumbledore even lets you have it."
    "Funny, I didn't even know it existed until Dumbledore gave it to me for
Christmas my first year." Harry quipped. "It was my dad's, and Dumbledore
thought that I should have it. You have no idea how useful it is."
    "I can imagine," Draco said, eyeing the cloak enviously. Harry suddenly
remembered that they were still pressed closely together against the cold stone
walls, and he tried to back away with a blush, but Draco seemed to have
realized their proximity at the same moment and a wicked gleam entered his
eyes. Harry didn't know how, but suddenly the room spun and he found himself
pressed against the wall, their positions reversed. Draco's breath puffed
against his cheek in a quiet chuckle and Harry shivered when the Slytherin
nibbled lightly on his ear.
    "Well, well, well," Draco's voice was low and seductive, and Harry's knees
suddenly felt like water. A distant part of his brain that wasn't suddenly
riveted on Draco's body noted that it was lucky that he was pinned to the wall
or else he would have certainly collapsed. "Look what we have here; an innocent
little Gryffindor trapped in a dark room with a Slytherin. Whatever will we
do?"
    "D-Draco... what are you d-doing?" Harry panted, hands clenching and
unclenching indecisively in Draco's nightrobe. The blond didn't reply. Harry
suddenly felt a slim leg being pressed between his own and his breath hitched
as Draco's hands trailed down his sides, his brain whirling with pleasure and
excitement. Draco's tongue seemed to be working wonders on his neck, laving the
soft skin every time Draco nipped him, and he groaned when the Slytherin's long
fingers traced the edge of his thin pajama bottoms, which were riding low on
his hips. Instinctively, he slid his arms up behind Draco's head and pulled him
closer, tilting his head to allow better access for the blond and arching
against him.
    This pulled a low growl from Draco as Harry's leg brushed against his
crotch and he gripped the dazed Gryffindor's slim hips to keep him from moving
further. "Careful there, Potter," Draco warned, and Harry blushed as a bit of
awareness came back to him. He could feel Draco's considerable arousal pressing
firmly against his thigh. Before he could think, he shifted. Both boys gasped
at the pleasure that exploded and shivered through their bodies. Automatically,
Harry's hips bucked once more to bring his burgeoning arousal into contact with
Draco's leg while Draco froze, a low moan ripped from his throat. Draco's head
dropped forward and he latched onto Harry's neck with his lips and teeth, even
as he rubbed himself seductively against Harry's thigh.
    Harry yelped a bit in surprise more than pain as the Slytherin bit rather
harshly near the junction of his neck and shoulder, but the pleasure clouded
his senses in the next second as Draco lapped at the bite apologetically and
laved it generously with his tongue before moving back up to his ear. Harry's
neck and ears had always been sensitive, as Draco was coming to realize. Draco
noted these spots as erogenous zones in a distant part of his mind, smirking
against Harry's soft, fragrant skin, and moved back to suckle possessively at
the bite he had inflicted earlier. He felt Harry sag against him at this, the
petite boy's soft pants and sounds of pleasure driving him mad.
    "D-Draco..." Harry mewled, dropping his head back against the stone and
moving his hands to grasp Draco's shoulders. "Oh Merlin... Ah! Don't stop..." A
distant part of Harry's mind was sputtering in horror and shame at the way he
was rubbing himself wantonly against the Slytherin like a sleazy whore, but
Harry found that he couldn't stop himself. His mind was whirling with pleasure
and happiness and lust, random thoughts emerging and dropping away like flotsam
on turbulent seas as he drank in his mate's touch, scent, and taste.
    He barely noticed when Draco's hands stopped massaging his hips, but he
groaned when the Slytherin reached down to cup his arse, kneading the soft,
curved flesh. Frantically, Harry pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses against the
blond's neck, sliding his slender hands up Draco's nightshirt and running them
over the warm skin. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over the Slytherin's
nipples, causing Draco to stiffen with a gasp, bucking instinctively against
Harry as they both moaned loudly. Harry thought it was a wonder that neither of
them had had an orgasm yet.
    "Harry..." Draco finally groaned, placing a few final, searing kisses
against Harry's skin before he pulled away slowly. He rested their foreheads
together and for a time they just stood silently, eyes closed, cheeks flushed,
hot breaths mingling in soft pants as they gained some control over their
bodies. Draco's hands still grasped the soft swell of Harry's arse and Draco's
nightshirt was bunched up around Harry's wrists as he laid his hands against
the blond's chest, fingers idly stroking the warm skin.
    Finally, Draco's molten silver eyes opened and in the light of his wand
(which had dropped on the floor at some point but was still lit), he locked
eyes with Harry's warm, glazed emeralds. He found the small flush that covered
the Gryffindor's cheeks simultaneously endearing and erotic, and he quickly
closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead to distract himself.
Harry sighed at the feelings that swept over him at this; no one except himself
had ever touched his scar (well, except Voldemort, but Harry refused to even
think about that painful, revolting experience), and to have it kissed in such
a loving way with Draco's soft lips was incredible.
    "Merlin..." he whispered huskily, dazed. Their heated snog seemed to have
come out of nowhere, but now he wasn't complaining. Draco agreed, if his
breathless chuckle was any indication.
    "My name's Draco, Harry," he murmured, his own voice low. "But I agree. We
should stop now before we get too excited and complete the bond tonight."
    Harry flushed, embarrassed but pleased that he could make the blond lose
control in such a way. He nodded reluctantly, trailing his fingers down Draco's
lightly-muscled chest and letting his fingertips catch on Draco's pajama
bottoms before raising a hand and self-consciously running it through his own
hair. Draco's eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and he gave Harry's arse
one last squeeze before stepping back, his eyes opening and a mischievous smile
playing about his reddened lips.
    "Well well, who knew that Saint Potter could be such a tease?" Harry
scowled and blushed.
    "You have no right to talk, you're the one that started it!" He shot back.
    "Yeah, and I was the one that had to end it."
    "Jerk."
    "Prat."
    "Wanker."
    "Gryffindor."
    "That's hardly an insult." Harry smirked, tilting his nose up arrogantly.
The next moment he yelped in surprise as Draco, who was still close to him,
darted forward and had him pinned to the wall again.
    "Cheeky brat," the youngest Malfoy growled into his ear. "I can make you
cum right now and you could do nothing to stop me." He nibbled on the ear and
pressed his hips against Harry's to emphasize his point. A deep flush rose up
through Harry's neck and face at the erotic words, a moan ripped from him
unbidden as lust pounded through his body once more.
   Draco knew that it was true, too. While he was still a virgin, the
Slytherin had "been around the block," so to speak, and had made many of his
partners climax through touch alone. It had taken some practice of
course, which was why rumors about his sex life tended to run rampant even
though he had never technically had sex. Still, he knew he could make the
Gryffindor (who he was sure had never even been kissed before, much less had
sex) cream his pants within minutes, and what surprised him so much was that
Draco might join him. The blond had never had much of a connection or
"relationship" with his partners and often he left the encounter unsatisfied,
but he was finding that Harry's touch, as inexperienced as it was, was
affecting him just as much as his touch was affecting the Gryffindor. For the
first time, he was nearly ready to climax after only minutes of dalliance, and
that both confused and scared him.
    "Ah! D-Draco... stop..." At Harry's panted words, as if he had said a
spell, Draco was gone, stepping away from Harry completely and smirking when
Harry slid down the wall with a surprised yelp and a thump as his watery legs
gave way. Harry scowled up at him and pouted.  
    "You're really sadistic, you know that? Do all Slytherin's do this to
people they like?"
    "Only to people that deserve it for being so insolent to their elders and
betters."
    "Oh, so you're my better now, are you?"
    "Certainly. At least I have some margin of control over my own body."
    "Can I help it if I get a bit carried away? I'm sort of new to this, in
case you haven't noticed."
    "It's sort of hard not to," Draco said dryly, smirking. "Have you cooled
down yet, Potter?"
    Harry flushed, glad to note that he had, indeed, returned to normal in all
areas as they spoke. Still, it was bloody annoying that Draco made fun of him
so much. "You really do hate me, don't you?"
    "..."
   Silence settled in the room at his words, suddenly tense. Harry glanced up,
confused, to see Draco take a step forward and look down at him. His expression
was intense but unreadable, all bantering forgotten, and Harry felt his mouth
go dry.
    "Yes, I do."
    Harry blinked, unsure if he had heard right. "What?"
    "I hate you, Harry." He repeated, looking completely serious. "I hate you
for your courage and Gryffindorness, I hate you for rejecting my friendship
when we met on the train, I hate you for forcing me to hate you even when I
didn't want to, I hate you for succeeding every time I fail, I hate you for
proving me wrong whenever I think I'm right, I hate you for being stronger and
more confident than I am, I hate you for knowing what you believe and standing
up for it, I hate you for always being there, and I hate you for changing my
world every time you smile."
    "T-then... why are you here with me?" Harry whispered, mind whirling. It
hurt him more than he thought possible to hear Draco say those words, almost
like a physical blow to the stomach. All the pain, uncertainty, and
worthlessness he had felt when he woke up was back, worse than before. He
couldn't understand it. Did Draco accept him just so that the Savior of the
Wizarding World wouldn't die? As an obligation? Did their snog only minutes ago
mean nothing to him? Was he just using Harry's "condition" for his own gain?
    Draco crouched until they were eye-to-eye and Harry's breath hitched when
he smelled that clean scent that only belonged to Draco. His eyes pooled with
tears, thinking that Draco's rejection meant that he would never be able to be
close enough to smell that scent again. Harry was so distressed that he almost
missed Draco next, quiet words. Almost.
    "I'm here because there is a fine line, Harry. A very fine line."
    And he leaned forward and kissed him.
    Harry froze. His mind was barely able to process what Draco had said and
what it meant. When it finally did, all of his confusion and uncertainty
vanished and Harry closed his eyes as he surrendered himself to the joy and
pleasure that nearly overwhelmed him. The kiss, his first kiss, was gentle but
insistent, Draco's soft lips moving over his frozen ones with certainty. It
wasn't what he had expected from the passionate blond, and he hesitated for a
split second before he kissed back.
    Apparently Draco had only been gentle at first in order to let Harry make
his decision, because as Harry tentatively kissed back, Draco dropped his knees
to the cold floor, one between Harry's legs, and pressed forward. Harry felt
the coldness of the hard stone against his back and butt, a sharp contrast to
the soft, blazing warmth in front of him and he moaned as Draco cupped his
cheek. Hesitantly, running on instinct and not entirely sure what he was doing,
Harry opened his mouth a little and let his small tongue slide across Draco's
bottom lip. Draco froze for a split second in surprise and Harry held his
breath, unsure if he had done something wrong, but then the blond let out a
groan and suddenly the passion that Draco had been restraining was unleashed.
    Draco tilted his head and opened his mouth, letting his own tongue slide
over Harry's and take complete control over the kiss. The kiss was suddenly hot
and passionate, fierce and bruising, punctuated by low moans, gasps, and soft
panting as the more experienced of the two took over. Draco buried a hand in
Harry's hair, exploring the hot cavern of the petite boy's mouth before he
gently sucked Harry's full bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it gently.
Harry gasped and whimpered, clutching Draco's nightshirt as if his life
depended on it. Draco released the bruised and swollen flesh with a final lick
and trailed his burning touch down to Harry's jaw to give the Gryffindor a
chance to catch his breath.
    Then he was back and stroking his tongue slowly over Harry's lip,
encouraging them to gain him access. Harry opened his mouth without hesitation
this time and was rewarded with Draco practically snatching his tongue and
suckling it gently, nipping the tip playfully and drawing a strangled yelp and
a moan from Harry. Draco's mouth was like heaven, smooth and hot, with a slight
hint of mint and Harry groaned again, hardly able to believe this was
happening. He had to be dreaming; there was no way that such pleasure could be
real, not when Harry's life was so full of pain and disappointment.
    Finally, Draco pulled back a little and once again they were forehead-to-
forehead, panting harshly and sharing quick, small kisses as they tried to
catch their breath.
    "That was... incredible," Harry murmured huskily, his voice shaking very
slightly. Draco smirked playfully.
    "Of course it was. Practice makes perfect, right? And I've had lots of
practice; I'm a Malfoy, after all." Harry's eyes, still darkened with lust to a
deep forest green, narrowed a bit and he didn't smile. The sharp bite of
jealousy and possessiveness surprised him, and he quickly beat it back. It
wasn't as if he was Draco's spouse, or lover for that matter, so what did it
matter to him if Draco had snogged a lot before he became Harry's mate? It
shouldn't matter at all.
    But it did.
    Draco seemed to be able to read Harry's mind and he inwardly rolled his
eyes with a silent groan and a plea for the gods to save him from jealous
Gryffindors. He trailed his hand down the side of Harry's neck to the point of
his chin, prompting Harry to look up into his eyes. "Relax, Harry," Draco said
quietly. "Mostly, it was just for show; for my father and the rest of the
Slytherins. I won't be snogging with anyone else now, I promise. I may not be
fair, nice, or fluffy, but I amhonest, and I alwayskeep my promises. Okay?"
    Harry stared at him, something akin to awe in his eyes. He had never seen
Draco speak so passionately in anything but anger or lust, and it sent a thrill
down his spine. Impulsively, he sprang forward and wrapped his thin arms around
the Slytherin's slender neck, crushing his lips to Draco's in a fiercely hot
kiss with the hopes of communicating his feelings. After a muffled yelp of
surprise, Draco responded enthusiastically to the unexpected kiss and for
several long moments there was only the sound of soft moans and pants. Finally,
Harry pulled away, licking his swollen lips and smiling.
    "That's definitely okay."
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which there is an army formed.
    Harry was somewhat glad for the distraction of Quidditch starting up again
(they had managed to get their team reinstated), since he hadn't been able to
stop himself from blushing slightly whenever he happened to catch Draco's eye
or glancing at the blond every so often in the classes they had together. It
was extremely embarrassing, especially after his friends had noticed and
(except for Ron and Hermione) thought that he had a crush on one of the
Slytherins. It had taken him some time to quell that rumor before it got out to
the rest of the school. It didn't help that he had to wear a scarf for days in
order to hide the hickey Draco had given him.
    Perhaps this new step in Harry's relationship with Draco was a good omen,
for it was only the next day that another large problem was solved. Then again,
another problem emerged simultaneously, so it was more likely that Harry's bad
luck was still holding out.
    That night after Quidditch practice, Harry had, as per usual, showered by
himself in one of the private shower stalls and had just opened his locker to
put away his towel and dirty clothes for the house elves when pain lanced
across his scar. Yelping, he closed his eyes tightly and slapped a hand to his
forehead.
    "You alright there, Harry?" Someone asked nervously. Fred. Or maybe George.
Harry opened his eyes and lowered his hand, blushing slightly in embarrassment.
    "Sorry, just forgot an essay for Snape," he lied, glancing at Ron
significantly. The redhead nodded in understanding, and Harry went back to
packing up his things, moving quicker now. Ron, much to everyone's surprise,
had made the team as Keeper and had been ecstatic about it for weeks, even
though he tended to get nervous in front of others. Harry was happy for him,
however, and they walked closely together as the team moved back up to the
castle.
    "What happened? Was it your scar?" Ron asked. Harry nodded shortly, eyes
flat and hard. "But...He - he can't be near us now, can he?"
    "No, I would be able to tell if he was nearby." Harry replied, watching the
grass pass beneath their feet. "He's miles away. This time... this time, he was
angry, frustrated." He rubbed a finger across his scar absently. It had hurt
more fiercely than it had in weeks. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing,
Voldemort was in a towering temper.
    "Did you see him?" Ron asked, looking terrified. "Did you... get a vision
or something?"
    The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head. "No, not really, most of the time I just
feel some of his strongest emotions. Snatches of thought, feelings, you know?
This time... this time it was because he was frustrated. He wanted to get
something done and it wasn't happening fast enough."
    Glancing up, he saw that Ron was gaping at him.
    "You could take over for Trelawney, mate," he said, awed.
    "I'm not making prophecies," Harry snapped, offended. Both of the Trelawney
prophecies that were now dictating his life were still somewhat of a sensitive
topic for him, but Ron didn't seem to notice.
    "No, you know what you're doing?" Ron said, sounding both scared and
impressed. "Harry, you're readingYou-Know-Who's mind..."
    Harry let out a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "So what else is new?" He
muttered. They fell silent as they approached the castle, seeing the Slytherin
team emerging to play on the pitch after them. Harry felt that cursed blush
steal over his cheeks as he caught sight of the familiar pale blond head, but
just as he met Draco's emotionless grey eyes, his scar exploded with pain. Eyes
widening and the blood draining from his face, Harry staggered, colliding with
Ron before he backed away from his teammates. He bent over, clutching his scar
tightly as a strangled cry of pain was wrenched from his throat.
    Distantly, he heard several cries of surprise and panic, Ron's voice closer
than the others, but he couldn't spare the time to respond. He was frantically
trying to sort out and memorize the jumble of images, sounds, and thoughts that
were being crammed into his brain.
    Draco's face paled and a flicker of concern and fear passed through his
eyes as he remembered the vision Harry had had only a week before summer's end.
The horror of those few minutes, when Voldemort's silky voice had come from
Harry's throat, were best forgotten and he didn't want to experience it again,
much less in front of a group of Slytherins. He snapped at the Chaser next to
him, a third-year, to get Snape or another teacher and went back to staring at
Harry impassively, praying that he would be okay.
    After several moments of extreme pain that felt like hours, Harry was
finally released from Voldemort's mind and he collapsed to his knees with a
gasp of relief. Wavering, he dropped down onto his hands and knees, letting his
pounding head hang loosely. It felt like his mind had been raped, ground into
mush, and poured back into his skull. Mere seconds after he had collapsed,
however, Harry felt a thin, bony hand grasp his elbow tightly and yank him onto
his feet. Blinking, he let his eyes focus on the grim, pale visage of the
Potion's Master and immediately winced, leaning back a bit. Snape just
tightened his grip, looking him over carefully. 
    "Potter! What happened?"
    Harry shook his head warningly, massaging his temples with shaking hands.
"Not here," he hissed, glancing at his pale, frightened teammates, with the
Slytherin team crowded behind them. Snape snorted with impatience and
practically dragged the green-eyed boy after him. Harry nearly had to jog to
keep up with the tall man, wincing as his brain jarred with every step, and
when they entered the Hospital Wing, he flinched at Poppy's shriek of
protest at the way Snape was handling him. Harry sat down heavily on his bed
and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his tingling scar absently.
    "Well, Potter? Is this private enough?" Snape asked sarcastically, standing
with his arms crossed and glaring down his hawk nose at Harry. Before Harry
could reply, Minerva McGonagall burst through the doors, face pale and lips
pressed tightly together.
    "What's this I hear about Potter?" She asked sharply. Harry sighed, shaking
his head impatiently.
    "I'm fine-" He pointedly ignored all three of their snorts at this,
"Voldemort was just pissed off about something. It startled me, that's all."
    "It 'startled' you enough for you to have to take another post-Cruciatus,"
Poppy tutted shrewdly, shoving a beaker into his trembling hands. Harry rolled
his eyes and downed the drought without hesitation. Immediately his body
calmed.
    "All better? Very well, thank you Poppy, but I'm afraid that I must take
Mr. Potter to my office to give his report," McGonagall said briskly, shooting
Snape a pointed look as she grasped Harry's elbow and tugged him off the bed.
Harry was beginning to feel like a toy doll being yanked around, but he ignored
the feeling as Snape shot him an unreadable, calculating look before he sniffed
and left the Infirmary with a swirl of his robes.
    Madame Pomfrey protested Harry's leaving, but his Head of House insisted
that it was necessary, and so the nurse gave up after making sure that he felt
alright. He barely had enough time to reassure her before he was being led
silently down the sparsely-populated hallways to McGonagall's office. Letting
him enter first, she wasted no time in setting up several wards and silencing
charms before sitting down behind her desk and motioning for him to sit in the
chair in front of her. Oddly, she seemed almost uncomfortable as she looked at
him, but her voice was steady and nearly emotionless when she spoke.
    "Now then, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're aware that it would be unwise for
the Headmaster to appear as anything other than your Headmaster with that
blasted woman here. With the circumstances as they are, he has asked me to
receive your... reports if situations such as these arise. As your Head of
House, our meetings are less suspicious and Albus will view my memories of our
meeting later, so it will be as if you were speaking directly to him. Now, if
you will tell me what happened..."
    Harry hesitated for a moment, watching the older woman carefully and
studying the emotions in her eyes. Regret, worry, anger, tiredness, and
something akin to respect were there, and he quickly made his decision. He
emotionlessly described what had happened in detail, never looking away from
her face, imagining Dumbledore's wise eyes sparkling back at him. He barely
noticed the horror and pity growing in her eyes as he described the snatches of
thought and images that had been shoved in his brain.
    "When Voldemort became so frustrated that his shields slipped, a large,
tangled bundle of information was just shoved at me through our connection. If
you remember, sir, Voldemort had invited some guests to join in on the meeting
where he cursed Nott. I hadn't seen Heilman or Xu Chi in any of my visions
since, until now. From what I could gather, Heilman had agreed to gather more
supporters in Germany and to begin a small branch of Death Eaters that would
gather information and artifacts helpful to Voldemort. But the work is slow,
slower than Voldemort would like.
    "He still wants the artifact that Nott had been assigned to get, but he
doesn't have enough Death Eaters to launch a full attack on the Department of
Mysteries, much less the Ministry of Magic. He wants to use the special...
'skills' that Heilman and Xu Chi have as the catalyst that could obtain the
object." He sent McGonagall an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know
what skills the foreigners have that make them so special; Voldemort rarely
thinks about them, and when he does it's mostly about how helpful they can be.
    "But I do know that even though Heilman is taking a long time, Voldemort
doesn't dare curse him. It's more than Heilman just being too valuable to risk
alienating... it almost borders on fear, if that's possible. There's something
about Heilman that Voldemort doesn't want to piss off. Other than that... there
was nothing else clear enough to be helpful." Abruptly, his expression changed
from solemn to smiling. "By the way Professor, I know that Sirius and Remus
wanted to have me at Grimmauld Place for the holidays. If that's alright, can I
take Draco with me?"
    McGonagall sniffed and looked sternly at him. "I am not some sort of muggle
telephone, Mr. Potter."
    Harry just smiled, a little nervous. "Er... right, I knew that. I just
thought that, well, since you're here... Right, well, I've got to, um, do
something right now... I'll see you tomorrow, Professor." He beat a hasty
retreat, waving his hand at the door in passing to drop all of the wards and
charms.
    The rest of the day, Harry stayed out of view as much as possible. Not only
were people staring at him, they were also not taking much care to whisper when
they wondered what had happened to him on the Quidditch pitch. It was just like
last year, when Rita Skeeter had been printing those articles about him, and
Harry couldn't help but feel a little bitter about that.
    However, he found new incentive to forget all of the rumors, in the form of
Dobby, surprisingly. The house elf had been instructed to return Hedwig to him,
perfectly healed, and Harry had been struck by a brilliant idea. After asking
Dobby if there was a room that he could teach thirty people in without teachers
knowing, the house elf had happily responded that there was such a room. The
"come and go room" as the house elves had dubbed it, seemed to be a room that
would become whatever anyone wanted if they paced three times in front of it.
Harry had thanked the elf gratefully, glad that something was finally going in
his favor.
    Hermione was ecstatic with the news and during lunch the next day, they
checked out the Room of Requirement (as Hermione had discovered it was called
after a furious bout of reading in Hogwarts, A History). In the seventh-floor
corridor, across from the painting of Barnabus the Barmy, there was a blank
space of stone wall. Uncertainly, Harry fixed an image of what he wanted the
room to look like in his mind and began pacing. After the third pass, a door
suddenly appeared out in the middle of the blank wall. Ron gaped and Hermione
gasped in surprise before they shared a look and Harry reached forward to open
the door.
    "Blimey..." Ron breathed as the door swung open easily. The room was
impressive; it was almost as large as the Entrance Hall, with shelves of books
lining two walls, chalkboards lining one wall, and weapons lining the last one.
The floor in front of the latter was actually a training mat and there were
comfortable chairs and silk pillows on the floor near the bookshelves. It was
nearly perfect for both training and teaching, and from Hermione's awed
expression, it seemed that she thought so too.
    "It's perfect, Harry!" She exclaimed, rushing to the bookshelves and
peering at their covers. "I haven't even heard of some of these Defense books!
Oh, this changes everything! Our curriculum, our style of teaching... we can do
anything in this room!"
    "Yeah, but we've got to keep this a secret," Harry warned as he wandered
over to the weapon side of the room and idly scanned the armory there. "We
can't have everyone knowing about the Room of Requirement; who knows what some
people would do with a room that can supply anything they want? Dobby told me
that we can't take anything out of the room, but that doesn't stop someone from
studying an endless supply of Dark Arts books."
    Idly, he picked up one of the swords from its stand on the wall, feeling
its heft and balance carefully. He wasn't too experienced with the longer
swords yet, but he could wield one of these shorter Katana-like blades quite
well by now. Standing still for a moment, thinking of what he wanted in his
mind, Harry let a small smile creep over his face when he heard the rustle
behind him indicating that the Room had provided it. Ignoring his friends'
warning cries, he turned swiftly with a graceful sidestep, avoiding the blade
aimed at his head. In front of him was a simple training dummy made of straw,
holding its sword in an offensive position as it regained its balance and
charged.
    Shacklebolt had taught Harry using much more complex and subtle attacks and
even though Harry hadn't participated much at the end of the summer, he had
still learned a great deal. He easily blocked the blow and angled his blade
down, making the other blade slide down to the ground and unbalancing his
opponent. Quickly, Harry slid around and before the dummy could react, he
swiped his blade cleanly through the straw torso. In a burst of straw that
quickly settled to the ground and vanished, Harry carefully wiped the blade of
any lingering straw and replaced it on the wall.
    As if nothing had happened, he walked over to one of the bookshelves by the
weapons and continued browsing. He could hear Hermione sputtering in a mix of
anger and relief and Ron merely crowed out an awed, "Bloody hell, mate, that
was brilliant! Where the hell did you learn to do that?"
    "At training, Ron. I've been doing things like that for a while now and
don't worry, Hermione, I knew exactly what I was doing." He let out a small
sigh when this just set Hermione off about irresponsibility and sharp objects,
which then drew Ron into an argument about what kind of training would be
helpful for Harry. If this is how they responded every time they saw some of
the things he knew how to do, then they really weren't ready to learn about
everything he could and would be able to do. It tore at his heart to do so, but
Harry knew that he would have to continue holding things from his friends until
they grew up a bit more. He just hoped that they would grow up fast; he needed
them.
   
===============================================================================
 
   That night was the first meeting of the "club" that Hermione had organized.
Hermione had gathered up a list of about thirty-five people who would
definitely want to join the secret club and Harry had quickly memorized it
before having Zephyr scan them to see if they were trustworthy or not. Seven
people had been struck off the list as he went throughout the week and Zephyr
insisted that the rest were valuable and trustworthy members that were (or
would be) loyal to him.
   Harry had told Draco about the club and though the Slytherin had no problem
letting Harry run it ("It's your neck you're risking," he had said with a
shrug), they had both agreed that it would be best if Draco wouldn't join
immediately. Not only was he not trusted, but the risk of their relationship
being exposed would be too great to even bother considering. It bothered Harry
that Draco wasn't learning things that he could use to protect himself, but he
contented himself with the reminder that Draco was a Malfoy and probably knew a
whole lot more Dark curses than Harry did.
   So, that night the prospective members were contacted and told where to meet
(while the rejected ones would be told the next day that the club was not going
to start up at all), and Harry, Hermione, and Ron summoned the Room of
Requirement thirty minutes early. They discussed the upcoming meeting and
future "lesson" plans as they waited for everyone to arrive, but as time moved
on Harry became more and more quiet, feeling his insides twist nervously.
   He still thought of himself as the invisible, scrawny little boy that
everyone ignored or beat up, and the idea that he was now going to train
twenty-eight fellow students to defend themselves was mind-boggling. What if
they didn't like how he taught? What if they didn't listen to him? What would
happen to them if they were caught? What if-
   Harry didn't have any more time to silently panic, because the door of the
room suddenly opened and people began entering, chattering excitedly, staring
around in awe, and scrutinizing Harry himself. First came Neville with Dean and
Lavender, who were closely followed by Pavarti and Padma Patil with Cho and one
of her usually giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy
that she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell,
Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie
Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a
long plait down her back whose name Harry didn't know; three Ravenclaw boys
named Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; Ginny, followed by a
member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and
George with their friend Lee Jordan.
    Harry was a little unnerved that he didn't recognize everyone, but with the
list that Hermione discreetly passed him, he was able to put names to faces as
they all entered and sat on the soft, silk cushions that littered the floor in
front of the small platform that Harry was standing on. There was a small table
at the center of the platform that Harry - seemingly casual - leaned on, with
Hermione standing next to him wringing her hands nervously as she cleared her
throat for attention. From what they had worked out, she would give a sort of
introduction before letting Harry take over. Harry hoped his stomach would stop
writhing by then.
    "Er - W-welcome everyone," Hermione said, her voice a bit higher than
normal, "welcome to the introductory meeting of this Defense Against the Dark
Arts club. Well, it's not really a club, it's more an actual class since that -
that rubbishthat Umbridge is spewing is hardly real Defense. Anyway, you all
pretty much know why you're here - it's not just because we need to pass our
OWLs, it's also because, well..." she trailed off, a little shaken, but then
she gathered her Gryffindor courage and finished firmly, "we need to learn this
because Lord Voldemort is back and we need to be able-"
    Predictably, her words were nearly drowned out by the gasps and small cries
that broke out at Voldemort's name and though his emotionless expression didn't
change, Harry was sighing at the pathetic absurdity of it all. It was even
worse that they were now watching him eagerly as if expecting him to elaborate.
Instead, he wordlessly set off a small bang at the front of the room and
everyone fell silent. Hermione sent him a quick, grateful glance and continued.
    "Oh, honestly, it's just a silly name. It's not like he'll just jump up out
of nowhere and kill you for saying his name," she huffed. "Anyway, I was saying
that we need to learn this because we need to be able to protect ourselves as
well as our family and friends. After all, what if Death Eaters attacked your
home during the holidays? You've got to do something - underage laws be damned
- and you've got to be able to do more than just disarm them with a second-year
spell!"
    "Hear hear!" cried several people, and Hermione looked heartened.
    "Now, to get down to business. This club was mostly my idea, but Harry has
graciously agreed to teach us some of what he knows, since he has more
experience than all the other students in the school - and probably Umbridge -
combined." Everyone's eyes fixed on Harry at this and he silently cursed
Hermione in his mind. She didn't notice. "Now, you all know that Umbridge
really has it in for him for some reason, so I hope you realize that he's
taking a huge risk doing this for us. The way that - that woman is going, she
could probably get him expelled. So, I hope you realize that these meetings
need to be of the utmost secrecy and, er, as a... security measure, I've got
this list of all of your names that I'll pass around. I want everyone to sign
the parchment next to your name, sort of as a roll."
    There was a stir at this, a murmur of surprise and uncertainty sweeping
through the room, but Hermione passed the parchment to the nearest person
without hesitating. The person happened to be the blond Hufflepuff who played
Quidditch and he sniffed, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the parchment before
moving almost accusingly to Harry. From the sinking of his stomach, Harry knew
this one would be a problem.
    "Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" he said suddenly in a rather mean
voice. There was a collective intake of breath at the boy's audacity and Harry
tensed slightly. He forced himself to relax, however, and just met the boy's
challenging gaze calmly as Hermione tried to field the question.
    "Well, Dumbledore believes it-" she began stiffly, but was interrupted
again.
    "You mean, Dumbledore believes him." This was said with a nod at Harry, who
didn't react.
    "Who are you?" Ron said rather rudely.
    "Zacharias Smith, and I think we've got a right to know what makes him say
You-Know-Who's back."
    "Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's not really what this
meeting's about-"
    "It's okay, Hermione," Harry said quietly. Suddenly, all of the butterflies
in his stomach abruptly vanished and he felt completely calm in his certainty
of what these people wanted. Most of them were too awed or too polite to say it
out loud and, though it was irksome, Harry felt a bit of respect for Smith for
taking the initiative. They wanted proof, motivation. His intensely green eyes
swept over the group before focusing fully on Zacharias Smith once more. "I
think that's enough of an introduction. What makes me say 'You-Know-Who' is
back? There are lots of things - the fact that I sawhim; Cedric Diggory's
death; the nightmares; the death count that has suddenly sky-rocketed... But
none of that is really relevant to your question since they don't matter to you
anyway. You want proof - a Pensieve full of my memories, perhaps, or a personal
visit with the Dark Lord - proof that I'm not insane, that Dumbledore is not
playing favorites, that Voldemortis back to kill everyone associated with a
muggleborn."
    Zacharias opened his mouth as if to say something, but Harry spoke before
he could. "Unfortunately, even if I did have proof, you probably wouldn't
believe me if you don't believe me now, and I'm not going to waste my time
trying to convince you. If you want to know what it looks like when Voldemort
murders someone, you should probably clear out now because you've come to the
wrong place." He let his eyes drift over everyone in the room, and several
people shivered at the intensity of his gaze. The room was silent, hanging on
his every quiet word. "Very rarely will I mention my experiences in this room;
I'm here only to teach you how to survive, so if you're here to learn to
protect yourselves and your family, sign the parchment. If you just came for
story time with crazy Harry Potter, then I'll happily send you on your way with
an Obliviate and a headache potion."
    There was a few strained chuckles, but they quickly died when they realized
he was serious. There was a long silence for a moment as Zacharias reluctantly
put his name down on the parchment and passed it along. As the list worked its
way through the room with no more problems, the girl with a long plait down her
back suddenly spoke up.
    "Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"
    There was a murmur of interest at this and Harry smiled slightly as the
tension in the room relaxed.
    "Yes," he said simply.
    "A corporeal Patronus?"
    Bemused, Harry asked, "Er, what's your name?"
    "I'm Susan Bones," she said smiling. "My auntie, Madam Bones, is the Head
of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she heard from one of the
Aurors who heard it from old Professor Lupin that your Patronus is a stag. Is
it true?" She said all of this in one breath and Harry was reminded of Hermione
in the early days.
    "Yes, that's true," he said amusedly. The Auror was probably Tonks blabbing
about him again; she had once told her coworkers that Harry's old boxers had
been so thin that they was almost see-through and he had had to gather the
excess fabric in a bunch and tie a piece of twine around it to hold them up. He
had blanched in horror when she had told him this and the fact that it was true
had just made the whole thing even worse.
    "Blimey, Harry!" Lee was saying, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew
that!"
    "Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She
said you got enough attention as it was."
    "She's not wrong," Harry mumbled and a couple of people laughed.
    "And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?"
demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when
I was in there last year..."
     "Yeah, I did," Harry said.
    Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck
looks, and Lavender Brown said "wow" softly. Harry was definitely feeling a bit
flushed with embarrassment by now and he sent Hermione a pleading glance, but
she just shrugged helplessly. Inwardly rolling his eyes, Harry held up a hand.
    "Hey!" he said mock-sternly, though the lingering blush on his face took
any sting out of his words. "I've already went over this with Ron and Hermione;
I've had a lot of help with the stuff I've done... and I'm not saying that to
try and sound modest or anything. It's the truth. The point is that it doesn't
matter what I've done; I just want to teach you so that you can protect your
loved ones if you have to."
    At this point, the parchment had finished being passed around and Hermione
stepped up again. Harry resumed his position in the background to let his blush
fade. "Right, well if we've all agreed to learn from Harry, then we ought to
set up a meeting time," she said. "I really don't think-"
    "Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our
Quidditch practice."
    "Or with ours," Cho and Zacharias Smith simultaneously.
    "Well, I'm sure that we can find a night that suits everyone," said
Hermione, slightly impatiently. "What will be a real problem is the ridiculous
detentions that Umbridge gives Harry-"
    Ernie Macmillan broke in rather loudly. "I, personally, am at a loss to see
why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical
period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to
give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive
spells-"
    "We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against
the Dark Arts," interrupted Hermione, "is that she's got some... some mad idea
that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army.
She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."
    "Well that's bloody stupid of her, isn't it?" Lee Jordan muttered.
    "She's certainly not known for her intelligence, is she?" Hermione said
matter-of-factly. "Anyway, back to the schedule... We figured that it would be
really chaotic trying to work around Harry's detentions, so I've made up
these..." She held up a fake Galleon. "Now, these aren't real Galleons, so
don't try to spend them. I used the Protean Charm to change the serial numbers
on the edge of the coin, so you can see the date and time there. Harry has the
master coin, so when we have a free night that doesn't conflict with anything,
he just changes the date on his coin, which will cause all of your coins to get
warm and change serial numbers. Do you all understand?"
    There was a general murmur of assent and quite a few impressed glances to
the brilliant witch. Harry watched proudly as she passed out the coins; after
all, the Protean Charm was extremely difficult and probably wasn't even in the
Hogwarts curriculum. Harry straightened up and cleared his throat, causing the
room to quiet and attention to swing back to him.
    "I think that we should end the meeting before we run past curfew, but I
wanted to remind everyone how important it is that these meetings are kept
secret." He stressed the word, meeting everyone's eyes as he looked around the
room. "There is more than points or expulsion on the line; this may be our only
chance to learn how to defend ourselves for the rest of the year... maybe even
longer if the Ministry keeps ignoring Voldemort's return. Out of everyone who
was interested in joining this class, only you twenty-eight were accepted. That
means that no one else will know of these meetings and those who were rejected
will be told tomorrow that I refused to teach and Hermione dropped the idea.
    "You will be the elite of the school," Harry continued with an ironic quirk
of his lips as his eyes darted across Neville and the Creevey brothers, who
were watching him with rapt expressions. "This 'club' will not be easy; it will
notbe a study group where we learn about new spells, but it willbe more than
just practicing. What you will be doing is re-learning everything you think you
know about magic. The things I plan to teach you will cover several different
kinds of magic: Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, History of Dark
Arts... In between, you will work on physical fitness, stealth, reasoning;
skills that could save your life one day.
    "After all... I'm not going to teach you all how to fight." Harry held up a
hand, quieting the surprised murmurs that erupted through the group. "This
class is a substitute for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and defense is all I'm
going to teach you. At this point, you don't need to know how to attack and
kill Death Eaters; all you need to be concerned about is staying alive until
you can get away or until help arrives."
    "So you're going to be teaching us how to run away?" Zacharias Smith said
contemptuously. "What, are you trying to weasel out of teaching us real
fighting?" Ron quickly had to be restrained from storming over to the blond
Hufflepuff, but Harry just met his eyes calmly.
    "Only the ignorant would call it 'running away', but yeah, you could call
it that. In general, what I'm going to teach you is how to survive. If you want
to learn how to attack and kill Death Eaters, then you can become an Auror
after you graduate. I won't teach you how to kill. But don't worry, we won't
even have enough time to get through everything you need to learn thisyear,
much less try and start a section on offensive spells. Now, I think we should
really get going... er, we'll try to aim for at least once a week, so keep your
coins close. Right, everyone's got to leave in small groups so that Umbridge
doesn't get suspicious..."
    Everyone began standing up and stretching, chattering among themselves as
they waited for their group's turn to leave. Quite a few people came up to
Harry to thank him and ask him about the room. He just winked and said that it
was a secret, which they seemed to accept easily enough. As each group left,
Harry watched them return to their common rooms with the Marauder's Map, tense
as a bowstring. His friends exchanged knowing looks and smiles behind his back
as he unknowingly let out a breath of relief when each one made it back safely.
When there was only Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Lee left, Harry allowed
himself to relax and drop his head in his hands with a groan.
    "How was it?" he asked worriedly. "D'you think I covered everything?"
    "You were brilliant, mate," Ron said encouragingly, punching him on the
shoulder. Harry flinched reflexively. Hermione nodded excitedly in agreement.
    "Oh, you were wonderful, Harry! You're a natural."
    "Yeah, didn't know that our Harrykins could be so grown up and serious,"
Fred said. "I got shivers down my spine every time you looked at me. And not
the good kind of shivers, mind."
    "Speak for yourself, brother. In case you haven't noticed, our little Harry
is growing into quite the catch. Sexy andpowerful, hmm?" George said with a
seductive wink in Harry's direction. Harry blinked in shock, a blush spreading
over his cheeks, before he grinned and winked back jokingly. Ron looked
distinctly green in the face, but Hermione was giggling.
    "I don't know about that," Lee said with a strange look at the twins, "but
I sure could've pounded that Smith kid into the ground for you, Harry. What a
wanker!"
    "Yeah, we should kick him out," Ron said angrily.
    "Don't worry about him," Harry sighed tiredly. "I let him in for a reason;
I think he'll be really loyal and valuable once he gets his priorities
straightened out, so don't alienate him by - by turning him into a turkey or
whatever you want to do when you see him."
    "If you say so, Harry," Ron said uncertainly, "but if he keeps making smart
comments like today, then he'll have to deal with me."
   
