Chapter One
Everything Isn't Peaches and Cream
He fell there...
Whole.
Blistering.
Withering.
Bleeding a sickening black substance.
Lifeless.
His shoulder held his arm upright despite the gaping mass of flesh that had been, minutes before, torn away. The body protested. His soul endured for lack of another option. The heart gladly obeyed the mind.
"HARRY!" Hermione and Ginny screamed. They continued pounding on the sealed door with their fists and attempting to unlock it magically. Neither noticed the tears in their hands, their many missing fingernails, nor the broken bones beneath the thin layers of skin.
Hermione had taken a step back from the chamber entrance and exercised the last spell she knew capable to unseal a magical lock... to the girls surprise, a small sound escaped the latch.
He wondered what the distant sounds from behind would bring. Would it be the last of them?
He was drained of everything, and so he hoped they would kill him promptly on seeing what their lord and master was reduced to. His arm dropped to his side as his body slowly ceased protesting. Through a mixture of burnt flesh and blood his wand had adhered itself firmly in his palm... declining the opportunity to have it's own rest; it was splintered on one side but still somehow remained in one piece. Slowly, his knees buckled, collapsing him... the upper torso followed suit in losing balance.
"HARRY!" Ginny shrieked and ran to catch him before he fell.
Hermione remained silent once entering the chamber and apparated to Harry's side to catch him. She reached Harry's falling form before Ginny made the same realization and apparated as well.
She reached out with both her arms to keep Harry from braining himself on the marble, but the residual magic pouring off him scorched her palms and she involuntarily pulled away. Hermione stuck out her right leg and caught her best friend before he fell over completely; the thin layer of denim she wore gave her little more than a few seconds before she was forced to save her leg from the same fate as her hands.
Harry peered through his swollen eyes towards the redheaded woman on his right.
"Mum," Harry managed to articulate through a puff of blood.
"Merlin, he's in shock," Hermione muttered and cast a spell that stripped him off his tattered remaining clothes to check for immediate physical wounds.
Ginny was busy casting diagnostic charms to determine what Riddle had done to him. Her tears poured freely down her ashen cheeks as more of Harry's body was covered in a red luminescent light than blue. She spared Hermione a quick glance for reassurance, which wasn't returned, before looking Harry in the eyes.
"I'm Harry, your son," Harry thought he said, but the girls heard nothing but the painful coughing and splatter of blood erupting from his body.
"Conjure a stretcher," Ginny ordered herself, ignoring Hermione at the present- who was efficiently as possible sealing the bleeding cavities that were once Harry Potter's flesh.
"Shite," Ginny cursed and stood to conjure the stretcher, her robes stained with gore.
Harry blinked slowly and focused on the vision of the woman he believed to be his mother. He tried to reach out his arm to grasp his mother and found it strange that he couldn't move any of his limbs, or any other part of him for that matter.
Hermione and Ginny led the stretcher back through the labyrinth they had traversed to arrive at the chamber while issuing reassuring words to their friend. Neither wanted to admit that they thought he wouldn't be alive by the time they reached, the Hollow. Neither was intent on anything other than making sure he survived.
Harry closed his eyes when he heard his mother tell him that she was going to take care of him and make it all better. A warm feeling invaded his soul when he heard those words. She was going to take of him... someone was going to take care of him.
"NO!"
A distant voice bellowed and woke him to the most terrible sensation imaginable. The cruciartus paled in comparison to whatever this new torture was, and for a fleeting moment he used what was left of his strength to mentally curse the Death Eaters that had drug him back to the mortal coil and stolen his mother from him a second time.
Hermione was watching Harry to insure he remained conscious while Ginny navigated the maze. She didn't blame the younger girl; she didn't want any more to have to look at him in the same state either. He had just barely closed his eyes and a serene expression crossed his mien when Hermione instantly let loose with the most powerful enervation she had cast in her short life... fuck his last instructions. She followed her charm quickly with a stasis spell to keep Harry from injuring himself should he start to convulse or thrash.
Ginny continued to forge ahead and took them around the corner she had marked. She didn't have the courage to look at Harry nor Hermione when she knew what Hermione would have to do to keep him awake. The sound of Harry's scream alone would never leave her... she was never more sure of herself than at that moment that she was entitled to a time turner.
His entire body flexed, his veins forced their way to the surface of his skin and begged to explode past the soft barrier... to just give up what ever they had to stop the pain... to give whoever it was hurting him everything they wanted. Hermione was at the back of the stretcher with one hand on the grip, and was openly bawling at the sight in front of her. Nothing could have prepared them for this, no matter how many times they had gone over this scenario... the sound of his screaming...
Ginny stopped moving forward and Hermione just barely registered the halt in movement when she quickly and silently cast, "silencio."
Hermione stared dumbfounded at Ginny's back when the girl turned around without a word and continued on even faster. She looked between the red hair on the back of her friend's head and the struggling Harry Potter magically strapped and silenced on the stretcher between them.
"He needs to stay awake," Ginny explained between short breaths and emotionlessly.
Hermione was about to respond when Ginny picked up the pace again at the sight of the stairs leading to the lower levels of the castle. She was hard pressed to keep up with the younger girl that seemed to be operating on a pure endorphin surplus.
"Gin," Hermione tried to call out to ease up, but the stitch in her side prevented her from speaking. She instead bit her lip and demanded herself to keep up. This was her best friend, her boyfriend's best friend, her friend's lover... her lover. She was not going to let her body fail him after what he had just accomplished for all of them.
"Almost there," Ginny panted to herself after ascending the second stair case and closing in on the main entrance. "Almost there."
"Almost... there, 'arry, hear that?" Hermione breathed to a quietly sobbing Harry- he had broken all of his fingernails off after he dug them in to the stretcher supports when he was jostled on the stairs.
Harry pleaded with the blurry visage at his feet because he didn't know who was leading. He didn't want to think, "Please! Please stop!"
She knew that look in his eye. She knew what he wanted her to do. She knew what he had made her promise.
Hermione ignored her best friend and focused her eyes on the back of the girl who had broken him.
"PLEASE!" Harry screamed inside his head, begging his magic to let her hear him.
Hermione dropped her end of the stretcher and collapsed in the foyer, sobbing her eyes out and trying to crawl in the direction Ginny was dragging Harry away from her. Snot dripped down her upper lip unobstructed and un-cleared by her hands that pushed her off the stone floor and cleared the water from her eyes. She had heard him... GOD SHE HAD HEARD HIM!
Ginny didn't spare Hermione a thought and drug Harry out of the castle by herself. She had to get him out, not her.
"Ms. Granger," Severus greeted, and she only half heard him. "You should not have come here."
Severus grasped the front of Hermione's jumper to haul her to her feet when at the same moment an arm wrapped around his thin neck.
"Inspired advice," a soft growl whispered in his right ear while a wand tip pressed against the exposed skin of his throat "Vestic."
Hermione had only just taken her hands from over her eyes when she caught site of Severus falling limply to the cold stone's covered in drops of Harry's blood. She looked up from his body and there stood Remus. His face a torrent of emotions of which none seemed proper.
