This is where I stopped writing for a while. I couldn't decide how I wanted to go on with it: should I keep playing with the summer? Go straight to the school year? I felt like I already did a lot with Harry outside of school.... I think I did the transition pretty well.

I will say here that work around the holidays is getting very busy--I work a 12 hour shift this Tuesday--so updates will be even slower, but I do get a couple days off around Christmas itself and I'll try to do a nice big update. Call it a holiday present. ^_^

Without further ado, here is the story:

**~~***~~**

"I can't find my shoes."

"They should be by the door if you took them off when you came in like you were suppose to," came the tense reply.

Harry glared at his mother for a moment, then left the kitchen. He'd been trying to find his new shoes--which he hadn't worn yet--for the last ten minutes. Bothering to ask Lily had been a last-ditch effort of desperation more than a show of wanting her help. He just didn't want to be late on his first day of school.

The weeks since Harry's excommunication had passed slowly and painfully. Silence had filled the large house, and what few exchanges did take place were polite and cold. He and Lily had almost not spoken to each other at all, and the awkward tension was made even more unbearable by the fact that Harry had no way to vent his frustrations, having been restricted to the house for the rest of the summer. His only reprieve was three hours each day for soccer practice: James had refused to let Lily's punishment cost Harry his spot managing the team. Making the entire situation worse were Sirius's sour comments about Lily, Pastor Riddle, and the unfinished Mustang.

A few days after the initial events, however, Sirius, James, and Harry were given another thing to complain about, and Lily was given another point to get annoyed with everyone over. Harry's class schedule had come in the mail, and he was horrified to find he had not only Chemistry with Snape, but some class called "LIFE."

Sirius seemed to find it morbidly amusing after his initial annoyance wore off, but Harry, who was in no mood to talk about it, had just left the room. He wanted to ignore this new fact until he absolutely had to face it, and that was weeks away.

The only thing that seemed to get Harry through those long days were James's somewhat understanding comments, though at times he would lock that blank and slightly expectant stare on his son. He looked as if he was contemplating something he didn't think could understand him, like a scientist looking at an ameba through a microscope. It was unnerving, but, more often than not, it passed as quickly as it started. Truthfully, Harry was just thankful that the man had been concerned when he came home that first morning after staying at Ron's. He'd been shaky and sick-looking, and James had offered him a spot on the couch and drink. As for Lily, after receiving his punishment from her, Harry couldn't even be sure she had seen him for all her reaction. It was frustrating beyond words.

Pushing the memories of that morning away with a scowl, Harry went upstairs, hoping another check in his room would reveal the shoes. As he opened the door, he caught himself involuntarily rubbing his forehead and put his hand down to his side quickly. He'd been doing that a lot since The Nightmare. For the hundredth time, Harry fought the urge to verbally affirm to himself that it was only a dream: no other incidents had happened since.

Dropping to his knees, Harry peered under his bed, sure the shoes wouldn't be there--they hadn't been last time either. He sighed and sat back on his calves. Looking around for a place he hadn't looked yet, he decided another sort through his closet might be worthwhile.

Fifteen minutes later, his shoes still unfound, Harry groaned when he heard the doorbell ring. It could only be Ron and Hermione. Jogging halfheartedly down the stairs, he started to call goodbye to his mother, then stopped himself and opened the front door.

"Good morning," Hermione said pleasantly.

Ron merely peered through the screen sleepily.

Harry felt relieved at seeing them (he hadn't even been allowed to call them before last week). "Morning." He stuffed his feet carelessly into his dirty sneakers and picked up his bag. He pushed his way out the screen door and started down the path to the side walk, still sulking over his missing shoes.

After several moments of silence, Ron said, sounding a little more awake, "You won't believe who I saw this morning."

"Who?" he responded, not caring.

"Neville."

"I thought he went away to school," Hermione said, her brow creasing with something like concern and annoyance.

"Apparently," Ron continued, sounding pleased that he knew something she didn't, "little Neville was having a really hard time at school, so Gran decided to send him somewhere he has friends."

"Well," Harry said indifferently, "that's good for him."

"It would be," Hermione said, her eyes already narrowed as if in pre-disapproval of something she knew was coming, "if he did have friends."

Ron laughed. "Really."