===============================================================================
 
   The next few weeks passed quickly, punctuated by several more meetings of
what was now known as Dumbledore's Army. At the start of their second meeting,
Hermione had brought up the idea of a name to promote unity and to be able to
reference the group outside of the Room of Requirement without sounding
suspicious. After all, Umbridge had banned all "student organizations" with
Educational Decree #23 only days before their first meeting, and they didn't
want to be caught so soon.
    Many had suggested names such as "The Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group",
but Cho had gotten quite a bit of approval with her suggestion of "Defense
Association" (DA for short). However, Ginny Weasley had taken the idea a step
further by pointing out that the Ministry was afraid of a student army, so they
could be named Dumbledore's Army. There was a great deal of appreciative
murmuring and laughs at this, so Hermione had formally taken a vote and had
written the name at the top of one of the chalkboards.
   Harry had started the group off with the Disarming charm. This had been met
with some confusion and disappointment (mostly voiced by Zacharias Smith), but
Harry had been adamant. As time passed, however, even Zacharias had to admit
that mastering the spell had improved the power of it and his aim in general.
Harry had taken to Remus' style of teaching in that he let everyone pair up and
practice with each other as he walked around to each group and helped each
person individually. The group improved dramatically under his careful and
patient tutelage and he quickly moved them on to different spells, mixing
everything up a bit. So far, they were still working on spells that they had
learned in previous years.
    Rumors about Harry continued to die and fall, but despite them even more
girls seemed to approach him each week.
    "I don't know why you're so surprised, Harry," Hermione had said reasonably
one night after he groaned when another second year left the common room in
tears. "You've always been cute in an orphaned-little-brother sort of way, but
after last year girls are starting to see you as the real catch that you are.
You're brave, good-looking, friendly, powerful, famous, and rich; what do you
suspect? Especially after this summer. I mean, you know what happened to change
you, but it was a surprise to everyone else. You're hair is shinier, your eyes
brighter and clearer without those glasses, your skin is still smooth and soft,
and your voice is prettier than a phoenix's-"
    "Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, his face burning a bright red. He shrank in
his seat, wishing that he knew a spell that would make him disappear into it.
Ron's ears and face had become steadily redder with each attribute she named
off with that infuriatingly calm voice. "Are you mad? I'm not a girl; I do
notwant to hear that my skin is 'smooth and soft'!"
    "Yeah!" Ron said angrily. "What are you doing, thinking about Harry like-
like that?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
    "Oh calm down. Honestly, didn't you think that all the girls here would
notice that?" She rounded on the redhead next to her. "And besides, Ron, I'm a
girl too and I'm allowed to think about boys just like the way you think about
girls!"
    Ron's face blanched to the color of oatmeal. "Y-you mean... you think about
Harry that- that way?" He choked out, and Harry blanched as well.
    "Oh, honestly!" she huffed, exasperated. "Of course not, he's like my
brother! I'm just saying that I'm a girl too and I notice things like that,
just like everyone else! Merlin, Ron, how can you be so dense?" Throwing up her
hands, Hermione stomped from the room, leaving Harry and Ron to stare at each
other in lingering horror and bewilderment.
    "Bloody hell," Ron said blankly. "What was that all about?"
    Harry hadn't said it then, but he knew what Hermione was trying to do. She
had probably been trying to get Ron to notice that she was a girl for ages, but
the redhead was just too thick to realize it without a large sign being
attached to Hermione's back. Despite his reputation, Harry was actually pretty
observant when it came to his fellow student's feelings and thoughts. Gauging
his Uncle Vernon's moods to see how bad of a beating he would get had made him
an expert at reading body language, but he often wasn't sure what to do with
the information or how to respond to it if it didn't involve anger and pain. So
most of the time he kept the information to himself if it didn't involve him;
he was too busy trying to survive most of the time to care who fancied who
anyway.
    Speaking of possible fancies, Harry had not had a chance to meet with Draco
again since their first snog and first kiss, and he was sort of missing the
blond's caustic presence and sarcastic remarks. At times, when Draco's act was
so good that Harry wondered if the Slytherin had been Obliviated and thought it
was still fourth year, Harry felt a bit ashamed and horrified when he thought
of their steamy encounter in the middle of the night. After all, Draco wasa
Slytherin and a Malfoy. Harry could be betraying his friends and the Wizarding
World by "fraternizing with the enemy" so to speak, an enemy that was known to
be sly, dishonest, and ambitious...
    Draco could be using him, lying to him, and he wouldn't know the
difference.
    Harry never contemplated such thoughts for long, at least not consciously,
and they often disappeared to lurk just beneath the surface. Harry had been
beaten and betrayed too many times for him to give his complete trust to anyone
at this point, which meant that he tended to jump to the worst conclusions when
it came to other people. The life of paranoia he lived once he came to the
wizarding world and was introduced to Voldemort didn't make things easier for
him.
    At the moment, however, all of his problems were gone. There was no
uncertainty, no suspicion, no Umbridge, no Voldemort, no death, no scars, no
Uncle Vernon. He didn't worry about the fact that he lied to his friends on a
daily basis (they still had no idea he was nearly raped by Bradley). There was
just him and his Firebolt in the sky, finally feeling free as he dove and
spiraled through the air with his hair buffeting his face. Spotting the Snitch
off to his right above Fred's head, he seamlessly leaned forward and shot
toward it, feeling his breath hitch at the overwhelming feelings of joy and
excitement that threatened to overwhelm him. He barreled toward Fred at full
speed, rolling a few times on impulse and whipping around him twice before
flipping upside down and snatching the Snitch out of the air nimbly just as it
was darting away.
    He grinned at Fred, who was looking gobsmacked, from upside down before
rolling his broom and whirling away with a snap of his Quidditch robes. He
heard the redhead shout something unintelligible at him and he exhaled a breath
of laughter. Being in the air had always felt so natural; it was easy for him
to unwind when the air was whipping through his messy hair and the ground was
far below him. The tension was building for the upcoming Gryffindor/Slytherin
match as everyone sought a distraction from the war, but Harry wasn't too
worried. Quidditch was the least of his worries at the moment.
    Ron, however, didn't seem to be sharing his sentiment. He seemed a bit pale
but determined as he guarded the posts against his brothers, and Harry mentally
applauded as he watched the redhead make a spectacular save. Now if he can just
keep it up for tomorrow. Harry thought amusedly.
 
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Harry continues to fail to catch a break.
    Harry sank onto his bed the next night, shell-shocked.
    Banned.
    Automatically, he tugged up the sleeve of his arm and pulled the curtains
closed when he felt Zephyr's desire to be released in the back of his mind. She
emerged from his body a moment later in a flash of molten fire and settled next
to his head. She spread her wings slightly to shelter his chest in a warm, soft
half-hug and ran her beak through his sweaty hair. He barely registered the
comforting motions.
    Banned.
   Instinctively, he brought his arms up and cradled the phoenix in his arms
carefully like a stuffed animal, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling as he
tried to make sense of the events of the afternoon and his feelings. He and the
Weasley twins had been banned for life from Quidditch and their brooms had been
taken away. His broom, his first gift from Sirius.
    The game had gone well - or as well as it could have gone between two rival
teams - and Harry had caught the Snitch, but then all hell had broken loose. He
had tried to avoid Draco as much as he could, taking up an air of indifference
and distaste around the blonde, but unfortunately Draco had sunk a little too
far back into his old routine of past years.
    He had been saying something - Harry wasn't even sure what, but it was
probably something about the Weasley's income again - and apparently he had
gone too far. Fred and George had attacked him on the Quidditch pitch and, in
turn, this caused Harry to inexplicably fly into a rage. Fortunately, he had
not had much of a chance to do any damage to the twins, but he was in the
middle of the fray when the teachers had intervened. Umbridge, as High
Inquisitor, had banned the three Gryffindors, much to nearly everyone's outrage
and dismay. To add injury to insult, Umbridge had also given him detention
every night for the next two weeks.
    Unfortunately, nothing could be done. Harry had lost one of his greatest
outlets - his relief when things got too complicated. After explaining what had
happened to both McGonagall and Dumbledore and being told that it couldn't be
reversed, Harry had been sent back to his dorm. Instead, he had retreated to
the Room of Requirement and had fought his way through a dozen training dummies
before he had collapsed, his body and anger exhausted.
    The back of his hand throbbed.
    Now, Harry scowled into the darkness for a moment before letting his anger
drain from him in a sigh. It wasn't fair, but then again his life had never
been fair. He was almost used to it by now... and besides, Quidditch wasn't
that important - not as important as Voldemort. He could live without his broom
for a while. Still, he wasn't sure how much longer he could deal with Umbridge
before giving into the urge to get rid of her.
    In fact, the only good thing that had happened that day was that Hagrid had
returned and they had spent some time talking with the half-giant. The
distraction had allowed Harry to concentrate on something other than his own
dismay and he had been interested when Hagrid had let slip that he had been
visiting the giants on Dumbledore's orders, though it irked him more than usual
that he was so out of the loop. He knew it was necessary, but he didn't like
not knowing what was happening to his friends. The only person he had been
allowed to write to while at the Dursley's was Dumbledore, and even if he
didn't particularly want to talk with his friends at that time, he still made
sure to ask about them occasionally.
    By the time that part of the summer had been over, he had been eager to
talk with his friends.
    Harry curled up on his side, still holding the bird carefully against him,
and eventually fell into a restless sleep, his dreams plagued with abuses both
old and new.
===============================================================================
 
    In the Headmaster's tower, the aged wizard was calmly sitting in front of
the fireplace sipping tea as he contemplated the man across from him in
silence. The Potion's Master was scowling down at his own tea, his brow
furrowed and his eyes unreadable. On the small table between them, a stone
basin filled with a shimmering silver liquid rested, its contents swirling
gently. Dumbledore closed his eyes as he sipped his tea appreciatively, knowing
that the younger man would speak soon. As often was the case, he was correct.
    "I can't help but feel some respect for the boy," the sallow-skinned man
grunted, eyes narrowed in a glare at his tea. "I can't decide if he's brave or
merely idiotic by the way he is so blasé about the whole situation."
    "Harry has endured many difficult trials throughout his young life,"
Dumbledore commented serenely. "More than most grown men, and his maturity has
grown proportionally. Beneath his boyish demeanor, he is both caring and
incredibly strong despite the pain he was both seen and experienced, as you
have undoubtedly seen."
    "I didn't come to hear a speech of praise about the brat, Albus," Snape
sneered, eyes glittering. "I've admitted that he may be entitled to some
respect, but that doesn't mean I like him. And while his stamina and threshold
for pain is rather impressive, I hardly think that it justifies the amount of
hero-worship everyone has for the boy. You dote on him too much."
    "Ah, but you do not know the whole story, my dear Severus," the old wizard
murmured, eyes dulling. Snape sneered again, though his eyes became a bit
uncertain and curious. "Harry has seen and endured more horrors than you, or
indeed, anyone knows; not even his closest friends and adoptive family know as
much as I do, and I don't think young Harry has told me everything either. Only
he knows what pain he harbors."
    "That could become dangerous," Snape said neutrally, disdain coloring his
tone. "He will break down if he bottles all the pain up like he normally does.
Idiot boy."
    "Perhaps, but you underestimate him, Severus," Dumbledore said amusedly.
"You also underestimate his friends and surrogate family. He has all of the
help he needs; it is up to him whether to confide in them or not. In fact, he
reminds me of another boy - indeed, two boys - who also carried deep pain
within themselves. One is you, in a way, and the other..."
    He trailed off, his eyes pensive. The Potion's Master, after rolling his
eyes in disdain, waited patiently for several seconds before grinding out an
impatient "And the other..?" His companion and mentor jumped, appearing
startled.
    "Oh, I'm sorry, my boy," he said genially. "The other is, of course, Tom
Riddle." Snape appeared startled at this, but then thoughtful. "Luckily, our
Mr. Potter is firmly ensconced in the Light."
    "Yes, luckily," The younger wizard sneered half-heartedly. Staring down
into his cup, he contemplated the increasingly curious puzzle that was Harry
James Potter. After a moment, however, he pulled himself rather viciously from
his musings and sent a sharp glare at the softly twinkling Headmaster. "I
hardly have the time to puzzle over your disturbed Golden Boy, Albus. I will
ask around about the foreigners and try to find out what makes them so useful.
Good evening."
    He swept through the doorway, hardly waiting for a response, and left
Dumbledore to chuckle in his armchair, sipping tea happily as he measured the
results of his seemingly casual conversation. Severus was interested, at least,
and that was a large step in the right direction. Perhaps, with time, the gap
between the student and teacher would lessen if the Potion's Master ferreted
out a reason to do so. Harry needed someone who wouldn't pity him, who would
force him to face his demons and offer the support of similar experiences when
no one else could.
===============================================================================
 
    The next morning, Harry woke to a blinding light and a familiar bout of
cursing from above. He snapped awake, but Ron had already closed the curtains
on either side of his neck and eyed the phoenix curled up next to him.
    "Merlin, Harry, you could be a bit more discreet," he said exasperatedly.
He seemed to have recovered from the Slytherin's taunting at yesterday's game.
    "Sorry, Ron," Harry mumbled, rubbing his face tiredly. "I forgot." He had
not slept well at all last night, and he shuddered in remembered pain as he
ghosted over the memories his subconscious had dragged up while he slept. Ron
snorted.
    "Only you could forget you have a bloody golden phoenix sleeping next to
you," he said, amused. "Come on, breakfast is starting any minute." Flapping a
hand half-heartedly, Harry yawned and ran his other hand through his hair,
wincing when the scabs on the back of his hand stretched. He had remembered to
soak it in the murtlap essence Poppy had given him, but it was still a little
bit sore. As he dressed, he was thankful for the long sleeves of his robes,
figuring that he was lucky to have gone this far into the school year without
anyone noticing.
    As he joined Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall, Harry couldn't resist
sending Umbridge a sharp glare as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, and he
only stopped when Hermione hissed at him to do so. Instead, he glared down at
his plate, his appetite completely gone. He glanced around the room quickly,
seeing that it was somewhat late and some teachers had already gone to their
classrooms to prepare for lessons. He was careful not to look at the Slytherin
table, afraid of catching Draco's eyes. He was extremely embarrassed about his
reaction to the twins attacking his mate and he hoped that the Slytherin would
think that Harry had been angry about the insults as well. Besides, it was sort
of Draco's fault that Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch... even though
Umbridge probably would have found a reason to ban him anyway since she was
actively trying to make his life miserable.
    Suddenly, Harry didn't want to be there anymore. He didn't want to even be
in the same room with that toad without showing her just how much he had
learned from regularly visiting the mind of the darkest wizard of the century.
    Harry blinked, his anger ebbing at that thought. Fear quickly replaced the
anger, a cold sweat breaking out on his body as he recognized the slimy feel of
Voldemort's presence stirring interestedly in the dark recesses of his mind. He
froze. He had dwelled on his anger and frustration for too long, letting it
grow until it caught Voldemort's attention, and he could feel the Dark Lord
probing at their connection with malicious curiosity.
    Abruptly, Harry stood and mumbled an excuse, fleeing the room as fast as he
could without running. Heart pounding, Harry tried to keep calm, but once he
was out of view, he broke into a run. He let his thoughts float vaguely on the
surface of his mind, hazy and dim, in an effort to convince the Dark Lord that
that was the extent of their connection. He didn't know where he was going,
only that he had to get away from other students, but a particularly sharp jab
caused him to stop abruptly and bolt into a room on his right. He barely
registered a familiar form rising from behind a desk before he collapsed to his
knees and bent over, grinding his forehead into the stone and squeezing his
eyes shut. Then he clapped his hands over his ears, muffling any sounds of the
person calling in concern.
    He stayed like that for some time, breathing harshly as he forced his body
and mind into a state of calm. Now that he knew the danger, Harry conjured up a
false feeling of anger and frustration, directing his thoughts at Umbridge, the
Ministry, and the fact that he had been banned from Quidditch so as to not
alert Voldemort that he was aware of the intrusion. He could sense the ruse
working; Voldemort, though amused, was losing interest in what was apparently
the everyday thoughts of a schoolboy. It appeared as if the Dark Lord wasn't
interested in probing the depths of their connection, much to Harry's relief,
and after several more long moments, he felt Voldemort retreat into his own
mind and raise his shields.
    Harry waited for a tense second before gradually relaxing and letting out
his breath in a slow stream. Opening his eyes, he took another deep breath and
sat up, running his sleeve across his forehead to wipe off the cold sweat. His
limbs felt weak and rubbery, as if he had run a mile in those few short
minutes, and his scar throbbed lightly.
    "Ha- Mr. Potter?"
    Harry's head snapped up, having forgotten that anyone was in the room. He
was in McGonagall's office and the Transfiguration teacher was standing above
him, watching him with shrewd and anxious eyes. Even more surprising than the
fact that he had somehow managed to find McGonagall's office, however, was that
Snape was standing next to her, a calculating look on his face as he stared
intently at Harry. A small blush spread over his cheeks in embarrassment and he
quickly stood. The action made the blood rush to his head and he swayed for a
moment before catching himself on the wall behind him and shaking his head a
bit.
    "Sorry, Professor, I didn't know where I was going," he said when he could
focus on his teachers once more. Snape snorted at his apology and McGonagall
brushed it aside carelessly.
    "I could care less about that, Potter. It was a good thing that it was my
office that you stumbled upon, however. Now, will you please tell me what just
happened?"
    Harry grimaced and shrugged, reaching up with one hand to rub the back of
his neck. "I was feeling a bit... angry and frustrated about the whole Umbridge
business and about being banned from Quidditch the other day. I guess I
accidentally got a bit out of control and Vol- er, Riddle," Harry quickly
amended after catching Snape's sharp hiss, "noticed. He was pretty curious and
wandered over to my part of his mind for a visit. I left the room and practiced
what little I know of Occlumency to get rid of him. It worked."
“Occlumency? Where did you learn about that?” McGonagall asked sharply.
“When I learned about my connection with Riddle at the end of last year, I
started researching what I could do to protect myself. Occlumency was mentioned
a few times and I tried to teach myself a bit of it.”
    McGonagall, though still anxious, was also clearly impressed and Snape,
despite himself, was also a bit amazed. The casual comments belied the horror
and severity of the situation Potter was describing, and even a slight mastery
over such a complex art as Occlumency was certainly nothing to sneeze at,
especially if it was subtle enough to fool the Dark Lord.
    "I see..." McGonagall said faintly. She still seemed unbalanced by the
information, but she was quickly gaining her stern expression back. "Well, that
was quite irresponsible of you to lose track of your emotions like that,
Potter. I know that it's getting difficult, but we've all got to deal with
Umbridge this year and remember to keep our heads. I'm not going to punish you
- having Vol- Tom rooting around your mind is punishment enough in this case, I
think." Harry nodded with a faint air of sheepishness.
    "Is your scar hurting, Potter?" Snape asked abruptly, eyes training on the
thin scar in deep thought. "How deeply did the Dark Lord probe your connection?
What did you do to divert his attentions?"
    Harry watched the brilliant Potion's Master cum spy for a moment, recalling
all of the times in his visions that Voldemort had praised the man for his
cleverness. He had seen Snape's brilliance for himself countless times and he
had developed a healthy respect for the bitter man after watching him construct
elaborate lies and nimbly turn away Voldemort's dangerous temper by merely a
few words, gracefully sidestepping all of the verbal traps and insults that
came his way. Of course, Harry would never tell Snape that he respected him any
time soon, but he did trust him enough to confide in him about this critical
matter.
    "I don't think he has any idea how deeply our connection runs," Harry
admitted. "He only skimmed the surface of my thoughts; maybe because he didn't
want me to know he was there, or maybe because he didn't think he could go any
deeper. Once I realized what had attracted him, I set up a sort of haze of
false thoughts and emotions - anger and frustration mostly - around my mind so
that he wouldn't suspect I knew what he was up to. Underneath the worthless
thoughts, I had a mental shield up, but it's pretty weak still. I was lucky
that he wasn't feeling too curious."
    "Yes, your capacity for luck is only surpassed by your attraction to
trouble," Snape sneered, but there didn't seem to be much heart in it. He
seemed much more interested in trying to figure out the puzzle in front of him.
McGonagall ignored him and cleared her throat.
    "Am I correct in assuming that the matter has been tended to and closed,
then, Mr. Potter?" He nodded. "Well then, I believe it is time for you to head
to your class. Be certain to keep your emotions in check, won't you?" Harry
merely nodded again with a faint murmur of assent. He was feeling embarrassed
and a bit ashamed for losing control, but her last comment had also been a bit
too similar to Umbridge's for his comfort. Without further ado, the three
parted ways to head to their respective classrooms.
    Taking a few deep breaths and carefully performing a sweep of his mind just
to make sure Voldemort was securely behind his shields, Harry approached
Professor Binns' classroom and slipped inside just before the bell rang.
===============================================================================
 
    "Wormtail." Harry grasped a champagne flute with his long, white fingers,
rolling the stem back and forth with false calmness. A fire burned merrily in
the hearth.
    "Y-yes, Master?"
    "I am becoming impatient. Has Heilman or Xu Chi sent word yet?"
    "Yes, M-Master. Nott sent w-word that Heilman has had some s-success in his
task, but n-no one has heard f-from the Asian."
    Harry hissed with displeasure. "I cannot wait much longer, Wormtail, I want
the prophecy now!”
===============================================================================
  
    The next month passed in relative quiet. Draco had approached Harry not
long after the Quidditch match to - somewhat stiffly - apologize, and Harry had
forgiven him, but things had changed slightly between them. They had not
snogged or even kissed since their first, and even their daily contact was
somewhat awkward. Harry wasn't even sure why - after all, there were certainly
more important things than Quidditch, such as killing Voldemort- but he
couldn't help it. If Hermione and Ron noticed things were different, they
didn't comment on it.
    Even if they had, Harry didn't really have the time to worry about his
relationship with the blond Slytherin. He had been keeping a very close watch
on his emotions and kept them tightly reigned in at all times to avoid another
incident like the one before. He was also tightly focused on the DA and his own
learning. Under his continued tutelage, the DA was beginning to flourish into a
truly formidable team of students who were now so well-rehearsed in the
defensive magic of their previous years that they would have - had their
efforts been revealed to them - astounded even the strictest of teachers.
Fortunately, the DA hadn't been revealed, but it was easy to see that their
training and learning was leaking into their other classes - except, of course,
Defense Against the Dark Arts, where there was no practical application
required. The other teachers certainly noticed the change and probably
suspected something, but they certainly weren't complaining.
    Even students that had been deemed hopeless or irrepressible - such as
Neville or the Creevy brothers - had proven to be quite powerful and dangerous
when they wanted to be. Far from hopeless, Neville had even managed to best
Hermione in a duel or two, even if he had drifted in a startled haze for an
hour afterwards and continually apologized to the brilliant witch. And the
Creevey brothers made an unstoppable force when they worked together against
their opponents. As time passed and they delved deeper into the more dangerous
spells and skirmishes - where the opportunity for actual injury was high - the
DA learned to trust each other and forget house rivalries as they worked
together to "survive." This was mostly Harry's doing, as he occasionally set up
meetings to resemble actual battles; with the confusion and fear that came from
the actual battlefield. The trust and respect that the DA members had already
had for Harry was increased dramatically as time wore on, even if he was
careful not to talk much about his own experiences. It was to the point that if
he barked an order, they jumped immediately to obey it, as they had learned the
consequences of not trusting their leader and commander.
    Harry, of course, made sure that he was well-versed in any counters for
curses that might fly and he also spent much of his free time - what little of
it there was - learning healing spells and techniques. He tried to make sure
that his personal urgency didn't overflow into the DA meetings, although there
were times when everyone noticed the almost feverish determination in his
steely gaze when he taught them, and Harry kept the meetings as light and fun
as possible without encouraging laziness. Fred and George were invaluable in
this aspect, as they were always up for a joke or a prank.
    The rest of Harry's time was spent training. Dumbledore contacted him very
infrequently and so it had been Tonks herself that had told Harry that they
would be unable to hold regular training sessions, both because of Harry's
schedule and his spontaneous detentions with Umbridge. Instead, they managed to
meet only to set up a future date for a test of sorts that the two Aurors would
give him to make sure that his skills were staying sharp. Since he had found
his mate, Harry no longer felt debilitating pain when he touched someone else,
and so he had managed to impress them more than once. Often, they would give
him a topic or spell and tell him to research it or master it before their next
meeting. These assignments, though useful, were never very difficult for Harry
to master.
    This was mostly because he had already learned much of what was being
taught in his classes and he was able to complete the homework in record time.
It wasn't always correct, as he didn't want to raise suspicion with non-Order
member teachers, but it allowed him to concentrate more fully on his training.
The only exception he took to this was Potions. He had taken particular
interest in the subject even during summer, especially when Draco became his
friend, and he had no qualms about using his knowledge to the fullest in order
to show up Snape. His plan hadn't exactly worked as he'd planned - instead of
becoming more acerbic, the Potions Master had actually seemed to be curious and
contemplative when class was over.
    It made Harry nervous.
    As he wasn't to be taught formally, Harry forced himself to train on his
own in his spare time - which meant that it was normally very early in the
morning or during a meal. Every morning at 5:30 he would run several times
around the lake before returning to the Room of Requirement to train with the
dummies there, which were by now on par with an average Death Eater.
Interspersed with his physical training was magical training, taught - or
guided - by Zephyr.
    His wandless magic was little better than it had been during the summer, as
he still required the use of a small focus, but his elemental training was
proving to be extremely profitable. Having already learned how to control his
magic to a fine degree, Harry was finding that a similar concept could be
applied to controlling the elements, so that he didn't blow up or scorch an
object that he was looking at if he got angry. He could now summon balls of
fire to his hand or even concentrate it to a single fingertip. He could conjure
up a breeze that affected only a certain object, or he could draw water from
the earth or air to form swirling spheres of liquid.
    Most of this he did instinctively, with Zephyrs promptings as the only
guideline, but in his various studies - and correlating them with his own
experiences - Harry vaguely understood what he was truly doing to the elements
when he "controlled" them. Mostly, it involved physics. Natural laws that not
he - nor, indeed, anyone - could break. He could not simply create fire out of
nothing, even if it appeared that way. There needed to be a proper transfer of
energy and elements in order for any form of elemental magic to occur. Since
most of it occurred naturally, however, this was not a large problem and was
actually quite simple.
    In order to create a flame, the air around the area you wished the fire to
be had to be completely drained of water until even a small amount of friction
- or movement - would set off a spark of flame. Essentially, this is much like
the process of stretching out air particles until the water simply ceases to
have an effect. Likewise, in order to create water, the air would become much
denser and the water molecules would compress until water (condensation)
appeared. Controlling air and earth was somewhat simpler since they exist in
all things and in all forms, so all Harry had to do was instruct those elements
to do what he wished. Of course, all of these processes were helped along and
sped up with quite a bit of magic - as well as Harry's connection, or rather,
"relationship" with magic.
    During all of this, Voldemort did not remain idle. In fact, if anything,
Harry's connection to him seemed to grow. Had Voldemort not kept his shields in
place, Harry was sure that he would hardly be able to hear himself think with
the clarity of the Dark Lord's thoughts. Luckily, this was not the case, and
Harry only had to worry about being dragged into the evil wizard's thoughts
during the night, since during the day he had his own rather weak shields up to
protect himself. Harry still had no idea how Voldemort remained blind to the
depth of the connection they shared, but he was not willing to look a gift
horse in the mouth if he didn't have to, even when Voldemort's dreams began
filtering slowly into his mind.
    Disgusting as it had seemed when Harry realized what the odd dreams were,
he was relieved that the dreams did not appear to be graphic. In fact, it was
little more than the image of walking through a maze of corridors until he came
to a large, heavy-looking wooden door, with his anticipation growing with each
step. Always, at the height of anticipation, he awoke bewildered, worried, and,
despite himself, curious. What was it about this door (which, if his visions
were true, belonged to the Department of Mysteries) that preyed on Voldemort's
mind so? Still, even though the dreams were always accompanied by a faint
throbbing in his scar, Harry was able to ignore them except to send a short
message to Dumbledore to inform him. These dreams occurred only infrequently
and were very short, leading Harry to conclude that so very little of Tom
Riddle was human any longer that he no longer needed to sleep as often.
    Dreams were not Harry's only worry. Visions continued to plague him
sporadically in the night, and if he was lucky, he only saw people tortured
before he forced himself to wake up. Sometimes, it made him feel guilty not to
witness their death - as he wanted to be able to be reminded why he was
fighting this war - but he was quite sure that he could only deal with seeing
so much death for so long.
    Still, it worried him.
    There was a different tone to the Death Eater meetings now, a different
feeling. There was an excitement, an anticipation that wasn't there in earlier
visions. Sure, they felt the excitement of the moment when they tortured
others, but now there was an excitement of something that was goingto happen...
soon. These feelings were going to come to a head soon, and Harry wasn't sure
what kind of effect they would have on the war. He feared the worst.
    Even so, he kept these emotions to himself since they wouldn't really help
anyone. Snape probably knew more than Harry did, and predictions of a coming
event wouldn't help if there weren't any specifics. So, even though he kept his
thoughts to himself, he couldn't really help it if the tension affected him
subconsciously.  
    He was more high-strung, jumpier. He studied anything he could get his
hands on, feverishly, as if the world was going to war the next day, and he
continued wartime drills in the DA. He knew something was coming, and he wanted
to be prepared for it. It was because of this foresight that Harry wasn't too
surprised when Voldemort finally made his move.
    It was the night of the eighteenth - only two days before the start of
Christmas break. Harry had been looking forward to some time off of school
since most of his classes were easy for him now, and he had eagerly gone to bed
early that night. His relatively peaceful sleep had been interrupted, however,
by a vision of a familiar corridor. This time, however, he was not walking, but
sliding along the floor like a snake. Instead of approaching a large wooden
door, he was nearing a large, slumbering figure in a chair in front of the
door. Throwing all caution aside when he recognized the man, Harry attempted to
take control of the snake, but only succeeded momentarily - after being
bombarded by an intense feeling of surprise and impatience - before he was
shoved violently into the back of Voldemort's mind. Disoriented, Harry could
only watch in dismay as the snake attacked and sunk its fangs into the man's
body, flinching in disgust because it felt as if he were doing it himself, as
if he enjoyed it.  
    As soon as he was released from Voldemort's mind, Harry sat up in bed,
sweat soaking through his nightclothes and his bedsheets twisted around him.
Frantically, he scribbled out an urgent message in his shaking hand and quickly
ordered Zephyr to take it to the Headmaster. Sensing his urgency, she
immediately shook off her tiredness and flashed from the room with a comforting
chirp. Exhausted, Harry leaned back against his pillows and drew his knees up
to his chest, limbs trembling and scar throbbing with pain and fear. He waited
anxiously for what seemed like an eternity for Dumbledore's answer, trying to
keep his mind off of what he had seen and felt.
    He debated on whether he should wake Ron. Surely he would want to know what
had just happened to his own father. But Harry restrained himself, still not
certain whether the vision was real or not - especially considering the
casualness with which Voldemort tossed him aside mentally. But still, what if
it was real? Before Harry could think any further, he heard the door of the
fifth-year dorms open quietly and he tensed, silently drawing his wand.
    "Harry?"
    Recognizing Professor McGonagall's voice, Harry pulled aside his curtains,
causing the older witch to stifle a gasp when she caught sight of his pale face
and haunted, anxious green eyes.
    "Professor?" Harry said quietly, trying not to wake anyone, and he saw her
shake off her shock.
    "Come, Potter, we must go quickly to the Headmaster's office. Wake Mr.
Weasley and meet us at the bottom of the stairs. Quickly now!"
    Harry scrambled out of bed and yanked open the curtains to Ron's bed next
to him. "Ron! Ron!" He hissed, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it violently.
"Wake up!"
    "Ngh... Wha? 'Arry?" Ron grumbled finally, blinking owlishly up at him.
"Wha's goin' g'on? Go back to sleep."
    "Hurry up, Ron! McGonagall's here to take us to Dumbledore's office.
There's been an attack." That seemed to wake Ron up and within moments they
were throwing their robes over their pajamas and hurrying down the stairs,
where McGonagall, the twins, and Ginny were already waiting for them. Without
another word, McGonagall turned and left through the portrait, hurrying through
the empty corridors to the Headmaster's office. The siblings exchanged worried,
confused glances and tried to catch Harry's eye, somehow knowing that this had
something to do with him, but he studiously avoided them and tried to catch up
with McGonagall.
    "How bad is it?" He asked quietly, not looking up at her. She glanced down,
her face unreadable.
    "I don't know, Potter. Albus just asked me to send for you." Harry nodded
once in understanding and everything was silent for the rest of the trip.
Before long, they arrived at the stone gargoyle. Before McGonagall could say
the password, Harry, tense with worry and fear, impatiently waved his hand and
snapped "Move!"
    To their utter astonishment, the gargoyle did indeed jump out of the way, a
startled expression on its stony face, but Harry didn't stop to think about
what he had just done. Instead, he didn't slow down and ran up the curved
stairway before bursting into Dumbledore's office. The old wizard was standing
beside his desk, conversing with one of the portraits on the wall, though he
quickly ended the conversation when McGonagall and Harry's friends entered
behind him.
    "Good," the Headmaster said, grabbing a teapot from off his desk and
motioning them closer. "Quickly now, we must be prompt. I believe Mr. Potter
here will be able to answer your questions when you arrive. Fawkes, we need a
warning." Nodding, the phoenix flashed from the room. Harry glanced anxiously
around the room, fingering the base of his wand worriedly. "Now, children, I
must assure you that everything is fine and well-accounted for. He was heavily
injured, but is expected to make a full recovery in St. Mungo's. Please-
" Before he could say any more, a single flash of fire above his desk drew
everyone's attention to the feather that floated down to the desktop.
    "I'm afraid Ms. Umbridge's attention has been drawn. Minerva, if you could
head her off?" McGonagall nodded and swiftly left the room, a stern expression
on her face. Dumbledore turned back to them. "Don't worry, everything has been
taken care of. Your things will be sent to you in the morning since you will
not be returning until after Christmas break. Please, stay safe. Now, everyone
take a hold of the Portkey-" After a slight hesitation, everyone did so; the
Weasley's were looking so confused and worried that Harry's heart nearly broke.
Why was he always the bearer of bad news?
    Though his face seemed stoic and emotionless, Harry was nearly trembling
with distress on the inside. When Dumbledore began the countdown, he glanced
one last time up at the man who had been something of a grandfather to him ever
since he came to Hogwarts, taking in his calm and reassuring face. Just as he
did so, however, a burst of mind-splitting pain ripped through his scar along
with a surge of hate so strong that his eyes automatically widened before he
squeezed them shut and clenched his fists. Suddenly, there was a jerk around
his navel and the familiar sensation of spinning overwhelmed his senses before
his feet slammed into the floor.
    Unprepared, as he always was, Harry's legs buckled and he crumpled to the
floor. He lay there for several long seconds as the pain persisted before it
retreated back along his link to Voldemort. Panting and shaking, trying to push
back the images of the Third Task and Cedric's death, he stood and collapsed
into the chair next to him and looked around. He instantly recognized the room
as the same one that Fawkes had taken him to several months ago when the
Dursley's had been attacked by Death Eaters. It was the basement kitchen of
Number 12, Grimmauld Place, though the Weasley's obviously didn't know that as
they were still looking around in confusion and wariness, and Harry allowed his
aching head to drop onto his arms on the tabletop.   
    "Harry?" Came a voice only minutes later. "What happened?" Letting out a
brief explosion of air, Harry looked up from his place at the table and
inwardly winced when he met his friend's frightened gazes. He didn't want to
tell them. Who would? What could he say? I just saw your father being attacked
by Voldemort's snake in a dream. They had no idea how deep his connection to
Voldemort was. They didn't know what he saw every time he was dragged into that
monster's mind. How many people he'd seen die. At the very beginning of the
term, Luna had asked him who he had seen die when she learned that he could see
the Thestrals. His friends had looked away, remembering Cedric, but Harry had
just stared unseeingly past the Ravenclaw, caught up in memories of the dozens
of deaths he had seen during the summer.
    Cedric had just been the first.
    "Harry? Harry-"
    "What?" Harry snapped, frustrated. Ron was standing next to his chair, face
pale and eyebrows drawn in impatience. Harry opened his mouth to apologize, but
was interrupted by a familiar figure opening the door and stomping down the
stairs hastily. Everyone except Harry immediately spun and within moments
Sirius was faced with four wands trained on his face. Ignoring them, Sirius
only paused for a moment - allowing Harry to assure them that it really was
Sirius (the twins had heard of Sirius' innocence from Ron) - before rushing to
his godson's side.
    "Merlin, Harry! Are you alright?" Harry nodded wearily and assured his
godfather that he was fine, enduring a short hug for his troubles. His friends
appeared to be slightly startled by Sirius' intense worry, but Harry knew that
it came from the convict being privy to his most violent visions.
    "Don't worry, Sirius, I'm fine. I was just going to tell them what
happened."
    "They don't know?" Sirius gave him a look that seemed better suited to
Remus' face - one that said "We talked about this - they're your friends and
you need them. Why don't you tell them?"
    Harry made a face in response. "You've been hanging out with Remus too
long, Sirius. I have to tell them now, anyway."
    Unable to take the suspense anymore, Ginny screeched, "Tell us what?By
Merlin, what happened?!" Startled at the normally calm witch's outburst, Harry
immediately looked down, ashamed. All levity faded from his posture and he sat
straight and tense in his chair. Slowly, quietly, he explained his vision with
sparse details, being sure to leave out that he had had such visions before and
that he had seen it from Voldemort's point of view.
    "...I didn't know if it was just a dream or not, but my scar was hurting,
so I wrote a letter to Dumbledore and had Hedwig take it as soon as possible. I
suppose Dumbledore checked just in case and found out that it was true." There
was silence for a long while in the room. Ginny was crying silently and the
Weasley's had grouped closely together, pale and worried. Harry in the meantime
just stared at the floor, knowing that he had just lied outright to his best
friends once again.
    That night (or rather, morning) passed slowly in silence. Sirius tried to
keep things light and happy for Christmas, but the tension and worry was high,
and tempers flared more than once as time passed with no word. Mrs. Weasley
finally arrived late in the morning with news that Mr. Weasley was healing and
would be fine before Christmas break was over. The family embraced each other,
crying in relief, and Harry hung back awkwardly, glad that Mr. Weasley was okay
but unwilling to intrude on the emotional moment. Mrs. Weasley quickly fixed
this by engulfing him a nearly bone-breaking hug, despite his protests and
instinctive fear, and tearfully kissed him on both cheeks.
    He nearly glowed with embarrassment at this, but managed to give her a weak
smile before disappearing to his room.
    He tried to think rationally. The guilt he was feeling was hardly deserved,
especially considering that he had actually managed to save a man's life with
the vision, but Harry always seemed to be able to find a way to blame himself
for things that couldn't possibly be his fault. The Dursley's had made sure of
it.
    
