Harry's smile was more than a little wicked and made Pansy fleetingly have regrets he had chosen Draco. Damn him. Why were all the good ones gay? Flushing slightly over the thought of Harry and her best friend together, Pansy focused on the task at hand. Made slightly difficult as Harry seemed determined to walk past her a few times… wow, without a robe on you could really get an appreciation for… oh crap, he was looking at her. Beaming a smile, Pansy followed Harry into a room. Where did this door come from? Pansy could almost swear it hadn't been here a few minutes ago.

The room was large and spacious, yet spartanly filled. A plush sofa was placed in front of a roaring fire, while several large tables filled with goblets and vials bordered two of the four walls. Pansy was about to ask Harry what was going on, when the door opened and a blonde girl wandered in so absent mindedly Pansy almost wondered if she knew where she was. "Hello Harry," the girl sang out. "Your spirit is brighter today. Have you been praying to the Goat God Pham?"

Harry looked rather constricted for a minute, turning towards Pansy to hide his twitching lips. "Hey Luna. No, it's just been a really good week. Thanks for coming." Luna wandered over to the tables and Pansy turned to Harry with a skeptical look on her face.

"Err…" Harry began, raking his hands absently through his hair. He really was adorable, Pansy thought fondly. "Pansy, today I am going to introduce you to one of my friends. I need your help with a plan of sorts."

Pansy deliberately turned towards Luna, before looking back at Harry. "I've already met Luna," she replied calmly. "We met the day of your makeover, remember?" Pansy's smile increased a notch over the wash of red on Harry's cheeks.

"Green is really a good color for you, Harry," Luna called out serenely, dropping gracefully onto the floor by the fire. Pansy snorted.

"Not her." Harry deliberately ignored both his embarrassment and the statement, "another of my friends."

Harry grinned. "Dobby!"

HDHDHD

Hermione was prone to nerves, and that would never do.

Gazing at the class before her, she sternly lectured herself. She had co-taught Dumbledore's Army, she had flown on Hippogriffs and Dragons, been tortured under the Cruciatus curse, lied to Umbridge's face after breaking into the Ministry of Magic, and traveled back in time with her best friend to save the love of her life. This was nothing. Closing her eyes momentarily, Hermione quietly repeated to herself there was a reason Harry had asked her to Polyjuice as Narcissa Malfoy. She would not fail in this task. Opening her eyes, she nodded weakly to Draco, who patiently waited with his arm raised, "yes?"

"Mum… excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy," the class twittered nervously. Draco gave her a meaningful look. "What was on the lesson plan for today?" He gazed at her expressionlessly, yet with a smile on the corner of his lips. Clearly, he was reminding her that his mother would never show weakness in front of the enemy. Or students. Whatever.

Encouraged and oddly reassured, Hermione smirked and raised her chin. "Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Malfoy. If you'll please come to the front of the class?" Draco looked startled and slightly apprehensive, yet complied nonetheless. Once he stood before her, Hermione raised her wand and thought – Stupefy – Incarcerous . Instantly Draco froze before cords wrapped securely around his body. Hermione smiled into his furious gaze before releasing him. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy, you may be seated." Sulking, Draco returned to his seat.

"Today class, you are going to learn how to wordlessly cast Stupefy." The class broke out in excited murmurs; Hermione stared down her nose at them in her best Professor Snape impersonation until they quieted. "Although traditionally a skill learned in sixth year, dark and difficult times call for… creative measures." The class was oddly subdued after that statement, much to Hermione's satisfaction, as she divided them into pairs and set them working. "Nevi…" she caught herself just in time. "Mr. Potter, you will pair with Mr. Malfoy. No need to look so worried. Come along."

A knock on the door distracted Hermione, and she turned to see Minerva McGonagall standing in the door. "Sorry, Narcissa," she started, looking anything but. "But the Headmaster requests a word with Mr. Potter." She gestured to Neville to come to her side. He, in turn, looked at Hermione with a look of terrified pleading. Pollyjuicing as Harry Potter was one thing if it would help out friends. There was no way Neville could pull off the act in front of the headmaster.