Scowling, Hermione bit back, "I didn't say that to give you an opening to start in on him. I was just making a point. If his grandmother paid him the slightest bit of attention, she'd have to realize--"

"Anyway," Ron continued over her rant, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "he'll be going to Eldwood for his last year." There was a hint of amused anticipation in his voice that did not escape Harry's notice. If Hermione noticed, she didn't let on: she was too busy overtly ignoring Ron by digging her schedule out of her bag and examining it with unbridled interest.

A dull but persistant feeling of ill ease swelled in Harry's chest and he decided he would rather not join the conversation as it stood. He was completely aware of Neville's friendlessness, and he didn't feel the need to talk about it. What was bothering him the most was knowing that he now had to deal with seeing the poor boy scurry around him like a kicked puppy every day. There were moments after the incident at the chapel that made him want to know what, exactly he had done to Neville, and then there were moments that even thinking he might have been as mean as he felt he had made him sick. There was always time to patch things up.... But somehow that seemed like it would be just one more thing to add to his already-hectic life. Harry had decided to settle for passing chemistry without hurting anyone and getting in his last year of soccer affiliation so he could walk away from the sport for good without feeling like he had let his father down.

The rest of the walk to school passed quickly, Ron's chatter and Hermione's retorts filling the silence created by Harry's quiet mood. As they drew closer to the campus, Harry was surprised at how different it looked with people everywhere. He was only use to the still views of it, lazy and sleepy with summer heat, empty of all life except on the sports fields.

"My first class is in Chester," Hermione said, looking at her schedule once more. "I'll catch up with you at lunch." She hurried off towards the group of smaller buildings to the left of the main one.

"Have fun," Ron said to her retreating back with a halfhearted smirk.

"What are we doing first?" Harry asked. In his frantic search for his shoes, he'd left his schedule on the dining room table, but he knew his Monday classes were the same as Ron's.

Reading, Ron replied, "Life with Snape is first." He paused and made a disgusted face.

"What's life?"

"No philosophy this early in the morning," Ron said with a scowl.

Harry only looked back at him.

Ron continued, "Next is Physics with McGonagall. Lunch, study block, and we wrap the day up with Cultures with Lupin." Ron scowled at the paper. "I hate that they call it 'Cultures.' I mean, come on. It's just another government class."

"Remus calls it civics."

"It's an s-word, all right."

"Civics starts with a c."

"I could think of a few good c-words to give it, too," Ron retorted.

Ignoring the comment, Harry shook his head and started up the steps to the main building. He pulled the door open and walked into the cool darkness. The foyer smelled like books and mildew from the previous June. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he scanned the small space and was surprised to see an oddly familiar woman in a blue and black security uniform smiling at him, though he couldn't have said who she was.

"Good morning, boys," she said as Harry and Ron passed her post.

"'Morning," Ron said without much notice.

Harry, however, stopped. "Tonks?"

Tonks smiled. "Hi, Harry. I heard about your accident. Sergent Shacklebolt was on the call and he had me type up the reports."

"Oh," he answered, still surprised and unsure of what else to say. He looked at her, taking in her dark hair and blue eyes. Though her eyes were particularly vivid, there was nothing about her neat appearance that begged to be turned pink or pig-like. She was actually very tidy, her back rigid-- How had he imagined her to be clumsy and colorful?

"How are you feeling?"

Still thrown off guard, he replied distractedly, "I'm all right."

"I'm glad to hear it. I was afraid it might get boring around here without you in my hair," she chided good-naturedly.

Noticing the look of impatience on Ron's face, Harry said a quick goodbye and started walking again.

When they were a safe distance away, Ron grinned and said, "You moved back into the game fast."

"What does that mean?"

"Officer Tonks. Still think she's cute?"

Harry scowled. "I just wasn't expecting to see her here, that's all. Has she worked here long?"

"She came in the middle of last year. Just in time for your annual tormenting of the headmaster."

Oh, great, Harry thought. "Do I even want to ask what I did?"

"You let the lab mice out in the Chester Building. The infestation lasted for about a month, then the head broke down and called in pest control. A lot of money and a few dozen dead mice later, he still couldn't pin it on anyone, but everyone knew it was us." Pause. "Well, you. I only dumped out the mouse boxes. You lifted the building keys off Lupin and organized the whole thing."

Poor Remus, Harry thought, feeling slightly guilty.