===============================================================================

    Days passed. Harry kept to himself, staying in his room or in the library
in order to avoid the Weasley's. They didn't really notice as they were focused
more on their own family crisis, and Sirius was working very hard to make the
house cheery for the holidays. Remus, Tonks, and Shacklebolt seemed to notice
and were concerned, but it appeared that they also understood and so they
didn't force him into socializing. Instead, Harry studied as often as he could
- both for his own benefit and for research for the DA - and occasionally
allowed himself to be drawn into a game of chess or some other social activity.
    No visions came during this time, and Harry was beginning to have a very
uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that was warning him that something
was going to happen. Something bad. He mentioned as much to Sirius and Remus,
but they insisted that there was very little they could do until Voldemort made
a move. Harry disagreed with this - since just waiting could get people hurt or
killed - but he tried to take their words to heart. He thought that maybe he
was just becoming anxious because he hadn't seen Mal- Draco in several days.
    Harry hadn't noticed the strange, wild feeling in his chest for what it was
at first. He had been playing chess with Ron - and losing - when his thoughts
began to wander. They had been at Grimmauld Place for three days now. The
weather wasn't so bad today; it was cold, with snow on the ground, but there
was no wind and the sky was clear. He would have loved to play a bit of
Quidditch with Ron or even just fly around a bit on his beautiful broom, but it
had been confiscated by Umbridge and who knew where it was now...
    Harry sighed as he thought about his life-long ban, half-heartedly dragging
his knight to capture Ron's pawn despite the piece's furious struggles and
insults at being manhandled. The familiar sadness, the sharp sting of anger and
frustration, were normal whenever he thought about it, but now he noticed that
he wasn't feeling the lingering anger toward Draco that he normally felt. It
was, after all, Draco's fault that they had been banned and for the weeks after
the event, things had cooled considerably between them. Harry no longer blushed
when he saw the blond, and Draco no longer smirked in that knowing, relaxed way
of his. Instead, they avoided each other as much as possible except when they
were forced together by Harry's need to touch. Even their touches became
shorter and more infrequent as their bodies adjusted to the bond they had
created when Draco accepted Harry as his mate.
    Harry frowned, feeling at a loss and confused. They hadn't touched for
nearly four days by now... why wasn't he tearing the walls down to find Draco?
The longest they had ever gone was two and a half days. He was feeling a bit
worried now, so while Ron was taking his next turn, Harry examined his mind for
anything that was off. Ignoring the tangled mass that was his feelings about
Mr. Weasley's vision and the Weasley's themselves, giving Zephyr's presence a
pleasant greeting as he passed, and skirting quickly around Voldemort's
connection rooted in his mind, Harry came upon his tenuous connection with
Draco. The thread-like representation was quivering slightly as if agitated and
as Harry watched, the trembling grew stronger - accompanied by a longing twinge
in his chest - as though it recognized that it was being noticed.
    Harry sighed, unsure of how he felt about that. It had been easy when it
was just the two of them, shaken up by the events of the summer and grasping at
anything and anyone that understood and could keep them sane.  Now, with the
return to school - the return to reality - it was difficult to get those
feelings back. Harry was back to being respected, feared, and pitied as the Boy
Who Lived, and Draco was back to being a cold, biased, unfeeling jerk. Perhaps
both of their roles affected them more than they would like to believe.
    "Checkmate!"
    Harry blinked and came back to himself at Ron's triumphant shout. Looking
down at the chess board bemusedly, he saw that his red-haired friend had indeed
won the game while he was spacing out. With a half shrug and an exaggerated
pout, Harry opened his mouth to say something when he felt the ripple in the
magic around the house that preceded someone entering the front door. A moment
later, he was proved right when Mrs. Weasley closed the front door quietly and
bustled into the living room, hair windswept and cheeks flushed.
    Harry had been able to sense ambient magic for as long as he could
remember, but he hadn't known what it was until he had finally asked
Shacklebolt about it during the summer. The black man had seemed very surprised
that he could sense the magic, but explained that it just meant that he was
incredibly sensitive to any magic that was cast by wizards or witches - magic
that, by its nature, was more potent than naturally-occurring magic. Most
wizards, he explained, were able to sense magic on a very basic level. Since
they had grown up with magic their entire lives, distinguishing a single ward
or charm over an object was difficult without the help of certain spells, but
obviously Harry wasn't hindered by this in any respect. However, it seemed that
he was even more receptive than adult wizards should be; he could distinguish
layers of wards from one another and could even get a feel for what they were
supposed to do. This wasn't unheard of, but Shacklebolt certainly hadn't
expected it, not when he was so young, anyway.
    Harry greeted Mrs. Weasley quietly, receiving a tired smile in return, and
Ron swiveled around in his chair, a hint of worry entering his eyes.
    "Mum!" He said in surprise. "It's still early, why'd you come home?"
    Setting down her bag on a chair, she answered, "Well, Ron, I stayed with
your father through the night and I've been with him nearly every moment since
he was admitted, so the nurses forced me to come home and sleep for a few
hours. I have good news, though; the Healers said that Arthur has recovered
enough for all you children to come see him today."
    Ron looked stunned for a moment before springing from his chair with a
whoop and dashing from the room to tell his siblings. Harry laughed quietly,
feeling his spirits lift at this bit of proof that Mr. Weasley was indeed
recovering. When a hand gently began patting his hair, however, he flinched
violently and jerked away from the touch. Almost instantly, he felt his face
flood with an embarrassed flush as he glanced up at Mrs. Weasley's kind but
worried face. She didn't need anything else to burden her.
    Harry stood from his seat quickly and gave her what he hoped to be a
reassuring smile, not quite able to meet her eyes. "That's good news, Mrs.
Weasley, I'm glad he's recovering. Here, I'll make you some breakfast."
Hurriedly, he tried to leave the room, but he was stopped by her voice calling
his name. Turning around, he saw that her eyes had brimmed with tears, but he
couldn't identify the emotion that caused them.
    "You silly boy," she scolded gently. "You're coming with us. I don't really
understand everything about your... connection to You-Know-Who, but I can't be
more grateful for it. I hope you know that."
    Swallowing hard, Harry glanced off to the side and nodded, understanding
but not really agreeing with her. Without another word, he turned and quickly
fled from the room.
    He managed to avoid the motherly woman for several hours, at which point he
was forced to join everyone in the kitchen for lunch. Luckily, she made no
mention of his strange behavior. The Weasley children were positively giddy
with excitement and relief, and more than once the adults had to break up a
food fight between the twins, Ginny, and Ron. Harry himself was sitting quietly
beside Sirius (Remus was on a mission for the Order), smiling at their antics,
but being sure to listen carefully to the conversation taking place between the
animagus and Tonks and Shacklebolt.
    "I don't like it," Sirius was saying, scowling at his glass, "it's been too
quiet. You've said so yourself, Shacklebolt, it's not normal for the Death
Eaters to be quiet for so long."
    "Look, I know we all care about Harry and the Weasley's," Tonks broke in,
"but I honestly don't think that there's any harm in them visiting Arthur
today. For Merlin's sake, Sirius, he was nearly dying with all that poison and
blood loss! You can't stop his family from seeing him now that he's finally
recovering!"
    "Voldemort has no idea where the Weasley's are, not to mention Harry,"
Shacklebolt added in his deep, calm voice. "I'm sure they'll be perfectly safe.
Besides, Tonks and I will be escorting them straight to St. Mungo's ourselves.
Relax, Sirius." Sirius seemed to deflate, propping his head up on the table and
rubbing his eyes. Letting out a slow breath, he nodded. Personally, Harry
preferred not to take any chances and would rather just stay at Grimmauld
Place. He had been feeling a growing anxiousness in his chest that wasn't
completely related to Draco's absence, and although he had not had any
disturbing visions or dreams lately, he was worried at the implications of
Voldemort's silence. It usually meant that he was plotting something, and that
never bode well for the warriors of the Light.
    Finally, Mrs. Weasley was bustling around the kitchen, instructing everyone
to get ready to leave and making sure to include Harry in her orders.
Reluctantly, Harry said goodbye to Sirius, feeling a sharp stab of anxiousness
as they left Grimmauld Place behind and traveled to the muggle underground.
Apparently, this was how they would be getting to St. Mungo's. They all piled
onto the underground and sat closely together, the siblings staring around at
the muggle objects with bemusement. Harry mostly kept to himself, feeling his
stomach tighten inexplicably as they got closer and closer to their
destination, but keeping on a relatively cheerful facade for his friends when
they turned their attention to him.
    However, that didn't fool Ron for long and he leaned closer to the Boy Who
Lived when everyone else was listening to the twins telling a muggle joke.
    "Harry, mate, what's up? You've been wound tighter than a bloody spring
this whole time." Harry drew his eyebrows down and stared down at his lap
sightlessly as he absently rubbed the back of his right hand.
    "I'm not sure, Ron. I have a bad feeling, but I'm sure it's nothing."
    Ron looked nervous, his hand straying to his pocket that held his wand as
he glanced around. "Is it You-Know-Who? Or is it just Malfoy?" Harry was
surprised that Ron had thought of that possibility, expecting him to assume it
was Voldemort. Perhaps Ron had grown up more than Harry had realized... or
maybe not, he amended when Ron made a face at mentioning Draco.
    "It's not just Draco, but I'm not sure if it is Voldemort or not," Harry
said, a half-smile on his face at Ron's concern. He had been worried that Ron
would react badly to Harry's vision, but so far the redhead was taking it in
stride. "Don't worry about it, Ron. Just... you can never be too careful, you
know?"
    Ron scrutinized his face carefully, noting Harry's haunted, anxious eyes
and the tightness at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Ron nodded seriously,
taking Harry's meaning, and slid his hand into his pocket. Not long after, they
arrived at what was apparently their stop, as Tonks, Moody and Shacklebolt
ushered them out of the underground and onto the muggle streets. Glancing
around, Harry assumed that St. Mungo's was under a charm similar to the Leaky
Cauldron since he couldn't see anything resembling a hospital nearby. Curious,
Harry concentrated and slipped into the state of mind required to sense magic
fully.
    When he opened his eyes again, the world was largely grey through the fuzzy
silver of the air, and muggles were painted with a faint blue. Looking around,
he saw several bright auras heading to and from what appeared to be a clothing
department store fallen into disrepair, though with his sight he could clearly
see the many, many layers of colorful wards and charms indicating that all was
not what it seemed. So that's where St. Mungo's is, Harry mused silently,
slipping back into his normal eyesight before he got a headache.
    They were not far from the entrance when a sharp spike in his anxiety
caused Harry to freeze suddenly, but it was too late. Hell was already breaking
loose. There was an explosion just in front of them and one behind them,
throwing everyone off their feet as the ground shook and screams filled the air
along with smoke and dust. Harry had braced himself against a wall to remain
standing and searched frantically for any sign of Death Eaters, but the dust
was too thick. Muggles that had been caught in the explosions screamed or
moaned from where they lay on the side of the street, their broken or battered
forms all too familiar to Harry.
    Suddenly, someone grabbed Harry's arm and he quickly jerked away, snapping
out of his momentary daze and whipping out his wand as he did so. He could see
that it was just Tonks, urging him toward the front of the dilapidated clothing
store, and he shook his head fiercely. It seemed that most of the Weasley's had
already gone inside, having been there before, but Ron was waiting just outside
of what Harry assumed to be the entrance, no doubt waiting for him. Now that
they were safe, however, Harry wasn't just going to leave the muggles to die.
    "No!" He shouted over the sound of more explosions on the other side of the
street. Underage laws be damned, he began casting shielding and numbing spells
at all of the muggles in his sight, finally seeing Death Eaters as he did so.
Shacklebolt and Moody had already engaged them and they were trading spells
furiously, Moody's eye rolling and his mouth gaping in a macabre mask of
satisfaction when two of the Death Eater's he was facing dropped. By now, the
Death Eaters had caught sight of Harry through the lingering dust and spells
were not long in coming. He cast a shielding spell over himself and Tonks and
dodged the spells he didn't recognize when they broke through. The
metamorphmagus seemed to have given up on herding him to St. Mungo's at the
moment, busy defending herself as well, and Harry was just fine with that.
    Harry had quickly switched from shielding spells to stunning, cutting, and
other curses, throwing out spell after spell seamlessly, almost too fast to
follow. Just as he was working himself into a truly dangerous state, a
bludgeoning curse broke through his shield, plowing straight into Tonks as she
was dodging another. Distracted, Harry glanced down to see her condition and
was promptly blown back against the wall by the same curse hitting the stones
just in front of his feet. Slivers of stone cut through his clothes and exposed
skin, his head bounced off of the wall behind him, and stars suddenly flooded
his vision. Everything seemed muffled and dim all of a sudden, and he could
barely feel it when he collapsed to his knees, but he had enough awareness to
roll when his body hit the ground.
    He vaguely heard several voices shouting his name, but he couldn't
distinguish one from the other. Sluggishly, he attempted to get to his feet,
but before he could, someone grabbed his arm and he felt the unmistakable jerk
from around his navel indicating a Portkey. When his feet slammed into the
ground and he crumpled predictably, he only had time to catch a glimpse of dark
stone walls before blows began raining down on his head and body, and he
slipped mercifully into darkness.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     Warnings for graphic violence and torture.
    Harry awoke to darkness, long practice from the Dursley's making it so that
only a soft groan escaped from his mouth unbidden when pain assaulted his
senses. He didn't move as he tried to mentally catalogue his injuries. His head
hurt the worst at the moment, throbbing painfully with each heart beat, but the
rest of his body just seemed to be bruised and battered. Nothing was broken,
though he could feel the stinging of cuts on his face and body, and he was
fairly sure that his hands and feet were bound tightly with what appeared to be
handcuffs and rope. What did Uncle Vernon do to me this time?
    It was only when his eyes opened and adjusted to the light that he realized
that he was not at the Dursley's, because he couldn't remember their house ever
having a perfect replica of a medieval dungeon; including a stone cell, barred
door, torchlight, and two buckets in the corner nearby. Gently, Harry sat up,
but immediately found out that was a mistake as his injuries awoke and his head
spun dangerously. Feeling abruptly nauseous, he grabbed the nearest bucket with
both hands and vomited into it, eventually dry heaving when he had nothing else
to vomit. When the heaving stopped and his nausea faded away, he simply sat
still and panted, trying not to move too much. Each of his injuries seemed to
throb in time with his heart beat.   
    Several minutes of complete silence passed, during which time Harry noticed
the vomit in the bucket vanish, though the smell lingered in the air.
Apparently this bucket was for waste, while the other - he glanced over - was
just filled with water. Moving slowly and carefully, he set the bucket aside
and slid over to the water bucket to rinse his mouth and get a drink. The water
appeared cool and clean so, figuring that if the Death Eaters wanted him dead
they wouldn't poison his water, Harry drank.
    Feeling a bit more refreshed and aware, Harry leaned back against the stone
wall with a sigh and a wince as his tender head rested on the cold stone.
Finally, he began planning for his escape. He had been stupid, he knew, to take
his attention from the Death Eaters for even a moment, but he couldn't really
help it at the time and there was nothing he could do about it now, so he
instead focused on how to get out. Focusing deeply, he tried to cast a wandless
Reducto on his bonds, but just as he felt his magic beginning to react, a sharp
pain flared simultaneously in his wrists and head, and he yelped in pain.
Waiting a moment for the pain to clear, he concentrated again and within
moments he saw the handcuffs on his wrists enveloped in a metallic red laced
with black. The rope around his ankles was also red.
    Harry's mouth went dry and a deep chasm opened where his stomach used to be
as fear flooded his veins with ice. From what he could decipher, the magical
handcuffs were blocking his magic, preventing him from using all but the most
basic of magics such as his magical sight and the barest hints of elemental
magic. With these on, not even magic could escape his body, much less Zephyr.
Slumping against the wall behind him, Harry closed his eyes in despair and
mentally contacted the phoenix.
    Zephyr, are you there?
    Warmth enveloped him briefly and he felt the comforting presence of his
companion. Yes, Harry, I'm here. Unfortunately, my magic - our magic - is
repressed and I cannot help you escape. There is very little that I can do, but
know that I am always with you.
    Harry reassured her and thanked her, both of them falling silent as they
contemplated their situation. There were no windows in his cell, but Harry
thought that perhaps several days had passed with no movement or sounds. It was
almost as if they had forgotten him - death Eaters and the Order alike. He knew
that that wasn't true, of course, but he couldn't help but feel a bit bitter
after the first two days had passed. While he couldn't cast any true or
powerful spells, Harry had managed to help himself by "prodding" his magic just
a bit and guiding it in such a manner as to speed up the healing of his body.
He wasn't sure how he did this, exactly, but he suspected that it had something
to do with his relationship with Magic -something that allowed it to determine
what he wanted it to do at such a low level as to be nearly undetectable. From
what Zephyr told him, all magical creatures - including wizards - had this
mechanism in their body naturally, and Harry was just speeding up the natural
healing process with a bit more magic.
    When he was not sleeping or conversing with Zephyr, Harry was working on a
plan of action. He hadn't come with anything really plausible yet, but he was
managing to draw in some of the magic from the bonds on his legs, siphoning it
very slowly and very carefully into his own magical stores. It wasn't a very
practical solution, but it was something that couldn't be done quickly with the
suppressors on his arms. During the amount of time he stayed in his cell, Harry
never saw anyone. A half loaf of bread arrived only three times during his
stay, but the water bucket replenished itself and since he was more than used
to spending days without food or water, he figured that he was in pretty good
shape. It never ceased to amuse him that his archenemy was treating him better
than his own "family" had.
    Finally, after who knows how long, Harry was abruptly woken from a light
doze when the door to his cell swung open and his was instantly immobilized by
a Petrificus Totalus. Cursing internally at not thinking of the possibility of
a silencing charm around his cell, Harry was then levitated and floated through
the corridors of what appeared to be an enormous castle similar to Hogwarts by
one of Voldemort's henchmen. Unfortunately, Harry could only stare at the
ceiling above him, preventing him from seeing the face of his carrier and from
memorizing the route they were taking. Still, he tried the best that he could.
    After several minutes of the crackling of torches, the soft swooshes of
robes, and the soft taps of shoes on stone floor, the Death Eater stepped
through a gigantic doorway and Harry's body obediently followed after. From the
change in the ceiling height and the echo, Harry assumed that they were now in
a meeting hall or - judging by Voldemort's tastes - a throne room of some sort.
One that was probably full of Death Eaters, if the amount of rustling and faint
sniggers were any indication. Suddenly, a very familiar voice echoed around the
chamber as Harry came to a stop.
    "Ah, Mr. Potter. How good of you to join us," Voldemort said in a sibilant
hiss. "I trust you've enjoyed your stay? Goyle, drop him!" Abruptly, the
levitating and binding spells vanished and Harry twisted around in midair to
land as well as he could. A ripple of laughter flowed through the room as he
landed with a grunt. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet through the careful
maneuvering of his bound limbs, glancing around as he did so. He was right
about the throne room; Death Eaters lined the walls and Voldemort himself was
sitting on a stone throne in a relaxed pose, eyes glittering with malicious
amusement. Standing straight and tall, Harry met Voldemort's reptilian eyes -
the eyes that he had looked into almost more often than he had his own - and
smirked.
    "Yes, your hospitality was most accommodating, Tom. Have you ever thought
about redecorating, though? Honestly, that old stone cell look has been around
since the Dark Ages... Though, I suppose that means that it was popular in your
day, wasn't it?" For a moment, Harry wondered if he had gone a bit too far with
the witty banter, as Voldemort's seething anger had only increased since his
use of his given name.
    "Never call me by that filthy name again, Potter! Sectumsempra!"As the
cutting hex raced toward him, Harry threw himself to the side, barrelling into
Goyle, who had stupidly stood next to Harry after releasing him from the
spells. Awkwardly head-butting the huge lump, Harry fumbled for control of
Goyle's wand before he finally got a hand around it. He barely managed to
remove the ropes from his legs before the pain from the handcuffs rammed into
his brain like a train. Gritting his teeth, Harry leapt to his feet and dashed
toward the door, wand clamped tightly in his hand, but before he took three
steps he was taken down by spells from all sides.
    When he next awoke, he was collapsed in a heap in front of Voldemort's
throne sporting several new bruises. Very little time seemed to have passed at
all; Goyle was just receiving his wand after what appeared to be a vicious
Crucio, and the Death Eater's wands were still out. Voldemort was smirking down
at him again, tapping his wand thoughtfully against his pointed chin.
    "That wasn't the smartest of moves, Harry, but then again, you aren't known
for your foresight, are you?" Sighing when Harry did nothing but glare at him,
Voldemort stood up and buried his spidery hand into Harry's thick hair,
gripping tightly and dragging the petite boy along the ground until he was to a
point near the center of the room. Harry struggled violently, kicking his legs
and grasping at the Dark Lord's wrist with his bound hands, but the floor was
bare and Voldemort's grip was iron-tight. His scar was burning fiercely.
Suddenly, Voldemort stopped and casually dropped Harry's head, causing stars to
explode in front of the boy's eyes once more at the impact. Stunned, Harry
barely noticed when someone grabbed ahold of his bound wrists and heaved his
slight form up until his toes barely touched the floor. The person hung Harry
on a hook through a link in the handcuffs, leaving him to swing slightly as he
regained his senses.
    When he finally did so, he struggled at first, but quickly stopped when he
found that after days of little food he had little strength to do much more
than kick out and swing in place - both of which were a strain on the joints of
his shoulders that were holding all his weight. Bugger me, he thought angrily.
Narrowing his eyes to slits, Harry watched Voldemort eye him up like a piece of
meat, stroking his wand lovingly as he did so. Harry wasn't too worried that
Voldemort would kill him; if the Dark Lord only knew the first few lines of
Trelawney's prophecy, he would be wary about killing Harry until he was sure
that it wouldn't kill him at the same time. As it was, Voldemort would probably
just play with him until he was maimed, blind, paralyzed, or likewise
incapacitated for the rest of his life so that he would no longer be a threat.
     Harry hoped that he would be gone long before it ever came to that.
    When Voldemort began circling him, Harry turned his attention to the
surrounding Death Eaters. Most of them were hooded, but a few of the more bold
ones had their hoods down to watch the proceedings with a malicious glee;
pleased that their greatest annoyance could see them watching as he was
tortured. Harry met their gazes unflinchingly, a steely look in his eye and a
slight, mocking upturning of his lips. He noted that Lucius Malfoy had his hood
down - as did Crabbe and Goyle, Sr. - and Harry briefly wondered if Draco was
here. There were several shorter figures in the ranks of Death Eaters. His
heart throbbed strongly with pain and longing at the thought, but he didn't try
and seek out those silver orbs.
    Abruptly, he was brought from his musings when Voldemort circled around to
face him again, a knife in hand. "My Death Eaters," he hissed with a satisfied
smirk, "what you have before you is one of my greatest annoyances, second only
to Dumbledore and his band of fried turkeys. Do you know what this means, Mr.
Potter? Since the old fool is not here, you have the honor of relieving some of
the... stress my followers have been under." An ominous chuckle rippled through
the room at this.
    "So glad I could be of help," Harry gritted out sarcastically, keeping his
eyes on Voldemort's face and not on the knife that was slowly making its way
closer to his neck. The Dark Lord gave a light hissing laugh.
    "Come now, Harry, your attempts at witty banter are hardly helping your
position no matter how poor they are. You're only serving to make my followers
restless." It was true. The circle of Death Eaters seemed to be pressing closer
in order to see as the tip of Voldemort's knife pricked his throat. Although it
was only a shallow cut, Harry could feel it bleeding quite heavily, as neck and
head wounds tended to do. Harry's eyes closed involuntarily when the knife
point pressed closer.
    "Do stop trying to be brave." The knife began dragging down now, but it was
not going through his skin. Harry's eyes snapped open when he felt cool air on
his chest and stomach as Voldemort slit his shirt down the front. The Dark Lord
contemplatively traced the same path with the flat of his blade, the cold metal
making Harry's skin gooseflesh as Voldemort began speaking again. "But don't
worry, I won't kill you immediately. Perhaps not even today, but that doesn't
mean that we can't have our fun with you for quite some time before- Oh? What's
this?"
    Voldemort interrupted his own monologue, gazing with what seemed to be
surprise, curiosity, and delight on his snake-like face at Harry's chest as the
point of his knife held a flap of what used to be his shirt away from his body.
Harry found out a moment later when Voldemort reached out and traced one of his
larger scars with his long finger, causing Harry suck in his breath and whimper
as pain exploded in his scar.
    "Why Harry, I don't remember giving you this," Voldemort mused with mock
hurt. "Have you been cheating on me with other villains?" Laughter roared from
all sides as Voldemort smirked. Unable to resist, Harry spoke up sarcastically.
    "Yes, I have, there's no denying it. And I must say, he was so much better
than you; he starved me for much longer than you did, he hit harder, and his
beatings could go on all night long. Needless to say, he was a real man."
Unfortunately, this didn't have the effect he had wanted as Voldemort simply
smirked before tracing his finger along the scar on Harry's side once more.
Harry thought that his head would burst from pain. He sucked in his stomach
with a hiss and glared viciously at the serpent-like man.
    Voldemort just ignored him and circled around to his back once more,
causing Harry to tense up in anticipation for pain, but instead, all he felt
was a tremendous jerk as Voldemort ripped his shirt off, exposing his back to
the Death Eaters. The violent motion made his body swing and his skin burn,
blood from his throat trickling down in a slow dribble to stop just above his
bellybutton. The room was silent as the Death Eaters waited for their master's
reaction. For his part, Harry just remained silent and tense, a light blush -
both angry and embarrassed - flooding his cheeks as he stared stoically at the
floor in front of him.
    "Ah... these are lovely," Voldemort hissed softly, his long thin fingers
just barely tracing some of the biggest ones and ghosting over the words carved
into Harry's back. "Worthless, murdering freak...? This person must know you
very well, Harry. So inventive... knives, belts, handcuffs, too." He tsked. "I
can assure you that we will be far more creative. Tell me, who did this? It is
certainly not recent."
    Harry remained stubbornly silent, the muscles of his back twitching as
Voldemort continued to trace the letters on his back. "Come now, Harry, tell me
who it was. Who else did you annoy so much as to receive this punishment?"
Impatience was beginning to seep into Voldemort's tone at Harry's continued
silence. One would think that the boy was actually ignoring him! Abruptly, he
swung around to stare into Harry's steely green eyes.
    "Leglimens!" He snapped, and Harry's head seemed to explode with pain. He
didn't even have enough time to even think about putting up any kind of shields
before Voldemort was ripping viciously though his mind, looking specifically
for memories of Harry's abuse. Unbidden, memory after memory came up before his
mind's eye, moving at fast-forward before flicking away, the Dark Lord's glee
increasing with each image.
    Vernon was backhanding a small, green-eyed boy, making him crash against
the wall behind him...
    Harry was pressed against a wall, his cousin's fat fists holding his arms
behind him in an awkward, painful position as tears streamed down his face...
    A cascade of images, each one more recent than the last, showed Harry
crouched in his cupboard, knees drawn up to his chest as he watched the spiders
marching across the floor in the small shafts of light under the door...
    A belt was brought down on his back, over and over again, the buckle
catching him in the ribs and tearing the skin away in a gash that wrapped
around to his back...
    Aunt Petunia, with a disdainful sneer, was shoving a plate with half of a
dry sandwich on it and ten-year-old Harry accepted it gratefully, glad for a
meal that day...
    Harry cooking, cleaning, doing yard work, endlessly through wind, rain,
snow, and midsummer's heat...
    Vernon, drunk, was holding a knife as he advanced on Harry, who was
handcuffed to his bed...
   "NOOO!" Harry screamed, expelling Voldemort from his mind with an enormous
mental shove that left him trembling and gasping, body slumped in exhaustion.
The metal handcuffs were cutting into his skin now, tiny trails of blood
slipping down his wrists as his shoulders screamed from the strain of holding
him up. Harry kept his eyes closed, not wanting to watch Voldemort as his cold,
high laughter filled the room. The Death Eaters were shifting restlessly and
wondering what their master had seen in the scarred boy's mind.
    "Oh, but isn't this wonderfully ironic?" Voldemort cackled, swinging around
to face his Death Eaters. "My followers, it appears as though the old fool
rescued the precious Boy Who Lived from the remains of his family home, only to
send him to his abusive relatives, who spoiled their own fat offspring while
starving poor Harry here nearly to death!" Raucous laughter erupted around the
room, a smattering of approving claps making Harry's cheeks flush once more.
"Poor Potter, neglected and abused for his entire life, living in a cupboard
before he was whisked away to Hogwarts, and yet somehow managing to find
himself back in the cupboard each summer."
    He let the laughter roll around the room for several moments before
abruptly silencing everyone with a sharp gesture. His face was suddenly a cold,
hard mask. Harry could smell the faint, musky smell of snakes as the Dark Lord
leaned forward, his face inches from Harry's own. "Tell me, Potter, how do you
feel about your muggle relatives? How did it feel when that fat fool beat you
night after night with the buckle-end of his belt, completely disrespectful of
the power you hold? How did it feel as you starved day after day in that
cupboard under the stairs, watching the day go by in the light under the door?
Does it make you angry? Frustrated? Ashamed? Tell me, Harry, do you feel
like you deserve it?"
    Harry's shoulders tensed with each question, his anger abruptly spiking as
Voldemort spoke in that condescending, understanding tone of voice. It angered
him that the evil creature before him understood what he had gone through in
his life, it angered him that Voldemort was right. Throwing caution to the
winds, Harry gritted his teeth and shot his head up, spitting directly in
Voldemort's snake-like face. The Dark Lord reared back, backhanding Harry
across the face, but Harry barely flinched, just turning his head back to glare
hatefully at Voldemort.
    "Bugger off," he snarled, watching with a distant satisfaction as
Voldemort's lips thinned in anger and his crimson eyes blazed. The Dark Lord,
deceptively calm, wiped the spit off his face and fingered his wand carefully
as he began circling his captive once more. The Death Eaters, after hissing
angrily and drawing their wands when Harry spat at their lord, began to settle
down once more.
    "I believe that we have wasted enough time," Voldemort hissed finally into
the silence. Suddenly, he pointed his wand at Harry and the rest of his clothes
- including his shoes - vanished, leaving him strung up and naked in front of
all of the Death Eaters.
===============================================================================

    Harry had grown up being punished brutally for very many things, some big,
most small. He had been taught not to intrude on other's privacy, and yet at
the same time had not been granted his own. By the time Harry was able to go to
Hogwarts, he had been shy and modest to a fault, his self-esteem nearly non-
existent. He was always careful to look away when the other boys in his dorm
would change clothes and he never even considered looking at another girl in a
romantic way until fourth year. He hadn't been naked in front of another human
in nearly a decade, since Petunia had refused to bathe him anymore, and so he
was extremely protective over anyone seeing his scars and body. He was
convinced that they would find him ugly and disfigured.
    And yet at this moment, bound, naked, helpless, and utterly exposed, he
hardly cared that hundreds of Death Eaters saw his scars or his rail-thin body,
or his recently-acquired feminine curves. In fact while Voldemort was making
comments about his body, Harry was panicking in his mind. His shields were
completely down, obliterated by Voldemort's assault. He had never felt a full
blown Leglimency attack before and it scared him witless. There had been no
control at all, even in his own head - which, in Harry's mind, was the only
really private place he had ever had and would ever have - and Voldemort had
just barreled in and chose whatever memory his wished.
    What if he had known that Harry knew the prophecies? They would have been
gone in the blink of an eye, and Harry knew he would be dead right now. Harry's
body trembled with fear, fear that he hadn't felt this strongly since his Uncle
had approached him, drunk, with a knife. The same feeling of utter helplessness
was there, knowing that he had absolutely no defense, no witty plan that could
save him should Voldemort try again. Really, he was lucky that the maniac had
just wanted childhood memories. There were other, more dangerous things that
Harry knew: who the Phoenix Child was, Zephyr's existence, the location of the
Order of the Phoenix and its members, Snape's spying, and... Draco accepting
him as his life mate.
    Harry felt nauseous. What would happen to him if Draco was killed? He
didn't even want to contemplate it; the idea of Voldemort breaking into his
mind again was horrifying. What can I do? He cried out mentally, beginning to
sink into despair. Before he could, however, Zephyr's warm, calming presence
enveloped his mind briefly before pulling away slightly. He felt the palm of
his hand itch slightly, indicating where Zephyr's mark had moved, and he
clenched it tightly.
    Don't worry, Harry, remember that I am always with you. There is little
that I can do to truly help without causing your pain, but Icanprovide you with
protection from Voldemort's mind. Unfortunately, it will take most of my
strength and I will be unable to help you further if I shield your mind. But
take heart! You can certainly escape him again, as you've done many times
before. Trust in yourself, and in your friends and lover! You will find help
and hope in them if you simply trust them.
   With these words of encouragement, her presence faded from his mind. A
moment later, Harry felt enormous relief as a thick, impenetrable shield
encased his mind, so thick that not even Voldemort could enter. After examining
them minutely, Harry sent a grateful thanks to his feathered companion, assured
at least his mind, if not his body, was safe. That settled, Harry abruptly
turned his attention back to his captor.
    "-should have the honor of drawing first blood. Well, boy? Come forward."
There was a beat of stillness before a smaller form detached from the
surrounding black and took a few steps forward, hesitating briefly. His hood
was still up. Harry stared, confused. What was happening? What had he missed?
When the figure spoke, however, all thought flew from his mind and his body
stiffened in surprise. The voice was familiar, too familiar, though he hadn't
heard it with such a respectful or hesitant tone before.
    "Master, do you think that Ishould-" The arrogance was still there,
certainly, and the rich, cultured tone was certainly unmistakable, but Harry
still wished with every fiber of his being that Draco Malfoy was not in this
room with him. Or, at least, most of him did. A small part of him yearned for
the other boy to come closer, to touch him, to comfort him, to smell his scent
and see his eyes, and that part cried out in dismay as he was cut off by a much
harsher, cold voice.
    "Don't worry, young Malfoy, Mister Potter will not remember much of his
visit by the time he is released, even if he is able to speak. There is no
danger of being exposed here."
    Even now, some part of Harry's mind was denying that Draco was there,
refusing to believe that his - what, friend? Boyfriend? Mate? - was there to
see his shameful nakedness, his disgusting scars, his weakness. But the figure
was raising his arm now, grasping the hood of his cloak and pushing it back as
if in slow motion, revealing flawless, porcelain-white skin, soft threads of
pale gold hair, and deep silver eyes that bore into Harry's own brilliant
green. Harry's heart skipped and his breath paused for a long moment at the
pure emotion that flooded Draco's eyes; worry, fear, even a hint of regret or
affection. It was there, plain as day to those who knew him.
    Then it was gone as Draco let his mask fall perfectly over his face, those
eyes dulling to a flat grey and an ugly smirk twisting his lips grotesquely as
he turned his attention back to the Dark Lord. Voldemort himself had glided
back to his throne and now sat on it smugly, watching the proceedings with a
great deal of interest.
    "If that is the case, then I must thank you for this honor, my Lord."
Quickly but elegantly, he bowed just low enough to indicate respect before
straightening and turning to face Harry. He smiled cruelly and stepped forward,
moving as slowly and sinuously as a panther stalking his prey. "So, Potter, my
long-time rival. I must admit, a small part of me is regretful that you are in
this position now when by rights you should be standing next to me - had you
accepted my hand back in first year, of course. Though, that's a very small
part of me; the rest of me is unbearably pleased that you're here, strung up in
front of us naked and helpless. You're finally getting what's coming to you,
and I have the honor of teaching you your first lesson: never refuse a Malfoy."
    Draco had been approaching slowly as he spoke, circling Harry once before
standing in front of him. Harry had remained silent thus far, warring with his
emotions on how to respond to his mate, but now he was certain. As Draco
finished his sentence, Harry looked him straight in the eye and gave him the
slightest of nods, imperceptible to anyone else, and the corners of his lips
twitched upward very slightly. Draco's eyes widened very slightly before he
nodded back, understanding that Harry was giving him permission to hurt him and
that anything that happened beyond this point was pure farce.
    "Oh shut up, Malfoy, you bloody prat!" Harry snapped suddenly, summoning
his anger to fuel his lie as he nearly cut Draco off. "You couldn't care less
about 'upholding the Malfoy name', you're just pissed that I make you look like
a fool practically every day of your miserable little life! No wonder you had
other people do the dirty work for you, everyone knows you can't duel your way
out of a paper ba-"
    Draco abruptly backhanded him, stunning him into silence. It wasn't very
hard at all, but against the already sore skin it stung bitterly. By the time
Harry looked up again, Draco had already conjured a simple and elegant steel
knife that he held easily in his right hand. His wand was held ready in his
left hand as he raised the dagger to Harry's throat.
    "You really don't know when to shut up, do you, Potter? Someone always has
to do it for you. Silencio." Draco growled, pressing the knife closer in
warning before pulling away and beginning to circle Harry, dragging the flat of
his blade lightly along Harry's skin as he did so. Harry wisely remained
silent, glaring at nothing as his skin goosefleshed in the wake of the cool
steel against him. Draco came back round to stand in front of Harry once more,
catching his eyes and holding them with the depth of the emotion that was in
them. The sadness in them was spellbinding. In fact, Harry barely noticed the
first bite of pain for what it was: Draco had pressed his wand into his skin,
right above his heart, and was concentrating.
    When Harry felt the second searing cut open his skin, he couldn't help his
body from jerking in a startled panic, the flight-or-fight instinct that had
been honed for years into a tightly-drawn wire clamoring him to do something.
Instead, knowing that there was nothing he could do, Harry simply hung where he
was with tightly-pressed lips and a tense body, trying not to scream at the
excruciating slowness of the wand tip tracing its way across his skin,
simultaneously burning and cutting for maximum scarring. From experience, he
knew that focusing on the pain would only make the time go by that much slower
and so his mind automatically focused on a single set of details that he could
lose himself in. This time, it was Draco's pale face, taut with concentration,
eyebrows curled faintly in an expression of self-hatred and regret.
    Not being able to see what Draco was scratching into his chest, Harry could
only feel the blood as it slid down past his navel and spiraled around his left
leg until it pooled just below his toes. It seemed like forever, an occasional
hiss of pain whistling through his teeth, but only five minutes must have
passed before Draco stepped back, smirking smugly at his work. He said
something - Harry was sure of that - but the Boy Who Lived had long since
retreated into his own mind, not caring about anything besides ending the pain,
and he couldn't comprehend what the words meant. Nor did he want to.
    His heart ached with despair and longing as Draco smirked a final time and
turned away abruptly, his cloak swirling behind him as he pulled the hood back
up. Draco casually passed the knife to the Death Eater next to him, and then
the torture truly began. After this Death Eater - Lucius Malfoy - finished with
his carving, there was another - Nott - and another - Rookwood - until Harry
began losing track. If they were in view, his eyes never failed to take in his
captor's face and memorize each feature with an almost eerie intensity that
unnerved most of the Death Eaters - which, of course, caused them to dig in
deeper with the knife.
    After about the seventh person, Harry lost his determination to keep
silent, and more than once his mouth opened in a silent scream as his body
jerked in pain. By the fifteenth person, his head was becoming fuzzy with blood
loss and he had fainted once already, but Voldemort was quick to revive him. At
one point, Harry was distantly startled to find himself looking into the very
familiar coal-black eyes of Severus Snape from underneath a black hood, and he
had barely registered the hidden shame in his professor's eyes before repeating
the same process of forgiveness as he had Draco. The Professor's steady hand
froze for a split second, apparently having expected Harry to either glare at
him or be too far gone to recognize Snape, before the slightest of tremors
shook his hand and he continued to cut into his flesh.
    Voldemort had apparently instructed everyone to leave his face and back
alone - the first because Voldemort had already placed his scar there, and the
second because "the muggle had already done such a good job on it" - but the
rest of his body was free game. The only parts of his body that didn't hurt
were his back (although his muscles were beginning to feel the strain of
holding him up), his face, and, thankfully, his privates. After nearly two
hours, a shorter Death Eater - even shorter than Harry - complained that he
couldn't reach Harry's arm and there was some laughter and movement before
Harry was removed and dropped to the floor. Before he could even contemplate
escape, however, a wand was set against his throat as the short Death Eater
quickly drew what felt like a snake winding around his arm. When he was
finished, Harry was quickly strung up again and the events continued.
     From what Harry could tell when the pain was so great that he couldn't
block it from his mind, most people were carving their initials or obscene
words or a crude Dark Mark, but some were a bit more... creative. In fact, some
people simply forwent the knife and just used him as a punching bag for a
while.
    Time passed. He wasn't sure how much, but it couldn't have been more than
three or four hours. After he finally passed out and couldn't be woken with
Ennervate, he was taken back to his cell. He was lucky that not all of the
Death Eaters were there to take their turn - many of them had had to return to
their homes or jobs after the first two hours.
  