Remus didn't waste time explaining his presence. He bent at the waist and hoisted Hermione over his shoulder. For a brief moment he wondered why the girl was staring at Snape so intently, but the more pressing matter of amassing Death Eater's took precedence.
Tonks was waiting with an extraction team of three, all of them former Aurors. The squad consisted of herself, Shacklebolt and Dawlish. None of them wanted to be here, but all of them understood the significance of the mission.
Dawlish stood waiting under Harry's invisibility cloak, as a member of the reserve force should there be an ambush. Shacklebolt had disillusioned himself against the willow tree they were using for a surveillance position. Tonks sat in the tree completely undisguised and equipped with a muggle device she knew to be binoculars; she kept watch on the possible exit points that Harry or the girls could appear.
"He's not coming back out, Lt.," Dawlish whispered to Shacklebolt after checking his timepiece. "I don't suspect he expected too either."
In a forceful whisper Tonks answered for Shacklebolt, who wouldn't have broken silence anyhow, "Shut your fuckin' gob, or I'll come down there and rearrange your chevy chase, savvy?"
There wasn't a voiced reply and that suited Kingsley and Tonks just fine.
"Wait a tick," Tonks said aloud and Kingsley felt his stress level rise with his anger, "you aint gonna' believe this!"
Before anyone could ask, she pointed towards the main entrance of McCulloch Castle, tossed the binoculars to where she thought Kingsley was positioned- he was- and Kingsley sharply replied, "the dog's..."
Dawlish knew better than to come out of hiding so he remained where he was, itching to know what was going on but kept in the dark to save their sorry arses on the extremely unlikely chance that they were nicked.
"Let's get 'em," Tonks decided and jumped down from her post in the tree.
"Hold on," Kingsley ordered, still looking through the lenses and spotting someone coming out behind Ginny and Harry. "Bugger me."
"Wha'?" Tonks asked and yanked the binoculars out of her team leaders hands. "No... Mooney?"
"Dawlish stay here," Kingsley instructed.
"O, aye," Dawlish replied dutifully and sarcastically but forewent the salute.
"Tonks you're with me," Kingsley motioned as he took off at an incredible gait and the disillusionment faded away.
Tonks could barely keep up with the man, let alone answer him when he gave the order, "Get the portkey ready!"
She did answer but it was lost in the wind and Kinglsey never bothered to look back before they caught up with Ginny, Harry, Remus and Hermione.
Ginny collapsed on the soft grass, dropping Harry who was just about to pass out of consciousness again and bringing him back to the living realm.
"Is he?" Tonks asked when she whipped the portkey off from around her neck and held it out for everyone. She couldn't help but look a little affectionately at Remus.
Remus missed Tonks' gaze and shifted Hermione's weight to a more comfortable position.
Ginny coughed and answered hoarsely from her hands and knees, "still alive!"
"Let's move," Remus ordered the team he didn't even know was going to be here, still darting his eyes in every direction to look for the surprise Death Eater.
Kingsley took a hold of Harry's limp right hand and placed it on the large medallion, "SHARPISH!"
At the bellow everyone hopped to and grabbed a piece of the medallion. Ginny was still on her knees, but had her hand on the medallion and on Harry's bloody shoulder. Remus had to adjust Hermione on his shoulder and touched a piece of the enlarged seal of the Order of the Phoenix and everyone was ready to go.
Dawlish watched from his hiding post and received the almost imperceptible nod that his lieutenant sent his way and waited for them to disappear before he apparated back to the Hollow.
The group of wizards and witches landed in the first floor sitting room that doubled as the infirmary of the Hollow.
"Take these spells off of him now!" Gudrun instructed loudly and immediately when she saw the naked boy in the middle of the crowd that had just portkeyed in.
Tonks thought she must have an incredibly honed sensory skill to know that there were spells placed on him.
Hermione had regained some control of herself thanks to the nauseating sensation caused by portkey travel and ended the stasis spell she had cast on Harry from Remus' shoulder. Ginny likewise did the same with her silencing spell.
Harry continued screaming, but he had torn his vocal chords and all anyone heard were the bloody gasps.
"GET OUT!" Gudrun demanded of everyone. "NOW!"
The Aurors escorted the reluctant to leave teen-age girls and sealed the doors behind them as they left.
Ginny rounded on Kingsley the moment the doors were closed, "can she save him all by herself?"
Kingsley looked helplessly at the girl that rose to no higher than the bottom of his stomach. He didn't know what to tell her.
"Maybe I should... maybe I should go in there and help," Ginny suggested more to herself than anyone that was crowded in the foyer of the Hollow and made to reenter the sitting room that had just become an impromptu surgery for the third time this year. She was unaware of this fact.
She was about to enter when a long wiry arm barred her entrance, "he'll be better off with just her."
"Get out of my way, Ronald!" Ginny commanded, reluctant to physically harm her brother.
Ron stood steadfast and when she tried to move past his arm he enveloped her in both of his arms and dropped his cane to the floor.
The resounding smack of Ron's solid cane against the hardwood floor of the Hollow made everyone aware of just how quiet the house had become.
"You don't..." Ginny began and Gudrun must have healed Harry's throat to understand what had happened to him.
Ron quickly cast a silent imperturbable charm on the door.
Hermione stood before the door between her and her best friend whom she didn't think could continue to make that sound... she didn't think any human could make those sounds.
Ginny began to struggle to get free but Ron only tightened his grip, "Why doesn't she do something for him!?"
She didn't need to hear Harry's screams to know that he was still screaming bloody murder.
Ron pressed his cheek against his sister's when Hermione answered blatantly with her own question, "She wont be able to, will she? She'll have to..."
Ron looked Hermione in the eye and that was all the confirmation she needed. Hermione ascended the stairs to the room she and Ron had once shared without another word to either of the Weasleys.
"Ron, please!" Ginny begged through her tears, "DO SOMETHING! HELP HIM, PLEASE!"
"I can't, luv," Ron answered and didn't let his baby sister go. No matter how much it hurt to hold her like this when she struggled.
"THEN LET ME, DAMNIT!" she screamed and exhausted herself finally.
Ron slowly and carefully sank to his knees, then to his haunches and pulled his sister back to him once more. He had her rest her head on his thigh and did the only thing he knew he could do for either his best mate or his baby sister.
"Solumnus," he cast and magically induced a slumber upon Ginny.
Ron stroked his sister's hair and not for the first time he wished that he hadn't completely cocked up things with Hermione and she would sit with him through this.
"Good luck, Harry," Ron wished and wondered who won.
Chapter Two
Janus
"D'ya think?" Tonks asked Kingsley and Remus. She and Remus seemed to be operating under a cessation of hostilities given current circumstances.
"He'll pull through," Remus answered, full of confidence and never more sure of anything.
Tonks felt like complete shite at the moment. She hadn't even thought about whether Harry was going to live or die. All she wanted to know was if Harry had topped the bastard.
