Carver hated Hogwarts. Right from the start. The other kids on the train had made fun of him for being too big and clumsy. The teachers had sighed in resignation when they had heard his name. "Another Hawke!" - as if Revon's many pranks were somehow his fault. And the bloody Sorting Hat put him in Hufflepuff. Stupid, boring, useless Hufflepuff. What in Merlin's name had he done to deserve this? Revon hadn't stopped laughing for a whole week.

The first three years at school were a complete nightmare, an endless series of humiliations and frustrations. "Put that away, Carver, you'll only break it." "Merlin, Carver, anyone can do that spell! What are you, a squib?" And, the worst, "Blimey, Revon, are you sure he's really your brother? He must have been adopted." More than once he'd wished he could leave, maybe go to Durmstrang instead. But, of course, his parents wouldn't hear of it.

Then his fourth year started and, to his big surprise, things got… better. It helped that Revon was finally out of the way, after graduating with straight A's and a record number of detentions. It also helped that Carver had grown over the summer and had managed to get a spot on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team as a Beater. But the real change came about when the teams of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor decided to train together and started to hang out after their practice matches. For the first time ever, he was part of a group of friends, automatically invited, made welcome.

And of course, she was there: Megan Cousland, Gryffindor's seeker, fast as lightning on her broom, sweet, sassy, with freckles and strawberry red hair and a ready smile on her face. Everyone wanted to be Megan's friend, but she was never arrogant about it. She had even offered to help Carver with his flying and, when he'd mentioned he had trouble with Charms, she spent an extra hour in the library with him every Wednesday afternoon, practising spells. He felt comfortable with her, happy and relaxed.

Time passed, and she became Head Girl and captain of her team, almost ready to leave school behind. He was still a Sixth Year struggling with coming to terms with his N.E.W.T. course load. They still saw each other every day, still joked and laughed together but secretly, his feelings for her had taken on a whole new dimension. It had never occurred to him that she would be interested in anything more than his friendship, of course. She was a year above him, wildly popular, pretty and smart. And he was still Carver; still a big oaf who blushed when talked to and could never come up with a clever answer. Why would Megan care about him? Even if she'd known how he woke every night, stiff and aching after dreaming of her; even if he ever plucked up the courage to tell her how he felt, the best he could hope for was to be let down gently.

Until she kissed him, after the first match of the season. Gryffindor had beaten Ravenclaw soundly, and they had all partied until late at night, over at the Pitch. He offered to walk back to the Castle with her, just to keep her company. But when they were about to part at the door to the Gryffindor Common Room, she suddenly took hold of his school tie and pulled him close, pressing her sweet lips to his. He was caught completely off guard, but she smelled so good, of rain and wind and butterbeer, and it was like all his dreams were coming true. Before he knew it, he was kissing her back, hungry and greedy, without any subtlety or refinement.

"Merlin, Carver, you've grown up so much." Her voice sounded breathless as she followed the line of his wide shoulders with her fingertips, then arched against him.

A furious blush spread across his cheeks when he realized she could probably feel him, rock hard against her stomach, but she didn't pull away and he kissed her again, groaning into her mouth. His trembling hands tightened around her waist, then slipped under the hem of her shirt, eager to feel her soft skin. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and then his hands were on her breasts, and her nipples were hard and taut under his palms and he nearly lost it.

Megan pushed him back, but she was panting and there was a smile on her flushed face. "Carver. Let's save some for later, okay?"

He nodded numbly, trying to keep the stupid grin off his face at the thought that there would be a later. "Good night, Meggie."

"Good night." She disappeared through the picture frame with a bright smile.

As he walked back to his dorm, his heart was beating wildly. She had kissed him. Him. Carver Hawke.

Hogwarts was the most beautiful place in the world.

When he came down to breakfast the next morning, the place was in uproar, practically buzzing with excitement. He made his way over to the Hufflepuff table, trying to make sense of the snatches of dialogue he could pick up: "…tried to break into McGonagall's office, apparently…" – "…but how did he even…" – "…should be taken to Azkaban…"

Grabbing a roll and some jam, he sat down and had just opened his mouth to ask for more information when the Headmistress knocked hard on her table, clearing her throat. "You may have heard rumours of a break-in at Hogwarts last night. They are, of course, wildly exaggerated. It's true, though, that a former student of ours was caught, unauthorized, on the premises. I will deal with this incident as I see fit, but I can assure you there is no cause for alarm. Please return to your studies and try to refrain from unnecessary gossip."