    Harry woke in darkness and laid still, wondering if he was going to stay
awake. He had woken several times in the past but almost immediately had either
passed out or vomited from the pain. This time, he didn't try to move at all,
opting to just try and get his sluggish mind to start working properly again.
His limbs throbbed endlessly and the pain was excruciating. He could barely
think and his mind couldn't concentrate on anything, it continually jumped
around to bits and pieces of what had happened to him in the throne room before
flashing away to another memory.
    Unbidden, a stinging welled up behind his eyes and he couldn't stop a tear
from dripping down the side of his face as he stared up into the darkness. More
time passed as he contemplated the ceiling, not even able to draw comfort from
Zephyr because she was exhausted from protecting his mind for so long. He
thought about his friends and wondered if they were worried about him. He
wondered if enough time had passed that Mr. Weasley had recovered. He wondered
what the Order was doing to look for him.
    The next moment, he berated himself angrily. I can't rely on the Order to
rescue me every time I get myself into trouble. After all, it was my stupid
stubbornness that made me an easy target. If I had gone straight inside St.
Mungo's, then everyone would have been able to get inside and we could've
sealed the doors. But... Shacklebolt, Tonks, and Moody probably would've stayed
outside anyway, which means that the muggles on the street probably would've
died in the crossfire. And besides, what if we wouldn't have gotten the seal on
the door fast enough? The Death Eaters could've flooded St. Mungo's and killed
the patients...
    Harry sighed. He could try and go over the fight over and over again, but
that wouldn't change what had actually happened. He had gotten captured, and
now he was stuck here without a plan and without help. He had gotten himself
into this mess, so he would have to get himself out.
    Feeling a bit more determined, Harry clenched his jaw and experimentally
flexed his muscles. There wasn't as much pain as there had been before, but he
could tell that his injuries were crusted over with blood and were in danger of
tearing open once more if he moved too much. Briefly, he wondered how long
Voldemort would keep him here - after all, if he didn't get these treated soon,
not only would they scar but they would also be in danger of getting infected.
He quickly ignored the thought and concentrated on moving very slowly.
    First, he tried to roll himself onto his front, and actually succeeded
before he cried out in pain when the rough stone scraped against the cuts
there. When no sound came from his throat, he realized that they had never
taken off the silencing charm, which, in this case, was a good thing if there
was a guard outside the door, but bad if he escaped and couldn't say any
spells. After a long moment, Harry brought his arms underneath himself and sat
up very slowly as his arms shook with pain, exhaustion, and weakness.
Unfortunately, he was still naked, but at least the cell was somewhat warm so
that he wouldn't get hypothermia.
    Slowly, very slowly, he managed to stand, clutching the wall for support,
and he paused for a long moment to breathe deeply. This wasn't good. In the
condition that he was in now, the only form of defense that he had was his
magic, which meant that his very first priority was to get those bloody
handcuffs off. Simple, right? Harry thought to himself, snorting silently.
    Before he could contemplate it further, however, he was startled by the
cell door opening. He tensed up, fear and dismay sweeping over him as the Death
Eater stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
    "Potter," came a tense whisper, vaguely familiar, from under the Death
Eater's hood. Harry narrowed his eyes, staring hard as he tried to decide
whether the voice was a threat or not. "Merlin, Potter, are you still sane?
Don't just stare, boy, answer me!"
    Harry flinched at the word "boy", but he still glared at the Death Eater,
who gave a sigh and yanked down his hood. The familiar coal-black of Snape's
eyes glittered back at him and Harry gaped, silently mouthing "Professor!"
Comprehension dawned on Snape's face and he quickly waved his wand, muttering
Finite Incantum, and the silencing charm was removed. Before he could speak
again, Harry gasped out in a hoarse voice:
    "What happened to me in McGonagall's office a month ago?"
    Confusion flitted over Snape's sallow face before a flicker of what seemed
like respect settled in his eyes. "You became angry at Umbridge and the Dark
Lord examined your mind. You turned him away with Occlumency."
    Harry relaxed a bit but didn't remove his intense gaze from Snape's face.
"How long has it been? All of it?" He said hoarsely. Snape rolled his eyes
impatiently at this, but answered, stepping closer and pulling out a few vials
from his pocket.
    "A week since you were captured and nearly two days since your torture," he
answered briefly. "And a month since you've eaten, apparently," he added,
examining Harry's rail-thin body. Harry couldn't stop the blush that spread
over his cheeks and he turned his body slightly to hide his privates.
    "It's odd that Voldemort waited so long," he said, doggedly ignoring
Snape's snort at his modesty. "It's not like him to just let his enemies rot in
a cell somewhere. Normally he likes to personalize the deaths." As Snape
responded, he handed Harry the vials and gestured for him to drink them
quickly.
    "Coupled with his resurrection and the 'duel'," he sneered faintly at this,
"between you during the TriWizard Tournament, the Dark Lord is weak physically,
if not magically. Some days it's difficult for him to even stand and instruct
us on what to do. He had to gather his strength to even be able to walk around
you and antagonize you as he did, and he's now recovering his strength. No
doubt he will call on me any moment now for the instruction to brew more Dark
Potions designed to help him recover. With each day, he becomes stronger as he
acclimates to his new body."
    Harry was silent, digesting the information. Finally, he asked, hesitantly,
"What about the Order? Was anyone hurt? How is Mr. Weasley? Are they looking
for me?" Snape scowled darkly to himself as he watched Harry drink the vials.
Harry immediately felt their effects in the way his pain lessened, his body
felt revitalized, and his mind became clearer.
    "There were only a few injuries, since most of the Order had the sense to
stay indoors and barricade danger from entering." Harry winced at the barb.
"They are all healed by now, yes, including Arthur Weasley. They are all
worried about you and your friends tend to physically assault me every time I
enter Headquarters. I have told them nothing except that you are alive. The
wizarding world at large continues to panic about your absence and the rumors
are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Fudge has not sent
anyone to look for you, yet, which is frankly making the populace quite angry
with him." His eyes glittered with contempt as he said this, before he became
even more solemn and met Harry's eyes squarely.
    "The Order is planning your rescue, but I believe that you will either be
seriously maimed, permanently disfigured, or dead by the time they arrive. That
is why I've taken this incredible risk to contact you. I have been unable to do
so before now, or else you might have been gone before your torture. Obviously,
nothing can be done until those..." His eyes settled pointedly on the handcuffs
before moving back to Harry's face. "...thingsare removed from your wrists, but
I can do nothing to help you. If there is any trace of foreign magic in this
room or on those handcuffs, the Dark Lord will know that you have had help and
my position would be compromised. However, no spells on those prevent physical
damage-"
    Snape abruptly cut himself off as a flash of pain and fear came over his
face and he clutched his left arm to his body. "I must go," he said tightly,
backing away. "Find a bloody rock or something and break those open. Your magic
will be restored to you, but you will have to find your own way out. The guard
outside the door is under a sleeping spell that will wear off in less than an
hour and he will not notice he has been asleep. Hurry and get the hell out of
here, Potter, I cannot protect you." With that, Snape turned on his heel and
left the room, shutting the door quickly after him.
    Harry stood still for a moment, processing all of the information that had
been shoved at him after a week of little to no human contact. Most of it he
pushed back to contemplate later and he started moving around the room to find
a large and sharp enough rock to use to escape. At the moment, he felt
immeasurably grateful to the Potion's Master and well as stunned. To be
truthful, he had fully expected Snape to let him die at Voldemort's hand, if
only so that he wouldn't have to teach Harry again next year.
    Harry's thoughts paused when his hands found a slight shelf of rock on the
wall adjacent to the door that had a sharp edge. Trembling with excitement and
relief, Harry carefully positioned the right handcuff on the edge and, before
he could lose his nerve, began crashing the clasp against the stone. Pain
jarred up and down his bruised and cut wrists, but this only made Harry work
harder because he knew that the potions would only last for so long, and then
he would be in even worse shape than before. As time passed and he methodically
worked around the weakest point of the handcuffs, Harry began to get tired and
he missed several times, scraping his hands or arms against the rock until they
began to bleed.
    Finally, the clasp on the right handcuff gave way and he frantically pulled
it off of his wrist. Immediately, he felt power flowing through his veins, his
magic beginning to return to him after being cut off for so long. He used his
magical sight to check the results of his work and nearly cried out with relief
that the power of the handcuffs was significantly lower. He could probably use
magic now without passing out from pain. As Harry looked up, however, he froze.
There, in the corner of the room, was a small, bright aura of magic of the kind
that only belonged to wizards and witches. The outline was small, though, too
small to be human, and Harry narrowed his eyes and looked harder, a horrible
suspicion growing in his mind.
    The aura was in the shape of a rat.
   
    The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach and a viciously wild feeling
erupted in his chest. The answer to a great many problems was sitting not ten
feet away from him. Wormtail. He must have been following Snape, Harry
realized, and probably stayed to make sure Harry didn't escape. Either that, or
the fat idiot was too slow to get to the door when it closed.
   The traitor hadn't yet realized that he had been noticed and Harry didn't
give him a chance to. Driven by overwhelming hatred, his wandless stunning,
freezing, and locking charms were as fast as lightning, so fast that they
appeared to blend together and hit at the exact same time. Wormtail didn't
stand a chance. Without wasting any more time, Harry made his way over to the
corner as fast as he could and grabbed the rat, squeezing tightly around the
middle as if to assure himself that it was real, that he had caught the
betrayer of his parents and the proof of Sirius' innocence.
    Harry shook himself mentally. He could savor in the victory later, right
now he had to get out of here. He ventured into his mind and came upon Zephyr,
who seemed to be rousing herself after a long sleep. The absence of magic had
been devastating to the magical creature and she was severely weakened, but
after some debate, she assured Harry that she could take him and the rat to
where the Order was located.
    We must hurry, she whispered in his mind. Brace yourself, releasing me will
require more magic than a few simple spells. The remaining half of the
restraints will yet cause you pain.
   Nodding, Harry did as he was told, and a moment later he felt the power
swell up inside him as Zephyr forced herself past the magical block and slowly
tore herself from his body. The pain was excruciating and Harry couldn't hold
back a scream of agony as his arm felt like it was being ripped from his body.
Within moments, Zephyr was settling heavily on his shoulder, gripping it
slightly hard as he swayed.
    Don't worry, Harry, I have you now. Just hold on for a few more moments and
you will be home.The phoenix sounded exhausted, but Harry couldn't find the
strength to ask if she was alright. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to see
Sirius and his friends again and be surrounded by people who loved him and
cared for him. He was tired of being hated and abused.
    The next minute, a soft fiery glow enveloped the slight boy and the rat
clutched in his hands, and there was a bright flash of fire before they
disappeared and the cell was left empty.
===============================================================================
 
    At Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the Weasley's (all except Percy), Sirius,
Remus, Dumbledore, and three Aurors were sitting down to a large dinner when a
sound of rushing air and a soft thump sounded through the house followed by a
soft cry of pain or surprise. The atmosphere of the room, already tense and
heavy with sorrow and worry, seemed to be electrified as a phoenix song
suddenly reverberated through the rooms and struck hope into their hearts.
Simultaneously, everyone looked to the brilliant red and orange bird perched on
a hat rack in the corner of the room, but Fawkes was silent, only looking a bit
more alert as he opened his beak to answer the song when it faded.
    "Who was-"
    "Not Fawkes-"
    "No one else has..."
    "Only Harry-"
    "Harry!"
    As one, several people cried out in realization and everyone stood and
rushed from the room, heading to the entrance hall. There, they found the
bloodied and battered form of a skinny, naked Boy Who Lived struggling to his
hands and knees. Zephyr perched on his back, her magnificent wings extended in
a type of hug that covered the boy's modesty.
    Harry looked up wearily through his dirty, matted bangs when the room
flooded with people he knew and loved, with Sirius and Remus at the head. His
head spun with exhaustion and pain, and he seemed to be having trouble
concentrating on what was being said.
    "Oh my God, Harry!"
    "Merlin, Harry, what..."
    "Everyone stay back! We don't know what condition he's in, don't smother
him!"
    "Bill! Fire call Madame Pomfrey, quickly!"
    "Harry!"
    Blinking slowly, Harry gained a bit more awareness and flexed his hand,
realizing suddenly that he still held Wormtail in a death grip. Seeking out
Dumbledore's face, he locked eyes with the Headmaster, his face suddenly stony
and hard, suspicious. The room fell silent when he spoke.
    "What is the second line of the first prophecy?"
    "Borne from ash and love undying..."Dumbledore replied promptly, his eyes
suspiciously bright and twinkling even though his face had seemed to have aged
ten years from the last time that Harry saw him. "It's good to see you again,
my boy."
    Harry relaxed, allowing the ghost of a smile to curve his lips. "It's good
to be back," he said hoarsely. Sirius broke the circle and stepped forward,
almost hesitant, before he let out a choked cry and rushed to Harry's side,
dropping to his knees to hug his godson. Harry winced but hugged Sirius as best
he could with one arm, the thin limb wrapped around the back of Sirius' neck as
the other hand grasped the limp rat. Remus moved forward as well, a bit more
composed, though tears of relief stood out in his eyes. He held a cloak in his
hands that he draped around Harry's emaciated form to hide his nakedness better
than Zephyr could.
    "Harry, are you alright, mate?" Ron asked, earning a sharp swat on the back
of the head by Hermione. "Ron! Could you be any more tactless?" Another faint
smile illuminated Harry's tired face and his heart swelled with joy and relief
at being back among friends. It made the aching that he felt for Draco's
absence even more noticeable, but he pushed it away.
    "I'm alright, Ron. It's mostly just bruises and cuts."
    "I think I'll be the one to decide that, Mr. Potter." Harry cringed at
Madame Pomfrey's chilly tone, watching as the mediwitch marched her way through
the door of the living room, Bill Weasley trailing after her with an amused
expression on his face. No doubt Poppy had had some choice words to say about
Harry when she heard that he was injured again. "Let me through, stand back.
Someone pick him up - gently! - and bring him up to his room. Quickly now!"
    Zephyr fluttered out of the way as Sirius bent to pick Harry up as gently
as he could, one arm under Harry's knees and the other around his back. Harry's
eyes and jaw clenched shut in pain and he curled a hand into his godfather's
shirt, hearing the gasps as the cloak slid aside to reveal his legs from the
knee down.
    "Merlin, Harry, what the hell happened to you?" Someone whispered into the
silence and Harry buried his head into Sirius' shoulder, pretending not to
hear. Each step was painful, but soon enough he was being laid on the familiar
silkiness of his bed with Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore in the room, with
Madame Pomfrey setting up next to him.
    "Albus," Harry said, craning his neck to find the Headmaster.
    "Yes, my boy?" The aged wizard said, appearing at Harry's side immediately
and gently taking his left hand. Harry grinned lopsidedly and held up a very
familiar limp rat with his other hand.
    "I have a present for you. I caught him just before I escaped, but you
should probably put him in a cage or something; he might wake up soon." The
twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was nearly blinding as he took the rat and
conjured an unbreakable cage that would prevent him from changing back, placing
Wormtail inside and hitting him with another stunning charm just to be safe.
Sirius and Remus watched with gobsmacked expressions, eyes wide and mouths
hanging open as they looked between Wormtail and Harry, who just smiled smugly
at them.
    "He found out about Snape being a spy," Harry warned, "so be sure to erase
about half an hour before he was captured before you take him to court."
    "I will, Harry," Dumbledore promised with a smile. "And I can't tell you
how proud I am for restraining yourself."
    "Mr. Potter, if you would move your arm..?" Madame Pomfrey prompted and
Harry did so, allowing the mediwitch to pull the cloak away from his body,
exposing him to their shocked gazes. Harry blushed heavily and avoided their
eyes, moving his arms feebly to cover himself.
    "Merlin... Harry, what happened?" Sirius asked weakly. Harry just shook his
head slightly, not answering. Madame Pomfrey broke the heavy silence with a
professional clearing of her throat. She conjured up the now-familiar Scribe
quill and camera, which she sent whizzing over their heads.
    "Mr. Potter, when was the last time you ate?" Harry sighed, resigning
himself to answering some questions.
    "I wasn't able to keep track of time, but I'd guess about three days ago,"
Harry answered quietly.
    "What was it?"
    "A bit of bread."
    "And before that?"
    "I was given bread once before that, but there was a never-ending bucket of
water in my cell." Sirius flinched at the word "cell".
    "Do you think you could give me a brief outline of the circumstances that
caused these injuries?"
    Harry sighed, glancing nervously at his godfather before looking away. "Um,
the little cuts on my face came from the explosion just before I was captured.
After they Portkeyed me to Voldemort's hideout, they beat me up a bit, but
nothing is broken. Then, about four or five days later, I was brought to
Voldemort's throne room. The Death Eaters... they used a knife to, um," he
gestured vaguely to his bloody body with one hand, "...cut me. When I passed
out, they took me back to my cell and I was there for nearly two days before I
escaped. The worst injury is probably my wrists. These handcuffs..."
    He raised the hand with the intact cuff, the broken half dangling from the
chain. "They're charmed to block my magic and they would hurt me every time I
tried to use magic. Um... When the Death Eaters cut me, they hooked the chain
and pulled me up until I couldn't touch the floor. I was hanging there for four
or five hours and my wrists got cut pretty bad, not to mention later when I
tried to break the cuffs against a sharp rock. I'm not sure how to get them
off."
    "If you would permit me, Harry?" Dumbledore returned to Harry's side as the
green-eyed boy nodded, reaching out and taking hold of the intact handcuff
gently. He eyed the metal ring narrowly for a long moment before holding his
hand over them and muttering a long string of Latin under his breath. He paused
and seemed satisfied before pulling his wand and vanishing them. Surprised,
Harry stared at his wrist, free of the hated metal, and he grinned up at the
elderly wizard.
    "Thank you, sir. It's... a relief to have... t-them off-" He broke off,
closing his eyes as he became light-headed and the room spun dangerously. Magic
was rushing freely through his body, crashing through his mind like a tidal
wave. His breathing hitched and wheezed irregularly as his body trembled.
Suddenly, his thoughts scattered and his concentration flickered.
    "He's going into shock!" He heard a vaguely familiar voice cry out, and he
wondered if they were talking about him. He had never been in shock before. "I
have to begin treatment now, everyone get out. Albus, send up Molly. I'm going
to need some help- Harry! Harry, stay with us!"
    "Molly! Come quickly!" Someone shouted frantically from the doorway and
Harry's eyes fluttered open, panic swelling abruptly for no real reason.
    "S'rius? Sirius! Don't leave me, don't leave-"
    A hand grasped his tightly and a voice spoke near his ear, whispering
reassurances and Harry calmed slightly.
    "Oh my, Harry!"
    "Molly, now's not the time for coddling, help me with him-"
    Spells were cast over and over, warmth flaring on different parts of his
body as the magic touched him. Confusion was settling around his mind, the
disorientation reminding him all too much of the time before he had found his
mate. Without him knowing, a few tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes
and he moaned, attempting to curl into a ball.
     "Draco, Draco-!" He struggled weakly when hands prevented him from curling
up, a hand on his hip and chest causing a brief memory of Bryon Bradley to
surface in his mind before it fell away. Another spell was cast and in the next
moment his mouth was being forced open and liquid poured down his throat.
Potions.
    Perceiving a threat, his magic lashed out and the hands fell away with a
few startled or pained cries. Before he could panic, however, the potions
kicked in and a comfortable calm fell over him. He relaxed slowly into the bed,
his body unfurling and falling limp. He no longer cared that he was naked and
exposed beneath their gazes. Lazily, his eyes opened, but they couldn't focus
on anything for very long. Slowly, Harry felt his consciousness slip away, his
hearing failing the last. Someone was crying quietly.
===============================================================================

    Harry woke nearly a day later. The sun was shining brightly through his
window and his head was pleasantly fuzzy and warm. He burrowed his face into
his pillows and sighed, a slight smile on his face. He had had this dream
several times in the dark cell in Voldemort's hideout.
    "Harry...? Are you awake?" Harry opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he
processed the question. Hermione. Probably Ron, too.
    "Oi, mate, you feeling alright?" Yup.
    Harry turned over to face the ceiling and slowly pulled himself into a
sitting position. His arms trembled dangerously, but he managed to lean against
the headboard and look over to his friends. The vague pain that throbbed deep
in his limbs wasn't usually part of the dream and he frowned, looking down at
his bare chest, which was littered with very faint, white scars. Why wasn't he
dressed? Catching sight of a certain scar on his side, his memory suddenly came
flooding back and he paled, yanking the sheets up to cover himself.
    "Harry?" Hermione asked uncertainly, a hint of fear in her voice. "Ron, go
get your mum, something's not right." The redhead nodded and glanced at his
friend once more before hurrying from the room. Harry just stared at his
bedsheets, absently rubbing the back of his right hand under the covers.
    "Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione asked again.
    The Boy Who Lived blinked and looked up at her, a bit of color coming back
into his cheeks but his eyes remaining haunted. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine,
Hermione. Just... thinking, is all." She looked faintly doubtful, but before
she could question him, the door flew open and within moments, Mrs. Weasley was
by his side, followed by a haggard-looking Sirius.
    "Harry, dear, how are you?"
    He smiled faintly at her, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "I'm better,
just kind of confused when I woke up. What happened?" Sirius let out a breath
and sank into the chair next to his bed, grasping his slender hand gently.
    "You went into shock," Mrs. Weasley replied, casting a diagnostic spell and
smiling at the results. "After you passed out, Madame Pomfrey and I were able
to heal your injuries; in fact, she left only a few hours ago. She left a bag
full of potions that she said you were very familiar with."
    Harry groaned, sinking down into the pillows. Sirius chuckled.
    "Don't worry, kiddo, it's not as bad this time as it was the other times.
You'll only have to take them for two weeks." Harry rolled his eyes with a wry
smirk before becoming more serious.
    "Did she tell you everything?" He nodded, understanding what he was asking.
    "Yes, I was there with you the entire time. I had just gone down for some
breakfast."
    Harry remained silent for a moment before looking over at his friends
apologetically. "Um... Can I talk to Sirius alone?"
    Hermione nodded understandingly and dragged Ron from the room, giving him a
look that said "We'll be talking later" mixed with something like sympathy.
After a moment of hesitation, Mrs. Weasley followed with surprisingly little
over-protectiveness. "You're healing fine, just stay in bed and rest, dear,"
was all she said before she left, shutting the door behind her.
    "Where's Remus?" Harry asked.
    "He's on a mission for the Order. Dumbledore figured that he should send
him somewhere where he could cool off without breaking into Dumbledore's office
and killing Wormtail." Sirius chuckled.
    "When will Wormtail be put on trial?"
    "Within days. Dumbledore's just gathering a bit more information to take
out two or three birds with one stone." There was a feral edge to Sirius' grin
and a bright glint in his eyes. Freedom was finally within his grasp and he was
savoring the feeling.
    "So... Who knows?" Harry asked finally, not sure whether he wanted to know
the answer.
    "Well, the Order knows about what happened during your captivity from
Snape. He told us about the torture and his hand in your escape. I actually had
to thank the git," he said gravely, an unreadable look in his eyes. "Dumbledore
told everyone what you had told us, and I think that's pretty much it. I'm not
sure how much your friends know... I think someone talked to them. As for the
abuse... Molly knows for sure - she cornered Poppy after treating you - and
Snape said that Voldemort left your back untouched, but I think everyone put
two and two together and came up with four. Your friends don't know, but they
had snuck up and were looking through the doorway when you went into shock and
were struggling. They probably saw your back..."
    "And now Draco, too..." Harry added and fell silent for a few moments,
contemplating how fast everything could unravel. His deepest secrets, the ones
that he had kept for years, were now practically common knowledge among his
friends. He wasn't sure how he felt about that; on one hand, he felt utterly
depressed and angry at Snape, but on the other hand, it felt as if a great
weight had been lifted off of his chest. The relief was warring with the fear,
and it was winning.
    "So, how long will it take me to get better this time? In real time, not
Pomfrey's."
    "Well, school starts again in a few days. You should be able to walk around
by tomorrow, but your muscles are very weak from starvation and some of your
leg muscles were injured by some of those bas- Death Eaters. You'll need to use
a cane for about a month, but you should be completely fine by then... in fact,
considering that it's you, you'll probably ditch the cane within the week." He
grinned faintly, his eyes tired but relieved. "The scars... Poppy got to them
soon enough that there was very little infection - though you did have a fever
when you got here - and they only scarred a little bit. Most of them were thin
and clean enough that they should fade within a year. The others... Well, none
of them were as bad as the ones that your damn uncle gave you."
    Harry nodded, sighing as he sunk back into his pillows and slid down a bit.
He was getting tired again. "I'm glad to be back," he said quietly. "I'm so
tired of being hurt, Sirius. Can't I just be happy for a while before Voldemort
comes to bugger it all up?"
    "I'm sorry, cub, I don't know why fate chose you to go through this hell on
Earth. I don't know...  but you know I'll always be here for you, right? You
can always turn to me and Remus for help. Merlin, you don't know how worried we
were when you were taken. We love you, Harry."
    "I love you too..." Harry whispered, his eyes drooping in tiredness.
    "Rest some more, cub. You'll be up and moving before you know it." Harry
didn't protest, but slid down the bed and wrapped himself in his covers.
    "Sirius," he mumbled tiredly. "Can you see if Draco can stay over before
school starts? I haven't touched him in over a week... I miss him."
    There was a long moment of silence, and just before he slipped off into
slumber, he heard, "Yeah, I'll see if he can come visit, Harry. Rest now..."
    A few days passed as Harry recovered from his capture. It was a bit awkward
to learn how to walk with a cane, but he caught on quickly enough. His friends
- Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins - managed to corner him and ask his about
the scars on his back, even though it was pretty obvious that they knew it was
abuse, and he was forced to tell the truth. He didn't tell them everything, of
course, and he didn't even go into much detail. "My uncle hurt me a lot when I
was a kid," was pretty much all he had to say about that, though when Hermione
thought to ask him if it continued during the summers after Hogwarts, he was
forced to tell her yes.
    There wasn't much talking after that except for a stern lecture from
Hermione about trusting your friends and telling them when you were hurt, etc.,
but the subject didn't come up again for quite some time. There was plenty of
Dursley-hating going around, but the twins figured that if he had dealt with it
this long, Harry would be fine, especially since he wasn't living with the
Dursley's any more. Ginny just felt pity for him and Ron and Hermione were
miffed that he hadn't trusted them enough to tell him about it. It was a better
reaction than he had ever imagined. He had thought that they might hate him for
lying, that they would make fun of him because he was so weak, but in fact the
reaction that he was beginning to hate the most was the pity.
    He knew it was there, he saw it in their eyes and body language, in the way
they treated him. He knew whenever they thought about it because Ginny's tears
would well up and she would treat him like a lost baby bird, Ron would become
awkward and avoid his eyes, and Hermione tried to get him to talk about it.
Frankly, it just made him miss Draco all the more.
 
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which Harry and Draco are reunited, and Harry is tested.
    The morning of the day before the end of Winter Break, Harry was woken by a
huge black dog jumping on his bed and sitting on his chest, tongue lolling in
an ecstatic grin. Laughing, Harry wrestled with him a bit before pushing him
off the bed, which made the dog turn back into a man with a pop and scowl at
him
    "To what do I owe this pleasure, Sirius?" Harry asked, smiling. The ex-
convict's face immediately brightened into a blinding smile and he got up,
pulling Harry into a tight hug.
    "I'm free, Harry! I was pardoned and the Ministry was forced to stop
looking for me!" He crowed triumphantly. Harry gaped, sitting down hard on his
mattress.
    "Wh- Really? You're free? You're free!" Harry let out a whoop and tackled
Sirius in a hug that left them both breathless and with tears in their eyes.
Every dream that Harry had ever had, about someone coming to take him away from
the Dursley's, about a loving family, about someone who was close to his
parents... it had all come true. "What happened? Why now?"
    "The trial was yesterday," Sirius replied, surreptitiously wiping his eyes,
"and Dumbledore built up such a convincing case that they had to let me go.
Peter was sentenced to life in Azkaban and I was given an official pardon and
compensation from the Ministry. I can walk out of this house right now and no
one could arrest me!"
    "That's great, Sirius!" Harry laughed. "What did the Minister have to say
about it?"
    "There was nothing he couldsay, though it was pretty obvious that he wasn't
happy. I say to hell with him, I was his scapegoat for the entire war! It
doesn't matter what he thinks any more, though, since Peter's confession was
practically proof that Voldemort has come back and the public won't listen to
his blustering or lies anymore." His eyes glinted with disgust. "Besides, Peter
also told the court about a certain deal that was made between His Honor Mr.
Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, and one Lucius Malfoy to 'teach Harry Potter a lesson
about lying' through a 'fake' kidnapping. Fudge and Umbridge kept trying to say
that they hadn't known Malfoy was a Death Eater and would actually harm you,
but of course no one believes them."
    Harry sat, taking it all in. Wormtail, Lucius Malfoy, the incompetent
Minister, and Umbridge taken down with one blow! A smug grin tinted with
mischievousness spread over his face. "There's going to be some changes in the
Ministry, isn't there?"
    Sirius matched his grin with one of his own, ruffling Harry's hair as he
did so. "Yes, there certainly will be, cub."
    After Harry showered and dressed in loose jeans (they might have fit better
before, but he was still trying to gain his weight back) and a jumper over a
button-down, they headed down to breakfast together. There was a burst of
applause and many hearty claps on Sirius' shoulder as he made his way to his
seat as people congratulated him. There was even a cake being made by Mrs.
Weasley. Harry sidled over by his friends, grinning, and sat down between Ron
and Hermione.
    "Good to see you back in active service, Black," he heard Mad-Eye growl
Sirius, a lopsided grin on his grizzled face. "Competent Aurors are nearly
impossible to find these days. You'll be up to commander in no time and you can
whip those worthless carcasses back into shape!"
    "Sirius was an Auror?" Harry asked incredulously, trying to imagine his
godfather in a blue uniform and breaking up barroom brawls. He had always
thought of Sirius as the kind to start brawls rather than end them. Ron gave
him an odd look.
    "Why are you so surprised? The war was still going on when they got out of
school and the Aurors were probably on war-time duty." Seeing that Harry still
looked nonplussed, he elaborated. "That means that they get pulled off the
worthless assignments and go out fighting Death Eaters, interrogating prisoners
for locations, and stuff. If the Ministry announces the war with Voldemort
again, the Auror's will probably be back on war-time duty."
    "Oh, that makes sense," Harry mumbled. He could definitely imagine Sirius
doing that. Hermione looked interested.
    "The muggles do something similar to that during a really big war," she
said, sounding like she was launching into a lecture. "I've read about a time
during the 1600's when a captain of the British muggle army..." Ron and Harry
met gazes with a roll of the eyes and an exasperated look. Breakfast began with
a lot of chatter and laughter, especially when George managed to shake Sirius'
hand and turn his hair bright blue. Unfortunately, this reminded Harry of a
time when the twins had turned all of the Slytherin's hair red, which in turn
reminded him of how Draco looked with hair as red as a Weasley's. He felt a
sharp pang of overwhelming pain and longing at the mere thought of the
Slytherin, and he felt his mood deflating slowly.
    He hadn't asked for Draco to visit since that first night, but he had been
feeling the blond's absence for much longer than that. It was just now that it
was becoming a nearly constant pain. At times, he even wondered if the magic-
blocking handcuffs had restrained a large part of his own phoenix instincts,
like they had weakened Zephyr. If so, they were probably the only reason that
he wasn't insane or nearly catatonic over Draco by now.
    "Well, Potter, I haven't seen you since you arrived," Moody grunted from
his place across from Harry, breaking his train of thought. It was true; nearly
everyone else had seen Harry since he came back, but Moody had been gone. "You
keeping up with your training?"
    "Yes, but I don't think I'm in the condition for a duel at the moment,"
Harry said wryly, smiling. Moody snorted and thumped his wooden leg underneath
the table.
    "Never stopped me before."
    Harry's smile widened and he looked at the old Auror appraisingly. "Yeah, I
guess you're right about that. You want to give it a go?"
    "Harry!" Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and, surprisingly, Sirius gasped in horror
when they heard this, but Moody was grinning like a madman, his fake eye
spinning approvingly.
    "I can't just sit around doing nothing," Harry said convincingly, standing
up and setting his empty plate in the sink. "Come on, Moody, you old warhorse.
Let's see what two cripples and a piece of wood can do."
    "I'm right with ye, laddie," Moody growled, sounding positively delighted.
Harry led the way, leaning heavily on his cane. They limped through the halls
and entered the training hall, Harry wincing slightly as he stood five paces
away from the center of the room. Moody took up his place five paces away from
the center as well, opposite the scarred boy.
    "How do we want to do this? Free for all, no Dark spells, and no counter-
spells?" Harry suggested, feeling a bit nervous now that he was actually face-
to-face with the former Auror. After all, Mad-Eye Moody was legendary! Moody
grunted in agreement, pulling his wand. Harry just clenched his slim cane a bit
tighter and began counting down from five. At the moment that he hit zero, both
men exploded into action. Moody rolled to his right, shouting a freezing spell
as he did so, which missed Harry, who had dived to his right as well and
shouted a stunning spell. The bolt of red light sprung from his outstretched
palm, missing Moody by inches.
    They both stood again, testing their weight and watching the other warily.
Harry winced and rubbed the side of his leg surreptitiously, stopping quickly
when he saw that his opponent had noticed. They circled each other, shouting a
spell occasionally to try and trip up the other, but not succeeding. Finally,
Moody made his move. He jumped to the side and muttered a spell under his
breath that shot at Harry with a deadly blue light who, not recognizing it,
dove to his left. He was stunned when the spell followed him and hit him
broadside. He flinched in anticipation of pain, but nothing happened.
Cautiously, he rose to his feet and gave a questioning look to Moody, who just
grinned wolfishly and attacked again.
    It happened as Harry was sending a volley of spells at the older man, just
as the reflection spell left his lips. Abruptly, his vision faded to pitch
black and he stopped abruptly, blinking in surprise and confusion. He realized
what happened a moment later and haphazardly threw himself to the side in an
attempt to miss the spells he knew were coming, banging his elbow hard against
the floor as he did so. Gritting his teeth, Harry shakily stood and shuffled
out of the way of the spells he could sense coming while simultaneously
conjuring a familiar golden shield.
    Using the limited skills he had in blind fighting, Harry shut out all
sounds except those of his opponent, trying to sense where his target was and
where he would move next. He was fortunate that Moody was so large and
ungainly, with a leg that made a sound every time he moved. His magic was
obeying his every command, seemingly glad to be reunited with him again, and
his senses were sharper, clearer than he could ever remember them being.
Tensing and gripping his cane tightly, Harry pinpointed the man's location.
    Now.
    Harry suddenly vanished into an explosion of movement, pushing his weakened
muscles as hard as they could go as he sprinted directly toward Mad-Eye. The
old Auror was undoubtedly surprised, as Harry had been careful to exaggerate
his limp and his pain before they had started the duel. At the very last moment
when he knew that the shock would wear off, he dodged nimbly to the side -
feeling a white-hot heat graze his cheek as he did so - and leapt forward as
gracefully as a deer in full flight. Raising his cane like a sword, Harry
slashed it down with all of his considerable will-power behind it. Though he
couldn't see it, Harry could feel the shock wave of power as a great scythe of
pure white energy sliced the air in the wake. When the power faded and the
magic residue danced in the air like tiny sparks of lightning arching to each
other, Harry was crouched at the fore of a large gouge in the floor of the
training hall.
    After a moment of tense silence, Harry allowed himself to drop to the floor
in a graceful reclining position, his legs crossed Indian-style in front of him
and his arms supporting his upper body from behind. Cocking his head, Harry
blinked his large, brilliant green eyes as he felt his vision returning. When
his vision cleared however, his mouth dropped open and he sat up, blinking
again, this time in shock.
    "What the...? Merlin!" He breathed in horror as he took in the destructive
path his spell had caused. It died out just before it reached the walls, but
that's where Moody lay crumpled, unconscious. Swallowing hard, he quickly stood
and grabbed his cane before limping over to the ex-Auror. He knew that Moody
was just unconscious - the spell had just been a glorified stunner, after all -
but he hadn't expected such destructive results.
    Kneeling by Moody, Harry whispered a quick Ennervate and shook him gently
on the shoulder. "Moody? Mad-Eye, are you alright?" There was no response and
Harry frowned in worry, leaning closer, but froze in the next second as he felt
a pressure against his throat. Moody's eyes cracked open and his gaping grin
spread over his face.
    "Never assume that your enemy's down until he's dead, Potter, remember
that," he grunted, poking his wand a bit harder before withdrawing it. Harry
stood, massaging the spot with one hand as he smiled ruefully.
    "You got me there, Moody. I thought I had really knocked you out for good."
    "Oh, you did," he said cheerfully, or as cheerfully as a growl could sound.
"My shield broke under your spell and I was knocked out. Gotta say that I've
never seen an attack like that since I traveled to the Asian islands in my
training days. They don't make wizards anywhere else in the world like those
Asians. Whole different branch of magic there."
     "Yeah, well that always happens when I get wrapped up in the magic. Look,"
he held up the remnants of his cane, which was just a stick nearly half its
previous length, the end tapered to a charred point. "I used my new cane as a
focus and I overpowered it again! Merlin, Mrs. Weasley's going to kill me if I
keep charring stuff... It's worth it if I beat you, though."
    Moody snorted. "You didn't beat me. Your compassion let me get my wand in
yer throat; I got a fair win."
    "What? I knocked you out first! Don't I win?" Harry asked indignantly.
    "Not in my book, laddie, not in my book." The former Auror chuckled, a
chilling sound, and they limped to the doors together arguing good-naturedly.
    As they exited, Harry didn't notice the small group of people that unveiled
themselves after their footsteps faded. Sirius, Tonks and Shacklebolt smirked
smugly as the small group of ten or so rookie Aurors gaped in varying degrees
of shock.
    "That, boys, was a fifteen-year-old boy who just spent the last week being
starved, beaten, and tortured by Death Eaters in Voldemort's headquarters,"
Tonks said exuberantly, grinning with no small amount of pride. "Granted, Harry
Potter isn't a normal boy by any stretch of the imagination, but older and more
experienced men than him have lost to Alastor Moody."
    "I've got to say that it hurt when Harry did that attack to me," Sirius
said, wincing. A few men started, not knowing he was there, and eyed him warily
as if they weren't sure whether he was really on their side. He had only been
pardoned the day before, after all.
    One of the young recruits worked his mouth wordlessly, eyes wide. "That...
that was impossible!" He stammered. "He didn't have a wand! And that last
attack didn't even use a spell!"
    "There are such things as wandless and wordless magic," Sirius retorted,
looking positively gleeful. "Just because no one's ever seen it like this
before - not to mention together - doesn't mean that it's not possible."
    "That was Harry Potter?" Someone muttered. "I thought he was taller."
Sirius stifled a snigger at this.
    "Can you feel that?" An older recruit asked another under his breath, awed.
"You can still feel the magical charge in the air."
    "Normally you wouldn't be able to feel that," Shacklebolt lectured,
immediately garnering everyone's attention. "You only feel a discharge like
that in very powerful wizards and when wandless magic is being used. Without a
wand to channel and contain your spells as you use them, a greater amount of
magic is used and lost to the surroundings. Mr. Potter is very unique in the
fact that the nature of his magic not only allows him to use wandless magic
with ease, but often overcharges his spells to the point where they destroy
anything he uses as the conduit for that power."
    "Why would he need to use a conduit?" Someone asked.
    "Harry hasn't completely mastered wandless magic yet," Tonks explained. "He
is extremely close; at the moment, he only needs something in his hand that he
can use as a focus to channel his magic through. Soundless magic is much easier
for him."
    "Merlin..." someone breathed. "Just how powerful is he?"
    Shacklebolt shrugged. "We've never given him a test. What you must realize
is that Mr. Potter was raised as a muggle, and he has no concept of how amazing
his ability is. When his wandless ability began emerging, he didn't even
realize he was doing it, and it was only after he used someone else's wand and
fried the core that he remembered reading somewhere that wandless magic was
supposedly impossible."
    "There's no doubt that he's off the charts," Tonks said bluntly. "If not
now, then for sure when he's an adult. His magic hasn't even fully matured
yet."
    There was collective intake of breath and a few people cursed under their
breath.
    "Amen to that!" Sirius barked out a laugh. "It scares me pants-less
sometimes, but it never worries me because I know that Harry will always be on
the side of Light. He would never hurt anyone purposely. Did you see how
worried he was when he thought Moody was hurt?"
    "Looked like he just sat down like he'd just finished playing a hand of
Exploding Snap," someone muttered.
    Tonks' jawline hardened and her eyes glinted coldly. "That's because he was
blind for the last half of the duel," she snapped. "Or didn't you notice? Moody
cast the Blinding curse and Harry recognized it, but since the rules were that
they couldn't counter any spells that hit, he just knocked out the caster. He
probably didn't realize how powerful his attack was."
    "I wouldn't want to tell him either," Sirius grumbled. "Harry couldn't care
less just how powerful his potential is... he probably doesn't even want to
know. It would just embarrass him, or frighten him. He hates being unique, and
with power like he has, he would probably worry endlessly about losing control
or accidentally tearing up rooms." He gestured to the destroyed floor as he
spoke. "Even now, he's probably just passing off what happened here as a
strange reaction between his magic and Moody's..."
    "...But he's wrong," Tonks concluded grimly. A contemplative silence fell
over the group as the recruits pondered the mysterious puzzle that was
Harry Potter. The magical charge continued to spark in the air, flickering
purple and white in the dim room.
===============================================================================