Her downcast eyes at his answer let him on to what she was really thinking and he couldn't help but release a small feral growl. His cub was inside that very house behind her where he let her stay along with the rest of this now miscreant crew; torn to shreds and full of holes and Merlin knew what kind of dark magic, and she wanted to know whether or not sodding Voldemort was ashes!
Kingsley was sharp and bold, "I wager he put him down for good."
Dawlish popped on to the porch at just that moment, "What's the news? Did he manage it? When's the debrief?"
Remus gave him a hard look and disapparated to his room.
A scowl graced Dawlish's face with the disservice he was given, "Right, fuck off then!"
"Bugger off, Keith," Tonks dismissed him dispassionately with the limp wave of her hand.
Dawlish looked to Kingsley and the man only shrugged. They were all in limbo at the moment with the only three people that knew what happened either in critical condition, shock, or magically induced sleep.
"Right then, well screw you two tossers!" Dawlish cursed and popped off.
"Fucking southerner," Kingsley denounced and decided to walk the grounds and inspect the wards.
Tonks disapparated to the room she and Remus used to share, the room she was sure he was currently pacing in at the moment.
Remus was on the seventh circuit of his room when his former lover apparated into his room... their room.
Tonks crossed the distance to him and stood no more than a forearms length away. Neither of them said a word, but both breathed heavily and were unwilling to cave.
Remus knew he did the right thing in leaving.
Tonks knew he was a shite for believing he was being benevolent in leaving.
"Bollocks," Tonks swore softly and lowered her head.
Remus wanted to grin but knew better than to underestimate Dora.
Tonks swung at him with a right hook and although he was expecting it he completely missed it and was hit so hard he had to stagger back a few paces.
"Arsehole," she cursed and grinned in triumph of landing such a successful blow.
Remus rubbed his cheek with the palm of his left hand, "you cunt!"
His east end days came back with a fury at the rage he felt for the betrayal he thought she had done him.
Tonks pursed her lips together and turned her head from side to side, sporting a feral smile. Her wand was out a split second faster than his.
A barrage of jinxes, hexes, curses of all levels and no shortage of cheeky charms were exchanged between the witch and the wizard. Neither gave ground and neither gained any ground; and it wasn't until Remus realized what he was doing in a moment of clarity that he literally threw his wand at Dora- which she wasn't expected and tackled her to the bed.
Tonks lay there beneath Remus with her wand pointed at his neck. Victory was hers and he would submit to her will and apologize for being a knobhead or...
"Sod it all," Remus declared and changed tactics... he kissed her, with all the pent up frustration five and half months brings a man.
Tonks bit Remus' lip to force him to stop, although she wasn't too sure why she made him stop.
"Say it," she whispered into his mouth as they were still so close and she could feel how much he wanted her.
A growl befitting any alpha wolf escaped his throat and sent a shiver down her spine causing wonderful sensations to be felt everywhere for her.
"Say it!" she commanded and nipped at his lower lip.
Remus dipped his head so his lips grazed her right ear. His breath on her ear's lobe and the texture of his rough beard against her cheek was enough for her to submit and apologize herself. But the words he spoke were not the words she had demanded he say.
"I love you," he whispered and she could feel the tremble through his body when he admitted that.
That was much better to her than a simple apology... far better.
Remus then resumed control of the situation.
"He's gone... isn't he?" the portrait of Albus Dumbledore asked Kingsley Shacklebolt when he entered the Headmistresses office.
"Which one?" Kingsley asked in reply and every portrait in the office came to life.
Minerva saved the portrait Albus from having to make the difficult decision of who to inquire about first and beckoned her former student, as she could think of him in no other way, to come and see her.
"How are the defenses holding?" Kingsley wondered as he stared out over the empty ground of Hogwarts.
Minerva only sighed and Kingsley couldn't blame her; after the last attack...
"You would kindly inform me that Mr. Potter has not been so bold as he said he would be," Minerva said.
Kingsley wasn't rightly sure how she meant that. So, he answered with a current status report, "Gudrun is taking care of him."
There was a soft clap in the background which Minerva and Kingsley both agreed silently was in all probability Albus cheering.
"I see," was the reply and prompt from Minerva to continue.
"The status of Riddle is unknown," Kingsley reported as if dictating his findings to his former superiors at the Ministry of Magic. "The status of the remaining Horcruces is unknown, and the status of Severus is unknown as well."
There was another soft clap, and on this occasion both Minerva and Kingsley turned to face the commanding painting of Albus Dumbledore.
"Yes?" Minerva asked.
Kingsley raised an eyebrow and pondered all the secrets that particular portrait contained.
Albus, however, plucked a painted lemon drop from his silver tin and merrily enjoyed sucking on the sweet instead of answering the new steward of Hogwarts.
Minerva snorted and decided to take a seat in the chair she had conjured to replace Albus'. Her hip was a constant source of frustration since she refused to take any potions for it.
"Scrimgeour," Minerva began, helping herself to some tea, "was murdered this morning."
"Leads?" Kingsley inquired, already assuming it was an inside hit as the list had been high already when he had attempted to resign from the ministry.
"The culprit has already been apprehended," Minerva answered, dabbing at her upper lip with a small towel. "Umbridge."
Kingsley started to chuckle, which ultimately turned in to a full laugh. "Is her solicitor proclaiming an imperius defense?"
Minerva chose to answer his question with a rather disdainful look of obviousness.
"Anything more?" Kingsley dug after he had regained his composure.
"Send them my regards if you would, please," Minerva requested.
Kingsley bowed his head in acceptance of that task and stood to leave, "Good day, Headmistress. Good day, Albus."
Albus and Minerva both waved good-bye.
When the door was firmly shut and sealed Minerva faced Albus in his portrait. He had the unmitigated gall to look rather cheeky.
"Your machinations seemed to have to worked," Minerva remarked, arms folded across her chest reproachfully.
"Ah, you see," Albus replied, "seemingly. We shall have to wait to see that they truly have, my dear."
Minerva snorted and returned to her ever-increasing amount of administrative bureaucracy Hogwarts relied upon to keep it running.
"Mmmm," Ginny moaned and rolled over on to her left side. Something felt terribly wrong. It was as if something was not right with the situation at all.
Her free arm reached out across the expanse of the bed to touch the body that she dreamed was there. All at once her large bed felt so much larger and so much colder than she could ever recalled... and suddenly, she was four years old again and longing for her daddy to tell her that the great hero Harry Potter would come and make everything better.
The rational half of her mind informed her Ron must have put her to bed. While the other half, which was solely concerned with the well being of said hero, went slightly turbo and hurtled her out of bed.
She caught sight of the battered digital alarm clock Harry insisted on keeping in his room and saw that it was seven thirty-two in the morning. Ginny apparated to her own room, found her dressing gown, tied it securely around her waist and rushed barefoot at top-speed to learn when he would be up and about again.