"I'm guessing we don't get such a good show this year, though, do we?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"Probably not. I might blow up the potions lab though. So watch for that." Harry stopped when Ron stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"You said potions lab."

Harry's face reddened slightly. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't" he repeated firmly.

"Yes, you did! What the hell is a potions lab?"

"I have no idea."

"You're the one who said it."

"You must have been hearing things."

"Anyway," Ron said, perturbed, "here's our class." He walked into a room with a several desks and dull, blue carpeting. They were the only two people there and they picked seats at the back of the room.

Ron leaned back, propping his chair against the wall, and said, "So, ready for the best class ever? The mating habits of bats, as told by the King of Nocturnal Rodents."

Harry, distracted with flipping through his Physics book, only made a noncommittal sound, nodding slightly.

"Shouldn't be too bad," Ron conceded as if Harry was paying attention. "He taught Life our first year and, if I remember correctly, it wasn't too painful. Of course, we were eleven and didn't know what he was trying to talk to us about anyway."

Closing his book, Harry sighed and looked around just as two other boys entered the room. He groaned. It was Draco, followed closely by Goyle.

Spotting Harry, Draco dropped his books on a desk in the middle row and sneered, "Just who I want in my Life class." He glared at him. "Don't get any ideas when the lights go down, all right, Potter?"

Not particularly sure f the meaning behind the jibe, Harry glared back at him. "Take your own advice, Malfoy."

Goyle leered for a moment, but sat down at a look from Draco. Ron shook his head.

Over the next several minutes, five other boys walked in. Each of them was either unfamiliar to Harry, or someone he knew from his own year at Hogwarts. The last of the boys to come in was Neville Longbottom. He was clutching his book bag and looking at the full rows of desks with the fear of a rabbit cornered by a fox: all the seats were taken, which left him standing in front of the class.

Draco snorted with laughter at the sight of him. "Hey, Longbottom, this is the big boys' class. They usually have a study hall for prepubescents in the library."

The other boys, including Ron, snickered appreciatively.

His face red, Neville scanned the room once more for an empty seat.

"Why are you standing there like an idiot?" Snape entered the room and was now glaring down at the boy. He was wearing his black slacks and turtleneck under a blazer. His hair hung around his face, framing his pallid features and predatory eyes.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The jolt of recognition that had been lacking in their prior meetings finally gripped Harry and he could see himself hating this man. He wasn't the soccer coach in the sweatpants, nor was he Lily's friend, who liked milk in his tea. He was Severus Snape, and he was frightening.

"T-there are no more seats," Neville answered in a small voice, looking at Snape's knees.

Snape's lips thinned with annoyance. "Then I suggest you go and get one from another room. If you are not back here in--" He looked at the clock above the blackboard. "--one minute, you will be considered late."

Neville took a moment of obvious thought to decide if he should bring his book bag with him or leave it behind, then, still clutching the bag, walked quickly out of the room.

The boys snickered again.

Harry just shook his head. He felt sorry for Neville, and his decision to keep his head down and try to get through the year unscathed was being severely tested: given that it was only Monday morning of the first week of class, that did not bode well for his resolve.

"All right, children," Snape said with a note of dull annoyance. He peered around at them, his dark eyes narrowing as they passed over Harry. "First of all, I want to make it quite clear that I am only teaching this class because of an unfortunate incident, completely out of my control. Now that we understand that I do not want to be here, let me assure you that I know most of you don't want to be here either. Luckily, this course consists mainly of reading directly from a book prepared by the Educational Department. As such, I do not feel the need to stand in front of you for the next forty-five minutes. I will have you take turns doing the reading."

Leaning across the space between the rows, Harry whispered to Ron, "What is this class?"

"You honestly don't know?"

Harry glared at him.

"Potter, since you are in a talkative mood today, you can begin." With a long, purposeful stride, Snape moved up the row until he stood directly in front of Harry. He dropped a paperback manual on his desk and said, "Page two. Begin at the 'TEACHER' cue." Turning, Snape walked to the desk at the head of the class and sat in the cushioned chair. He folded his hands together and peered at Harry. "Begin."

Annoyed at being singled out, Harry glared down at the book. "'This term we are going to be studying sexual intercourse.'" He stopped and stared at the page to make sure he'd read correctly. Looking up, he saw the impatient stares and bored expressions of his classmates.

Snape peered at him. "Just sound the words out, Potter," he said. "One syllable at a time."