    Later that night, after lunch, Harry begged off a game of chess to retreat
up to his room to, supposedly, take a nap. Truthfully, though he wastired, he
was mostly feeling lonely. The duel had reminded him of his first duel with
Sirius during the summer, when Draco had taken him up to his room and Harry had
practically snogged him, and the insistent ache in his chest was nearly
unbearable. Sighing, Harry pushed open the door to his room and limped inside,
closing the door behind him before turning and flopping back on his bed.
    Staring up at the ceiling, Harry smiled faintly as he remembered how much
had changed in their relationship. After the rivalry between the Gryffindors
and Slytherins suddenly lost its importance over the summer, Harry had been
able to see just how attractive and clever the blond was, which eventually led
to the discovery that he actually found Draco arousing. It was before his
instinctive urge to seek his mate kicked in, so he at least knew that he had
been bisexual.
    Of course, their relationship had been extremely slow in advancing, but it
evolved from heated glances, to light necking, to a heated snog and a mind-
blowing first kiss. Of course, it was mind-blowing to Harry - he didn't know if
it was as amazing to Draco, who had admitted that he had had his fair share of
"relationships", but Harry liked to think that flushed, glazed-over look that
Draco had had was something that was quite rare for the icy blond.
    Harry closed his eyes and licked his lips unconsciously, remembering what
had happened that night. Draco's hands sliding down his back to cup his arse,
the softness of Draco's fine hair between his fingers, the hot mintiness of his
mouth, the hardness of his cock pressed against his thigh... Harry let out a
soft moan, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he felt himself growing hard.
"Draco..." he whimpered, his voice husky. He could almost feel Draco's soft
lips brushing over his own now, Draco's hands brushing over his body and
grazing across his chest, a soft breath of minty warm air caressing his
cheek...
    Harry's eyes snapped open as he felt a light weight settle on his stomach,
pressing down with an almost comforting familiarity. Staring up in confusion,
Harry couldn't see anyone, but the next moment his eyes fluttered closed as a
warm, slender hand trailed up his shirt and settled lightly over his heart.
Slowly, he raised his hand and grasped at an invisible, silky cloth, dragging
it down until Draco's body was revealed. The invisibility cloak fluttered off
the bed and pooled on the floor, but neither boy noticed, their lust-darkened
eyes catching hold of each other. Draco was dressed in his customary
aristocratic outfit: black slacks, soft grey sweater over a white button-up,
and a green tie that was half undone. His feet were bare. His silvery-gold hair
was swept to the side by the invisibility cloak and there was a light blush to
his cheeks that drew attention to his dark, mercurial grey eyes and completed
the rumpled look.
    The Slytherin was straddling Harry's waist, the slight grin on his face and
the amused glint in his eyes making it clear that he felt how aroused Harry
was. That wasn't to say that Harry couldn't also feel Draco's erection pressing
into his stomach when the blond leaned forward to capture his lips in a searing
kiss. Harry's hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, sliding beneath
Draco's shirt and traversing the smooth expanses of silky skin he found there
before moving down to cup Draco's round arse. Draco let out a low groan at
this, grinding down to press Harry's hard cock between Draco's soft flesh and
causing Harry to gasp, stars exploding behind his eyes.
    "Draco..." Harry mewled breathlessly, back arching as the Slytherin pressed
down again before attaching his lips to the green-eyed boy's neck and suckling
softly. Another wave of arousal swept over Harry, heading straight for his cock
and he bit his lip. "Draco... ngh... don't, no... we've got to... stop."
    "Not when you're talking like that," Draco murmured in Harry's ear before
moving to capture his lips again and nibble lightly on his swollen bottom lip.
Harry allowed himself to be pulled into another kiss, but he felt a growing
urgency to stop. Something was wrong here, and he tried to wriggle out of
Draco's grasp to concentrate on the problem, but the Slytherin had him firmly
pinned down. Draco continued to rub himself against Harry's swollen member,
causing Harry's breath to become heavier and more erratic.
    "Ah... ngh... Draco, no... we've got to stop... I- Ah! I.. don't want..."
Draco ignored Harry's protests and sat up a little, sliding his hands back down
Harry's body to the waist of his jeans. One slim hand reached down to cup
Harry's balls through the thick fabric, rubbing firmly as the other hand worked
at releasing the button. Harry's back arched again and he squeezed his eyes
shut, a keening cry torn from his throat. This was going too far. They hadn't
even talked yet. He wanted their first time to be better, more... He wanted-
    Draco ignored Harry's whines of protest and pulled open Harry's pants,
revealing the large bulge in Harry's boxers. With a wicked grin, he reached
down and grasped Harry's turgid length firmly. He only got in one good stroke
through the thin cloth, however, before he abruptly thrown back from Harry's
body, nearly falling off the other side of the bed and letting out a startled
grunt. Harry lay where he was for a moment, letting his dazed head clear a
little bit before he sat up. He caught Draco's eyes, darkened by lust and
something else, and a deep blush crept up his neck and over his face.
    "D-Draco, what's going on?" He asked, confused. "I told you to stop... Ah!"
    He was cut off when Draco suddenly lunged forward again, pinning him
against the mattress and holding his scarred wrists tightly in his hands. The
blond's face was twisted with anger and frustration, and Harry felt fear
flicker to life deep in his soul at the power Draco held over him. It was
difficult for Harry to willingly hurt his mate, but nothing was stopping Draco
from hurting him. Harry felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes and his
body fell limp. You sure can pick 'em, Harry.
    "Why, Draco..?" This time, he got his answer.
    "Why? Why?" Draco whispered harshly. "What does it take for you to get
angry at me, Harry? Before you hate me? Do I have to beat you? Embarrass you?
Rape you?" He reached down and grasped Harry's half-hard cock again, squeezing
tightly and watching as Harry let out an involuntary groan, his back arching.
    "Ngh! D-Draco... no, wait.."
    But Draco ignored him, squeezing tighter and drawing a yelp of pain from
the skinny boy on the bed. "Is that it? Do I have to steal your innocence from
you? But you're just a little whore, Harry. Look how you’re aching for my
touch, arching into my hand. Do you hate me yet, Harry? I don't think you do."
Harry couldn't take it anymore. With all of his strength he shoved Draco away
from him and rolled off the bed, landing on the hard floor with a heavy thump.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he stood up and backed away a few steps,
warily eyeing the blond still on the bed.
    "Damnit, Draco, what's going on? What do you want from me?" Harry snapped,
the aroused flush fading from his cheeks as his anger took over. The blond got
off the bed and stood not three steps away from Harry, his mercurial grey eyes
hard and flinty with anger.
    "I want you to hate me," he growled. "I want you to realize what a farce
this relationship is! We've hated each other for years! That doesn't just
vanish over the summer! And even if it did, even if I dofeel some affection for
you, I cannot deny the Dark Lord, Harry. He is too powerful. And I'm too weak."
He yanked up his shirt violently, exposing his pale chest to Harry's horrified
gaze. The Dark Mark stood out blackly against Draco's flawless alabaster skin,
grinning horribly, triumphantly above the Slytherin's heart. "I cut into your
skin, Harry, with a knife that Iconjured. I've become one of the creatures you
hate most." His voice dropped to a mocking hiss. "Do you hate me now, Harry?"
    "Not that you are worthy of knowing, Luciuss, but there are many different
ways to Mark a follower, and many other places to Mark besides their arm..."
    There was a beat of silence as Harry's gaze darkened, his eyes becoming a
hard as flint and nearly sparking with emotion. "No!" He snapped fiercely. "I
trust you, Draco Malfoy, and nothing can change that! Nothing, do you
understand me? Yeah, I'm angry when you pull stunts like this but I will never
hate you." He strode forward, grabbing a hold of the blond's collar and staring
up into his face. "You were doing what you hadto do; Voldemort forced you to do
it. I understand that completely - I understood it back then! - and I forgave
you. I can't expect you to drop everything and live in the dungeons in Hogwarts
for the whole war, I know you have your own plans and I respect them. You have
to rebuild the Malfoy name while trying to stay alive, and you can't do that if
you're against Voldemort, not when he would kill you for just going neutral on
him."
    Harry's eyes softened and his grip loosened on his mate's shirt. "I promise
that you won't have that mark on you forever. I'm learning as fast as I can in
order to defeat him, and when I do, you can rebuild your life without Voldemort
hanging over you. Until that happens, everything that happens to me, no matter
who does it, everything is Voldemort's fault. Do you understand?"
    Silence spread through the room. Draco's eyes were dark and unusually
uncertain as he searched Harry's eyes for the confirmation that what Harry was
saying was the truth. After a long moment, he swallowed hard as whispered
huskily, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
    "Good. Don't ever do that to me again," Harry said flatly, relief warring
with annoyance and worry. He leaned up, pressed a chaste kiss to Draco's soft
lips, and pulled back, blushing slightly at the bemused expression on Draco's
face.
    "Why, Potter, I thought you wanted to stop?" He drawled, a lazy smirk
curling his lip. Harry's blush intensified but he just scowled up at the blond,
a slight pout to his swollen, red lips.
    "Well, this time you're not threatening to rape me," he retorted.
    "Really?" A single eyebrow arched cockily. "Well, I still feel horny and
your pants are still undone, so I don't see the difference, frankly." Harry
opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Draco swooped down and captured
his lips in another fiery kiss. The shorter boy gasped, allowing Draco to slip
his tongue in and explore the soft heat of his mouth as Harry's thin arms
automatically lifted and wrapped around the Slytherin's neck. Draco's hands
clasped Harry's slender waist securely before he began rubbing his sides
lightly and letting his hands drift down to cup Harry's arse.
    "Ngha..." Harry groaned softly when his reawakening member rubbed against
Draco's body. Quickly, he pressed several hot, open-mouthed kisses along
Draco's neck and then pulled away, breathing hard. "All right, no more of
that," he panted lightly. "I can't stand it." Draco's swollen lips curved up as
he let his eyes drift downward, hungrily taking in Harry's unbuttoned, loose
jeans that were just barely clinging to his hips. Seeing the direction of his
gaze, Harry flushed, a pleasant feeling bursting in his chest, before he ran
his hands down his body and drifted over his own erection before grasping the
zipper and pulling it up. Draco let out an involuntary groan at the loss.
    "You're such a tease," he complained. Harry smirked, sauntering closer and
climbing onto the bed, scooting up to sit against the headboard. Draco followed
his lead, settling next to Harry with just their arms touching.
    "We just need to cool down, that's all," the black-haired boy replied
wryly. "Before one of us explodes."
    "Probably you," Draco said off-handedly, examining his nails. "You're a
lightweight for snogging."
    "Right, I'm a 'lightweight' because I haven't built up a resistance by
snogging everyone in the school?"
    "Exactly."
    "Well, I noticed that you were having a hard time controlling yourself a
bit ago..." Harry murmured, tilting his head to lightly kiss Draco's neck as
his hand drifted to squeeze the Slytherin's thigh. Draco just gave a non-
committal hum in response, leaning into the touch. They sat in silence for a
long while, eventually shifting until they leaned closer together, Harry's hand
still on Draco's leg.
    "So what happened?" Harry finally said, his voice quiet. There was no
question about what he was referring to.
    "The next day, I saw in the paper that you were kidnapped by Death Eaters,"
Draco replied, his voice equally soft and even. "I hadn't heard anything about
it, but that wasn't surprising since my father isn't home very often. He came
home that morning, though, and I had to act casual. I asked about the paper,
and he went off on a smug speech about how weak you were and what a blow your
death would be to the side of Light. I pretended to slip some signs that I was
more interested than I seemed, and he asked me if I wanted to see my school
enemy suffer."
    He paused.
    "I said yes. He wouldn't let me to go to the hideout until the actual...
torture, so I just had to spend those days wearing a hole in the carpet of my
room. When I went and saw you there... I felt sick. I didn't show it, of
course, and I put up a fairly good act in front of the Dark Lord, but I was
dying inside. When I cut my name and my family/birth rune above your heart, I
was sort of... claiming you as my own. It's an old rite that most purebloods
have forgotten or assumed that I meant it in a mocking way, but I was
completely serious. Luckily, it bled enough that most of the outline was
impossible to see, or else I might have had to answer some questions.
    "When you were taken back to your cell, the Dark Lord and my father
cornered me when they noticed how I had 'enjoyed' it. They wanted me to join
right then, but I managed to hold them off. Then you escaped and my father had
to go into hiding... the Dark Lord found me then, and gave me an ultimatum. He
needed a pawn with the Malfoy name that he could still use, and my mother's in
France. If I hadn't taken it, he would've killed me. After he... marked me, I
went home to an empty mansion and went through my father's study. He had booby-
trapped it pretty well, but I am his son and a Slytherin, so it wasn't too much
trouble to get all of the incriminating evidence and Dark Objects that I could
find. I put them all in a locked and sealed trunk that I hid until I can use it
after the war to clear my name.
    "Then, Dumbledore contacted me and told me that you wanted me to visit
before school starts again. He included a personal Portkey that took me here
not long before you came up."
    "And the invisibility cloak?" Harry asked, awe and curiosity in his tone.
    "I nicked it from my father," Draco shrugged easily before a mischievous
grin spread over his face. "And that's not all..." He leapt off of the bed to
the fallen invisibility cloak and rummaged in one of the pockets before pulling
out a very familiar, red holly wand. Harry's eyes bugged out incredulously and
he gaped.
    "Wh- How- Merlin, Draco! I could kiss you!"
    "Please do," Draco smirked, twirling the wand nimbly between his fingers
before handing it over. "It had been in my father's things. Apparently he must
have either gotten a hold of it first, or was trusted with it. He'll be in for
a lot of pain when he has to tell the Dark Lord that it's gone." Harry grinned
and enthusiastically threw his arms around Draco's neck, kissing him hard.
Draco's hands automatically slid up Harry's shirt, rubbing the skin around his
slender waist and skirting lightly around his scars. Harry sucked in a breath
and deepened the kiss, overjoyed at the slight signs that Draco didn't mind the
scars.
     They were locked in a heated kiss, Harry's arms locked around Draco's neck
and his hands buried in that soft hair while Draco's hands were slowly
exploring his back, Harry's shirt bunched up around his wrists. Their bodies
were pressed seamlessly together, like two puzzle pieces, and this was how
Harry's friends found them.

    While the pair were so involved with each other that they didn't notice the
door open, the small group outside the door certainly noticed what they were
doing. They managed to stifle their gasps, but Ron's choked spluttering was
what inevitably gave them away. Harry stiffened at the sound and tried to jump
away, a light flush on his cheeks and a horrified expression on his face, but
Draco's arms locked him into a possessive grasp that prevented him from moving
much.
    Harry struggled weakly, scowling at the blond. "Dra- er, Malfoy, let me
go!"
    "No," Draco replied simply, a blank expression on his face. "They've got to
learn to accept it. To accept that we're in love." His voice abruptly became
coated with syrup and he face took on a lovestruck expression as he pulled
Harry close to him again. Harry struggled for a minute before he realized that
he was holding back snickers of laughter, and so he just gave up. Pressed as
close to Draco's chest as he could get, Harry gave a sheepish and apologetic
look over the curve of his mate's arm, a faint blush still spread over his
cheekbones. It was mostly directed at Ron (who looked like he was on the verge
of an apoplectic fit) since Hermione was looking at them rather like they were
a pair of fluffy kittens instead of former rivals.
    Ginny and the twins, on the other hand, still looked completely gobsmacked
- which, in Harry's opinion, was quite an achievement, considering Ginny's
quick tongue and the twin's voracious appetite for humor. The reactions, when
they came, were quite frightening.
    "Well, I guess he's not sleeping," were Hermione's first words, her
expression wry.
    "!!!!" Ron couldn't speak at first, his face flaming red and his mouth
gaping like a fish. "Merlin's balls! Co- Couldn't you get a roo- Do you have to
do that her- Malfoy- Th- there are ladies prese - OH GOD, MY EYES."
    "Don't worry, Harry, I've got your back! Let him go, Malfoy, before I blow
your head off!" Ginny's eyes were blazing as she pulled her wand, pointing it
directly at Draco's head. "And I've got a Bat-Bogey hex that won't miss!"
    "Did you just see what I saw, old boy?"
    "I believe I did, old chum."
    "Draco Malfoy, slimy Slytherin, smirking snake, sodding sassy Sassoon with
slicked-back hair-"
    "Not so anymore, Gred!"
    "-Once-slicked-back hair? The same Draco Malfoy who has charmed and shagged
half of the girls - and boys, I'd wager - into his bed with his sexy body?"
    "The very same, brother! And who does he have wrapped in his claws this
time? Harry Potter, shy and slim, slender and sexy, modest and - maroon, at the
moment, I believe - powerful and princely?"
    "And more, Forge! And what were they doing? Greasing the fireman's pole,
sucking face, bumping, grinding-"
    "All right, that's enough!" Harry said loudly, his face nearly as red as
Ron's as he tried to bat away Draco's hands, which were sliding up his shirt
again and massaging the skin lightly.
    "But we barely started!" One said, a smug grin on his face.
    "Besides, your beauteous beau seems to enjoy the commentary," the other
added, indicating Draco, who was still insistently trying to grope Harry. The
Boy Who Lived rolled his eyes. Ginny still had her wand trained on Draco,
though her expression was confused.
    "Wait, so this is a good thing? And Harry's gay?"
    "No!" Ron shrieked, but he was ignored.
    "Yes, aren't they so cute together?" Hermione cooed, making Draco smirk.
    "Can't you see, baby sister? They're in love! All of that sexual tension
must have fried their brains, making them think they hated each other."
    "No, I really hated him," Harry muttered dryly. Draco bit down lightly on
Harry's neck in response, still holding him protectively.
    "All right, people, I think they want their privacy now!" Hermione said
loudly, finally taking charge. "We've barged in on them long enough, and
Harry's still tired from his duel. Let's go down and play Gobstones for a
while... Harry, dinner starts in an hour. Er, you too, M-Draco." The Sytherin
practically ignored her, intent on coercing Harry into losing his shirt. Harry
shrugged apologetically.
    "Thanks, Hermione, we'll be down in a while." He elbowed Draco, who grunted
and finally looked up, hair mussed and clothes rumpled.
    "Yeah, thanks, Granger."
    This made Ginny, who was being herded out of the room along with her
brothers, crane her neck around to stare incredulously at the blond. "Did I
just hear Draco Malfoythank someone?" Their voices floated farther away as she
spoke, but they both could hear the twin's sniggered response.
    "Yeah, he's whipped."
    At this, Draco stiffened, his voice cold and dangerous as he said, "Keep
saying crap like that and I'll tear your face off, Weasley," he called after
the group just before the door closed. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and
dropped his head back onto Draco's chest, still smiling but closing his eyes in
exhaustion. The energetic duel with Mad-Eye had drained his strength more than
he thought possible, and he just hadn't noticed with the adrenaline running
through his system, but now his leg muscles were throbbing and cramping, and he
felt a headache growing. He didn't even want to think about the conversation
between himself, Ginny, and the twins when they managed to track him down.
Since he couldn't tell them about being mates with Draco, they'd probably just
end up thinking he was insane. It was a testimony of how much the Dursley's
teachings still affected him when he couldn't even trust his own friends not to
abandon him.
     Harry's thoughts were abruptly cut off as he felt himself being swept into
the air bridal-style, with Draco holding him close to his chest. Emerald green
eyes flew open and he clutched at Draco's shirt to keep his balance, staring up
with eyes wide in surprise.
    "Eh? W- What're you doing?"
    "You're tired," Draco stated with a raised eyebrow, as if Harry was slow.
"I'm taking you to your bed." At Harry's amused and puzzled expression, he
added, "And don't look too much into that." Harry chuckled, but paid for it
when Draco dropped him unceremoniously on the bed. Harry pouted up at him, but
flushed a little bit when the blond laid down next to him and promptly
closed his eyes, appearing to go to sleep. Harry smiled and settled down as
well, dropping off to sleep minutes later.
===============================================================================
 
    Harry woke slowly an hour later, his head fuzzy with tiredness and his body
warm and heavy. Opening his eyes, he felt a momentary flash of panic when he
saw that Draco was not lying next to him, but it disappeared when he saw the
Slytherin lounging casually in the chair in the corner, reading a book. A warm
feeling settled in his chest at the sight. Sitting up, he stretched languidly,
wincing at the soreness of his muscles, and got up, limping heavily into the
bathroom. He never noticed the appreciative gaze that slid over his slender
form, but when he returned, he saw that Draco was up and readjusting his
clothes in a mirror.
    There wasn't much talking before they headed down the stairs, Harry
transfiguring a random sock into a cane on the way and leaning on it heavily.
His muscles were killing him. Draco was giving him a few side glances, but
Harry determinedly ignored them. As they got closer to the kitchen, however,
Draco began drifting a bit farther away, his face hardening into the familiar
unemotional mask as if he were entering a war zone. Which was probably not far
off...
    There was a low wolf whistle and a few large, evil grins when they entered
and the room was silent for a long moment. Ginny seemed to have gotten used to
the idea and she was watching them closely with a calculating and faintly
amused expression. Ron ignored them, Hermione smiled cheerfully, and the twins
were winking and waggling their eyebrows. Everyone else just greeted them
before turning back to their conversations. Or, mostly everyone. As they made
their way to a couple empty seats, Mrs. Weasley swooped down on Harry carrying
several very familiar vials, setting them next to his plate and engulfing him
in such a quick hug that he had no time to do anything but let out a startled
squeak.
    "There you are, dear," she said warmly, eyeing his skinny frame with sad
eyes, but not saying anything. "Be sure to take those after you eat a full
plate. You too, Draco dear," she added, her eyes sweeping over the blond
critically but not without kindness. Draco tensed even more, as if expecting an
attack, but the plump woman just tutted disapprovingly. "Honestly, children
these days never feed themselves properly. Skinny as a bean pole, the whole lot
of them!"
    She turned away and resumed her bustling around the kitchen, leaving Draco
and Harry to glance at each other incredulously before taking their seats next
to Sirius. "Did someone talk to her?" Harry asked quietly, leaning in his
godfather's direction. "In fact, no one's really making a fuss about Draco
yet..."
    Sirius winked at him, grinning. "Don't worry about it, cub, I gave them a
good talking to. I didn't go into too much detail, but they're satisfied for
now. Molly's just glad to save someone else from starving themselves." The meal
began soon after that and everyone broke up into their own conversations,
interrupted only by a request for gravy or bread. Draco and Harry were mostly
quiet as they listened, one evaluating the members of the room and the other
still basking in the relief of returning to his friends. Moody (his magical eye
still fixed in Draco's direction, even though he was around when Draco was
there during the summer) was recounting Harry's and his duel a few hours before
to Sirius and Bill, and Mrs. Weasley was preparing a few more place settings at
the table while listening to their conversation with half an ear and tutting.
The rest of the Weasley siblings were speaking together quietly, glancing over
at Draco and Harry once in a while, and Harry made a mental note to watch them
carefully in the future. Hermione was reading a book.
    Draco snorted at Harry's side and the Gryffindor turned, cocking his head
questioningly. "This has got to be the strangest moment of my life," Draco
said, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I have no idea where the house I'm in
is located, sitting at a table eating dinner with all of the Gryffindors I've
ever hated or made fun of, and I just woke up in bed with Harry Potter. Either
I'm in hell, or someone up there is laughing their arse off at me right now."
    Harry snorted with laughter. "I've been wondering that for my whole life.
Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
    When the meal ended, Harry headed toward the living room with a reluctant
Draco in tow, determined to break the ice with his friends over a game of
Gobstones or Exploding Snap, but before he made it across the entrance hall, he
felt the wards shiver a split second before the door opened. Pausing, Harry
felt a brilliant smile spread over his face when he caught sight of Remus'
tired face. "Remus!" He cried out joyfully, his eyes brightening into brilliant
emeralds. The werewolf's head shot up in surprise, his own eyes brightening,
and he hurried forward to embrace the smaller wizard carefully.
    "Harry? How are you?" He asked warmly, checking over the injured teen
surreptitiously. He saw irritation flash in those green eyes briefly, but it
was repressed quickly as Harry assured him that he was fine. The smile on
Harry's face flickered and discomfort immediately stiffened his posture when he
saw Arther Weasley behind Remus, watching them with a smile. The kind man
stepped forward and greeted Harry as well, lowering his voice to a murmur that
the Slytherin could not hear. As the three reunited, Draco stood off to the
side of the entrance hall, peeved at the lack of attention and firmly stamping
down the part of his mind that was uncomfortable and envious of Harry's loving
"family".
    He wouldn't tell Harry that his adoptive family, mainly those still at
Hogwarts, had cornered him in the library after Harry had fallen asleep and
Draco had gone looking for entertainment. The Granger girl and the Weasel had
mostly stood off to the side (looking conflicted and pleased, respectively) as
he was interrogated about his motives by the rest of the Weasley clan. The
meeting was tense and fraught with insults and insinuations on both sides, but
eventually the Slytherin was able to get across that he wouldn't hurt Harry and
that he cared for his well-being (though of course he didn't say so outright).
The torment had only ended when Granger had put a stop to it, reminding them
that dinner would be starting soon and Harry would need to be woken. Draco knew
that the two members of the Golden Trio had wanted to know his answers to those
question just as much as the twins and Ginny, and the only thing that had
prevented them from doing something similar at Hogwarts was that they knew that
Draco was Harry's mate and that Dumbledore didn't seem to be worried.
    Personally, Draco couldn't understand why Dumbledore continued to trust
him, even though Draco himself knew personally that it was unlikely that he
would ever willingly betray Harry. Despite himself, the cold-hearted Slytherin
had become somewhat frighteningly attached to the smaller, deceptively fragile
boy. Not like he would ever admit anything like that to anyone... it had taken
him this long just to admit it to himself.
    Draco was broken out of his thoughts by Harry finally acknowledging his
presence and asking him a question. The conflicted Slytherin pushed his
confusing mass of emotions off to the side for the moment and formally greeted
his former professor. He resolved to suck it up and change his attitude toward
his mate's family and friends a little bit, if only to make the transition to
the Light side a bit easier for everyone.
   
===============================================================================
 
    The next morning was the familiar whirlwind of movement and anxiousness
that accompanied the Weasley family as each student attempted to find
everything they needed for the return to Hogwarts. Draco had left late the
night before, claiming that he still had some financial matters he needed to
attend to at his manor. Harry watched the chaos from his position at the top of
the stairs, his thin legs threaded through the gaps in the banister that lined
the hall overlooking the entrance to the mansion. In the wee hours of the
morning, when a nightmare had woken him, he had taken care of all of his
packing before retreating into the library. Hermione, having completed her
packing the night before, was sitting next to him in the same position, reading
out loud to him passages from one of her numerous books on wandless magic,
trying to help as he absently practiced on levitating small objects from the
floor below.
    "You're a fat lot of help, aren't you?" Ron whined as he dashed through the
hall and into his little sister's room. A shriek of anger from Ginny soon
followed him and his yelp of pain sent both Harry and Hermione into laughter.
Harry's soft chuckles soon faded as his eyebrows lowered once more in
concentration. He had been trying to master this for months, and he knew that
if he could only master the focus and precision needed to control his magic
properly, it would be just the major step he needed to further his mastery to
even greater heights. The fact that he was having trouble mastering even the
basics of wandless levitation frustrated him to no end.
    Seeing the frown that was beginning to darken Harry's expression as he
attempted to levitate the small rubber ball lying on the floor below, his
surrogate teacher quickly broke him out of his thoughts, careful not to startle
him with her touch. She had tried that once before while he had been training,
and the results had been nearly disastrous. After they had repaired the broken
lamp, Harry's anger, fueled by fear and worry, had been frightening.
    "Remember to relax, Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "We both know that
you can do this with strong emotions; the point is that you can do it without
having to work yourself up." Harry let out a long breath, nodding to show her
he understood. She watched him worriedly for a moment before continuing
comfortingly. "Remember what Professor Dumbledore says: if you have to use
emotion, joy is far more powerful than anger. It's sort of like a Patronus, if
you think about it that way. Now come on, focus on the ball, and bring your
magic up to the surface..."
    She began reciting the same set of instructions that Harry had told her
Dumbledore used when he was teaching Harry, having extracted the details of one
of the wandless magic lessons from Harry. After learning that Harry was
powerful enough to be capable of learning wandless magic, she had determined to
help him study in any way she could, just as if it was an assignment in school.
Of course, he hadn't been able to make use of her lessons very much before he
had been captured, but he was finding them to be useful now. He could feel his
frustration calming down, aided by the soft singing in his mind from Zephyr,
and Hermione's voice faded into a comfortable hum as he fell into a meditative
state easily. Focusing his eyes, mind, and magic on the small rubber ball far
below him, he banished his feelings to the back of his mind and allowed himself
to wait calmly and patiently. For what, he wasn't sure, but an odd feeling was
coming over him… something different and significant.
    Suddenly, it was if something clicked into place, and he raised his arm
slowly, as if in a trance, and extended it through the gaps in the banister.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he whispered, almost as a request rather than a demand,
and he felt a vague surprise when the ball immediately leapt into the air.
Lazily, he let his hand and fingers dance in the air as if plucking the strings
of a puppet, following the ball with his eyes as it soared through the air like
a Snitch. Finally, he let it drop to the floor and bounce a few times before
pointing at it and beckoning silently with a twitch of the finger.
    Come. Accio.
    The words drifted into his mind and Harry, still in the odd trance-like
state, knew for certain that it would work. Just as countless times before, he
felt his magic reach out like an extension of his arm and wrap around the
object he was focused on, but this time he smoothly and confidently "flexed"
the appendage. The ball zoomed into his waiting hand. As soon as his hand
clenched around the pliable ball, however, the trance abruptly evaporated, and
he found himself staring dumbly at the ball in his hand with wide, disbelieving
eyes.
    "W-what... How..?" He stuttered. Hermione squealed in delight and threw
herself at him, squeezing tightly.
    "You did it! You did it, Harry! Oh, that was wonderful!"
    Dazed, Harry could only manage a sort of half-grin. "I... I don't even know
how I knew how to do that."
    "Oh, we all knew you could do it, Harry. It just took a little time to set
in, that's all. Try again!" Uncertain, Harry let the ball drop to the floor
below and bounce a few times before rolling against the leg of a chair against
the wall in the entrance hall. He smoothly slipped into the familiar meditative
state, attempting to set his mind in order and provoke the calm confidence that
had overtaken him before. It still took some time, but he noticed a marked
difference in the amount of time it took before he was ready to try again.
Extending a hand, he concentrated and wordlessly summoned the ball to himself.
He felt the strain a bit more, but the ball still soared smoothly into his hand
and the spell was broken. This time, he let the delighted grin spread over his
face as clenched the ball tightly in his hand.
    He had done it. He had actually done it without a focus. And wordless, no
less! He had no doubt that it would take more practice, but the first step had
been taken.
 
 
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Summary
     In which school begins again, and the fic ends.