There was no part of her brain that would let her believe there was any other option than Harry healing quickly like he always did and them finally putting this all behind them. Ron would marry Hermione, Tonks would marry Remus, Harry would marry her, of course, and everyone would be savvy. That was all there was to it. Such was the plan and come Tartauros or Olympia they were all going to adhere.
Arthur Weasley was seated at the island table in the kitchen of the Hollow enjoying a morning cup of tea after having witnessed the memory taken from a still unconscious Harry Potter. He was in a mixed state, or so he established himself to be. There was elation that Riddle was finally dead, and sorrow at the prognosis he had received from the healer Harry kept on retainer ever since leaving Hogwarts and establishing himself here.
To his surprise his daughter came bounding down the stairs two to three at a time and creating a such a ruckus he was sure Ginny would wake the entire household- remote silencing charms on the rooms or not.
"Daddy!" Ginny squealed, to her embarrassment, but still threw her arms around his neck with abandon.
"Hallo, cricket," Arthur greeted his youngest and led her into the kitchen where her mother was preparing breakfast.
"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed again at the shock of her parent's presence, which had her slightly worried.
"Good morning, dear," Molly greeted, focusing more on the stove top than her daughter, "I trust you slept well?"
Ginny definitely didn't miss the implied 'alone' that her mother was so keen to harp on her about. She was seventeen and determined her mother was well aware.
"Until I woke up," Ginny answered, the tone of her voice sending its own implication to her mum.
Molly mumbled something that neither Arthur nor Ginny could near nor would they care to hear before she began to spell breakfast into full swing.
"Ginny, dear, take a seat," Molly told her youngest, her baby.
"Why?" Ginny quickly asked instantly on guard and scared beyond reasonable belief. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Just take a seat, cricket," Arthur parroted and guided his daughter to one of the stools around the island as it was just the three of them.
"Where's Harry? He's alive, right? What's wrong? Why won't you tell me?" Ginny fired off.
Arthur covered his daughter's hands with one of his own and lightly patted them reassuringly. Molly looked on in an emotionally confused state; the boy was like a son to her, but he had stolen away her baby girl and turned her into a scarlet woman just like that Hermione had done to her baby boy.
Arthur decided that the best way to ease the girl's fraying nerves was to tell her the boy was alive.
"Yes, dear. Harry is alive," Arthur informed Ginny.
Before he even finished the word alive, Ginny asked, "When can I see him? Now?"
Arthur prayed that Molly would control herself as she had promised seeing as how he could see her cheeks already flaming, which meant her tongue was poised for a good howling.
"Not yet, love," Arthur said and regretted his lack of diplomacy instantly when he saw how devastated she was by those two words. "I need you to tell me about yesterday."
Ginny looked into her father's eyes and then turned to find her mother staring at her intensely. She managed to convince herself that after negotiating their obstacle they would let her see Harry. So, she told them everything.
"Harry," Hermione called out and with her eyes closed and reached out to find his warmth absent.
Her empty raised hand fell with a thud against the down comforter keeping her warm on the outside but creating a yearning for a more complete warmth. She blew out a breath of frustrated air succeeding in upsetting a few strands of hair that had come loose during the night; when they landed she was compelled by irritation to push them back behind her left ear and rub her face with the back side of those empty hands.
"You'll find him downstairs," Ron informed her.
Hermione slowly opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She was back at the Hollow, Harry was just brought in last night, Voldemort was dead and gone... and, Ron was...
She sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep completely from her eyes in that cute manner which had always endeared her to him. He couldn't help but feel a little strain on his heartstrings.
"Ron," Hermione greeted lamely. She could see that from the look of him he had sat in that chair all night completely dressed, and whether or not he slept she couldn't tell; he still looked so gaunt.
"That would be my name, Hermione," Ron responded quietly so as to bite back on his tone and save his energy.
"I...," Hermione attempted and wondered what she was trying to accomplish. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"
"No," he answered simply and still quietly which only amplified the damning silence.
"Why?" she asked, but the answer came to her before she could help herself.
Ron chose not to answer as he could see she had already deduced his reason.
She bit her bottom lip to stall for time. Her bid made no difference as Ron took the initiative in her apparent lack of enthusiasm to continue.
"He's alive," Ron said and noticed that she was fidgeting with the bedclothes.
She couldn't look him in the eye when she pursued a reasonable vein. "Will he live?"
"Gudrun doesn't know."
"Doesn't know?" Hermione repeated in a heated manner of a question. "Or is not certain?"
He wasn't going to become angry. He couldn't afford such emotion no matter the desire, so he stressed Gudrun's prognosis, "she can not be certain."
"But she knew about you," Hermione whispered to herself, analyzing all known avenues of approach to recovery.
The silence of the room and the acoustics provided by the excellent lumber used to construct Harry's home allowed Ron to hear Hermione as clearly as if she had spoken in normal conversation.
"I was a special case," Ron whispered to prove a point.
Hermione looked at him quizzically but caught on quickly. Ron was beginning to wonder if Hermione was slipping; granted neither of them had been to school in over a year however...
"I didn't die twice in one night," Ron mentioned as strongly as he could muster without causing himself to cough and consequently hurt himself.
A tear fell from each of Hermione's bloodshot eyes, "Listen, Ron..."
"Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Ron," Hermione began, hoping the right words would come to her, "Harry and I, we... "
Ron remained silent and waited for her to continue while praying that she wasn't going to say what he believed whole-heartedly she was about to admit to.
"We've been sharing a bed," Hermione said and pressed on despite the wide-eyed look Ron was now sporting. "Harry and I have only ever shared a bed."
There was no way to tell him the truth of the matter, not even considering the damaged he'd already suffered for Harry.
He wasn't quite sure he understood what she had said as he hadn't quite heard anything after she told him that she and his best mate were sharing a bed while out fighting bloody He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!
Hermione drew in a deep breath to make sure she got the important fact, he wanted to hear, across to Ron, "we haven't shagged, Ronald."
"I'm sorry," Ron apologized.
Hermione misunderstood and thought he hadn't understood what she had said, "Harry and I aren't fucking, okay?"
Ron held up his hands in peaceful surrender, "I understood that."
"Oh, I thought," Hermione began but halted when she felt her cheeks burn crimson. She hated not knowing how believable a liar she'd become.
"Why?" Ron pressed.
Hermione looked straight into her former lover's eyes to get the message through to him in another fashion, "After you left..."
Ron stopped her with his sudden move to stand up. He couldn't stomach the guilt he felt when she stared into him like that and he knew she was reading his thoughts with Legilimency. He moved to the bed despite Hermione's protests that he shouldn't move so quickly and made her own attempt to get up out of bed to help him. With his long arms he was able to keep her at bay and in the bed until he got there to take her in his arms the way he had meant to before he found himself taking care of his sister.
"I love you, Hermione," Ron declared into the bushy brown hair he pressed his cheek against.
Hermione released all of her pent up emotion in Ron's embrace, and was held the way her memory recalled being held by his best friend.
Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the Ministry of Magic as inconspicuously as he could manage. His ability to exist inside the ministry of recent had become something of a fascination for all other rogue Auror's working with the Order of the Phoenix, as they never could put an answer to how Kinglsey was present but not really there at all. The man was of such clandestine nature of late that nobody seemed to notice him.