His cheeks going slightly red at having to read this in front of the entire class, Harry continued in a mumble just loud enough to keep Snape from demanding he speak up. "'Sexual intimacy is an act between a man and a woman--'"

"Or two men, in Longbottom's case," the boy sitting behind Draco sneered.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco only looked bored and unamused at the comment. Goyle and the rest of the class chuckled.

Harry's face burned and he hoped it wasn't as red as it felt, but, judging by the snickers that followed the comment, it probably was. He would have cared more if he wasn't so busy wondering exactly how "intimate" his relationship with Draco had been--a thought he hadn't dared allow himself to entertain until now. Swallowing thickly and feeling sick, he continued, "--between a man and a woman who have established a relationship with one another.'" He looked up at Snape. "It says to pause for comments," he muttered, feeling miserable.

Just then, the door opened and Neville waddled in, dragging a desk behind him, still trying to hold onto his book bag. Several boys snickered, and Goyle started laughing.

"Settle down," Snape said in a bored voice. "You're late, Longbottom." He looked back at Harry. "There are no comments. Continue."

Harry sighed. "'The main design of intercourse is procreation, or the production of offspring. The essential differences in the male and female anatomies are what allow for intercourse. In the coming weeks, we will explore these differences and discover the way they work together to create life."

"All right, Potter, pass the book to Longbottom."

Looking up from settling his borrowed desk at one side of the room, farther forward than the rest of the rows, Neville looked horrified.

If it didn't mean that he was off the hook, Harry might have felt bad about passing the manual up the row to poor Neville; however, he couldn't quite manage to feel anything but relief that he'd gotten out of that fairly unharmed. He was slightly disturbed by the new thoughts of himself and Draco that were swimming in his mind, but outwardly he was still in one piece.

The rest of the class passed quickly as the manual was handed from boy to boy until nearly everyone had a turn to read. Harry blocked out most of what was being said, still preoccupied with trying to repress thoughts of himself and Draco doing things he wasn't even sure they'd done. By the time the bell rang, he was in no mood to go through the remainder of the day. He just wanted to go home and pretend sex education with Snape had never happened.

"That could have been worse," Ron commented lightly as he and Harry walked out of the room.

Harry still felt too ill to say anything: he was noticing that Draco had just passed close beside him in the crowded hall. The accidental and unacknowledged brush of their shoulders filled him with an odd mixture of feelings. Watching the other boy's retreating back, he wondered, as he had the day he'd met Draco after practice to return the class ring, exactly how he could have found Draco attractive. There was nothing there now.... Harry flinched as he caught himself evaluating Draco's potential good points in an effort to justify the relationship he didn't remember having. The thought sickened him, but he couldn't help wondering exactly how it had come about in the first place.

Maybe we were drunk at a party, he thought, scowling to himself. He was really starting to not like the idea of parties.

For the rest of the morning, Harry stayed close to Ron and tried not to say anything more than, "Hello," to the many people who tried to stop him to talk.

McGonagall's class wasn't much harder than he had expected it to be. She was still stern, but she seemed to understand the fact that Harry wasn't in a very good position to answer questions, and he was grateful that she didn't try to make him. Though he still didn't recognize anything about the class other than her teaching style, Harry was put enough at ease by McGonagall's familiar presence to enjoy the hour.

Like physics, study hall (supervised by a short man with thinning hair who Harry had never seen before) went smoothly. At the beginning of the class a pretty girl with blond hair tried to get Harry to sit beside her, but Ron pushed her along out of their way, stating that they had already picked seats in the back, away from her.

Sliding into one of the seats in the back row, Harry leaned over and whispered, "Who was that?"

"Candice. You dated her for a couple months last year. It was sort of a messy break up." Ron looked away as he said that. "Long story short, you don't want to sit beside her."

"Oh." Sitting back, Harry stared ahead. It seemed weird to him to think he'd ever had a girlfriend besides Ginny. It made his stomach turn sickeningly as if he was on a very fast amusement park ride that was going out of control. After several seconds, his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "What do you mean by 'messy?'"

"Well, you sort of found out she was cheating on you."

Even though he didn't remember it, Harry felt a small blow to his ego. "With who?"

"Malfoy."