    "Kids! We're leaving in ten minutes! Hurry up!" Mrs. Weasley's magically
enhanced voice reverberated through the house, causing Harry to clap his hands
over his sensitive ears. Her voice faded and Hermione and Harry grinned at each
other, hearing the Weasley siblings scrambling even more to get their things
together. The two stood up and levitated their trunks down the stairs (Harry
tried to do it wandlessly, but it proved to be too difficult for him) with
their wands to the entrance hall before heading back upstairs and helping the
siblings pack up so that they could leave.
    Fifteen minutes, countless scoldings, and several heartfelt goodbyes later,
everyone had been piled on the Knight Bus (along with Harry's Advance Guard)
except for Sirius since Dumbledore thought it might be a bit too soon for him
to be seen in public. When they reached the Platform 9 3/4, Harry said goodbye
once more to his surrogate family, including Shacklebolt and Moody, before
getting on the train with his best friends. Somehow, they had arrived early and
they were able to claim their favorite compartment while the crowd was still
sparse.
    "I'm not leaving this compartment until we reach Hogwarts." Harry declared
as soon as he slumped into his seat. Leaning his cane against the wall next to
him, he caught his breath and rubbed his weakened thigh muscles absently.
Hermione's expression was both disapproving and amused.
    "You've got to face them sometime, Harry," she chided. "It's best if you
just get it over with already."
    "Lay off, 'Mione," Ron said, his tone only faintly annoyed. "You can't
blame him for not wanting people to gape at him like a circus animal and ask
him questions about V-Vol- You-Know-Who's hideout. I'd want to put it off for
as long as I could, too." Hermione and Harry shared a stunned glance, surprised
at Ron's perception. He frowned at them but his friendly blue eyes were light
with amusement. "Oh shove off, both of you. I'm not that thick," he huffed.
    Not long after that, the train whistle blew and with a lurch, they were on
their way. Only twenty minutes later, lulled by the rhythmic movements of the
train and still recovering from his ordeal during the break, Harry fell asleep
in the corner, wrapped snugly in his cloak. Knowing how infrequent a restful
sleep was for the Boy Who Lived, his friends let him be, silently agreeing not
to let anyone into the compartment while Harry slept. Unbeknownst to Harry,
many people had come by the compartment to catch a glimpse of the exhausted
boy, but his friends had herded them away like protective guard dogs.
    They arrived at Hogwarts just in time for the welcoming feast and Harry
woke in time to see his friends turning away Neville Longbottom apologetically.
Sitting up and wincing at the stiffness in his joints, Harry rubbed his eyes
and blinked a few times, yawning. Glancing out the window, he jumped when he
saw the darkness outside.
    "Blimey, did I sleep the entire time?" He asked, stunned. His friends
grinned at him, happy to see that he looked more alert and awake than he had
that morning.
    "Yeah, mate, it was the most boring train ride ever," Ron mock-complained.
Harry apologized profusely, blushing when Ron had to point out that it was just
a joke.
    "Right, well, we better put on our robes then," Harry said, embarrassed.
They all dug around in their trunks and pulled their robes over their clothes,
just as the train was beginning to slow down. Hermione paused in retying her
hair, frowning when she saw Harry readjusting his cuffs beneath the sleeves of
his robes. Before this year, Harry's wardrobe had consisted of gigantic shirts
whose sleeves reached to his elbows, and it was only thanks to Tonks that he
had been given some variety. Even then, however, he had been a bit
uncomfortable with showing so much skin on his arms. Now, she could see that he
hadn't worn anything above his wrists since he had gotten back from Voldemort's
lair, and she couldn't help but think that it wasn't healthy for him to cover
up his scars and pretend like they never happened.
    "Harry, are you sure you won't be hot in the castle once school starts? You
can't wear long-sleeved shirts everyday."
    "Wanna bet?" Harry breathed to himself before answering her question.
"Don't worry about it, 'Mione, it's just for today. Tonight I'm going to cast a
glamour charm on myself, just in case." Hermione's frown only deepened at that,
and seeing another lecture coming on, Ron rolled his eyes.
    "Harry, glamour charms can be very difficult and energy-consuming if you
try to keep them on all day, especially when you cover your whole body with it.
It could be dangerous!" By the end of her explanation, Ron had become solemn as
well, recognizing the danger for his best friend.
    "Yeah, that doesn't sound too smart, Harry," he agreed worriedly. "Besides,
you never used one around us."
    "And we still didn't see anything." Hermione chimed in. "You always wore
long-sleeved shirts, even back then."
    Harry sighed in defeat, sure that they wouldn't have minded if he had tried
something similar in the year before. Did they think he was made of glass?
"Alright guys, I won't do it. I'll just have to be extra careful." Despite
himself, he felt a warmth blossom in his chest at their concern, basking in the
simple affection between humans that most people took for granted. As the train
pulled to a stop, Harry stood and opened the window, letting Hedwig out of her
cage to fly to the Owlery. Then he grasped his cane and took a few deep breaths
to steel his nerves, finally looking up at his friends and giving them a wan
smile.
    "Let's get this over with," he said simply, reaching forward and sliding
the door open.
===============================================================================


    "Hey Harry," Ron said, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth and quickly
following it with a gulp of pumpkin juice. "What took you so long? I woke you
up ages ago!" Hermione had long since given up on trying to associate with Ron
while he was eating, and only now looked up from her Potions textbook in order
to smile at Harry, who greeted them both as he sat down. He ignored the few
curious stares that followed his movements as he shrunk his cane and stuck it
in his pocket. It had been two days since they returned from Christmas break
and speculation was still running rampant around the school: a wild tale
involving Harry fighting off fifty Death Eaters while he escaped (getting his
leg cut off in the process) was just one of the more credible ones.
    "Just putting it off until the last minute, Ron." Harry replied, scooping
some jam onto a piece of toast. "Honestly, I would've thought that people would
have emptied out already. Classes start again today."
    "They wanted to see you. A lot of people care about you, Harry; they're
worried about you."
    The green-eyed boy snorted quietly, not buying Hermione's words for a
second. Frowning, she opened her mouth to say something, but Ron nudged her in
the side, hard, to get her to be quiet. She changed what she was going to say
at the last minute, lowering her voice and glancing around conspiratorially.
    "Harry, a few members of the DA were wondering if we were going to have a
meeting today. A sort of welcome back and review day, you know? And even if you
don't think anyone else cares if you're okay, you know that the DA care about
you." The major portion of Harry's mind - the part trained by the Dursley's to
think of himself as a freak and a burden - heartily doubted this as well, but
he was wise enough to stay quiet.
    "Yeah, that's not a bad idea," he said instead, digging out his DA
medallion and rubbing it in between his fingers thoughtfully. Closing his eyes
and concentrating, he felt his efforts being rewarded as the coin grew warm in
his hands and he opened his eyes to see that the meeting was set to that night
at eight o'clock. Across the dining hall, he could see heads coming up and
hands reaching into pockets to grasp their warm medallions, and he let a small,
secret smile come over his face. He supposed that the DA was no longer
necessary, considering that Umbridge was gone and the Ministry had gone back to
minding its own business, but as long as the Defense Against the Dark Arts
position remained empty (Dumbledore had announced that he was attempting to
find a decent teacher before the end of the year), he wouldn't mind teaching
the group a few more things.
    "Oh! Hurry up, you two, we'll be late to Potions!" Hermione gasped
suddenly, slamming her textbook shut and leaping up from the table. Stuffing a
last bit of toast into his mouth, Harry stood also, balancing himself lightly
on the table with one hand as he extracted the tiny stick that was his cane.
Wordlessly, he enlarged it and limped to meet his friends at the head of the
Gryffindor table. As the class gathered in front of the Potion's classroom,
there was a slight spat (not entirely feigned on Hermione and Ron's parts)
between the Golden Trio and Draco's group, but it was interrupted when the door
to the classroom clicked open.
    This made the Slytherins shut up and go inside, but not before Draco sent
them a final sneer. Shaking his head slightly, Harry and his friends followed
them. Entering the classroom and claiming the back table as per usual, Harry
shrunk his cane once more and pulled out his notes and a quill while waiting
for Snape to enter. When the Potion's Master did, Harry's automatic glance up
caught briefly on Draco's expression across the room, and his breath caught in
his throat at the cold disdain on the Slytherin's face. He was very nearly
glaring at his supposed "favorite" teacher. Not wanting to draw attention to
himself or Draco, Harry turned his attention to the man that had undoubtedly
saved his life in the heart of Voldemort's lair, hoping that the Slytherin
would take the hint.
    Apparently he did, or else no one noticed, but either way the rest of the
lesson passed smoothly. After Neville's cauldron had boiled over and he was
sent to the hospital wing while everyone else finished bottling their potions,
Harry took his time cleaning up his table. He wanted to speak to Snape.
Finally, the bell rang for the end of class and the students emptied the room
quickly. Motioning for his friends to go on without him, Harry waited until the
classroom was empty before approaching the desk. Snape ignored him.
    "Uh, Snape..." He began, causing the Potion's Master to jerk his head up
with a scowl at Harry's impertinence.
    "Yes, Potter, what is it?" He snapped.
    "Sir, I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me," Harry said
quietly, unperturbed by Snape's tone like he might have been a couple years
ago. Snape just scowled at him, ignoring the thanks.
    "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Potter, so if
you're finished spouting off your nonsense, you can leave to your next
class. Immediately." Letting a small smirk quirk his lips, Harry bowed his head
fractionally and did just that, leaving the bitter Potion's Master to
contemplate the mystery that was Harry Potter once more. Despite himself, Snape
had recently found himself constantly reevaluating the haunted teen, noting the
distinct differences from the year before that even he couldn't deny. Potter
seemed to have discovered his Slytherin side over the summer, his green eyes
calculating though haunted, his posture confident but unobtrusive. And he was
powerful. Snape, after being surrounded by different types of power his entire
life, could instantly recognize the amount of power Potter held. Snape shook
his head slightly in disbelief. Perhaps it had always been there and he had
merely overlooked it, but surely Potter himself would have felt it. The amount
of potential in the boy could not have gone unnoticed.
    Snape remembered the day after Potter's birthday, when the teen had
discovered that the Dark Lord had attacked the street he had lived on. The
Potion's Master had had to keep himself from consciously flinching when the
boy's aura had been released, not expecting such a young child - a Potter, no
less - to have the power and will necessary to release the amount of
concentrated magic needed for a physical representation of his aura. Snape had
only seen that happen twice in his life: once with Dumbledore's royal blue, and
once with the Dark Lord's black and green. He did not care to remember either
experience.
    For the first time since he had ever met him, Snape wondered just what
Harry Potter had been through in his short life. The revelation in the Dark
Lord's throne room had certainly been unexpected (if it hadn't been the Dark
Lord who was describing the abuse, Snape would've thought that Potter was just
blowing everything out of proportion), and Snape hadn't been able to suppress
the brief flicker of concern in his chest, but luckily it hadn't shown on his
face. Abuse would explain a lot of the change that had occurred in Potter,
especially considering the severity of the scars that Snape had glimpsed on the
young boy's back. Even now, as he thought about it, there was a small surge of
emotion in Snape's mind, something resembling anger and protectiveness or even
understanding. What kind of horrors had Potter seen or endured that would make
his eyes so haunted, so despaired, and yet so very strong? Snape knew that some
of the most powerful of magics were directed through emotion alone, and with
the strength and power that Potter held, he might someday rival even Albus
Dumble-
    Snape abruptly shook his head, doing the mental equivalent of a double-
take. What had he been thinking? If he wasn't careful, he might feel something
resembling respect or - Merlin forbid - awe for the brat. He had spent too much
time in the dungeons, Snape decided, and the silence was making his mind wander
to dangerously hopeful areas. He knew the first part of the prophecy about
Potter, but he couldn't afford to think for a moment that Potter could
actually defeat the Dark Lord. Such thoughts were dangerous, especially in the
mind of one who was regularly invaded by the Dark Lord. It was impossible...
    Nevertheless, even if the thoughts were buried deep in his mind, Snape
couldn't completely keep his subconscious from mulling the idea over, and his
interest in the Boy-Who-Lived was steadily growing.
===============================================================================
 
    Harry, meanwhile, was just entering the Defense classroom at a hurried
limp, exhaling a relieved breath when he saw that there wasn't a teacher in the
room yet. Smiling apologetically at his friends, he made his way to the seat
they had saved for him and sighed as he sank gingerly into it. Ignoring the
awed and fascinated stares that followed his movements, he extracted his wand
from his robes and shrunk his cane, tucking it away in his pocket. The
attention shifted from him abruptly, however, when Albus Dumbledore strode
through the classroom door in his signature blue robes with starbursts on them,
looking as chipper and lively as if he were thirty years younger. Harry groaned
quietly, earning a few stares. He couldn't wait to see what the eccentric old
man had in store for him.
    "Good morning, class!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, beaming at the stunned
students. "I mentioned at the welcoming feast that I have yet to find you a
replacement teacher, but young minds still need filling and what better than an
old mind to do it! And so, I will be your teacher for the time being!" He
dipped his head in a low bow, the pointed end of his hat nearly touching the
desk but somehow managing to stay on his head. He straightened. "First off, if
you would all leave your school supplies here and follow me into the Great
Hall, we will see what you have learned so far. Wands only, please!"
    The class chattered excitedly to themselves as they left the classroom,
Hermione, Ron, and Harry near the back since Harry had needed to use his cane.
They exchanged amused glances as they overheard comments like "Wow, we get to
use our wands?" and "Shouldn't the Headmaster be doing something more
important?" and "Bugger! I haven't learned anything in this class all year!"
The group filed into the Great Hall, seeing that the House tables had been
moved to the sides of the room, and Dumbledore instructed them to gather in a
group while he gave them their instructions. Harry hovered with his friends at
the back of the group, feeling a bit anxious as he listened. The class would
face the Headmaster for a miniature duel to evaluate their abilities, at which
point they would return to the classroom for a group evaluation using oral
questions.
    Harry resolved to be very, very quiet. Maybe Dumbledore would forget he was
in the room.
    The first few duels went by very quickly. Most of the students were nearly
shaking in fright at the thought of facing the most powerful wizard in the
world in a duel and they ended up losing their concentration quickly. When the
first of the DA - Pavarti Patil - was called up, however, Harry was surprised
at the warm flush of pride that burned fiercely through his chest when she
managed to last twice as long as everyone else. A deep satisfaction twinkled in
his brilliant eyes when he caught Dumbledore's slightly surprised but knowing
glance as Pavarti was released from her Full-Body Bind. Next to him, Hermione
had to suppress the smug smile that threatened to burst onto her face when she
saw Harry bask in the results of his teaching experience. Having helped with
their peer's tutelage, Hermione knew that the feeling of pride and
protectiveness was nearly addicting, and she was glad that Harry had found
something that he enjoyed so much.
    By the time Harry's name had been called, there was a clear division among
the classroom between the DA and the rest of the students. The DA was so
advanced in comparison that suspicion and confusion was clear in the whispered
interrogations that were going on. The DA merely said that they had studied on
their own or joined a small study group in defiance of Umbridge's bans. When
Dumbledore called Harry's name, however, the whispers rose to a soft murmur
before falling back to silence as the Boy Who Lived limped forward. Though his
face was impassive, Harry dreaded the duel. He was absolutely certain that he
wouldn't come anywhere near defeating the Headmaster, but Harry had to be sure
not to reveal too many of his abilities while not straining himself physically.
His muscles were strengthening daily, but climbing the many staircases in
Hogwarts was still difficult.
    Taking a breath, Harry turned to face his opponent once he was ten paces
away, meeting Dumbledore's blue eyes (which were twinkling at full force with
pride and liveliness) and never moving his gaze, he bowed respectfully.
Straightening, Harry tapped his cane to shrink it and gripped his faithful wand
firmly. He prepared himself to be hurting tonight since it didn't look like
Dumbledore would be going easy on him. Dumbledore threw the first spell.
    Harry threw himself to the side to dodge, landing lightly on the balls of
his feet and returning the attacks with his own salvo. Almost immediately after
they began, the balance of power between the two was tenuous, with both of them
constantly switching from the offensive to the defensive and dodging each
other's lightning-quick spells. The entire class watching with stunned awe as
the dueling platform was transformed into an amazing array of colored lights
and small explosions and shimmering shields, the two duelists nearly impossible
to see in the interplay.
    Dodging what he suspected to be a tripping curse, Harry grimaced when he
landed awkwardly on his right leg, feeling the weakened muscles straining to
the point of cramping. He was so focused on trying to stabilize himself that he
only managed to dodge the next curse purely on instinct. The landing wasn't
nearly as successful as the last, however, and Harry's leg gave out beneath
him, sending him crashing to the floor. Before he could blink, he was frozen
by Petrificus Totalus and staring up at the grey, snowy ceiling in frustration.
A split second later, the spell lifted from his body and he sat up, wincing
painfully at the renewed pain in his limbs. Brightly colored robes entered the
edge of his vision and he looked up into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.
    "Most impressive, my boy, most impressive. Are you alright?" He reached his
hand down and Harry grasped the wrinkled hand with a strong grip and was hauled
to his feet. Tapping his cane to enlarge it, Harry leaned on it heavily and
smiled crookedly.
    "I'm fine, thanks Professor. You went easy on me, didn't you?" He added,
eyebrows lowering in disappointment. The old wizard chuckled.
    "Not as much as you might think, Harry. After all, we didn't want to give
your classmates a heart attack at such a young age, did we?" Glancing around at
the gobsmacked expressions at the edge of the dueling platform, Harry shook his
head with a slight blush.
    "Of course not, sir."
    "Good. In fact, a little visit to my office after dinner wouldn't be a bad
idea either. Now, time for the next duel... Ah, and Harry-" The slender boy
paused at the edge of the platform, looking back curiously. "-A short trip to
the Hospital Wing would be advisable. Just in case." As Dumbledore called the
next student up, Harry made a face and slunk to the back of the group where his
friends were standing.
    "Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously, ignoring his flinch as
she took his arm to help support his weight. "You look like you're in pain-"
    "Great job, Har!" Ron interrupted, a strange tint to his tone even as he
grinned. "You were the best yet, even with a bum leg."
    Harry searched his best friend's face for a second to try and catch the
elusive emotion in his blue eyes, but it was gone. "Thanks, guys," he said
anyway, a bit hesitant. He turned to watch the last few students go up against
Dumbledore. They dropped quickly enough. "I wish Dumbledore could've taught us
from the beginning of the year. He's a great teacher."
    "The Headmaster has more important things to do than teach classes, Harry,"
Hermione chided. "Why, in Hogwarts, A History, it says that Headmasters stopped
teaching over eighty years ago ever since Janis Jumburgler had a mental
breakdown-"
    Harry and Ron shared a brief, exasperated glance before Ron spoke over
Hermione's speech. "I suppose you know Dumbledore's a good teacher from those
private lessons he gave you, eh?" Harry gave him a startled look, glancing
around to make sure no one heard his words. Ron knew he wasn't supposed to
mention that in public.
    "Er, yeah, I guess so. He helped me understand magic much better..."
    Ron pursed his lips and nodded, that strange expression flitting over his
face again. Harry opened his mouth to comment on it, but Dumbledore's
announcement to return to the classroom interrupted him. They didn't say
anything else on the way back to the Defense classroom and they waited while a
few minor curses were removed on some unfortunate duelers. For the rest of
class, everything seemed completely normal and by the end Ron was nearly
bursting with pride that he knew nearly every question that was asked.
    "Remember that trick question about changing a pin into a sword? We covered
that in the DA ages ago! I bet defensive transfiguration isn't even in the
book!" Ron gloated, making Harry and Hermione share an amused glance.
    "He has a point, Harry," Hermione said. "With what you taught us in the DA,
we could probably take our Defense and Transfiguration OWLs by now. We won't,
of course, because it would be stupid to skip several months of study time, but
it's still amazing. And you say that we’re going to start on defensive Potions
and Patroni? By the end of the year, we could probably pass for sixth years! I
can't imagine what you can do. Can you pass your NEWTs?"
    Harry flushed slightly, refusing to meet their eyes. Hermione was getting
that wild look in her eyes that came with the prospect of learning more. "Come
on, guys, it's not that great..." Hermione pounced on the fact that he didn't
deny it, her normally calm brown eyes getting a crazed look to them.
    "Harry James Potter!" She hissed, just barely keeping herself from
shrieking. "You could pass your NEWTs?!"
    Harry hesitated, glancing around guiltily as if he could be expelled for
knowing too much. Eventually, he nodded faintly. "Just my Defense,
Transfiguration, and Charms, I reckon," he added quickly. "Not enough to
graduate." He actually believed he could. After all, he had read a lot of books
over the summer and throughout his training, and with his new connection with
magic, it only took him a few tries before he could perform a spell flawlessly
and memorize it. He didn't want to advertise the fact, however. He had a hard
enough time coming to terms with it himself.
    Hermione was silent, her eyes huge. She seemed to be having a hard time
with the concept that Harry Potter, her best friend who was notorious for
slacking in previous years, could now pass his NEWTs with little trouble.
There had to be an explanation for how he was able to learn everything to
quickly and easily, and Hermione was determined to find out what. She suspected
that it had something to do with Zephyr, the phoenix Harry had been bonded to,
but there was something more. She had noticed a difference in Harry since the
summer and out of respect for her friend she didn't pry and accepted his
explanation about Zephyr, but now that it was affecting his life in such an
obvious way she felt like she needed to know what it was, if only so that she
wouldn't feel so distant from her best friend anymore. They hadn't mentioned
it, but both Ron and she had felt Harry becoming more distant, especially after
the TriWizard Tournament. She couldn't help worrying about him.
   
===============================================================================

    That night, after dinner, it was with stifled groans of pain that Harry
made his way to the Hedmaster's office and mumbled the password. His muscles
were absolutely killing him after walking all over the school, up staircases,
and a duel with Dumbledore to top it off. At this point he just wanted to sneak
into the Prefect's bathroom and soak for several hours before falling asleep.
When his thigh muscle trembled uncertainly at the top of the spiraling
staircase, Harry decided that he would do just that... he had gotten the
password from Ron only yesterday just for that purpose.
    Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's answer to his knock and
he pushed the door open, trilling a short greeting when he caught sight of
Fawkes on his perch in the corner. Harry's ability to speak, or rather "sing",
the phoenix language had been progressing steadily, but it was still a bit
broken. His throat was not used to making the sounds of a phoenix and, more
often than not, instinct was the best teacher when he practiced trilling and
singing with Zephyr behind silenced curtains on particularly bad nights.
    "Ah, no doubt the most beautiful sound that could ever come from a human
throat," Dumbledore sighed, making Harry blush crimson. "Though opera is a
close second." Harry just barely refrained himself from reminding Dumbledore
that he was not exactly human anymore. He doubted that the old wizard would
appreciate the distinction. "Now Harry, I would like to congratulate you on
your rapid advancement in your classes. From what I understand, you are
receiving average marks in most of your classes, but not all of your teachers
have been fooled. They seem to think that you are holding back for some reason
and - especially with the... current circumstances as they are - they would be
most eager to see what you are truly capable of."
    "Er... I don't know if that's the best idea," Harry said hesitantly, not
bothering to deny that he was holding back. "I mean, it would be best if
Voldemort continues to underestimate me. He's already obsessed with killing me;
I don't want to give him the idea that I might actually be a threat, even
though it isn't true."
    "Ah ah, don't sell yourself so short, Harry," Dumbledore chided gently, his
eyes twinkling. "I was nearly stunned several times during your class. You will
be quite formidable once you heal again. Speaking of which, how are you
feeling?"
    Harry shrugged. "I've felt worse. The scars are hard to see and my muscles
are healing. I went to Madame Pomfrey for a check-up like you said, and she
says that I can probably get rid of the cane by next week."
    "I'm glad, Harry. I want to apologize again for not making certain that St.
Mungo's was protected. When you are concerned, we tend to make the most
grievous-"
    "No- Don't. Don't worry about it, Professor - Albus." Harry stated, holding
up his hand and keeping his voice firm. "It was my own decision to stay outside
of St. Mungo's and I know you were all just trying to protect me. You're not
perfect, and I know you are capable of making mistakes. Merlin knows I am too."
    "Thank you, my boy." Harry just nodded. There was a moment of silence
before Albus raised his eyebrows as though surprised. "Ah, blast my old age! I
forgot to also congratulate you on your efforts with your peers... or rather,
your students." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily and Harry sighed
inwardly, having no doubt that Dumbledore probably knew everything about the
DA.
    "You know everything, don't you," he grumbled, causing the old man to
chuckle. "And they're not my students."
    "Dear boy, I most certainly can't lay claim to knowing everything, but
I do pride myself on being observant. Often times, that's really all you need."
Knowing the truth of this, Harry nodded in agreement, but secretly entertained
the thought of the Headmaster being in Slytherin when he was in school. He
doubted there were many people alive who remembered whether he was or not, but
he made a note to find out. "So, perhaps you can tell me why a few select
students seem to be far advanced in Defense Against the Dark Arts than the
others?"
    "Well, Hermione wanted to set up a study group for Defence Against the Dark
Arts once we all found out that Umbridge wasn't going to help us at all. She
came up with the idea of having me teach it, and I was kind of forced into it
once everyone agreed it was a good idea. There are about twenty-five kids from
Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, and they're between fourth and seventh
years."
    "And what have you been teaching this group?"
    "Er... Defense, of course, but I've been incorporating a lot of different
types of magic as well. Like, we just finished up a section on group defense in
order to develop strategy and unity. Nearly two months ago, we worked on
defensive Transfiguration, like changing random objects into things that could
be used for distraction or something - everyone really seemed to like that, and
it took forever to catch the stone bat the twins had transfigured from a stone
bowl. Next, we're working on potions that can be carried around constantly,
just in case of an attack, such as Pepper-up, healing, numbing, and even
poisons. I've been researching a potion that you can throw on the ground and
there's an explosion when the vial breaks. I haven't figured out exactly how
to-" Harry stopped himself abruptly, realizing that he had begun rambling.
Surprised at the emotion and enthusiasm he had once he started talking about
the DA, he frowned slightly and wrinkled his brow in consternation.
    "Um, sorry..." he said. “I'm not sure why I started rambling."
    The knowing twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes was nearly blinding in its
intensity. "No need to apologize, my boy, I too find myself rambling at the
most inopportune and random times. Most inconvenient and often extremely
tedious to those listening." He leaned forward, pressing his fingertips
together in a steeple. "I, however, am most interested in this group. They
sound quite adept at such advanced techniques. Do you have a name?"
    Harry cleared his throat, red tinting his cheeks. "Er, when Umbridge was
still here, some of the others decided to name it 'Dumbledore's Army' to poke
fun at her. We're the DA for short." Dumbledore looked faintly surprised and
Harry was startled when a warm look of affection crept into the Headmaster's
eyes.
    "What an honor, though a somewhat dubious name in light of what has
occurred in the Ministry lately."
    "Yes, we were thinking of changing it to the Defense Association, now that
Umbridge is gone."
    "Perhaps that is not such a bad idea." He sighed. "I cannot express how
proud I am of you, Harry. You have taken the prophecies in stride and have
taken your learning into your own hands. You are growing into an exceedingly
capable wizard and a wonderful young man. I know that your life has not been an
easy one and yet you continue to be kind, forgiving, and compassionate to
others, despite their pasts. I could not be more proud. Is there anything you
need from me to help you?"
    Harry's intense blush faded at the serious question, but the warm feeling
in his chest did not. He felt Dumbledore's love and worry for him, and he could
hardly grasp the concept that the old wizard felt such affection for him as
Harry. Not Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, but Harry. Just Harry.
    "Prof- Albus, I've been thinking..." he began hesitantly. “It's really a
miracle that Voldemort hasn't found out about our connection so far, but I
think that that won't last for long. When I was watching the vision of Mr.
Weasley being attacked by Nagini, I-"
    "I'm sorry, who?" Dumbledore interrupted. Harry looked confused before
comprehension dawned on his face.
    "Oh. Nagini is Voldemort's familiar. She's a gigantic snake. Anyway, when I
was watching the attack from Nagini's point of view, I was able to take control
of her mind for a little bit. Not enough to make her stop, but Voldemort was
kind of pushed out of the way for a second. He didn't pay much attention to it
at the time, but I'm pretty sure he'll remember it soon. He'll know I was in
his mind. So... I was hoping that you could teach me Occlumency. I've been
trying to learn it on my own, but it would be much faster if you could teach
me, especially since Umbridge is gone and we don't have to hide-"
    Dumbledore interrupted his rambling gently, a mischievous look in his eye
that immediately put Harry on edge. "I'm sorry, my boy, but I don't think I can
help you. I must admit that it is a very good idea, but I'm afraid that I will
be much too busy in the coming months to be able to teach you properly.
However," He added when he saw Harry's face fall, "I am glad to say that I know
of someone who is just as skilled in Occlumency and Leglimency as I am, if not
more so. His abilities have saved other's lives on more than one occasion, and
I am certain that he will be able to teach you."
    "Who would that be?" Harry asked cautiously, an unexplainable sense of
dread rising in his chest.
    "Why, our very own Severus Snape, of course." Harry's mouth dropped
open. Damn that twinkle to hell.
===============================================================================
   
    "You what?!"
    "I have to take Occlumency from Snape, Ron," Harry repeated tiredly for the
fifth time.
    "Merlin's balls! It was nice knowing ya, Har. I bet Snape'll have you
either expelled or insane by the end of the second week!"
    "Right, thanks for the vote of confidence." Harry groaned, dropping his
head into his arms. They were waiting in the Room of Requirement for the DA to
arrive and Harry had just finished telling his friends about his meeting with
Dumbledore. Before Harry could wallow in self-pity much longer, however, the
door opened to admit the members of the DA in small groups. The meeting was a
short one since it was getting late and it was mostly a "welcome back" meeting,
though Harry remembered to tell them that they were now called the "Defense
Association" and that Dumbledore knew about them. Afterwards, most made a point
to approach Harry and welcome him back, expressing their relief that he was
back and unharmed from his encounter with Voldemort. Even Zacharias Smith
managed to swallow his pride enough to state that it was good to see that Harry
hadn't broken under the Death Eater's torture. Harry decided to take the
comment at face value.
    Harry was glad to note that nothing else was said about the matter. The
group had long since learned that Harry more or less refused to speak of his
experiences unless it was absolutely necessary to prove a point, and they
didn't bother commenting on his cane or his limp. Several were kind enough to
ask whether he was feeling well, but he waved off their concern quickly, not
wanting to draw attention to the fact that he felt like his legs were going to
collapse on him any moment. The fact that most seemed to buy his act offered
him little comfort.
    "That's it, I'm off to the Prefect's bathroom!" Harry announced when the
last group had left. He massaged his left thigh surreptitiously, groaning
inwardly.
    "Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, frowning in concern.
    "I'm fine, 'Mione," Harry assured her tiredly. She had been asking him that
question every five minutes, it seemed. "I just need a good soak, is all."
    "Well, I don't approve of non-Prefects using our bathroom, but I suppose I
could let you go this time," she said, mock sternly before her face broke out
into a small smile and she giggled. "Don't forget to tap the 'occupied' sign,
though I doubt that'll stop Myrtle..."
    "'Mione!" Harry groaned, a stricken look on his face. She merely giggled
again, scampering out the door of the Room of Requirement. Ron followed after
her, dazed and startled.
    "Did Hermione just giggle?" He asked, seemingly to himself. "Merlin, she
almost acted like a... a girl!"
    Harry rolled his eyes and followed them out, closing the door behind
himself as he went. He parted company with his best friends a moment later as
he headed to the Prefect's bathroom in the opposite direction, wordlessly
waving his hand to check the time with the Tempus spell. An hour till curfew.
Perfect. He was relieved to find it unoccupied when he arrived and he drew
close to the portrait, whispered the password (Sugar Plums), and entered the
bathroom, groaning out loud at the sight of the gigantic bathtub.
    Harry looked around quickly and saw that the room was devoid of any
troublesome ghosts and that the flirty mermaid in the tapestry was fast asleep.
Tapping the small square next to the door to make it glow red, indicating that
the bath was in use, Harry gladly stripped off his clothing. Padding over to
the pool, he dipped his finger into the water and felt it adjust to the
temperature he wanted until the clear water was gently steaming. He then
twisted a few random knobs around the edge to fill it with heavenly scents and
bubbles. As he waited for the bubbles to fill the pool, he sat on the edge and
let his legs dangle in the soothing water. He let out a long sigh as it lapped
against his legs, almost like a small massage.
    Harry leaned back on his hands, looking down the length of his body for the
first time in a long while. He had come to feel somewhat ashamed of his own
body, having seen it pushed to the brink of starvation, exhaustion, and death
too many times. At times, he hated how his life in the cupboard under the
stairs had forced his body to be stunted, weak, and frail, how it seemed to
give out on him in times when he needed it most in order to avoid his uncle's
raging blows. It had been better since he came to Hogwarts, and especially
since he had been removed from the Dursley's care, but now his body bore
witness to his difficult life through the scars that littered his body
liberally, scars that wouldn't fade with a few good meals or a night's sleep.
And he also had the soft, slender curves of his hips and his horribly girly
eyes to deal with since his bond to Zephyr. It wasn't that he was complaining
or that he wished he could be tall and have large muscles - he had long ago
accepted that he would probably always be short and skinny - but now, with the
whole Wizarding World viewing him as the Boy Who Lived, their savior, Harry
couldn't help but wish that he didn't look quite so young or delicate.
    Really, he could see a benefit in being underestimated by his enemies, but
he couldn't understand why some of the younger girls even bothered approaching
him to ask for a date. They are probably just caught up in the hype of the Boy
Who Lived crap, he huffed mentally. They just want to say that they had dated
Harry Potter. Moving his legs gently in the bubbly water and reaching over to
turn off the taps, Harry breathed in the humid air in the silence, letting it
stretch his lungs and relax his body further. He finally pushed himself into
the pool, gasping as the hot water nearly closed over his head before he stood
and slowly made his way over to the steps, where he sat and let his body
finally relax.
    Looking down, he lazily wiped the bubbles from his chest, feeling his
fingers brush over the raised scars there. Even he didn't know all of what the
Death Eaters had carved into his body, as he had pushed the whole event into
the back of his mind in order to keep his emotions in control. Here, however,
in the warm silence of the Prefect's bathroom, he allowed himself to examine
some of the scars more minutely. There, beneath his breastbone, was the word
"mudblood". There, along the edge of the seam of scar tissue from Uncle
Vernon's belt, were the initials "B.B.L." for Bellatrix Black Lestrange. There,
on his right shoulder above his shoulder blade, were the letters "L.M." in
flowing cursive with a small, blurred scar where the Malfoy signet ring had
been pressed and heated with a spell to leave a burn. There, beneath his right
collarbone, was a similar, if slightly larger brand that was slightly more
complicated: sinuous lines flowing in a Celtic knot, intertwined with a
cauldron, a black crow, and the initials "S.S.".
    Finally, Harry let his fingers brush over the largest scar, a complex
tangle of emotions drifting to the surface of his mind as he did so. Draco's
mark. It had a circle of undecipherable runes around another intricate Celtic
knot and the symbol for eternity in the center. In that identical spot over his
heart, his mate held a mark as well; one of evil and darkness. Harry closed his
eyes against the pain of remembrance, letting his head fall back and his body
slip deeper into the cleansing water. He wasn't sure how he felt about Draco
becoming a Death Eater. On the one hand, he knew that Draco had had no choice;
Voldemort would have certainly killed him if he had refused, and yet, Harry
couldn't help but think of the times when Draco seemed to struggle with the
whole idea of being Harry's soul mate.
    True, Draco had accepted him, but he had made the decision in less than a
week and against his initial responses. It would only make sense that the
Slytherin would doubt the validity of his choice in hindsight. Heck, Harry
doubted it himself sometimes, during moments when memories of their previous
animosity were so close and it was so easy to believe that Draco hadn't changed
at all. Looking back, when everything seemed to have made so much sense, it was
hard to trust the emotions and choices that they were experiencing now. But no
matter how much his mind rebelled against it, Harry's heart couldn't deny that
he trusted Draco. Whether it was the phoenix inside of him or real feelings
that he had developed for the blond, Harry trusted the arrogant jerk.
===============================================================================