He stood in the back left corner of the lift and stated his destination after the gilded bars had sealed him in.
Several minutes later he arrived on the floor he had specified, along with swarm of paper airplane documents, and stepped off the lift. The office he sought was just around the bend and all he was required to do was to pass on status information before he could leave. Unfortunately, he believed his short visit to the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic was not to be as short as he had originally planned. He had the suspicion someone was following. His wand was at the ready, strapped in the holder lashed around his right forearm; yet, he continued on his course and chose not to give away suspicion. This could yield another spy within the Ministry and thus, one less leach inside the government.
"Shacklebolt, Kingsley, Auror Senior Level, Lieutenant First Grade," Kingsley announced before he was even prompted by the voice required to ask him for such credentials.
A temporary entry badge was processed through a tube and Kingsley pinned it to his chest before pushing the double doors open. He had wanted whoever had been following him to either make themselves known before he entered, or attempt to enter on his coattails. Neither hope developed and he wondered if he was slowly becoming as paranoid as Moody had been.
"Impossible," one of the anonymous voices declared.
Some fool kicked the corpse with the toe of his horntail boot, "surely..."
Whoever that man was, he never received the opportunity to finish his thought. A jet of green light cursed him center mass and dropped him to the floor.
The taller man to his right spat on the fool with the unbelievable ineptitude to disgrace the remains of their lord.
"He'll return," another voice claimed solemnly, in a tone that brooked no argument that they wanted no such event to occur.
Draco Malfoy drew back the hood to his robe after that man spoke. He did not know who the fool was, nor did he care. Yet, he needed to be put in his place. The scars he had personally received from Voldemort were a testament to all gathered he was in control until their master was resurrected.
"Lord Malfoy," the group whispered. The boy's father had been found earlier this day and the title was rightfully passed down to the son.
"No," Draco said with the force of a binding oath. "He will not be returning."
"M'lord," a voice spoke up above all the murmuring, "surely there is...?"
"Voldemort is dead," Draco announced and could not keep himself from flinching at the sound of the name. He had insured the devil's fate knowing the relevant extent of the consequences.
"What are we to do?" the myriad of faceless voices asked one another. They were reluctant to follow the pattern they had previously taken when they believed the Dark Lord to have been slain and had returned to punish them all for failing him in his time of need.
Draco turned on his heel and ascended the steps out of the dueling platform Voldemort had designed for the particular battle he had assured them he would not lose. "Return to your homes. I have no doubt the Ministry will be arriving soon."
"What of Potter?" a lone voice shouted and brought a halt to Draco's ascendancy.
"Him?" Draco scoffed, wishing he knew how Potter had been able to kill the villain.
The last of the Death Eaters crowded at the base of the stairs Draco stood upon; with the exception of a select few that chose to disengage themselves from the immediate disloyalty they paid their master.
"I have no doubt he will come calling," Draco announced and left without another word.
Those select few that refused to abandon their allegiance to Voldemort and look to Draco for guidance stood around the calcified remains of their master. Each pointed a wand at the remains, causing the still solid body to turn to nothing but ash. They followed this spell by collecting their master's remains into conjured vessels.
The remaining number of Death Eaters was reduced significantly when those three attempted to leave with Voldemort in their possession.
Draco levitated his father's body behind him until they were clear of the apparation field before he mustered the courage to touch his father's body and side-apparated to his manor.
"I trust you accomplished your mission?" Mighalan asked his agent.
The agent nodded and passed over the small grey device without further prompting.
The Interim-Minister of Magic quickly snatched up the muggle device and pressed the correct button, as he had been instructed by a muggle-born liaison.
"Shacklebolt, Kingsley, Auro..." the tape began to play back before Bruce pressed the stop function.
"Thank you," Bruce said and sat back in his chair. He was another step closer now.
The agent stood from the chair and left without a word.
Bruce reached out and pressed one of the buttons on his desk and not a moment later, Undersecretary to the Minister Percy Weasley came rushing through the door.
"Yes, Minister Mighalan?" Percy asked and pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up further on his nose.
"Have this delivered to Unspeakable Sanford immediately," Bruce ordered and stressed the immediacy he desired when he handed over the device. "Then have Auror Shacklebolt report to my office."
Percy accepted the small strange device, "Right away, Minister."
"I don't understand," Ron repeated for the third time. "Why can't we tell anyone? The shite's dead for Merlin's sake, Hermione."
Hermione sucked in a deep breath and Ginny lowered her head into her hands... again, and Harry's right hand twitched...
They all noticed.
They had been sitting with him in his room where they had moved him after Gudrun had made them all aware that she could not be certain what would happen to him. She had done everything possible she could think of to revive the young man but the unfortunate curiosity of what Voldemort had done to him left her doubting her skills in healing.
He was dressed in the pajama's Ginny had said he favored- a suggestion her mother was more than happy to voice her own opinion about- and was laid on top of the bedclothes to more easily monitor his status. Ron was of the vocal opinion that Harry had looked worse. But Hermione, before she could stop herself, said he had never looked more like a mummy. All of the teens in the room were ashamed to admit that the comments brought a small smile to their face.
"Did he just?" Ron asked without looking at either of the girls.
Ginny peeked out through the gaps in her fingers that had previously been covering her eyes. She said nothing but wished with all her might that he would move again.
Harry didn't move again and Ginny forced herself to tell them, "Nothing but a random nerve firing off."
Ron looked at her quizzically. He had not chosen to study healing at all while they had been without formal instruction, muggle or magical. Her words had meant next to nothing to him.
"A muscle spasm, Ronald," Hermione translated.
"He'll wake up," Ron promised, forgetting their original debate. "He always does."
Hermione wasn't about to let the argument go however, "No one needs to know."
Ron castled on the left, "Everyone needs to know."
"Not yet," Hermione rebuffed and moved a pawn into a position of warning for Ron's knight. "He may be dead, but there are still supporters of his out there and until we know who they are and where they are, we've got the advantage."
Ron took a loose pawn of Hermione's with his knight that was in previous peril, "Love, listen, if they are his supporter's then they're going to know he's gone."
Hermione sealed in the aggressive knight by placing her queens side bishop in a pretty place.
"I understand that, but you have to understand that although we know and assuming that they know now, we're both keeping the Ministry of Magic in limbo. Although Voldemort is gone the ideals and sentiments his supporters rallied to him for are still generating and in people of high ranking position. The battle is over, Ron, but the war I'm afraid is far from won."
Ron winced at the sudden onset of a cramp in his abdomen, expertly found the blue potion he carried with him for just such cases and downed it immediately. The look of bliss he received, after taking what Hermione knew to be a horrible potion, watered Hermione's eyes.
Ron put on a brave face and sacked Hermione's queen's side bishop with his queen's side knight that had been lying in wait for just such an opportunity. "Frustrating."
"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, not understanding and focusing on the board instead of having to look at Ron who was still obviously in some discomfort.