Fully aware of the blonde aristocrat she impersonated, Hermione drew herself to her full height and stared her professor down. Huh, apparently Snape knew what he was doing, she thought, as McGonagall blushed slightly. "No, Minerva," she replied coldly. "Mr. Potter is needed in class today. I suggest the Headmaster contact him later. During your class, perhaps?" Hermione's heart was racing as she turned back to the class. "Well," she ordered the kids, causing many of them to jump, "begin." Ignoring the outraged gasp from the door, Hermione sent her teacher a silent apology even as she vocalized. "You may shut the door on your way out."

Hermione was quite thankful she had never been foolish enough to pursue teaching as a career. She'd have had a heart attack by now.

HDHDHD

Harry had never thought Azkaban could be so inviting.

As he strolled along the passages, Narcissa secured in the crook of his arm, he waived and nodded to the many inmates calling out cheerful greetings. Several inmates were cleaning, while humming; still others were sewing together ragged clothing, while others still were discussing recipes and cosmetic improvements for the stone fortress. Narcissa looked rather annoyed, while Harry had to practically choke himself to stop laughing. Stopping in front of a cell, Harry was distracted from his amusement when a voice that grated on every nerve he possessed called out, "Lucius! Cissy! You came to visit! How delightful!"

"Hello Bella," Narcissa responded graciously, instinctively tightening her grip on Harry's arm as he stiffened. "Lucius, darling, perhaps you could wander around for a few minutes… give your two favorite girls a chance for a bit of a visit?" Nodding curtly, Harry bowed lightly to Bellatrix Lestrange, biting his tongue to keep the scathing comments at bay as she giggled – he better get major points with the fates for THAT – kissed Narcissa's hand, and stepped away.

While the girls "chatted," Harry wandered over to a prisoner beating rugs out an open window. He was unrestrained, properly clothed, and standing mere feet from a door. Looking closely, Harry thought he looked familiar… "Goyle?" He called out.

Goyle, Sr., turned at his name, breaking into a grin at the man before him. "Lucius! You slippery old snake! Come to visit?"

Harry ignored the question, turning instead to look at the door directly behind him. "Why don't you simply walk out?"

Those words had a profound effect on Goyle. He backed away from Harry as his whole face collapsed in shock. "Leave? Leave?! But that would make them so sad!"

Harry blinked at the fearsome Death Eater for a minute, attempting to formulate a response, when a voice as light as tinkling bells floated over towards them. "Goyle? You're not thinking of leaving us already, are you?" Turning together, Harry gaped at the delicate young lady before him. She looked as though a strong wind would knock her over. Her long blonde hair fell to her waist, and even as her blue eyes sparkled her pretty face was turned up in a pout.

"Oh no! No, never! I would never do anything to make you sad! Look, I'm all done cleaning the rugs. I'll just go put them away and go right back to my cell, ok? I'm studying to become the next Minister of Magic, you know." As the Veela beamed, Goyle muttered a hasty goodbye to Harry and practically ran to do as he had promised.

Harry turned to see the Veela eyeing him carefully. He met her gaze full on, and was slightly startled when an image of Morgana popped into his head. The Veela smiled. "Have a good day, Mr. Potter," she murmured, bowing her head deferentially before turning away.

Harry gaped. "Shut your mouth dear, you are not a codfish." Meeting Narcissa's amused gaze, Harry flushed. "Well now," Narcissa said, beaming all the wider, "I never thought I would live to see my husband flush so prettily again."

Glaring, Harry took her arm again. "Did you get the note, darling?" he bit out through a forced smile.

"Of course," Narcissa replied, utterly unfazed by this show of frustration. Harry started, staring at her in amazement. She met his gaze. They both smiled. Now they were off to Gringott's, where Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would have no trouble getting into the Lestrange vault, seeing as Narcissa's dear sister had written a letter of permission.