    Draco Malfoy paced outside of the Prefect's bathroom with a bag of clothing
and a thick, fluffy towel slung over one shoulder, grinding his teeth and
seething silently as his volatile temper grew with each passing minute.
    It had not been a good day.
    The day had started out with his hair refusing to compromise with him and
having that pug-faced Pansy point out - loudly - at breakfast that his bangs
flipped up slightly on one side; as if he hadn't already noticed and tried
every charm in the book to make it lie straight. Then he'd had to suffer
through class with that bastard Snape. Normally, Potions was a class he
enjoyed, especially with his Godfather teaching it, but now he couldn't help
but remember the way Snape had pressed his wand to Harry's chest and burned his
own mark into the green-eyed boy's skin. Draco had known that Snape was a Death
Eater like his father, but he also knew that the Potion's Master didn't enjoy
the barbaric activities such as Sport and that Snape truly cared about his
Godson, even if he didn't show it much.
    And yet, he couldn't quite forgive the man.
    Draco was still struggling with the protective, worried feelings that had
squeezed around his heart while Harry was being tortured. Most of the time, he
was somewhat content with the decision he had made to accept his mate -
especially when he was alone with Harry - but there were times such as today
when he had heard of Harry's duel with Dumbledore that the sudden rise of
strange emotions shook him up a bit. He had known that Harry's muscles were
weak and tired easily, and the concern that had sparked in his chest had
startled him. He was torn between the familiar jealousy and dislike that he had
become so familiar with in past years and this new feeling of possessiveness
and caring for the Boy Who Lived.
    All in all, the confusing mess that had become his life along with his bad
hair day and nearly being hexed by a vindictive Gryffindor in Herbology
definitely garnered an immediate, long soak in the Prefect's bathroom.
Unfortunately, the bathroom had been occupied since he had arrived nearly ten
minutes ago, and his patience was quickly wearing thin. He had come all this
way to unwind and he would not be denied.
    Barking out the ridiculous password, Draco barged into the steamy bathroom,
noting the discarded robes and clothing on the floor. Judging by the red boxers
with yellow Snitches zooming around the waistband, the bather was probably a
Gryffindor, which meant that it had to be Ron Weasley; the only male Gryffindor
Prefect. Draco winced at the prospect of seeing the lanky redhead in the nude,
but it had to be done. Draco Malfoy definitely did not share baths with anyone,
much less a Weasley, no matter how much Harry wanted Draco to be civil to his
friends.
    "Right, Weasley, I'm sure that you would love to hog the bathroom for all
hours of the night, but there are some people more deserving that have to
return to their dorms before curfew." Draco heard a startled splash as his
drawling voice echoed and he smirked as he peered through the steam. "And I
am not sharing a bath with your skinny arse. So get out."
    "Frankly, you're either going to have to come in and drag me out of here,
Malfoy, or you'll have to join me, because I've only been in here for fifteen
minutes." A familiar head of black hair moved from near the steps of the pool
where Draco hadn't noticed it, and the Slytherin blinked in surprise. "And I
think I deserve a bath far more than you do."
    "Pot- Harry?" Draco asked stupidly, as if that smooth, melodic voice could
belong to anyone else human in this school.
    "Draco." Harry returned tiredly, relaxing back against the steps. The
Slytherin remained silent for a while, his silver eyes glittering with
contemplation at this new development. He certainly hadn't expected it, but now
that he thought about it, a bath and a snog would certainly relax him more than
simply a bath. That is, if he managed to coax the Gryffindor into a snogging
mood. Things had been a bit strained between them after what had occurred over
the break. Perhaps he could bend the No bathing with others rule for the
moment.
    "I suppose I'll have to join you," Draco said with a long-suffering sigh.
"Leaving without a bath is simply not an option, and your blasted Gryffindor
stubbornness will probably require too much energy to force you to leave."
    "Whatever happened to sharing a bath with my 'skinny arse'?"
    Draco waved a dismissive hand, shedding his outer robes as he did so. "A
technicality. Weasley's arse is far more skinny and bony than yours."
    "And you would know, would you? Going behind my back with my best friend,
Malfoy?" Harry said amusedly. He could see the blond shudder through the light
steam, but then he turned away when Draco started pulling off his trousers and
shirt.
    "Hardly, Potter. If he were the last male in Hogwarts, I would turn
straight so fast his head would spin." The blond hesitated for a long moment,
hovering at the edge of pulling off his shirt.
    "Oh come on, he's not that bad. Hermione likes him well enough." Draco
shook his head, flinging off the shirt with finality and pulling off his
boxers.
    "I'm not even going to try and touch that," he muttered just loudly enough
to be heard.
    "Smart move." Harry remarked, closing his eyes and hearing a splash as
Draco stepped in beside him. He was suddenly grateful that he had put in so
many bubbles.
    "Wow, Potter, do you think you have enough bubbles in here?" Draco asked,
noting how anything below water level was impossible to see.
    Harry shrugged. "Couldn't take any chances with Myrtle or the mermaid this
time."
    Noting the exhaustion in the raven-haired boy's voice, Draco frowned
slightly as he looked over Harry's face closely. His eyes were closed in
relaxation, but the slight pinched look at the corners of his eyes and mouth
indicated stress. Disappointment sank into Draco's stomach, but it was quickly
overwhelmed by a feeling of protectiveness and affection that flowed through
his veins. He wouldn't be snogging Harry tonight, but whether he wanted it or
not, his mate was in pain and he couldn't just sit there when he could help
ease it. Draco gently grasped Harry's left arm and shifted himself closer.
    Harry's eyes snapped open in surprise and turned to see that Draco's face
was suddenly closer than it had been, a foreign emotion in the blond's eyes. He
was suddenly uncomfortably aware that they were both naked and though a small
surge of arousal shot through his core, Harry mostly felt overwhelmingly tired.
He couldn't deal with this today. He pulled his hand away.
    "Please Draco, I'm tired. I can't deal with-" He began, only to be cut off.
    "Give me some credit, Harry, I know you're hurt. I may be horny as hell,
but I never take advantage of someone who's injured. It just kills the mood."
He let a smirk curl his lips upward before falling back into a serious
expression. He tugged on Harry's arm, bringing himself closer. "Let me do this.
As your mate, I can help ease your pain." Harry blinked his eyes in surprise.
The blond rarely mentioned their "relationship" so openly. As Draco took his
hand once more, Harry felt a spark of warmth travel through his arm and up to
his brain with a small wave of emotions following in its wake. The emotions
were similar to his own, but they felt a bit different: possessiveness,
concern, and a hint of apprehensiveness. Draco's emotions. Harry wasn't sure if
this was his empathic abilities or part of his connection with his mate, but
before he could contemplate them further all thoughts were swept away when the
blond began massaging his hand gently.
    Starting at Harry's hand and working slowly upward, Draco soothingly
massaged Harry's tense and sore muscles, feeling the ridges of countless scars
pass beneath his fingers as he worked his way up to Harry's shoulder. His
rising hatred toward those that did this to his mate was tempered by Harry's
occasional soft moans of pure delight mixed with pained relief. They were
silent as Draco worked in complete concentration, but it was a comfortable
silence. Somehow, Draco had moved closer and closer until he was crouched by
Harry's side in the water, his right knee brushing against Harry's back and his
left knee pressed lightly into Harry's left thigh. Harry, nearly asleep by now,
barely noticed. Draco reached the top of Harry's arm and, compelled by some
unknown emotion, he dipped his head to press a soft kiss to the warm, wet skin
of Harry's shoulder.
    Harry sucked in a breath at the touch before letting it out again as warmth
spread throughout his body, originating at the point where Draco's lips had
touched. He felt his body relax even further, and he let himself shift to the
side to lean against his mate. Just as he touched Draco's chest, however, a
sharp pain lanced over his scar and he jerked away with a yelp of pain. He
pressed the fingers of his right hand against the scar where the pain was
already fading and stared with wide eyes at Draco's chest. The Dark Mark
grinned blackly from its place above Draco's heart, mocking his forgetfulness
as his heart pounded furiously.
    "Harry? What happened? Are you alright?" Draco asked anxiously. The calming
atmosphere of the room had vanished abruptly. He moved to grasp Harry's arm,
but instead paused to follow Harry's gaze to his chest where the symbol of his
slavery was burned into his skin. Realization dawned and his eyes dimmed
slightly with shame and dismay. "The Dark Mark? Does the Dark Mark hurt you?"
    Harry blinked, his thoughts broken. Furrowing his brows, he shook his head
slightly. That's never happened before. Hesitantly, he stretched out his hand
to gently touch the mark again. This time, pain not only seared across his scar
but spiked through his right temple as well and he yanked his hand back to
cradle his head painfully. It took longer, but eventually the pain receded and
Harry became aware of Draco's hand gently rubbing his back. His body relaxed
again and he raised his head, meeting his mate's concerned gaze.
    "I'm alright," he answered in response to the unasked question. "I didn't
expect the Dark Mark would do that, but I guess I've never really had a reason
to touch one before. It probably has something to do with my connection to
Voldemort..."
    Draco drew away slightly, the shutters closing on the emotions in his eyes,
and he murmured, "I'm sorry. I'll put a concealment charm on it so-"
    "No, don't do that," Harry interrupted, shaking his head wearily. "It's
there, so why hide it? There's no reason to pretend like it never happened.
I'll just be more careful when I grope you in the future." He grinned crookedly
with a slight leer in his gaze, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. He
couldn't let the blond brood too long on things that he couldn't change; it
would just lead to more problems in the future. Apparently, he succeeded,
because Draco relaxed and a hint of familiar warmth softened his eyes.
    "Careful with that tone, Potter," he warned in a growl, "and get over
here." He grasped Harry's arm again and tugged him gently over until Harry's
thigh touched his. Draco resumed his previous position and rotated until he was
sitting behind the Gryffindor, who tensed. Draco rolled his eyes - there was
still six inches of distance between them for Merlin's sake! - but spoke
softly.
    "Relax, Harry, I'm not going to do anything. You still need to be healed."
    "H-healed?" Harry said, his voice breaking very slightly. The green-eyed
boy blushed, still highly aware of their nakedness and Draco's position behind
him. He wondered why Draco didn't seem to feel self-conscious at all, but then
he remembered how his eyes were automatically drawn to the firm curve of the
blond's arse whenever he walked by and felt himself harden slightly. Maybe
because he doesn't have anything to be self-conscious about, he thought
ruefully.
    Draco was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Harry's back as his
fingers began their gentle movement at the junction of Harry's shoulder and
neck. "I've done some research," he said eventually. "Phoenixes, like many
magical creatures who mate for life, pass some of their abilities on to their
mate. I haven't really discovered mine yet, but some books mentioned that they
could involve sensory enhancements, a power increase, and the ability to heal
their mates to some extent. And we have a mental connection."
    Harry nodded. "I knew about that, but the connection won't solidify until
we... er, complete the bond. I didn't know that you could heal though." Harry
didn't mention that he had ventured into his mind after returning from
Voldemort's clutches and saw just how tenuous their connection was at the
moment. Dumbledore had mentioned that after they had completed the bond that
connection would increase exponentially until they were so close that it would
be nearly impossible to break, which meant that Harry was really a liability at
the moment. If all it took was a slight misunderstanding to destroy Harry and
Draco's relationship, then they would hardly be prepared for a war where no one
could afford to have weaknesses. The problem was, Harry wasn't exactly sure
whether he was ready for that step or not, and he didn't want to be pushed into
anything.
    He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly missed Draco's quiet
response.
    "Too bad I can't heal scars..."
    Harry felt his mate's long, slender fingers caress the mark over his right
shoulder that Draco's father had left and Harry tensed. Uncertainty suddenly
bloomed in his mind as he remained silent. Did Draco hate the scars? Was he
disgusted by them? Did he think Harry was weak for having them? Harry had
thought that it would be okay to let Draco see them because the blond had
actually been there and understood to some extent why he had them. He still
wasn't sure whether Ron and Hermione were ready to hear what happened in
detail, and he wasn't sure that he could tell it yet. Really, Draco was the
only person that he felt understood this part of his life right now. Remus and
Sirius would just worry over him and become over-protective, Hermione and Ron
wouldn't know what to do with the information and it would just be awkward
afterwards, Dumbledore would just blame himself and apologize again, and he
really didn't know any other adults well enough to talk to them about it. He
enjoyed Draco's sharp wit and his biting, sarcastic comments with the
underlying understanding and compassion.
    And yet, at the same time, Harry didn't really want to burden Draco with
the full knowledge of what had happened in his short life. He didn't want to
burden anyone. But there were times that the pain from the Dursley's and the
TriWizard Tournament would fester and he had the sudden urge to blurt out that
his uncle had hit him hard enough to send him across the room, or that his aunt
used to make him sleep in the frozen shed on New Year's because she had guests
over, or that if he had known what would happen to Cedric he would have taken
the Killing Curse instead. But no... Draco had his own problems, and he didn't
need Harry's to add to them. Harry just didn't know what he would do without
Draco's silent understanding.
    Unbidden, Harry's mouth opened and asked: "Do they bother you? The scars."
His eyes focused on the thinning carpet of bubbles in front of him, his body
still tense as Draco's fingers stilled. Silence spread throughout the room, the
air nearly crackling with tension. Draco seemed to be choosing his words
carefully.
    "It bothers me that anyone would do this to you, and it bothers me that
everyone around you just let it happen without noticing. No one deserves that,
especially you. It bothers me that I was there to see some of it happen and
that I actually participated in it without lifting a finger to help you or
fight back. But do the scars themselves bother me? No. We all have scars,
Harry, but the difference is that you don't have to be ashamed of yours. None
of them were your fault."
    Harry relaxed slightly, though in the deepest part of his mind he
disagreed. It was his fault. If only he had followed Tonks' orders, if only he
hadn't talked back to Uncle Vernon, if only he hadn't stolen an apple that
day... In some ways, it was his fault. As if sensing his thoughts, Draco leaned
forward and pressed his lips against the base of Harry's neck, causing the
scarred boy to shiver as warmth spread through his body once more.
    "I can't convince you not to believe what you've believed your whole life."
Draco's voice was soft, his breath wafting over Harry's ear. "But to me, the
scars are only a part of who you are, not everything. Besides, can I help it if
I find this one incredibly sexy?" The Slytherin reached over Harry's left
shoulder and let the fingers of his left hand brush against the mark over
Harry's heart, his voice lowering to a lusty purr. Harry let out a chuckle even
as his body shuddered in response to his mate's tone. Draco was close now, very
close, but he was careful not to let the Dark Mark touch any part of Harry's
body.
    "Why Draco, I've never heard you sound so much like a Hufflepuff before. I
didn't know you had it in you!" Harry teased, turning his head slightly to look
over his shoulder. Draco immediately pulled back, much to Harry's relief (he
wasn't sure if he could stop his body from becoming more aroused if Draco
actually made a move), and looked offended.
    "That's a low blow, Potter," he said disgustedly. "I did not - nor
ever will - sound like a Hufflepuff. I'm going to have to show you your place
if you keep mouthing off like that."
    "Oh really, and how will you do that, Malfoy?" Harry asked amusedly,
turning around to face the blond. When he met Draco's dark, lust-filled gaze,
he blushed, very self-conscious of their nakedness again. "Er, don't answer
that. Besides, it's nearly curfew and-" He broke off with a gasp as Draco
abruptly leaned down and grasped his shoulders, pulling Harry up to crush their
lips together possessively.
    Harry froze for a moment before he eagerly returned the kiss, feeling like
it had been forever since he had been this close to Draco. A groan escaped him
as Draco pressed his tongue demandingly against Harry's lips, nearly forcing
the smaller teen to open his mouth. The familiar hot, minty sensations nearly
drove Harry wild. His arms automatically came up to run his hands down Draco's
side and over his back, bringing them closer, but not close enough to press
their bodies together as Harry wanted to. He could feel himself hardening even
more, his mind such a whirlwind of pleasure that he didn't care if Draco would
be able to feel the erection against his thigh or not. Draco had managed to
make him hot and eager when at the start of the evening he was simply
exhausted, and only a single thought crossed his mind as Draco nibbled on his
bottom lip, making him moan with pain/pleasure: Damn, Draco's good at this.
    Then, it was over.
    Draco's support vanished as he stepped back and Harry stumbled forward,
nearly tripping over a step as he tried to catch his balance. Blinking
stupidly, he looked up to see Draco leaving the pool, too stunned to even blush
as his darkened gaze fastened on his mate's perfect behind unabashedly.
Eventually, he gathered his wits enough to step out as well, somehow managing
to concentrate enough to wandlessly summon his towel to him. Harry seethed with
frustration, glaring at the smirking blond (who had managed to put his pants
back on while Harry was still in a stupor). He was feeling a bit tired of
always being the submissive one in their relationship. He felt weak enough
without having Draco leave him hanging like that (no pun intended). Harry was
definitely going to be the one taking control of their next kiss, even if it
meant giving in slightly to the more basic instincts of the phoenix. He smiled
dangerously, enjoying how Draco's smug expression faltered slightly.
    Who ever said phoenixes had to be pure all the time?
===============================================================================
    The next morning, Harry woke feeling more energized and healthy than he had
ever since returning from Voldemort's hideout. He had immediately gotten rid of
his cane and even visited the Hospital Wing to show Madame Pomfrey (without
telling her that the healing had taken place in the Prefect's bathtub, of
course). Poppy was astounded at his recovery and promised to research phoenixes
so that she could at least be somewhat prepared for other abilities or
situations that may arise.
    Happily cane-free, Harry was free to enjoy what seemed to be turning out to
be a normal year as January faded into February. Voldemort was laying low,
taking advantage of the Minitry's deliberation on a new Minister. Both Umbridge
and Fudge were serving time in Azkaban. Pettigrew was slowly being driven
insane in the deepest depths of Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy was on the run. The DA
was progressing quickly past defensive potions and were soon going to jump
eagerly into the Patronus Charm. Harry himself was improving in his own private
studies and, under Zephyr's calm teaching, was able to access the empathic
powers that had been growing since starting Hogwarts. He rarely used it
because, frankly, he really didn't want to know what a school full of hormonal
teenagers were feeling. With Valentine's Day approaching, it seemed as though
the halls of Hogwarts were infused with nearly tangible sexual tension.
     It was February 10th, and Harry had just flopped into a chair in the
common room after returning from an Occlumency lesson with Snape, whose mood
was as black as midnight lately.
    Occlumency lessons had begun only a week after Harry had suggested it to
Dumbledore, but Harry was surprised to find that his dread was unnecessary.
Sure, Snape was still a cruel, misanthropic git, but there was an underlying
emotion to the lessons that were both unnerving and confusing to Harry. Snape
almost seemed to be trying to figure him out, like a particularly difficult
puzzle that most likely had a frustratingly simple answer. In fact, Snape had
not yet tried to enter Harry's mind at all. Instead, he had given him a book
entitled The_Guide_to_the_Mind_and_Emotions and ordered him to read it, and
then he had tested Harry on the book's content.
    Harry wasn't entirely certain what he had been planning on, but it almost
seemed as if Snape was actually taking the care to prepare him. The idea was
ludicrous.
End Notes
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 problems with it at times.
“Ah, ah, ah! That’s for me to know and you to always wonder. Or you might be
able to bribe it out of Aurelia. Maybe.” She grinned. “I was told, though, that
a certain store is near your shop and I was wondering if you could direct us.”
Fred bowed. “What ever you wish, milady.”
She rolled her eyes. “Wyrd Goods For The Wayward Wizard”
Fred’s eyes bugled. “Why, in Merlin’s name, are you taking Harry here to that
particular shop?”
Ariadne grinned. “Leather! And I know the owner. He knows a very good
seamstress who can work with magical material, like, say basilisk hide.”
Fred nodded in understanding. “Be careful, though. You never know where the
reporters are lurking and you really don’t want it all over the front of the
Profit that you brought Harry there.”
She nodded and chewed her lip. Turning to Harry, she said, “I have your
measurements, from the last store. Do you trust me not to buy you anything too
outrageous?” He nodded. “Good. I will also get the contact for the seamstress.
Be safe and don’t wander. Here or the Fortescue’s. Okay?”
“Yes, Ariadne, I won’t wander.” Harry rolled his eyes and shot a long-suffering
glance at Fred, who chuckled. Harry’s heart constricted a little. All the
Weasley men bore such a resemblance to one another. He shook off the melancholy
quickly and waved to Ariadne as she exited.
Fred turned to Harry with an impossibly wide grin. “Harry, my boy, you are
going to finally put on big boy clothes. You might look even better than ferret
boy, with her dressing you.”
Harry blinked. “Um…right.” He stirred the conversation away from topics like
clothing and Malfoy. The two chatted for several long minutes, before another
customer came in. With a quick apology and regret that George wasn’t there,
Fred went back to work.
With pockets filled with joke products and a smile on his face, Harry wandered
back to the main alley. His stomach protested his lack of breakfast and made
sure he knew it was almost lunch. Ice cream sounded pretty good right now. The
outdoor seating of Fortescue’s was nearly full. Harry examined the crowd,
hoping to see a familiar face. A flash of inky hair caught his eye.
“Cho!” He called to her as he came through the parlor’s gate. She looked up
from her ice cream, training brilliant eyes on him. He smiled at her. It’s not
like I have anything to be nervous about. She’d never go out with me again.
Maybe we can just hang out.
“Harry! Oh, hi! How are you?” She stuttered slightly, but the emerald-eyed boy
didn’t seem to notice.
Taking a seat across from her, he offered her his lopsided grin. “Keeping busy.
How are you? How’s your summer been?”
“I’m doing pretty good. Trying not to worry too much about my NEWTs coming up
this year.”
“Blimey! That’s this year for you, isn’t it?” He groaned. “I bet Hermione is
going to have study times-tables all written up already for both of us. I am
going to kill myself if she trying to make me study this year for them!”
Cho stiffened briefly, but relaxed at his tone. “Poor Harry. The Granger girl
does like to study, doesn’t she?”
He nodded miserably, but smiled. “I’m sure you’ll ace them all! Have you been
hanging out with friends a lot or just relaxing?”
“A little bit of both, I suppose. I’m not exactly super popular after last
year. People are afraid I’ll burst into tears again, I think.” She smiled and
Harry chuckled.
“Speaking of last year, how is your friend? Did she get her face fixed
alright?”
Cho smiled to hear no malice in his tone, just a little regret. “Marietta is no
longer my friend. I have no idea whether she got her face fixed or not. We
don’t speak. I am so sorry about your friend’s sister though. I heard about it
from my mom. She’s working in the Ministry now. Oh, Harry, how awful for
Weasley.”
Harry sneered and looked away. “Yes, We all miss Ginny terribly and I imagine
it is awful for Ron, but I wouldn’t know. He has decided I am to dangerous to
associate with.”
There was bitterness in his tone now. It was obvious to the black-haired beauty
that the wound was still fresh. She shifted closer and laid a hand over
Harry’s. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know you two were close, but from what I’ve seen,
he wasn’t a very good friend.”
Fourth Year hung heavily on the air between them. Harry shook it off and smiled
at her again. He turned his hand in hers and clasped her fingers. “Thanks, Cho.
You’re being really great about this. I thought you’d be angry with me because
of Marietta. I wasn’t sure you’d ever speak to me again, after last year.”
She rolled her almond eyes. “Harry, last year was a disaster. I couldn’t stop
thinking about…” She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, a shadow
lurked in their depths. “Well, I couldn’t stop crying and you had no idea how
to deal with all my shit as well as everyone else’s. I’m really sorry about
that, Harry.”
“I am too. I think we could’ve been really good together. I’m really glad we
can still be friends.” Harry averted his eyes and blushed slightly. Not wanting
her to see the hope in his eyes.
“I’m glad too. You really are a good person, Harry.” He looked up and their
eyes met.
As they sat there smiling at one another, Harry stomach rumbled again. He
blushed and made to stand. Cho’s hand on his arm stopped him. “We can share.”
He grinned and conjured a spoon. She gasped and looked around quickly. “Oh!
Harry, no! You’ll be expelled!”
Her comment stopped him mid-bite. “What?”
She answered as he continued eating. “Harry! You know we aren’t allowed to do
magic outside school! The Ministry will find out and you’ll be chucked out of
Hogwarts.”
Cho rang her hands worriedly. He laid down his spoon and opened his mouth to
speak, forehead furrowed. He was cut of by a voice calling, “Harry!”
He looked up to see a blonde figure pushing through the crowd. He grinned
again. Cho watched him with narrowed eyes. She turned to follow his gaze.
“There you are! I went back to see Fred, but he said you’d left! I’ve been
looking everywhere for you!” Ariadne panted slightly, as she leaned on the
fence.
Seated at the first table inside the gate, Harry smirked. “Do you not remember
telling me not to wander? That I could only go to the ice cream parlor or stay
at the twin’s shop?”
Ariadne looked surprised. “Since when do you listen to anyone? I figured I’d
find you in Knockturn Alley being accosted by a hag and then I’d have to
explain to everyone why I let Harry Potter be attack by a sex-depraved old
woman.”
Harry laughed. “You wouldn’t attack me, Ariadne.”
Cho’s mouth dropped open. Ariadne’s eyes narrowed. “Oh are you gonna regret
that! Next time I have you in that circle, you are going to wish you’d never
been born.”
Harry’s eyes darkened and all the mirth vanished from his face. “How will that
be so different?” he muttered.
Ariadne looked at him sharply, but ignored the comment. “Harry, you have not
introduced me to your friend here.”
Harry looked up at Cho, surprised to see her there. He smiled. “Ari, this is
Cho Chang, soon-to-be Seventh Year Ravenclaw, Team Seeker, and all-round
amazing girl. Cho, my tutor, Ariadne Aureus.”
The glare dropped off Cho’s face and she looked interestedly at Ariadne. “Nice
meet you, Ms. Aureus.”
“Mistress, actually. Or Lady.” Harry corrected absentmindedly. “She’s the new
Defense teacher and the High Priestess of the Summer Coven.”
Cho gaped. “ Really?”
Ariadne smiled. “But you can call me Ariadne, if you like, at least until
school starts. Harry, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend! No one ever tells me
anything.”
Cho smiled at the mistake. “We’re not dating, Mistress.”
Ariadne could almost hear the yet in her voice. Harry looked at Cho with
narrowed eyes. Does she want to be my girlfriend? Are the fates finally
deciding to cut me a break? Then Ariadne’s comment registered. “Yes, no one
tells you anything. That’s why you always seem to know everything, just like
Dumbledore.” He said dryly.
Ariadne laughed. “I’m not sure I appreciate that comment. But, I suppose, we’ll
be adding another set of combat robes to the list, then?”
Harry nodded and explained to Cho some of why they were there. “Ari, did you
get the contact info from your friend at that store? Wyrd Goods or whatever.”
Cho’s eyes widened. Ariadne snorted and shook her head. “Harry, you really
don’t want to mention that store to people. The patrons usually, uh…try to be
discreet about it.”
Harry’s eyes widened comically. Cho muffled a laugh. “Ariadne!” He screeched.
Then his voice dropped to a hiss. “Did you try to take me into a sex shop?”
“Um…no? Not really?” She looked sheepish. “It’s not a sex store, per se, but it
does have quite a bit of questionable merchandise. I usually just go in there
for the clothes. And my ex-boyfriend owns the store.”
Cho choked. “Really? I’ve seen some really cool clothing in the windows, but I
never had the guts to go in there.”
Ariadne laughed. “Maybe I’ll get you a magazine, so you can order some stuff,
if you want.”
Cho’s chocolate eyes lit up. “Thanks, Ariadne. That would be great.”
Harry smiled as he watched Cho warm up to Ariadne. The blonde cast a quick
tempus and gasped. “Uh-Oh. Harry, we need to get back. I forgot to tell Severus
we were leaving and lunch is half-over! If we’re any later, you’ll be late for
Olympia’s lesson!”
Harry nodded and turned to Cho. “Cho, would you like to re-try a Hogsmeade
trip? Maybe go somewhere else, though? I’ll explain what’s going on then,
okay?”
Cho nodded, smiling. “I’d love to, Harry! I’ll owl you okay?”
“That’d be great.” Harry leaned forward, whispering, “Cho, I’m sorry for all
the shit you had to go through because of me.” As he pulled back, Harry paused.
Mustering all his Gryffindor courage, hesitantly he dropped a quick kiss on her
cheek. She smiled brightly at him and he blushed scarlet. “I’ll be waiting.”
Ariadne laughed to herself. Ah young love.
***** Interlude 1 *****

Author's notes: ...
===============================================================================
Interlude 1 – Draco
It had been a quiet week. His father, stuck at Hogwarts, hadn’t sent him on any
errands for the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had not called him specifically either
and since he didn’t bare the Mark yet, he wasn’t required at meetings. He
sighed, his gaze trained on the view out the window. It was peaceful and calm
beyond the glass. As he watched, a rabbit sniffed around the base of a tree. A
soft wind blew through the treetops and rustled bushes. It was green and alive
and filled with happiness.
The blonde sighed again, completely unaware that his thoughts were echoing
those of his raven-headed rival, and slumped against the window frame. His
mother was somewhere deep within the Manor, doing whatever it is she did all
day. Draco had been given a rare gift: time. He had time this week to simply
sit and think about his life, his future. Or lack thereof. He snorted. The more
his father displeased the Dark Lord, the worse the errands Draco was given
became.
He stared down at his once spotless, callous-less hands. The skin there was now
cracked and hard. It had stopped bleeding sometime last week. He cringed. A
pureblood shouldn’t have to do manual labor like he was being forced to. Well,
he amended, Maybe Crabbe and Goyle. Their fathers however were not on the Dark
Lord’s bad side.
In the past couple months, Draco had seen more horrors then anyone his age
should have to endure. He had also learned some things. He now knew what those
fainting spells of Potter’s actually meant. A shudder wracked his body. He
wouldn’t wish a mental link with the Dark Lord onto anyone, not his worst enemy
and certainly not a childhood rival.
Childhood rival… Draco contemplated this. I am no longer a child and Potter is
certainly not my true enemy. He may be the Dark Lord’s greatest foe, but if
anyone has any hope of a future, the Dark Lord must die.
This thought shook him. He hadn’t realized that his resentment of his father’s
master had progressed into hatred. Examining his emotions closely, he began to
see the truth in them. The things he had witnessed were not the way to
accomplish any goals. The purification of the wizarding world was important,
but not at the cost of so many lives. Nor his own future. Something his father
had once said niggled at the back of his mind.
“I cannot believe that insufferable brat! Claiming that the Dark Lord be
anything less then the pureblood he is.”
Lucius had raged about it for several days. Draco narrowed his eyes. He could
not recall any mention of the Dark Lord’s name in any of his history lessons,
nor the pureblood training he received. Is it possible that Potter was right?
Could V-Voldemort (he was ashamed that his fear of that name was so deep he
could barely think it) be a mudblood? Or a Half-blood? Is it possible?
Draco was glad of the time he had, for he knew he had to find a way to escape
from the Dark Lord. His thoughts were treachery. He sighed a final time.
Hopefully, my father stay away for a long time, or… he eyed the window
critically. I could go and visit him. Surely the castle is safe…
***** Of Excitement *****

Author's notes: I'm sorry I haven't posted in a few days, but I was away for a
convention. i just got back! hope you enjoy!
===============================================================================
Please keep reviewing! It keeps me writing.
Also, sorry if it’s a little short, I wanted to get it out for all you
patiently waiting readers ASAP.
Last Chapter…
Harry smiled as he watched Cho warm up to Ariadne. The blonde cast a quick
tempus and gasped. “Uh-Oh. Harry, we need to get back. I forgot to tell Severus
we were leaving and lunch is half-over! If we’re any later, you’ll be late for
Olympia’s lesson!”
Harry nodded and turned to Cho. “Cho, would you like to re-try a Hogsmeade
trip? Maybe go somewhere else, though? I’ll explain what’s going on then,
okay?”
Cho nodded, smiling. “I’d love to, Harry! I’ll owl you okay?”
“That’d be great.” Harry leaned forward, whispering, “Cho, I’m sorry for all
the shit you had to go through because of me.” As he pulled back, Harry paused.
Mustering all his Gryffindor courage, hesitantly he dropped a quick kiss on her
cheek. She smiled brightly at him and he blushed scarlet. “I’ll be waiting.”
Ariadne laughed to herself. Ah young love.
Chapter 27 – Of Excitement
Harry was totally exhausted by Friday morning. He awoke, at the normal time,
just as tired as he was going to bed the night before. Realizing that he had
the day off was a sweet thing. He grinned tiredly and flopped back into bed.
Several hours later, he awoke again, this time by a high-pitched shriek.
“Harry! Harry, Wake Up!” Hermione was shouting as she ran up the stairs to his
dorm room.
Suddenly completely alert, Harry leapt out of bed. Wand at the ready, he met
her at the door. “What, Hermione! What’s that matter! Is someone hurt? What’s
wrong?” Harry demanded.
Hermione, who had been grinning madly, deflated. “Oh, Harry! I’m sorry I made
you worry. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just; We got our OWL results today. And
Professor McGonagall just gave me our letters. Yours is a bit thick.”
Harry sighed and slumped against the wall for a moment. Noticing his nightwear,
Hermione blushed and averted her eyes. Harry shrugged and donned a robe over
his boxers.
He smiled. “I’m glad. Have you opened them yet?”
She shook her head and offered him his letter. “I wanted to wait and open it
with you.”
He took the proffered envelope and opened it. A small round weight slid into
his hand. “Hermione! I’m Gryffindor Quidditch Captain!”
Hermione grinned broadly. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Harry!”
“Wait!” Another badge had slipped out of the envelope. A golden P glittered in
the late morning sun. “But…How? I thought Ron was the Gryffindor Perfect.”
The bushy-haired girl looked confused. “He is…I-I don’t know. Maybe we should
ask Professor Dumbledore.”
He nodded, still staring at the badge in his hand. After a moment, he slipped
both into the pocket of his robes. Pulling out the first sheet of paper, he
read it over quickly. Hermione followed his lead, reading her letter. “’Mione,
I got 17 OWLs.”
She smiled proudly at him. “I got 24 OWLs. This is excellent. Here, let me see
yours.” She compared the two sheets. “You beat me at Defense! Congratulations,
Harry! I think we might be in a lot of the same classes this year.”
Harry grinned. “Good! We can keep studying together. I’m sure we’ll also
probably have a lot of extra lessons together. Continuing from this summer.”
The two teens shared a warm smile before turning back to their mail. After
several minute of the perusal, Hermione looked up suddenly, “Harry! I almost
forgot to tell you! Sirius is supposed to arrive this afternoon. He’s bringing
the dragons with him.”
Harry’s face lit up like a child’s. “Really? I haven’t seen him in ages! I
wonder how he’s doing. I imagine hanging out with dragon handlers and dragons
must be a blast.”
Hermione chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure Sirius is getting into all kinds of
trouble.”
Harry laughed and dropped his mail onto the bed. Snagging fresh boxers and
trouser out of his trunk, he disappeared into the bathroom. Hermione lay across
his bed, comparing their reading lists. Ten minutes later, Harry emerged,
shirtless and with glitteringly damp hair. She glanced up at him and bit her
lip to keep from gaping. The short time since he had been rescued from the
Dursley’s had done wonders for his undernourished body.
“Come on, Herm. Let’s go get lunch.” He said, hastily buttoning the black shirt
he had snatched up. Grabbing the badges out of his robe and slipping them into
his pocket, Harry exited the dorm with Hermione following closely.
##########
High up in Coven Tower, Ariadne was throwing a fit as Severus and Olympia sat
watching. The high priestess paced restlessly. Severus glanced at the woman
sitting next to him on the over large couch. She rolled her eyes.
“What bee is in your bonnet now, Ari?”
The tall woman froze. “Oly, really. Where the hell do you get those sayings?
And I’ll tell you what freaking bees are in my bonnet! Molly Weasley and Oliver
Wood! That what!”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
Ariadne gritted her teeth and continued pacing. “Oliver flipping Wood, idiot
child that he is, won’t leave me alone. He seems to think that I need
comforting because Harry won’t fuck me! What the hell is he thinking!
Apparently, someone told Molly that Harry will, because she sent me a howler
that went on for at least ten minutes about the evils of taking advantage a boy
in such need of affection and so on and so forth forever and ever. In fact, she
even sent a newspaper article about it. Heading: Boy-Who-Lived-To-Date-Older-
Women. Why does everyone think Harry and I are a couple?!? This is getting
fucking annoying!”
Olympia grinned wickedly. “Ari, what you need to do is prove that you are not
dating Harry.”
“How?” Ariadne stilled, staring at her friend.
“By showing everyone that you are dating someone else.”
Ariadne flopped into the chair across from them. “But I’m not, so how the hell
will I do that?”
Olympia trained a smirking eye on Severus. “Easy. You find someone willing to
help you out and pretend to be a couple. Be seen out somewhere. Like Hogsmeade.
Maybe on the same day that Harry is going with that Chang girl.”
The blonde sighed. “Who though? Who would do that for me?”
Severus glared at Olympia with death in his eyes. She smiled brightly and
ignored his threat. “I am sure Severus will help you, won’t you Severus?”
Closing his eyes briefly for strength, he replied. “Of course, I’d help you. If
you need. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He stood.
Ariadne leapt to her feet and flung herself at him. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you!
Thank you! Severus, you are my hero! You saved me from the press! And probably
a whole lot of nasty mail that is currently being re-routed to the house in
Salem, and charring our front door.”
Severus stiffened, but returned her embrace shortly. Pulling back, he retreated
from the room hastily. Ariadne turned on her sister. “I am going to kill you
for setting us up like that, Oly!” So saying she drew her wand and muttered
something in Latin.
Olympia shrieked and jumped over the back of the couch, the spell missing her
by inches. The furniture however wasn’t so lucky. It began to dance frantically
and sing opera. Laughing and dodging more spells, Olympia hightailed it out of
there.
##########
Lunch was a quiet affair for the most part. Hushed conversations blanketed the
table. Harry was peppering Dumbledore, who was seated to his left, and Charlie
on the other side of the headmaster, for any information about Sirius’ arrival.
Severus was the only one who noticed the barn owl fly in the upper window. It
landed on Harry’s head and dropped a letter onto his plate.
Ariadne did a quick check and found nothing amiss. Shaking his head to dislodge
the owl, which relocated to the table, Harry grabbed the letter and unrolled
it. It was from Cho. “Professor Dumbledore, I don’t have anything scheduled for
Saturday…er…tomorrow afternoon, do I?”
The old man twinkled. “Not that I know of, Harry. Why do you ask?”
Harry blushed and, after ripping a corner off the parchment, tucked the letter
into his pocket. “Oh, no reason. I just thought I might go into Hogsmeade for
lunch is all.”
Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy’s inability to lie, when it would benefit
himself. Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at the owl. She recognized it
from somewhere. Harry scribbled something with a ballpoint that he had in his
shirt pocket, and gave it to the owl. Sending the bird off after feeding it
some blood pudding, he watched it fly with a grin on his face. The fates were
smiling on him, finally. He would meet Cho tomorrow for lunch at the Three
Broomsticks. It was a safe place to meet, not too secluded but not too public
since it was summer holidays and none of the students would be in town. Harry
decided that that evening he would go talk to Ariadne: ask her what she thought
was alright to tell Cho and what he should wear.
Further up the table, Isoko was deep in conversation with Bill Weasley. “What
exactly are you doing to bolster the castle’s defenses? I mean, spells? Booby-
Traps?”
“Well, I was planning on pouring some power into the existing wards, but I need
new spells to add to the gates and fences. I was also planning on adding wards
to the edges of the Forest, just in case. I am not sure which spells to use
yet. I need to do some research for that.”
“Research? I love research. I could help you if you need. And if you want I
could also take you to the library at Salem Academy, which had extensive
material on defensive warding, if I am remembering correctly.”
“Thanks! That would be excellent. I could always use a hand. It’s not like any
of my brothers would be willing.” He muttered the last, glancing down the table
to where Charlie was talking animatedly to both Dumbledore and Olympia.
At the mention of his brothers, Aurelia looked up. “How are the Twins, by the
way, Bill? I was supposed to get an owl from Fred yesterday and it never
arrived.”
Bill grinned and Isoko hid a smile behind her napkin. “That’s Fred for you.
He’ll probably show up tomorrow with a bouquet of roses in his hands and sweet
nothing on his lips.”
Aurelia blushed. “Oh. No, it was just about one of their products. He wanted my
opinion on the results of adding…Well, you probably don’t care anyway. It was
just a business question.”
“All the more reason. He finally found someone to talk shop with besides
George. No one else will go near them. Everybody’s afraid of becoming a
tester.”
Aurelia grinned at that. “Oh, that’s no problem. I told them if they tested any
products out on me, I would purposely find a way to curse the entire
establishment, so they would never get another customer.”
“And they believed you?” Bill raised an eyebrow.
Isoko snorted. “I hope they did, because she can. And I know just the spell
that would do it. A favorite of Ariadne’s. I think she used it on That Guy.”
Aurelia laughed. “I remember That Guy! Doesn’t he now own that odd little store
in London?”
“Wyrd Goods. Yeah, that’s him. She was just in there the other day. She went to
talk to him about something or other. Came back all pleased with herself and
with a bag full of new clothes.”
Aurelia furrowed her brow. “Wait, when did she start speaking to him again? Are
we allowed to call him Trent again? Or is he still That Guy?”
Isoko glanced up the table, checking to make sure Ariadne wasn’t listening. She
noticed instead that Severus turned away quickly when she looked in his
direction. She’d talk to the High Priestess about it later. “I still don’t
think she calls him by name. I wonder if he answers to That Guy. I mean he used
to the few days he hung around after the Thing.”
The two chuckled and turned the conversation back to the original topic, seeing
Bill looking perplexed.
Back at the other end of the table, Harry was practically bouncing in his seat
with nervous energy. His attempts at holding a coherent conversation about
classes with Hermione were failing miserably. By the end of the meal, everyone
was ignoring him because of his lack of focus. Finally, Ariadne took pity on
him.
Smiling indulgently, she asked, “Harry, love, would you like to go a round in
the practice ring with me? You can work off some of that energy and I can see
how much you’re practicing.”
Harry grinned broadly. “That would be excellent!”
Hermione hmphed, muttering about the library. Rising, she excused herself and
left. Harry looked after her, completely confused. “I guess she must really
want to work on my family’s genealogy…”
Ariadne looked incredulous, but kept her comments to herself. Boys would never
learn, so why bother? Severus, however, bothered. “Potter, you are as oblivious
to the world around you as you ever were. One would assume that Hogwarts would
have taught you something, but clearly not.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “It did teach me stuff! I—“
“Obviously, it did not teach you to read the emotions of your fellows. Ms.
Granger is not pleased with you and you do not seem to understand that.”
Severus raised an eyebrow.
Harry frowned. “Why would Hermione be cross with me?”
Severus threw up his hands in surrender. Ariadne laughed, “You shouldn’t have
even bothered, Severus. Young boys never see what’s in front of them.”
The raven-haired man sniffed. “I beg to differ. When I was his age, I was most
certainly more observant than Potter is.”
“No. You really weren’t, Snivellus! You might even have been more obtuse.” A
voice echoed down the Hall, as the big double doors burst open.
Severus made to rise but a gentle hand on his arm kept him in his seat. “Black,
obnoxious and bothersome as always. The dragon riders couldn’t knock some
manners into you? Pity.”
“Severus,” Ariadne cautioned, warning clear in her tone. “Play nice with the
dog-man.”
Harry gaped at her. Severus turned to look at her, his eyes widened marginally.
She rose to her feet, a grin spread across her mouth. “That goes the same for
you, dog-man. Play nice!”
Sirius, who had been striding confidently toward the high table, froze. “Ari?”
He said, awed.
She vaulted the table and ran to meet him. Everyone at the staff table looked
on in confusion and shock. When she reached him, Sirius swept her up into a hug
and spun her around. “Little Ari,” He laughed. “I haven’t seen you in decades!”
Setting her down, he grinned. “The last time I saw you, you didn’t even come up
to my waist. Now just look at you! You’re a woman now, and a damn fine looking
one.”
Ariadne laughed and spun for him, showing off. Grabbing his hand, she dragged
him forward. “Thanks, Dog-Man. Come, meet my sisters!”
Sirius looked confused. “But Ari, Mama Aureus never had any other children.”
“Oh!” She stopped and turned, her eyes wide. “I’d forgotten.”
He met her gaze for a brief moment, before looking away. “Don’t pity me, Ari. I
don’t want it.”
“I’m so sorry, Siri. I would’ve written you, but I didn’t think they’d allow
it. I always knew you didn’t do it. Always.”
“We lost touch before that, Ari. Around the time you went away to school.”
Ariadne shook her head. “Siri, I have so much to tell you, but come meet my
coven. My sisters. And I am sure Harry is waiting to greet you.”
Immediately, Sirius’ eyes snapped to the high table searching for his godson.
His gaze passed over Snape, landing on Harry. His jaw dropped open. “What the
hell…” He half whispered, eyes flicking from the potion’s master to his godson
and back again.
Ariadne tugged him along. When they reached the table, he stopped in front of
the headmaster. “Dumbledore,” he snarled, eyes still on the raven-haired pair
at the end of the table. “You have a fuck load of explaining to do. And don’t
give me any of your Yoda shit.” He adopted a strange accent. “All in good, my
cricket, then all will be revealed!” He gagged.
Harry and Ariadne burst into laughter. The rest of the Coven chuckled merrily,
but Severus just sneered. Ariadne turned to him and, choking back laughter,
with a fake British accent, said, “Clearly, you are not amused!”
Severus just looked at her, until she looked away. “Siri, These are my Coven.
The Summer Coven. Olympia, Ekantika, Isoko, Aurelia, and I.” She smirked. “I
got all my sisters with me. We’re going to be working here for the coming
year.”
This drew Sirius’ gaze back to her. He smiled briefly. “Excellent! We’ll have
plenty of time to catch up.” He looked at the girls that she had indicated,
nodding to each one. When his eyes fell on Olympia, however, he stopped.
Meeting her gaze, he seemed stunned, but managed a crooked half-smile for her.
Dumbledore broke moment, saying, “Shall we adjourn to my office so as to
explain to Mr. Black just what is going on?”
Severus released a long-suffering sigh and rose. The others, including a wary
Remus who had remained silent throughout the exchange, followed suite and made
to exit, leaving a confused Charlie and Bill sitting there wondering what had
just happened.
***** Of Yearning *****