"Just frustrating, that's all," Ron repeated without further explanation. "He won, right? Why should we have to also deal with the dragon-dung the Ministry's become. I mean we've done our part and then some. Isn't time for those who're really responsible to come to the fore? They can't honestly expect to rely on, Harry, and by extension us, can they?"
Hermione hadn't previously known the depths of Ron's ignorance, apathy and lethargy.
"Will you two just please shut up," Ginny suddenly harassed.
Ron flicked his wand insouciantly towards his sister and she fell limply back to her seat.
"I wish you would tell me what spell you're using on her," Hermione practically scolded and huffed when Ron took her king's side knight.
"Pay attention to the game, love," Ron reminded her and could feel her eyes boring in to the top of his crown. "It's a simple sedation spell Gudrun taught me."
Hermione made a foolish move and Ron looked up from the board to find out what she was paying attention to since it certainly wasn't the game.
"You haven't been self casting, have you?" Hermione inquired softly, wondering at the same time if there was something between their resident healer and Ron. If this question offended him then so be it, but she had to know if he was endangering himself.
Ron stared right back into her still glistening eyes, "Is that what you think of me? Some junkie?"
"No, Ron," Hermione immediately answered when he stood and she thought he was walking out on her. "I just want to know if you're alright."
Ron turned his back on her. First she's sleeping with Harry but not sleeping with Harry, and now he's the one with an addiction to self-casting.
"Tip top, Hermione!"
Ron stormed out of the room.
Harry's body again gave up the moment Ron closed the door behind him. No one noticed, not Ginny and not Hermione. The mess of muggle machines his body was connected to, they however, did notice his body's failure. This notice was accompanied by a high-pitched audio wail from one of the diagnostic machines and another sound announcing the charging of the auto-defribulator.
His heart was involuntarily started once more and not only was he given life for a fourth time... he was given consciousness. The pain coursing through him failed to register, as shock was the foremost controlling reaction to being awake and somewhat cognizant.
"Harry?" Hermione tentatively asked and moved quickly to his bedside where she grasped his mummified hand in hers.
Through the small expanse he could see through with his left eye he could see someone's shape. He didn't know who it was, but he was never more determined that he wanted them to just let him die before he passed out.
"Har..." Ginny semi-slurred and stumbled groggily to her feet; her adrenaline rush from the alarm fighting the magical sedation her brother had cast upon her.
Ginny fell to her hands and knee's and crawled to Hermione's side. She used the older girls legs to pull herself up to see Harry awake, but the boy had already passed out before she could get there.
"Wake up you ponce," she demanded and promptly lost her grip on Hermione and fell onto her backside.
Hermione fled the room in search of Gudrun to let her know what had just transpired.
"Auror Shacklebolt," Bruce Mighalan greeted with a strong handshake.
"Minister," Kingsley greeted and squeezed the man's hand harder than he should have.
"Please, have a seat," Bruce instructed and took his own seat.
Kingsley sat and waited patiently for the Interim-Minister of Magic to say whatever it was he had to say so he could get back to work.
"Is there something you would like to tell me, Lieutenant?" Bruce asked cheekily and passed the dossier across his desk for Kingsley to pick up and peruse.
Kingsley took the document and opened to the contents of the first page. His pupils dilated and Bruce did not miss the reaction. He quickly scanned through the rest of the pages knowing full well after the first what the rest would detail.
Bruce was slightly disturbed when his Auror set the dossier back on his desk and stood to leave without an explanation. He was pleased however, when his control over this office was not breached and Auror Shacklebolt was refused his exit.
"I ask again," Bruce began in a commanding tone of the former department head for the law enforcement division, "is there something you wish to confess?"
Kingsley refused to speak, especially with that terrible word being thrown out. He knew he would be arrested on charges of treason for the information they had amassed on him. Instead of speaking, he silently berated himself for not taking the offensive when he felt he was being followed earlier. The same person must have been tailing him for months without him being any the wiser- that fact alone narrowed his list of responsible candidates to four.
Seeing that Auror Shacklebolt was refusing to speak to the Minister of Magic directly to answer for his crimes against the Ministry of Magic he pressed the call button on his desk, "Guards."
The doors to the Minister of Magic's office opened swiftly and Kingsley took that instant to calculate his options; draw and engage the security guards, portkey to the Hollow, or stay and try to find out exactly how much Bruce Mighalan knew and just how far the man had taken his mentor's personal vendetta against Harry Potter.
He chose to stay and allowed his wand to drop to the carpeted floor of the Minister of Magic's office when he was completely surrounded by then man's personal security team.
"Auror Shacklebolt," Bruce called out while the guard searched him for the additional two wands he carried and any other weapons, "you are under arrest for treason against your government, the Ministry of Magic England."
A kick to the back of his right knee brought him to both and his hands were securely fastened behind his back with a thick muggle zip tie. Some of these guards he had trained personally alongside Alastor Moody and they knew not to use magical binds against him.
"Take him away," Bruce ordered his guards from his position of power, as he dramatically impressed on them all leaning over his desk.
Several guards hauled Kingsley to his feet and led him out of the office and to the Department of Mysteries Unspeakable Interrogation Chamber.
"… it's not like I'd ever say anything. She'd think I'm mad… no, you know what would be worse? She'd think I was a child – ickle Ronniekins, you know?" Ron sighed. "I don't think I could stand it, Harry. I know I couldn't."
"She's perfect, you know? Well… perfect to me, at least," Ron said to the footboard. "I'll admit... and don't you ever breathe a word of it... she's the reason I'm past Hermione. I know, I know, if I weren't a gormless prat, I'd have managed that on my own a long time ago." Harry couldn't recall ever hearing Ron sigh twice in a day; he wanted to tell Ron that, but his throat felt as if it were full of lead.
Ron faced him with a wry grin. "You don't have to tell me… but it's hard to let go of her. Hermione's just so… so… She's that, Harry!" He closed his eyes. "She tied me in knots and she never let me forget that I could do better, that I could be better, you know? She made me somebody worth knowing… so did you, you bloody twit! Thing is, I never wanted to kiss you." He burst out laughing, but quickly quieted himself and glanced to the door. "Timing is everything, eh?" he went on. "If you'd have left us all behind, I expect I'd be with her now. I'm glad you didn't, though. I hope you know that." He sat back in the chair, and sighed a third time. "We need you back, mate – all of us. Gudrun says you're going to wake up soon, so just get it over with, right?"
The door opened slowly and quietly.
"Has he said anything? Has he moved? Anything?" Ginny asked.
"He was tossing something fierce earlier," Ron said. "I figure a nightmare's a good sign."
She reached out and brushed back Harry's fringe. "Ron Weasley, what a horrible thing to say!" she snapped, but her heart clearly wasn't in it. "It's true, isn't it? That's the most horrible thing of all," she added.
Ron shifted in his chair. "I have to move around a bit," he said. "You'll sit with him?"
"Until Hermione comes, I guess," she said.
"Ginny… you don't..." Ron began.