Of course, the murmur of voices started up again immediately, despite McGonagall's exhortations. Carver shook his head. A former student? What was going on? Then he saw Megan, huddled up in a corner with Anders and Velanna. She looked pale and when he walked over, giving her a shy grin, her answering smile looked strained.

"Yes, I know him." She was in the middle of talking to Anders. "He was one of Fergus's friends, used to come to our place for the holidays. He seemed okay, though." Megan took a deep breath. "I wonder what McGonagall will do."

"The guy who broke in?" Carver's mouth was dry. "Who is he? And why would he do such a thing?"

"Nathaniel Howe." Megan seemed a little calmer now and, to his great relief, she smiled at him again. "I have no idea, but I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation."

"Are you?" Anders shrugged, tossing back his hair. "He was a Slytherin, after all."

"Yeah, well, so was Carver's brother," Megan snapped back at him. "Doesn't mean he's a bad guy. Lots of Slytherins turn out perfectly fine."

Carver was about to point out that Revon really wasn't a good example when Velanna spoke up, her pretty face wearing an expression of bored disdain. "But wasn't his father a Death Eater? Rendon Howe? I heard he was You-Know-Who's right hand."

They were interrupted by the bell, but Carver kept thinking back to their conversation all through the morning. Who was this guy? And why was Megan defending him? He got his answer at lunch, when he saw her approach McGonagall's table. The object of their earlier curiosity was there, seated right next to the Headmistress's empty chair. Carver couldn't resist the temptation to hover close by, watching and listening.

Nathaniel Howe looked to be in his twenties, tall and with strong, wide shoulders. His hair was black and lanky, his eyes clear and grey, and he sported a small goatee that drew even more attention to his impressive nose. He looked grumpy but when he raised his head and his eyes fell on Megan, a sudden bright smile lit up his face, transforming it completely.

"Megan! I haven't seen you in ages!" To Carver's shocked surprise, he pulled her into a brief hug that left her flushed with excitement. "Merlin, you have become even prettier than you used to be."

"Nate." Megan seemed unusually shy. "What-"

"Later. I'll explain, I promise." Nathaniel smiled at her again, and Carver noticed he had taken hold of her hand. "I'll find you and we can have a nice long chat. But the Headmistress wants to talk to me first and besides, I believe someone's waiting for you." He indicated Carver with a brief tilt of his head.

Megan turned to follow his gaze, then withdrew her hand slowly. "Carver. Yes. You're right." She hesitated, though, before she left Nathaniel's side. "Promise?"

"Of course." He flashed another smile at her, then swivelled around to face Carver, and – was that a wink? Carver had a hard time hiding his confusion as he left the room, Megan in tow.

"Mr Howe." McGonagall regally inclined her head in his direction. "Please take a seat. What an unfortunate incident."

Nathaniel obeyed without a word. He had always had a huge amount of respect for the formidable headmistress, and being back here, at school, automatically made him feel like a delinquent student again. She didn't speak right away, just sat there and watched him for a while.

He waited patiently, until she finally raised her voice again. "I remember you well, Nathaniel. You were a talented student. Weren't you headed for auror training?"

"Yes, Headmistress. I'm almost fully qualified now." He cleared his throat. "Or I was."

"Hm." McGonagall shook her head. "You and Fergus Cousland were friends, if I recall correctly. Which is unusual for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor."

"Our families go way back." Nathaniel picked his words carefully. "Fergus' dad and my father used to work together, before-" He broke off.

"Before your father joined Lord Voldemort." McGonagall clearly wasn't in the mood for mercy. "Look, Nathaniel. I will be honest with you. There are two things I want to know from you, before I decide on what to do with you. One, how did you get into the castle? That should have been impossible." She looked genuinely offended. "And two, why did you do it? Why didn't you just come here in plain daylight and ask for what you wanted? Well?"