Author's notes: heh.
===============================================================================
Remember, faithful Reader, reviews are the life’s blood of a ficer.
Hope you enjoy!
Last Chapter…
This drew Sirius’ gaze back to her. He smiled briefly. “Excellent! We’ll have
plenty of time to catch up.” He looked at the girls that she had indicated,
nodding to each one. When his eyes fell on Olympia, however, he stopped.
Meeting her gaze, he seemed stunned, but managed a crooked half-smile for her.
Dumbledore broke moment, but saying, “Shall we adjourn to my office so as to
explain to Mr. Black just what is going on?”
Severus released a long-suffering sigh and rose. The others, including a wary
Remus who had remained silent throughout the exchange, followed suite and made
to exit, leaving a confused Charlie and Bill sitting there wondering what had
just happened.
Chapter 28 – Of Yearning
Twenty minutes later found Sirius pacing urgently back and forth across
Dumbledore’s carpet. “I simply refuse to believe that. No! It is not possible.”
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation. “Obviously, Black, it is
possible. The family resemblance is obvious to anyone with eyes. Harry is my
son, no relation to James Potter.”
Ariadne laid a supportive hand on Severus’ shoulder. “Siri, how can you deny
the evidence that is right before your eyes?”
Sirius turned on her, his teeth flashing in a snarl. “Whose side are you on,
anyway? You’ve known me a lot longer then him.” He gestured to Snape.
“Sirius Orion Black! This is not about sides and you know that very well!” She
glared at him. “I am on the side of Truth if I must pick a side. Severus is
telling the truth. You are being blinded by old hatred and old prejudice.”
“Ariadne, you will never understand. You never went to Hogwarts; you never saw
what the Slytherins were capable of. What the Death Eaters were capable of! And
that sniveling little shit is a Death Eater.”
“Sirius, open your eyes! I know what Death Eaters are capable of a lot better
then you do. You had nothing to do with my life after I turned 14 so do not
presume to tell me what I do and do not know. Severus is a good man. And if you
had taken the time to notice, to take stock of the situation, instead of rashly
and arrogantly rushing to a decision, you would have noticed that Remus
recognizes truth when he sees it!”
“Black, I am no longer a Death Eater, spy or otherwise. My son has removed that
burden from me.” The potion’s master carefully avoided meeting anyone’s eye,
especially Harry’s, when he said this. Pulling up his left sleeve, he bared his
unmarred left forearm for Sirius’ inspection.
He stared for several minutes, before the hate filled his eyes again. “So now
you’re useless as well as evil!”
“Sirius, that’s enough.” Harry said softly, but firmly. All eyes turned to him.
“You don’t like Severus. Alright, we get that. But you cannot ignore the truth
of the history simply because you hate him. Lily and James Potter were never in
love and never had a child together. Severus Snape and Lily Potter were in love
and did have a child together. End. Of. Story.”
Sirius stared at Harry for several long minutes, before slamming out of the
office. Remus stood to go after him, but Olympia beat him to the door. “I think
he needs someone not connected to all of this.” She said, before disappearing
down the staircase.
Ariadne sighed, her eyes still on the staircase. Severus examined her
expression carefully for a brief moment. “I regret that this has interfered
with your relationship and reunion with Black.”
She turned her gaze to him. “I haven’t seen Sirius since I was a first year at
Salem Academy.”
“How did you meet him?” Harry asked, leaning forward in his chair.
Ariadne took a seat on the arm of Severus’ chair. “Well, as the headmaster no
doubt remembers, my aunt attended Hogwarts at that same time as Lily and the
Marauders. She was a year or two older then they were, which is, I know, very
close to my own age, but that’s just how my grandparents were. They didn’t
believe in contraception. Old fashioned like that. Anyway, nothing so trivial
as an age gap ever stopped Sirius Black in a conquest. My aunt, Enora, was a
conquest. They dated for several months, a long time by Sirius’ standards. It
lasted into the summer and he came over several times to visit. I was only a
little girl at the time. There’s six years between me and Enora. I was only 8
when they dated. He took a liking to me, I guess, treated me like the little
sister he never had. He stayed on friendly terms with Enora and visited us over
the years. But by the time I turned 13 and was selected by Dumbles here to join
the Coven, he had stopped visiting. Probably because of all the trouble over
here, but I didn’t know it at the time. I was heartbroken that my foster
brother stopped visiting me. Then I heard about the arrest. That was the last I
heard about him, until the breakout. I always knew he was innocent.”
Aurelia was eyeing her critically. “Sounds like you held a flame for our dear
Mr. Black.”
Ariadne looked disgusted at the very idea. “Aurelia, that’s gross.” Severus’
rigged postured loosened slightly and Harry grinned. “That would be like you
having a crush on Scotty. Not ok, Lia, not ok. And it’s Lord Black, actually.”
Aurelia made a gagging noise. “Leave my brother out of this, please. Thanks.”
The High Priestess chuckled. “Come on, Harry, you owe me a bout.”
Harry nodded and rose. He was nearly vibrating with repressed tension now. His
nervousness at his upcoming date with Cho warred with worry about Sirius and
his reaction and the general tension of the group didn’t help. Ariadne seemed
now to need the exercise as well. When they reached the portrait to Coven
Tower, she bit off the password. Harry prayed silently to whoever was listening
that Sirius and Olympia would not be inside. His godfather needed time to cool
off. Only then would Harry have any chance of explaining things to him.
Over the next couple hours, Harry tried to put up a good fight, if only to help
Ariadne work off some of her anxiety. They sparred on and off until about an
half hour before dinner. Sitting on the floor doing stretches, the two remained
silent for several minutes.
Harry then broke the stillness, “Ari, I was wondering. Could I ask you a
question?”
She chuckled quietly. “You just did. Go ahead.”
He raised an eyebrow then shook his head. “How much should I tell Cho? What
would endanger her and what would endanger us?”
Her forehead wrinkled as she sat thinking. “I really think it’s how much you
trust her and what you are willing to tell, what you’re comfortable with. If
you tell her about Severus, you have to know for certain that she won’t breath
a word to anyone. That would endanger everyone. She seemed nice enough and I
know she liked you very much. I heard you almost dated last year.”
Harry grimaced and told her a shortened version of the ‘almost date’. “It
really wasn’t much of anything. But we’ve kinda been dancing about each other
since my fourth year. Maybe I should tell her that I will tell her when we are
more comfortable with each other and when I’ve fully processed the
information.”
She looked at him, slightly surprised. “Harry, that is a very reasonable
explanation and shouldn’t offend her or imply you don’t trust her.”
Harry smiled and they spent the remaining time until dinner chatting about
clothes.
Everyone had settled down to eat by the time Olympia and Sirius joined them.
The inky-haired Marauder headed straight to Harry. “Prongslet…” He stopped,
looking confused.
“You can still call me that, Sirius. I will always be a Junior Marauder by way
of you and Remus.” Harry murmured quietly, watching the nervous man.
Sirius seemed to relax. Their relationship hadn’t changed any, even though
Harry now had a real father. A living, breathing parent. That didn’t mean he
didn’t need Sirius anymore. “Good. Well, Prongslet, I missed saying hullo to
you this afternoon…Wait! How did you even come to be staying at the castle and
why didn’t anybody tell me?”
Ariadne, who was sitting on Harry’s left, shifted her chair over and conjured a
new one. “Sit down, Sirius, and we will tell you.”
Sirius looked at her for a moment, then sat. Her sharp look stated in no
uncertain terms that she was still very much displeased with him and his
behavior, even if Harry had forgiven him. Severus watched the interchange very
carefully. The explanation of what had gone on this summer (had it really only
been a few weeks since Harry and Hermione had arrived at the castle?) lasted
through dinner. Once the meal had ended, Dumbledore stood and gracefully
circled the table.
Everyone quieted to watch the headmaster. “I hate to seem so formal with so few
of us here, but I feel the need to announce that the faculty should start
arriving in two days time. Be prepared for questions. A student has not stayed
on the grounds during the summer holidays, to the general staff’s knowledge,
since Dilys Derwent was headmistress here in the 18th century. I was told that
she kept several apprentices on hand, taken directly from a pool of lower
years.”
Hermione furrowed her brow. “The general staff’s knowledge, sir?”
Severus directed a sharp glance and a nod at her. The headmaster raised an
eyebrow. “Always the most observant, Ms. Granger. Yes, Hagrid, as a student,
remained here one summer. As did several children with Sirius’ most illustrious
grandsire, Phineas. That, however, is not a time in Hogwarts’ history that
anyone speaks of. Several of those children became…disturbed as they reached
adulthood and others simply disappeared.”
Sirius sneered. “Yes, Phineas was just a lovely person, perverted disgusting
sick old sod.”
“Yes, well. Also I would like to schedule a trip to Diagon Alley in the very
near future. Next Tuesday seems like an ideal time, if it is agreeable to
everyone currently present? The Coven and several order members will act as
guard, yes?”
Ariadne nodded, saying. “So our duty commands.”
Sirius shot her a confused looked, but she ignored it. Dumbledore nodded.
“Good. It’s all settled then.”
With that, he turned and left the Hall. The others slowly trickled out.
Hermione and Harry were arguing as they left.
“Harry! What was in that letter? I know I recognized the owl from somewhere…”
“Hermione, just leave it! I told you already. It was nothing that mattered!”
“But Harry, what if it puts you in danger? You need to tell someone! Talk to me
and we can figure out whether it’s dangerous or not together.”
“Hermione! I already talked to Ariadne about it. It’s nothing. I am just having
lunch in Hogsmeade with someone.”
“Who is it? I’ll come along and then we…” She looked at his face then.
“Alright, Harry. I’ll just…I’ll stay here. If you don’t want me to know…” She
seemed hurt, averting her eyes.
Harry sighed. “Hermione, It’s only…I’m meeting Cho, okay? I didn’t want to
upset you. I know you and…” he stopped and swallowed hard. “I know you didn’t
like her and that friend of hers after last year.”
She opened her mouth angrily. He rushed on before she could speak. “Which is
perfectly understandable! I wasn’t too happy with either of them myself, but
she doesn’t speak with Marietta, I think it was, anymore. She doesn’t even know
or care whether she got her face taken care of. She admired your spell
actually.” He crossed his fingers behind his back and smiled at her
reassuringly. “I talked to Ariadne and she met Cho and she says it’s fine if I
tell her a little of what’s going on. I kind of have to because I did a spell
in front of her and terrified her. She was worried sick I would get expelled. I
kind of owe her an explanation.”
She stared at him for a couple seconds, then sighed. “Alright, Harry. I see why
you didn’t want to tell me, but I want you to know that you never have to worry
about my reaction again. It hurts that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I
will support you in whatever you do, even if I don’t agree with it. I still
feel bad about the firebolt thing, but I honestly thought you could have gotten
really hurt. I am sorry, Harry. I’ll do better from now on.”
Harry just stared at her. “Hermione, I was going to tell you when I came back.
I didn’t want you to worry and freak yourself out because you were worried
about Marietta. In hindsight, you were completely right about the firebolt
thing. It really could have been cursed. I am sorry we treated you so badly. I
trust you completely, Herm. Don’t think otherwise!”
Hermione gave him a watery smile and he hugged her, rubbing soothing circles in
her back. They walked to the dorm, her arm around his waist and his hand
rubbing her back.
##########
Elsewhere in the castle, Ariadne was getting the third degree from Sirius.
“Sirius! If you will stop peppering me with so many questions, maybe then I can
answer them!”
She had thrown her hands up in exasperation. The coven was arrayed around the
common room in their Tower. Severus sat talking quietly with Olympia, both
using the conversation as a cover-up for their eavesdropping.
“Well, Ari! Speak! What did you mean when you said that thing about duty to
Dumbledore?” Sirius was frowning.
“It’s all part of the job description. Dumbledore trained my Coven to
assassinate Death Eaters who strayed from the British Isles and France.
Anywhere else and we were sent to kill them. He called us out of…well, out of
retirement? I guess you could say, back to active service for the Order. We
were inducted a few days ago.”
Sirius sat staring at her for several long minutes. “You kill people? You’re a
murderer? Like a trained murderer? What the hell happened to my innocent little
Aria?”
Severus stiffened, as did the woman at his side. He watched Ariadne’s back go
rigid. “If that is how you wish to see, Sirius, then yes. I am a murderer.”
The two eavesdroppers rose immediately. Olympia moved to stand in front of the
animagus, blocking the high priestess from his view. Severus went to Ariadne.
She had crossed her arms over her chest and she stood facing the fireplace. The
raven-haired man placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her into his
embrace, shooting a death glare at the mutt. “Ariadne, what have I told you
before? Black, even if he is your friend, is ignorant and uncaring. He speaks
without thinking. Acts with no thought of consequences or affects. You are not
a murderer! You never have been and you never will be. You are a good woman.”
His voice was a very low murmur in her ear.
A moment passed before he felt her relax. Pulling back enough so he could see
her face, he noticed a tear caught in her eyelashes. She stared up at him,
trust and gratitude in her eyes. He reached up with one long elegant finger and
caught the wetness on its tip. He flicked the tear away and offered her a small
smile.
There was no such tenderness on the other side of the room, however. Olympia
stood, her feet spread wide and her hands on her hips. “How dare you use such a
horrible word to describe any of us! Sirius Black, you are an inconsiderate
bastard! Did you even stop to think what calling her that would do to her? She
respects you! Looks up to you since she was a child and you just called her a
murderer! Don’t you remember how it felt when people called you that?!?”
Sirius looked startled. “But I never actually killed anyone!”
“Never? Not once in fighting the Dark Lord did you take life? You never killed
a Death Eater who was trying to kill you or someone you loved?”
“Well, of course I did! We were at war! But—“
“No buts!! We were trained to stop Death Eaters. All of us, Every woman in this
room right now as taken the life of at least a dozen Death Eaters. They
threatened our lives, our families, our very world by simply existing and being
allowed to continue on as they were. We all, but Ariadne most of all as our
High Priestess, saved countless lives! We stopped overseas recruitment in its
tracks. Voldemort was not able to make any diplomatic missions to anywhere out
side the British Isles. We stopped his sickness from spreading across the
world. Given the choice I would do the exact same again! In fact, if Dumbledore
wished us to pick up our weapons and fight again, I would do so gladly, knowing
that I was saving lives! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
Sirius watched her as she spoke, understanding seeping into his eyes. “I’m
sorry.” He rose and took a couple steps toward Ariadne, shocked by the…domestic
picture she and Snape painted. “Ariadne, I am so sorry. I have acted horribly
since I arrived and I really don’t know what’s gotten into me. I am sorry. You
aren’t a murderer. None of you are!” He turned to address the Coven. “You are
all heroes! I am so sorry for not understanding. And I thank you for all you
did for the Order and for our world.” He ducked his head and turned to leave.
Ariadne opened her mouth and said in a very small voice, “Thank you, Siri.”
He flashed her a pained grin over his shoulder and left.
##########
Surprisingly, Harry woke up late the next day, probably due to the intense
training session of the day before. He missed breakfast altogether and rushed
his shower to make it to the morning session on time. Ariadne and Severus were
seated already, talking quietly, but Dumbledore had not yet arrived. Harry
thought this was odd, but refrained from commenting. He took a seat next to his
father and caught his breath.
“You are late.” Severus raised an eyebrow.
Harry looked at him incredulously. “Yeah, but so is Dumbledore.”
Ariadne grinned. “He has a point. It isn’t really late if the teacher isn’t
there yet.” Severus rolled his eyes, but remained silent. Ariadne looked back
at Harry. “Harry, is it alright, if we walk down to the village with you?
Severus and I are having lunch at that ghastly tea shop today.”
Severus’ glower darkened. Harry gaped. “Madame Puddifoot’s? Why in Merlin’s
name would you want to go there?!? It’s horrible!”
“I know, love, but we have to play it up for the newspapers.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “Why? What’s in the news? What is the Prophet lying
about now?”
“Well, that disgusting Skeeter woman is saying that…ah…well that we’re
fucking.”
Severus looked at her sharply. “Ariadne!”
She raised a brow. “What? It’s not like he’s never heard the word before!”
“SHE IS SAYING WHAT!!!” Harry bellowed, when he actually managed to register
what he’d heard.
“I know. It’s ridiculous! But—“
“Well, yeah, but besides that. Are you positive it’s Skeeter?” Harry leaned
forward in his chair.
“Yes. I think so. It is, isn’t it, Severus?”
He nodded, scowling. Harry leapt to his feet and ran out, calling, “Tell
Dumbledore I’ll be right back!”
Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry hightailed it to the library.
“HERMIONE!!!” He hollered as he entered.
A hissing voice called, “Harry! This is a library! And shouldn’t you be in your
lesson?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not important now. Have you been reading the paper? Or
any of the magazines?” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Actually, no, I—“ She seemed embarrassed.
“Skeeter’s at it again!”
“What?” She wrinkled her brow.
“She is printing that Ariadne and I are…well, involved, if you know what I
mean.”
Hermione’s eyes widened comically. “Well!” Then she frowned. “That simply won’t
do. I will contact her immediately. Even if she registers as an animagus, we
have proof that she’d been doing any number of illegal things, not that she
would, mind, but still… I will contact her today, in fact.”
“Thanks, Herm. You’re wonderful!” He gave her a quick hug that left her dazed
and rushed back out to his lesson.
Bursting once again into Dumbledore’s office, this time to find everyone
present, he exclaimed, “You two don’t have to go to Torture Central anymore!
It’s all taken care of. The stories will be retracted. Although it still might
be a good idea to be seen in the village together in the mean time.”
Severus and Ariadne gaped at him (well, Ariadne gaped, Severus just stared with
widened eyes, as he doesn’t really gape…). Dumbledore just twinkled madly, a
proud smile on his lips. “Well done, Harry. Now, shall we begin our wandless
magic lesson for the week? Ariadne tells me that you are ready to begin real
magic lessons again.”
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully and, all to soon for Harry, it was
time for him to head to the village. It was a lovely day and Harry, Severus,
and Ariadne chatted lightly as they walked. When Harry reached the door to the
Three Broomsticks, he stopped and took a deep breath. Waving to his two
companions, he entered the pub. Cho was sitting at table-for-two by the window.
The sun glittered on her inky hair and her dark eyes were wistful as she gazed
at the street. Harry glanced at his watch and realized he was late. With a
sigh, he went swiftly to join her.
“Cho, I am so sorry I’m late. My morning lesson ran over and I was talking to
Severus and Ari as we walked. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He
offered her an apologetic smile and sat.
She turned newly sparkling eyes on him and smiled in return. “Oh, it’s no
problem, Harry. I haven’t been here that long anyway. I…Wait, did you say
‘Severus’?”
Harry nodded and leaned forward onto his elbows. “He has been much nicer to me
this summer. We get along pretty well now. He is giving me extra potion’s
lessons to help me into his NEWT class. I want to be an Aura and I can’t
without it.”
“He’s been…I am confused.” Her delicate nose wrinkled slightly and Harry
grinned at her. She looks adorable like that, he thought ruefully.
“That’s part of my explanation. Some of it, I can’t tell you, for several
reasons. The most prominent being that it might be dangerous for you and the
most personal being that I really don’t think I am comfortable enough to talk
about it right now to anyone.”
Cho looked for a moment like she wanted to protest, but then she nodded and
smiled softly at him. “I am willing to listen to whatever and however much you
wish to share with me, Harry. I’m honored that you trust me enough to tell me
anything.”
For the next couple hours, Harry explained what had been happening that summer,
excluding any mention of parentage or parenting and any indication of his true
power levels. He wasn’t comfortable being the odd one out yet again and he
didn’t want to scare her. He answered the few questions she sought to pose and
their conversation passed on to other topics. Finally, as the sun was beginning
to dip down in the sky, Harry realized the dinner hour at the castle was
approaching and people would be looking for him.
“Cho, are you sure you’re okay with all this?” He said as he paid the tab and
left a tip on the table. He was worried about the way she had taken the
prophecy: without much reaction. He followed her out of the pub and they
strolled down Main Street toward the castle.
“Harry, everything is fine between us.”
“But, I mean. I have to kill him. That doesn’t…weird you out at all?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Harry, everyone knows that it’s going to end up
being you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The prophecy was just real proof of it.
I still respect you and like you a lot. I honestly don’t care if you kill him.
You are a good person, Harry Potter, and nothing will change that. This just
proves what a hero you are. You’re going to save us all, risking yourself in
the process. I truly admire you for that.”
Harry was stunned and, for a moment, completely speechless. “I…Thank you, Cho.
You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“You’re welcome, Harry.”
“Cho…”
She smiled encouragingly at him. “Cho, I really like you too. And if, ah, if
you want, I’d…I’d like to try again with you.”
“Oh, Harry! I’d like that very much. I was hoping you would ask me.”
Harry grinned broadly at her and took her hand hesitantly. They walked back
toward the castle hand in hand.
At the gates, Harry leaned in slowly, shyly, and placed a brief kiss on Cho’s
mouth. She smiled at him, when he pulled back, and leaned up to kiss him again.
A several minutes later, Harry, flushed and grinning and with the promise of a
real date next weekend, watched as Cho headed back to the village.
He felt good with Cho now, whereas last year he’d been a nervous wreck. She
turned and waved one last time. He waved back. Life was finally going his way.
***** Of Yesteryears *****

Author's notes: yep
===============================================================================
I just wanted to warn you. I am not going to try awfully hard to do any crazy
accents in this story. I am horrible at trying to write them (as you’ve seen
from Dobby) and it’s just distracting from the actually story if I do. I’ll
probably limit myself to the omission of the letter H. So here’s the heads up.
And don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Also, please review. Flames are welcome. Thanks!
Hope you like it.
Last Chapter…
She smiled encouragingly at him. “Cho, I really like you too. And if, ah, if
you want, I’d…I’d like to try again with you.”
“Oh, Harry! I’d like that very much. I was hoping you would ask me.”
Harry grinned broadly at her and took her hand hesitantly. The walked back
toward the castle hand in hand.
At the gates, Harry leaned in slowly, shyly, and placed a brief kiss on Cho’s
mouth. She smiled at him, when he pulled back, and leaned up to kiss him again.
A several minutes later, Harry, flushed and grinning and with the promise of a
real date next weekend, watched as Cho headed back to the village.
He felt good with Cho now, whereas last year he’d been a nervous wreck. She
turned and waved one last time. He waved back. Life was finally going his way.
Chapter 29 – Of Yesteryears
Earlier that afternoon, most of the Coven had met with McGonagall for tea. The
sitting room of the older teacher’s quarters was interesting, to say the least.
The couches were all done up in plaid, which Minerva proudly explained was her
family tartan. Dark green carpeting and half-drawn curtains darkened the room
sufficiently so that Ekantika, who had been wearing sunglasses for her work in
the garden, shed them. When the girls entered, Aurelia noted the tall, inky-
haired woman standing by the far window.
Ariadne was speaking to Minerva. “Professor McGonagall, I—“
“Please, dear, call me Minerva. We will be colleagues after all.” The older
woman smiled.
“Thank you, Minerva. And please, call me Ari or Ariadne, whichever you prefer.
I must apologize though. Olympia couldn’t make it today. She was commandeered
by a very harried-looking Sirius Black. I don’t like Siri took the news of our
former profession very well. She wanted to make sure he understood.”
Minerva nodded knowingly. “Come in and sit down. I’d like you all to meet our
Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra. Aurora, this is the Summer Coven.”
Introduction went around as the head of Gryffindor explained what everyone was
teaching as she passed out cups of tea.
The six women passed the next few hours in companionable chatter, getting to
know one another and the atmosphere of the castle. Just as the coven was
preparing to take their leave, however, Aurora said something that caught
Ariadne’s ear. “I was teaching here when Sirius Black was a student. He
certainly is…entertaining, if nothing else.”
Ariadne turned to the woman. “Really? When did you begin teaching here? Did you
go to school here?”
Sinistra smiled. “Yes, I did. I began teaching right around the time Black
started school. I had been traveling before that. I went here right around the
time that Hagrid was here.”
Ariadne smiled. “Oh! Well, it must be very nice having an old schoolmate on the
grounds all the time. Sometime soon, you must tell me all about your traveling!
I love to travel myself. But I really have to go. I must speak with Hermione
about something.”
“You call the students by their first names?” There was a hint of reproach in
her tone.
“Just Hermione, Harry, and Cho. I mean, it would be kind of silly to have them
call me Ari and to address them so formally, wouldn’t it?” Ariadne smiled
sweetly.
Sinistra eyed her warily, but nodded. Ariadne thought, she is no doubt
wondering if the newspapers were right. I should nip this in the bud. “Well,
Hermione is waiting for me and I am meeting Sev later on this afternoon.”
“Sev?!? Meaning Severus Snape?” Sinistra was shocked.
“Yea, of course, who else would I mean?”
Aurora was flustered. “Well, I just, I’ve never heard him referred to…quite
like that.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t like that you’d heard it at all. I’m pretty sure I’m the
only who calls him that. We had lunch together in Hogsmeade today and I have
something I needed to return to him that I forgot about earlier. He left it in
my rooms last evening.” Ariadne grinned and waved as she left, saying her
goodbyes to Minerva as well.
In the hallway, Isoko and Aurelia cornered her. “Ariadne! Severus was not in
your quarters last night at all!”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, he wasn’t, but I know she was wondering about
those newspaper articles and I had to do something! But I really do have to go
ask Hermione something. I will see you guys at dinner.” She waved as she made
her way down the hall and disappeared around the corner.
 
###############
 
Ariadne was waiting for him when Harry arrived back at the castle. “Alright,
one: you are going to tell me everything about how it went. And two: Hermione
found some interesting information about your family history.”
Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. “Cho and I are dating now. And everything
went fine. She took the whole thing much more calmly then I thought she would.
She’s even ok with the prophecy. I made sure she knew not to breathe a word of
it to anyone.”
Ariadne grinned back. “Good, Good, and Good. Now come on. Hermione wanted to
tell you herself.”
Harry rolled his eyes again and followed Ariadne to the library. He smiled
softly, upon catching sight of Hermione. She was bent over a book and a pile of
notes. Her quill was between her teeth and she worried at it. Her eyes were
riveted and sparkled. The late-afternoon sun poured in the window and splashed
over her hair. It glinted auburn and honey in the light. Her cheeks were
flushed with excitement.
“Hi, Herm.” Harry called, waving.
She looked up and jumped to her feet. “Oh! Harry! You will not believe what
I’ve found!”
“Probably not. Let’s sit back down and you can tell me all about it, okay?” He
grinned and the three sat.
However, Ariadne stood again, immediately. “Harry, I should go get Severus. He
should know what Hermione found. Don’t start until I get back!”
She ran lightly out of the room, leaving the two teens staring at one another
from across the table. Hermione smiled sheepishly and asked, “How did Cho take
everything?” Her voice was slightly strained upon the pronunciation of the
Ravenclaw’s name.
Harry grinned broadly. “Everything went really well. Cho was very supportive
and understanding. She was really good about the Prophecy. We…um, we’re dating
now.”
Hermione’s smile was forced, but Harry didn’t seem to notice. He stared out the
window for a moment. “Really? Well, congratulations, Harry. I know you’ve liked
her for a really long time. You guys make a really cute couple.”
“Thanks, Herm. I knew you’d be happy for me. Something is finally going right.
She even was really good about all the stuff in the papers about Ariadne and
me.”
Hermione brightened. “Speaking of that. I put in a firecall to Skeeter. She was
most…receptive to what I had to say. She will be issuing a retraction within
the next week. She wanted something to replace it with, either about you or
about who Ariadne was. I told her that all that she would get was basic info,
but if she wanted something to go to Hogsmeade today. She was forbidden from
taking your picture or writing about whatever happened today.”
“Thanks, Hermione. You’re amazing. Ariadne and my father might be a little put
out by that, but—“
“What pray tell would we be put out by?” A cold voice came from the library’s
doorway and Harry jumped.
He blushed slightly and turned his gaze to the Potion’s Master. “Uh…”
Hermione spoke up. “Well, Sir. I think that there will be a special about you
and Ariadne in the next edition of the Prophet. Someone might have let it slip
to Rita Skeeter that Ariadne had a significant other, who wasn’t boy wonder
here. They may have told her that you two would be roaming around Hogsmeade
today. But of course, I only speculate.” She endeavored to look innocent and
only partly succeeded.
“Ms. Granger, simply because it is summer holidays does not mean that you are
free to do as you like. Being my son’s best friend will not prevent me from
giving you a year’s worth of detentions, when classes begin, if I find any
evidence that you have fed that disgusting woman, and I use the term loosely,
any information about either Ariadne or myself.”
Hermione blanched. Harry rolled his eyes. “Severus, there are no rules at
Hogwarts against feeding information about anyone to the press. Believe me I
looked it up after everything that happened last year and the year before. You
cannot according to school policy give her any detentions for that. Also,
according to school policy, if such a rule were to be implemented, she would be
exempt from punishment, due to the time in which the incident occurred, if it
occurred at all, being both before the rule was put in place and outside the
duration of the school year.”
Everyone stared at Harry agape. He looked indignant. “What?!? I was trying to
get Malfoy off my back! I wanted to have him suspended, but there were no
grounds. Also, did you know that if he had continued to break the rule for
which he had been suspended, if I’d managed it, it would have been grounds for
expulsion, especially if the action was detrimental to another student?”
Ariadne chuckled. “Harry, you amaze me.”
Severus and the high priestess took seats at the table and everyone turned to
Hermione. “Alright, Ms. Granger. What is this revolutionary information?”
The bushy-haired teen shuffled her papers nervously. “Well, I’ve been
researching Harry’s family tree, as you probably know. I had gotten back,
almost to the time of the founders, going forward, and after what Isoko told
me, I had started from the beginning and worked my way forward a few centuries.
I got to about 1000 B.C. before I found a reference to someone named Evans…or
well, the Iceni equivalent of Evans. That’s the tribe that produced the
legendary Celtic Warrior-Queen Boudicca. I thought that was oddly coincidental,
because, in fact, the Evans married a Potter.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “Someone with my mom’s maiden name married a Potter
3000 years ago? And you thought that was coincidental?”
Severus snorted. Hermione flushed. “Shush! I’m not done.” She looked back at
her notes. “Well, I traced the family line of this Evans woman, who had three
sons with this Potter and her siblings. She had three brothers and two sisters.
Well, it turns out that about every 300 years or so, an Evans married a Potter.
Apparently, Harry is descended from this first union of Evans and Potter, by
way of James Potter.”
“Hermione, love, I am not related to James Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Harry, I told you I wasn’t done! Now, Hush!” She glared at him, and then went
back to her notes. “Well, about 270 years ago, the around the time of the usual
Evans-Potter marriage, the one that eventually produced James Potter and that
was descended from the original union, the Evans had one daughter and three
sons. These sons kept having sons. Until eventually, an Evans son married and
only had one daughter. This daughter’s name was Lillian. The couple wanted
another child so much that they adopted a non-magic girl, who was a few years
younger than Lily. They vowed never to perform magic again, not wanting the
child to feel left out. Well, apparently, that’s what happened, so that
reasoning makes sense. This makes the daughter—“
“Wait!!!” Harry threw up his hands. “Wait! Aunt Petunia’s adopted?!?”
Hermione looked up then. “Well, yes. It looks that way. The Evans family is an
extremely old wizarding family. Round about the last Potter Marriage give or
take a couple decades, most of the Evanses moved out of the country. The family
owned a manor in Ireland for many centuries and moved out there about the time
of the passing of the Penal Laws. They saved hundred of Irish Catholics by
setting up a small village that was protected from hostile Protestant eyes.
They saved many Irish pagans too, practitioners of the Old Ways. The Catholics
and the pagans lived together in a wizarding village, even though they were
muggles and accepted the existence of benevolent magic. The town is still there
to this day. It’s sort of like Godric’s Hollow, actually.”
Harry just stared at her for a long time. Severus was rubbing the bridge his
nose. Ariadne squinted at her. “So you’re saying that Harry is the last Potter
heir after all? Or that he has distant Potter cousins? What?”
“No, Harry is the last Potter. Not only did James make him legal heir, but the
Potter line, since the last Evans marriage, had a string of only children. For
the past several generations, they have had only on male child. Harry is by
blood and law the last legal heir to the Potter line. Lily and James were
cousins.”
Harry shook his head. “What next? I’m the long lost heir of one of the founders
or something? I can’t deal with this.”
Hermione looked sheepish. “Didn’t actually get to the founders, so I dunno,
Harry. I’m sorry.”
Harry rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t actually mean
that, Hermione! I was being sarcastic.”
“So Harry actually is related to James Potter? And Severus is related to him
through Harry? That’s just freaky!” Ariadne looked skeptical.
“That’s what it looks like.” Hermione glanced nervously at the Potion’s Master.
Severus sneered slightly. “Never say that again within my hearing, unless you
should wish to die in a most agonizing manner.”
This made Harry chuckle. Disconcerted that his threat was taken as a joke,
Severus took his leave with Ariadne trailing after him. Harry turned back to
his best friend. “Hermione, you really are the best researcher I have ever met.
Tracking the Evans and Potter families like that must have been insanely
difficult. Thanks for doing it for me.”
Hermione smiled proudly. “Of course, Harry. You know I’d help you in any way I
can.”
The two sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating what Hermione had
found. After a while, Harry looked up. “Herm, you know, we haven’t seen Hagrid
yet. We’ve got a couple hours before dinner. We should go and visit him.”
Hermione grinned broadly and nodded. Standing, the two left the library.
The walk to Hagrid’s hut was nice; the low hanging sun glittered on the grass
and a cool evening breeze was beginning to blow off the lake. The door was
answered immediately upon their knock. Hagrid stood in the doorway for a
second, smiling into his beard. “Where’ve ya been, ‘Arry, ‘Ermione? You ‘aven’t
come ter see me yet and I know you’ve been up at the school fer a few weeks
now! Come in! ‘Ave some tea!”
As soon as they set foot inside the hut, Fang flung himself at Harry and
proceeded to slobber all over both of them. Finally, the two took their seats
smiling sheepishly. Fang knelt at Harry’s feet with his drooling head in the
Gryffindor’s lap. “We’re sorry, Hagrid.” Hermione said. “Everything’s just been
so crazy.”
Explaining everything that had happened to Hagrid took another hour or more and
several cups of tea, though none of the rock cakes he offered.
“Blimey, ‘Arry! Yer life is crazy, innet? I’ll ‘elp with anything I can;
whatever yeh need me fer.” Hagrid looked worriedly from one to the other.
Harry smiled warmly. “Thanks, Hagrid. I know I can always count on you. You’re
my first friend and I know you’ll never do something like Ron did.”
“Ahh!” Hagrid muttered, dismissing the very idea. “Ron isn’t actin’ very
Weasley, if yer ask me. Arthur wouldn’t do summit like that and neither would
any o’ his other kids…’cept maybe Percy.”
This comment coaxed a small grin from Harry, whose mood had darkened at the
mention of his former best friend. Hermione, meanwhile, was eyeing the half-
giant questioningly. “Hagrid, you’re one of Dumbledore’s most loyal and trusted
friends. Have you ever met the Summer Coven?”
“Ach, ‘Ermione. I can’t tell yer anything about that. I promised Dumbledore I
wouldn’t mention anything ‘bout their trainin’ or anything!” Hagrid looked
chagrined. “I shouldn’t’ve said that!”
“Hagrid, you know we’d never tell anyone what you tell us and we’d never tell
anyone where we got the information from. You do know that right? And Harry
being basically Professor Dumbledore’s protégé and all, it really wouldn’t be
betraying a confidence. I mean we could always ask Ari about her training and
that, but she’s busy talking to Snape.”
Hagrid furrowed his thick eyebrows. “Little Ari and Snape? Yer jokin’!”
“No, Hagrid.” Harry grinned mischievously. “They’re very much in love with each
other. They just don’t know it yet. They’ve been dancing round each other since
the Coven arrived, I’d guess, but definitely since I woke up. I’d say it’s only
a matter of time.”
Hagrid wrinkled his nose. “A’right. I mean, yer wouldn’t want ter interrupt
‘em. Some of their later trainin’ was on these here grounds. I was here fer it.
Nicer girls you couldn’t hope to meet, but…They’re dangerous too.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well…even so young there was just summit about ‘em, you knew not ter cross
‘em, Ari, especially. She was the most dangerous o’ the group. I remember
hearin’ from one of the other girls that Ari’s aura was always streaked with
black, for the time she started school. I know that Professor Dumbledore always
kept a closer eye on her then the rest. Not that she was bad or summit! She was
the sweetest little thing. She sorta reminded me of yeh, Harry the first time I
met yeh. She was real quiet and polite and kinda wide-eyed.” Hagrid frowned.
“I’ve said ter much already! I always tell you two stuff that I shouldn’t!
Humph! Well, I ain’t saying nuthin’ else.”
Hermione grinned at him. “Thanks, Hagrid! You’re wonderful! We really just
wanted to know what the girls were like when they were young, with them being
the youngest members of the staff and personally tutoring us.”
Hagrid seemed content with that and leaned back into his chair. After another
quarter of an hour, the two made their excuses and headed to dinner up in the
Great Hall. Hagrid declined when they urged him to join the rest. Saying that
Fang would be lonely.
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