"Soon enough he'll wake up," Ginny replied. "Soon enough."
Ron pushed himself up from the chair and left as quietly as he could, despite the sound of his cane stamping on the hardwood floor.
"Wake up, love," Ginny whispered and kissed the boys cheek.
Ginny covered her mouth with her hand when Harry's body drew in a deep breath. He was waking up. He was waking up and now everything was going to be perfect.
Harry felt as though he should be able to move, but the strength was flowing out of him as fast as he gathered it. The familiar floral scent wanted him to wretch. He couldn't see who it was and he didn't care too either. His wish escaped his lips but disappeared in the air of the room before whomever was watching him could hear.
"I'm sorry?" Ginny asked quickly and leaned down to hold her ear against his mouth.
Ginny fled the room before he finished his piece.
In a hoarse voice Hermione was terribly familiar with, he asked, "why?"
Hermione stood at the threshold of the door still amazed he had locked it from the bed and seemingly without the use of a wand. She knew what he asked but was unsure as how best to answer him. Thousands of possible explanations came to the forefront of her mind and waited on the tip of her tongue for voicing; however, the volumes of trauma texts she had absorbed when trying to understand Harry earlier this year superceded her desire to answer him superficially.
Harry waited patiently for an answer. It was all he could manage.
Her courage urged her on and before she was consciously aware she was seated on the bed next to his lying form. Instinctively her left hand reached out to him and caressed his gaunt face; the soft touch brought a tinge of rouge to his appearance for which Hermione was grateful. She had seen him in too many similar physical and no worse mental states over their time together these past years.
Still, even as she gently brushed her fingers along the curves of his features and tenderly kept him at peace, no answer he would be satisfied to hear came from her.
"You were not going to die there, Harry," she told him and brushed the fringe covering his scar away from his forehead.
Harry breathed deeply in an attempt to have the air to give his reply, "I was... I saw... took her away from me."
Her analytical skills went slightly turbo at that point in an attempt to understand exactly what he had said. She knew he had been ready for the worst, if it came to that, they had planned and discussed at length to her everlasting shame and discomfort. Who he saw she could only speculate upon; herself, Ginny, Riddle, Sirius? Her confusion only escalated over her worrying about who they had taken away from him; textbook memory told her he had had a hallucination and seen...
Hermione covered her mouth with both her hands bringing a miniscule amount of disappointment to Harry's appearance. Had he meant.,, had he deduced... is that why Ginny had... ? She had no desire to either confirm nor to denounce her theory about Harry's state; either course would set her down a path she wasn't qualified to take him nor bring him back from or anyone would be able to bring him back from for that matter.
Harry thought it a shame Hermione had never chosen to accept Severus' help from the old tome, "Go away, please."
There hadn't been any misunderstanding, half-pronounced or missed words in his request.
Hermione acquiesced, her hands still covering her mouth for fear of saying something irreparable. She closed the door quietly behind her and left Harry lying in bed... alone.
Remus found Ron's scent from the front porch of the Hollow and set off at brisk pace to catch up with the young man. Now was definitely not the time to be setting off young and distraught girls; especially young and distraught girls romantically attached to Harry.
Ron heard Remus approaching him from a distance. He stopped his walk around the perimeter of the wards and waited for the man to catch him up, if Remus was indeed coming for him.
The few moments between Ron settling down on to one of the benches on the Potter's estate was spent in contemplation of what Mooney had been up on his own and what he knew of the future. If Hermione were correct, and he had no reason to doubt her, then they had only reached the climax.
"There you are," Remus called and made a show of nonchalantly sitting down next to the boy as if they had coincidentally crossed paths.
Ron offered a wan smile, "I've been waiting for you."
Remus looked over Ron with a scrutinizing eye before recognizing the residual scent of a myriad of potions, "some nice side-effects?"
Ron shrugged. He didn't want anyone other than Gudrun to be aware of either all the beneficial or detrimental side effects he was forced to endure.
"Precognitive abilities must be pretty savvy," Remus remarked and picked a small stone off the Earth.
A light laugh escaped Ron, "it was just a guess, Mooney."
Remus tossed the stone where he knew the wards to be erected. The stone vanished from sight and Ron was awarded with an appraising look he forsook for his own questions.
"Made up with Tonks then?" Ron smirked.
The older man had the good grace to look at this shoes when a deep blush crept all over his face, "were we that loud?"
"Was there even a silencing charm cast?" Ron inquired cheekily.
"Her aim must be off," Remus answered with a far away look in his eyes. "Wait a tick..."
Ron was chuckling as much as he could without causing himself any pain, "you're slipping old man."
Remus raised his left hand playfully to backhand the boy and they both had a good laugh over the easy camaraderie they had slipped back into.
"Was there something you wanted to ask me?" Ron wondered when Remus chose not to speak up and let him know why he had tracked him down.
His legs crossed at the knee and he placed his hands atop them, "do you want to tell me why you're upsetting your sister?"
He figured it would have to be something like this, even if he expected this dialogue to occur between his father and himself instead of his former professor assuming surrogacy. "She'll be fine, Remus."
"I know she'll be fine, eventually," Remus returned with a roll of his eyes. "I want to know why in the midst of all of this I'm walking down the hall and Ginny runs into me sobbing her eyes out."
"It's personal," Ron answered sharply. He had no intention of discussing his sisters, Hermione's, Harry's, or his love life with a man that had abandoned them and expected to be one of the patriarchs just as easily as he had left.
Remus looked away from Ron. There were some answers you knew were final no matter how you pressed and choosing to press on would only damage relationships. "Look, Ron..."
Ron only let him get that far before he struggled to stand without the use of his cane, "I have to get back to work, Remus."
"Very well," Remus accepted and remained seated as Ron walked back towards the house.
"GUDRUN! REMUS!" Ron shouted with all the emergency he could muster to bring them as fast as possible.
He had just entered Harry's bedroom in hopes of having another conversation with Hermione where they could actually work out their relationship. There had been no intention or expectation to find Harry lying on the hardwood floor next to the bed in a crumpled heap with his wrists slit and the conjured blade still manifested at the tip of his wand, dripping extremely thinned life.
"NOW DAMNIT!" Ron shouted and quickly- painfully- fell to his knees to help to his friend by staunching the wounds.
Harry had slit both his wrists in an efficient manner. Across and up, insuring himself that this would certainly kill him and no one would save him. He was meant to die fighting Voldemort... he was never meant to have lived this long even with the monster exorcised from his soul. He wasn't supposed to be alive.
"You arse," Ron insulted through his tears and tore pieces of cloth from his shirt to wrap his best friends arms up.
Remus burst through the door first. He had had the horrible premonition that something of this nature was likely to occur and his wand was already at the ready with a litany of healing charms running through his consciousness.
Before Remus could fire off a curse from the intricate wand waving he was performing, Gudrun shoved him out of the way and cast an Icelandic spell at Harry's body. Gudrun's spell knocked Ron away from the body by five feet and he struggle to push himself up on his forearms.