"It's not that easy." Nathaniel sighed, but he already knew he had no choice but to come clear. "One of my father's friends…"

"Who?" Damn it, he should have known McGonagall would insist on the name.

"Vaughn, from the Department of Mysteries." Clenching his teeth, Nathaniel continued. "He said there was a way to clear my father's name. A memory belonging to the Dark- to Voldemort, that Dumbledore got hold of and kept here, in his office. According to Vaughn, it would show that my father didn't join of his own free will, that he was forced. He told me where to find it, but I knew you would never let me see it."

"And why would you think that?" McGonagall's face had softened the tiniest bit. "You have every right to see a memory pertaining to your father. Though I'm afraid you might be disappointed."

Nathaniel couldn't stop his head from snapping up at her words. The second half of her statement barely registered with him. "So you would let me have a look? Even now?"

She didn't reply, just got to her feet, and motioned for him to follow her over to the pensieve, kept in a cabinet behind closed doors, just as Vaughn had described. It took them a while to find the right vial among the many memories Dumbledore and his predecessors had collected, and while they were looking, Nathaniel chanced a quick look up at the old headmaster's portrait. But Dumbledore appeared fast asleep.

"Here it is." McGonagall handed him the vial. "Go ahead."

Ten minutes later, Nathaniel was back in his chair behind her desk, feeling numb and worn out. The memory had been genuine, he was sure of it. Seeing his father strut around the old manor, he had immediately been swamped by a host of feelings he'd thought he'd left behind. Fear, sadness, a desperate wish to please the old man. But at the same time, he'd felt what Voldemort was feeling, and that had been… unsettling, to say the least. He shuddered.

"It's not a pleasant feeling, is it, Mr Howe? Being inside his head?" McGonagall sounded almost gentle. "I am sorry."

"Don't be." He raised his head, meeting her gaze. "I should have known. You did, didn't you?"

"I was familiar with that particular memory, yes." McGonagall looked sad. "But I thought it would be better to let you see for yourself."

Nathaniel nodded. Some part of him had always known, but it still had hurt to see his father, so eager to abase himself before Voldemort, so ready to sell his own friends and family for a top rank among the Death Eaters. There had been no extortion, no threats. They hadn't been necessary. Rendon Howe had wanted this, with all his heart.

"I do apologize, Headmistress." He got to his feet. "And I fully understand if you decide to turn me over to the authorities. The whole thing was foolish of me, but I'd hoped-"

"Not so fast, young man." McGonagall motioned for him to sit down again. "Hope is never foolish. And I can handle this perfectly well on my own, without resorting to the help of the authorities." She snorted contemptuously. "You have seen the memory, and I believe there's no further need for punishment. However, you still haven't answered my first question. How did you get into the castle?"

"Oh, that?" Despite his morose mood, Nathaniel couldn't quite stop himself from smiling. "I had help from one of the portraits. Lady Monaghan."

"Old Monaghan, just around the corner from my office?" The corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched a little. "I am not surprised. She always had a soft spot for good-looking young men."

Nathaniel almost blushed. "Yeah, well… We have a picture of her at home, in our library, so I've known her since I was a boy. I only had to ask." He shrugged. "There's a secret cabinet hidden behind her portrait, with its own fireplace. If you know how to ask, you can just floo in. I knew the alarms would go off the moment I left the room, but I figured I could make it to your office before I got caught."

"And you clearly did not waste a thought on what would happen next." McGonagall shook her head in disapproval. "You will have to do better if you want to be an auror, Mr Howe."

"So you'd really let me go?" He couldn't believe his luck. "I… I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything at all." Her tone was dry. "In any case, I am grateful to you for exposing such a blatant gap in our security. Lady Monaghan will answer to me, and we will have to see about Vaughn, of course. He must have had some ulterior motive. Anyway, I hope you have learned from the whole affair."

Nathaniel nodded soberly. "I have. I promise."

"Well, then… You're free to go." McGonagall's expression was almost motherly now. "Unless you want to stay for dinner?"

Huggles and thanks to my awesome beta suilven.