Harry wondered if his dragon would still be there. He looked at Narcissa speculatively. Yep, he could probably talk her into a little dragon ride before returning to Hogwarts.

HDHDHD

Draco was bored, and more than a little eager to see Harry.

Harry had been beaming when he and Narcissa had slipped into dinner. He had such a great smile. However, Harry had barely managed to slip a package to Hermione and kiss his cheek before McGonagall had marched him right back out of the room and straight to the headmaster. Draco hadn't seen Harry all day. Not that he was sulking, mind you. Malfoy's certainly do not sulk.

"What are you thinking about Draco?" Crabbe looked curiously at Draco's pouting face.

"Harry," he replied automatically; wincing only a little at how pathetic that sounded. Thank God too many people feared the Malfoy name to comment on it.

"Umm..." a drawn out noise of appreciation. "I think about him sometimes. He has a hot ass." The minute the words left her mouth, the seventh year Slytherin slapped a hand over her mouth and turned horrified eyes on a suddenly glaring Draco.

"Ooohhhh… yes," Theodore Nott piped up. "And have you seen him on a broom?" Nott froze and closed his eyes briefly before turning to a visibly angry Draco.

"And his eyes," a first year chirped out. Chirpy little annoying wench. "He has the most expressive eyes." She sighed happily.

Draco was literally vibrating with fury. He wanted to hex them. Castrate them. Make them bleed and scream and apologize for ever having looked at his Harry. Wait… HIS Harry? When did that happen? Before he could comment further, a quietly giggling Pansy flopped down in the seat next to him. Giggling? She dared to giggle as these… these… what had Granger called him? Ah yes… these foul loathsome evil cockroaches discussed his Harry! He'd never liked Pansy anyway. The bitch.

He started slightly as he felt her press something into his palm. Ha! Like a note of apology would make him feel better. He knew where her loyalties lay now! Deciding to read her pitiful words before hexing her to the gates of Hell – he had known her since he was four, courtesy and all that jazz – Draco opened the note with angry gestures.

Draco – Calm the fuck down! Luna and I poured Veritaserum into all the goblets used for dinner, and Dobby made sure all the Slytherin and Ravenclaw kids got them. Granger and one of her Hufflepuff twits are doing their houses tomorrow. Did you know Potter had an elf? Huh. Doesn't seem the type. Anyway, we need to find out for sure who's loyal to You-Know-Who and this seemed the easiest way. Blaise is searching the boy's dormitory right now, and I just finished the girls. The whole house is gathered. It's time to hold court! P

Oh. Well. Pansy has always been one of his best friends.

Draco refused to blush. No matter how warm his face was, he was not blushing. He was plotting. Avoiding Pansy's knowing gaze, Draco stood up. Waiting till all eyes were on him, he flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his robes. "So," he drawled. "Voldemort. Thoughts?"

Several people looked stricken, a few froze, Pansy rolled her eyes, Blaise grinned, and Draco smirked as the voices began answering - it was going to be an entertaining night. Although… he was still feeling rather tense from peoples obvious respect for his Harry's… attributes. Maybe someone would say something else about him. Draco knew several good hexes just perfect for relieving tension.

He absently wondered if Unforgivable curses could be traced from inside a school.

HDHDHD

Harry hadn't been this uncomfortable inside the headmaster's office since second year when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin. Or fourth year; when Fawkes had to fix his knee after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Or fifth year; when he trashed the place in a fit of indignation and self-hatred. Or sixth year, when he saw Dumbledore sleeping inside a frame, instead of perched behind the desk. Fuck it. He hated this office. Caught up in his thoughts, he started slightly when Dumbledore began to speak.

"Harry. It has been quite awhile since we have spoken."

"I understand sir. You needed to assure yourself Voldemort didn't think he could access my mind and manipulate my actions. Must have been terribly stressful for you."