Harry suppressed a groan, an odd unease whose root he could not name building in him. It seemed like he could trace every difficulty he had ever had back to Draco and he was really getting sick of it. I bet he had something to do with the embarrassing Cho incident, too, he thought, scowling. Harry spent the rest of the period glaring at the notes he was supposed to be reviewing, then followed Ron wordlessly into the hall when the bell rang.

"Let's find Hermione and head to lunch. I'm starving."

Harry nodded his agreement and they started back towards the end of the building they'd entered from. When they walked by Officer Tonks, they both nodded a quick hello, then stepped out of the building into the bright sunlight. Freed from the stagnant smell of books and fresh paint, Harry felt a little of the unease leave him. He'd been nervous about this day for weeks and he was relieved to know it was almost over. Just lunch and class with Remus left.

Just as he was about to voice his opinion on the subject of lunch, Harry looked up and past Ron, and the words died on his lips. Across the small courtyard that sat in the middle of the cluster of class buildings stood a group of girls, and one of them was looking--rather, staring at him. She didn't look away when their eyes met, and, for a moment, Harry was transfixed. There was nothing striking about her, really, except how familiar she looked. She had short black hair, and her face was round and cute--nowhere near beautiful, but attractive in an unconventional way.

"What is it?" Ron asked, following his line of vision. "Oh no," he intoned when he say who Harry was looking at.

"Who's she?"

"No one you want to mess with."

Suspicious at Ron's evasive answers, Harry asked, "Is she someone I should know?"

"'Should' and 'used to' are two completely different concepts," he answered vaguely. After a second, he sighed and said, "That's Pansy Parkinson. And yes, you two are familiar with each other."

Harry looked back at Pansy with unmasked disbelief. Could it really be her? Somehow, she didn't look the same as he remembered, though Harry couldn't have said what was different.

She stared back at him, a brief smirk crossing her lips then disappearing.

Harry looked at Ron. "So what happened between us?" he asked somewhat fearfully.

"I really don't know. You two use to be friends until the beginning of last summer. It was about a week before the accident when you guys had a big fight about something."

"How on earth did I end up being friends with her?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Her mom and your dad work together, so you two ended up at a lot of Christmas and company parties together. At least, that's what you told me."

"Were we good friends?"

"So-so, as far as I could tell."

Harry scowled. He could tell Ron was being deliberately vague about the details, which probably meant something had gone on that he didn't think Harry would want to know about. However, the situation with Draco still had him unsettled, and if he'd had a real relationship with a girl, even Pansy Parkinson, he would be glad to know about it. Pressing forward, he said, "Did you ever think--"

"Uh-oh."

Harry looked back towards the group of girls and noticed that Pansy was moving away from the others. Her eye were fixed on Harry and her movement was a purposeful stride in his and Ron's direction. As Pansy approached them, her features became darker. She left the sidewalk and crossed the grass, stepping back onto the concrete several feet ahead of them. Pansy stopped and waited for them to reach her, her eyes narrowing first at Ron, then Harry.

"Hey, Pansy," Ron said stiffly.

From the closer vantage point, Harry could see she was wearing pink lip gloss and makeup around her eyes that would have made them look large and innocent if they weren't so shadowed over with thoughtfulness.

Ignoring Ron's halfhearted greeting, Pansy said to Harry, "Good to see you up. I thought I'd have to give a speech at your funeral, or something. That accident was really terrible." Harry was about to thank her for her concern, but then she continued, "But I guess that's what you get for going riding in cars with boys without your daddy's permission, isn't it?"

If her tone wasn't neutral, Harry might have been insulted. As it was, he was only curious and couldn't find a reply.

"You do still talk, don't you?"

"Umm, yeah. You just caught me off guard." Harry's mind was still reeling over the "riding in cars with boys" comment. Could she know about him and Draco? No. That would be-- Well, it just couldn't be.

She smiled. "I always do." Turning to Ron, she said, "Take a walk, Weasley."

"Not likely, Parkinson. Besides, we're gonna be late."

"To what? Lunch?" she sneered.

Ron glared, his ears turning red.

"It's fine," Harry said quietly. "I'll catch up with you."

With a short, hurt look at Harry, Ron left, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets as he trudged up the walkway to the cafeteria.

Pansdy gave him an annoyingly superior look. "So, tell me I was right."

"About what?"

"Draco. I told you he was trouble."

Harry felt his face go red and he hated himself for betraying to her his emotion. She might not even be talking about their relationship....

"You should have left him to me."