The wand in Remus' hand finished it's movement but he had sense enough not to finish the incantation and combat whatever enchantment Gudrun had leveled. He had no talent for Nordic languages and it wasn't worth the risk to aide her.
"What did you...?" Remus asked stupidly.
Gudrun slid next to Harry's body on her knees and ran several more spells over the young man's arms. Half her mind completed the stasis charm that kept his body in a temporal flux and froze all bodily functions in that moment of time. The other half chastised her for not having cast preventative measures when she dreaded this specific event and leaving his supervision to his so-called friends whom had allowed this tragedy to have occurred.
Chapter Three
Untitled
"Test after test and still nothing." Gudrun explained. "He is healthy, strong. No matter what your healers or myself do we cannot find the reason..."
Gudrun turned from the large bay window she directed her findings to. The crowd assembled around the worn dining room table waited patiently to hear if any other possible information had been gained. Harry, it seemed, was circumventing their efforts to revitalize him and self-sustained his comatose state.
"What do you say, Healer Gudrun?" Remus inquired from amidst the many expectant faces staring at her.
"I am afraid," she confessed, seeming to stare at them all in turn, at once. "I have never experienced a case of such immense circumstance."
Remus was not satisfied but chose to accept Gudrun's implied apology.
"I fear for him if he wakes again."
Several gasps erupted from the group. Most had still not been told the truth as to the circumstances belying Harry Potter's current state; many believed he still suffered the after-effects of what Voldemort had done to him before he'd been vanquished.
"You may be right to be afraid," Ginny opined. "He isn't the same, Harry, who left us to fight Voldemort."
Hermione glared at the diminutive girl from across the table. The ferocity of her intensely penetrating countenance cowed the younger woman. Ginny would not speak again at this meeting.
Ron, for his part, lowered his head in defeat shaking it to and fro, in exhaustion. He hadn't slept in 39 hours, volunteering to guard his best friend from himself. This had not been a consequence of victory he had ever fathomed and even now refused to accept it as fact and summarily sabotaged whatever ability he may have possessed to aid in Harry's recovery.
Hermione, along with Remus, Tonks, and Moody had all charmed the room in which Harry resided, completely shut. The windows were sealed both inside and out with layered enchantments cast by different wands at different intervals all calculated in order to provide a network of entangled magic that even Professor Dumbledore would have difficulty in prying through. She thought it was not enough and went on to relocate Harry's wands to locations only she knew. There was no thought given to Harry's ability with magic regardless of whether he had a tangible focus in his hand or not. The young woman busied herself with protecting the room as much for Harry's own private safety as much as the rooms; for she knew without doubt the disaster it would succumb under Harry Potter's ire.
"He'll wake up," Tonks whispered in Remus' ear reassuringly.
Remus tried to take comfort in Nymphadora's certainty but he struggled to do so. He desired facts, not contrived speculations; precedents were not to be relied on when applied to a man who was famous for defying the majority of them.
Penelope Clearwater-Weasley tried vainly to distance herself from the political debate raging in the minister's cabinet office. She had been appointed scribe to the Minister for Magic, thus being made responsible for the recording of all proceedings to take place and all proposed legislation presented before the Wizengamot in the coming voting month.
"Be that as it may," an independent representative from a wizarding colony in Wales espoused, "this is a question that cannot be delayed any longer."
Penelope struggled to keep her features impassive during these heated meetings. Her personal feelings and opinions were of no consequence to Minister Mighalan, her husband, Percy who was acting head secretary to the minister, or anyone else in the room for that matter. What was important was for her to blend into the background and become one with the roving tapestries while she documented what most constituted as ramblings of senile old men out of touch with their supposed constituents.
"The previously segregated wizarding colonies of the British isles are still demanding in light of recent events that a new constitution be on the agenda at the next convention of the Wizengamot."
"It's nothing but a ruse," Minister Mighalan's chief of staff interrupted, "contrived by the enemies of this political body to conceal far more sinister motives."
For a reason she could not fathom, Penelope spoke up. "Perhaps we could offer them the appearance of a constitution."
The cabinet members turned in their seats to spy where the foreign voice had erupted.
Penelope was certainly more aware of the current state of the wizarding nation of Britain that most of the commoners out and about. The fact of Voldemort's demise had come as quite a shock, and a further shock had been the attempted obliviation of her memory of receiving this confirmed news. It seemed that only a handful of people throughout the island knew the truth and were all struggling to conceal it for their own designs; why, was a question she greatly wanted to pursue but had let matters drop when Percy begged her too after saving her from an Obliviators cast-happy wand.
"Something ceremonial?" Penelope asked the room, growing braver than she had thought a Ravenclaw should for all practical reasons. "It doesn't need to be real. Deceit, after all, is a legitimate tool of statecraft."
Minister Mighalan ignored his secretary's wildly appalled expression of embarrassment at hearing his wife not only speak out of turn, but out of turn before the heads of wizarding state. He keenly appraised the young woman seated a few chairs down from his position and made a mental note to pursue this conversation with her at a later date, preferably sometime right after this meeting.
"Non!" Draco summoned.
"Master Malfoy summons, Non?" the tiny elf inquired.
"Wine," he calmly demanded. Non was the only house-elf Draco had ever be able to tolerate and this of course had to do with his father giving the creature to him as a believed toy and not servant.
Non disappeared and reappeared in a flash with a dusty bottle and empty stemware. He carefully placed the items on the end table next to his master's chair before the fire and waited for further instructions.
"That will be all."
The creature vanished to patiently wait for his master's call once again.
"Only one glass?" Harry asked, startling the blond young man.
Draco dropped his glass in shock. The fine crystal shattering on the stone floor of the library. "Merlin, Potter!"
"You should have been expecting me," Harry chided, rising from his chair in the shadowy corner.
"I expected you to be dead, damnit!"
"Pity, we both were wrong then."
Draco snapped his fingers and Non appeared to clean the mess and deliver a new wine-glass.
"Have you come to kill me?"
"That all depends."
"Please spare me the suspense!"
"I want names and locations."
"In exchange for my extended stay on the isle of Azkaban? Or assassination as circumstance of betrayal?" Draco scoffed.
Harry stole the glass from Draco's grasp and swallowed the contents. "I won't be turning anyone over to the ministry this time."
"Becoming the vigilante," Draco mocked, drinking straight from the bottle.
Harry physically struck him down with his right fist. The bottle previously attached to Draco's lips skittered across the polished floor and crashed against the hearth.
Draco's wand was out of his holder in a trice but Harry was quicker and grabbed the wood right from his grip.
"There won't be any half measures on my behalf, Malfoy," Harry warned, lording over the man. "You did our side a great favor in delivering to me the last horcrux. Please, continue to aide our cause."
Draco spit out a small pool of blood. "Not much of a text-book hero any longer, are you?"
Draco was rewarded for his remark with a rib breaking kick to his side.
"You know much, Malfoy," Harry continued with his warnings. "You either help me, or you'll be the first to go and the last Malfoy to walk this world."