Dumbledore looked rather startled at this carelessly thrown out statement, and watched Harry closely as he sipped his tea. "Indeed," he replied at last. "It was rather rude of you, you know, to refuse Professor McGonagall the way you did this afternoon."

"I was waiting for you to make the first move," he responded quickly. "Draco's teaching me strategy." Fuck. He knew Hermione had that look on her face like she needed to tell him something. He hadn't had time to question her though.

Abruptly he recognized Dumbledore was staring at him. Harry pasted a smile on his face. Dumbledore watched him closely for a moment before gently inquiring, "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Harry wanted to shout for joy. Finally, finally he could talk to Dumbledore. He knew he had needed to give the man time to deal with his own demons, but Harry had been praying he would just hurry up and get on with it already. It had shattered a large part of his heart when Dumbledore – his last and greatest protector – had died. All he wanted to do was hug the man and breathe him in. However, Harry had enough with being manipulated the first time around. He could not allow Dumbledore to believe withholding pertinent information, even in a bid for protection, was an acceptable way of dealing with a situation. Last time that had been what killed Sirius, what very nearly killed him, what almost split apart his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and what led to too many people dying while Harry worked out the clues. This time would be different. It had to be.

Harry finally met the kind blue eyes. "Is there something you wish to tell ME, sir?"

Dumbledore looked very old and very tired as he sighed.

Slowly, haltingly, he told Harry about the prophecy. He explained about lying in answering all of Harry's questions, manipulating situation to force Harry to learn to depend on himself, encouraging Harry to develop his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and about how Neville could have been the Chosen One. A fleeting thought, terrible in its simplicity, raced through Harry's head. He made a mental note to talk urgently with Hermione before returning his attention to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore talked for a long time, and looked quite exhausted once he'd finished. Harry regarded him closely for a minute. To the best of his memory, Dumbledore hadn't lied or withheld any information. In fact, this conversation was slightly more forthcoming than the one they'd originally had when Harry destroyed his office. Slowly, Harry took a sip of tea to ease the nervous tightness in his throat. "Sir," he began calmly. "Do you remember showing me the memory of young Tom Riddle at the orphanage? The day you went to collect him and set his wardrobe on fire."

Harry could practically feel the tension increase in the air as Dumbledore's gaze sharpened on him. "No, Harry, I do not."

Harry nodded, as though this was of little consequence. "Well, sir, do you remember directing me to Professor Slughorn? When you asked me to retrieve the memory of the night he taught Tom Riddle about Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore merely shook his head, never taking his eyes off the too adult face in front of him.

Harry was almost whispering by now. "One last question, sir. Do you remember the night you and I went in search of a Horcrux? The night I force fed you poison? Only to return to find Death Eaters inside Hogwarts."

A pained expression crossed the headmaster's face at those words. He seemed to go rather pale, although he still remained quiet. Harry watched wordlessly as he freshened both his and Harry's cups of tea. "Harry, my dear boy," his tone was so gentle and so resigned Harry had to suddenly blink back tears. "Please. Won't you start at the beginning?"

"Just one more thing," Harry replied, in a voice tight with tears. Standing up, he swiftly walked over to the cabinet Dumbledore kept his Pensieve in and placed it on the desk between them. Concentrating hard, he selected the memories he was searching for and pulled them slowly away from his head. They seemed to glisten and pulse and he stared at them for a moment in silent reflection before gently placing them inside the pensieve. Motioning to Dumbledore to go first, they fell down into the cool rush of Harry… falling into the memories Snape gave him on that blood filled night in the Shrieking Shack.

When they returned to the office, Dumbledore was shaking and Harry felt hollow. He hated reliving memories of that time. Any memories, truth be told. His life had not been the exact makings of a bed side story. Dumbledore sat behind his desk in absolute silence for a few minutes. Harry let him. When at last he looked at Harry, there were tears streaming down his face.

Harry nodded. He kept his head lowered as he discussed returning home from school after fourth year. Nearly five years ago.

It didn't surprise him in the slightest when Hermione was ordered to the office as well.