Scowling and glancing around to make sure there was no one close enough to hear--Pansy was hardly bothering to keep her voice down--he replied, "Well, he's all yours now."

Her eyebrows raised with the first real sign of emotion from her since she'd approached Harry. "Broke up? I hope Weasley didn't have anything to do with you changing your mind about Draco, because that would be too much of a trade down to be worth it." Pansy carelessly brushed her bangs out of her eyes and peered up into the sun for a moment. "I mean, I don't care if I can't have you because of Draco, but to lose to him would be humiliating."

"Actually, I don't, umm, like guys. So, yeah. No, Ron didn't have anything to do with it." I can not be having this conversation, he thought. Not with her.

That amused smirk returned. "Draco sure knows how to turn 'em off. Oh well. All the better, in my opinion. Does this mean we're friends again?" She sounded like she didn't much care either way.

Harry could only stare. He wished he could remember what their friendship had been like before. He wished he knew what they'd fought over, and how Pansy knew about him and Draco. He wished he knew if he could trust her enough to ask her questions about himself before the accident. He wished a lot of things, but only shrugged in response to her question.

"So like you," Pansy answered nonchalantly. "If you grow a set and decide you wanna apologize for being an ass, you know my number." Without waiting for Harry to reply, she turned and strode back over the lawn towards her friends, who had been watching their conversation with avid interest. A cute blond asked Pansy something, to which she shrugged.

Feeling even more ill at ease than he had when he was reading out of the Sex Ed. book in Snape's class, Harry started towards the cafeteria.

**~~***~~**

Harry stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, frustration mounting as he thought about the events of the day. Still distracted from his conversation with Pansy, he'd managed to turn Remus's class--the one that should have been the easiest--into the most difficult hour of the day. Thinking about it was making him feel even worse, something he didn't think possible. Grabbing his pillow and pressing it over his face, he yelled as loud as he could.

For several minutes, Harry just lied there with the pillow over his face, hoping he might suffocate. When he found himself to still be alive after ten minutes, he shoved the pillow aside and sat up. This wasn't helping. Ron said Harry knew Pansy from his dad's job, so why not just go ask him about her?

Standing up, Harry walked down the stairs and into the living room where James was sitting with Lily. Ignoring his mother with little effort, Harry said, "Dad, you work with Mrs. Parkinson, right?"

Lily stiffened visibly.

James looked away from the TV. "I used to. She's in a different office now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I talked to her daughter, Pansy, today. I sort of got the feeling we use to, you know, know each other pretty well. But I don't remember it very much." Or at all, he added to himself.

His brow furrowed with thought, James took a moment before answering. "Well, I know you two talked to each other at company events. She's called here for you a couple times. I never saw you spend time with her, or anything. Come to think of it, it's been a little while since you've mentioned her." He thought a second. "Probably not since last year."

"Yeah. According to Ron, we had a fight or something and haven't really been talking to each other. Today she said I could call her if I felt like apologizing for something."

Lily snorted and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

James glanced at her, then turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe this is something you talked to your mother about."

Harry debated for a moment, weighing the option of asking Lily for her opinion, or continuing to play the ignore game they'd been locked in. He sighed and walked back out of the room. Lily gave him snide comments about shoes, never mind what she might say to him if he tried to go to her about something important.

Trudging up the stairs, Harry plodded into his room and flopped listlessly unto his bed. He was in no different a position than he had been other than the fact that now he was on his stomach instead of his back....

Harry was suddenly pulled out of his wallowing by a light knock at the door and his mother's soft voice. "Honey?"

He grunted a reply into his pillow.

"I think we've carried this on long enough," she continued in a tired voice. "It's getting ridiculous that we aren't even talking to one another."

Agreeing with her completely, Harry pushed himself up and looked at her.

"I--" Lily stopped. "I have no idea what you've been through. I thought whatever it was would go away and you'd go back to being who you always were. When it didn't turn out that way, I was disappointed."

"To say the least," Harry said quietly.

"I'm sorry. But you have to admit you have been just as much a party to this as I have."

Harry was quiet for several seconds, thinking about the previous months. He supposed he hadn't even tried very hard to make things up with his mother. Truth be told, he'd been so concerned with whether or not James would accept and love him that he'd never even thought to win Lily's approval. Somehow, he thought she'd just automatically love him, the way he had her, and that would be that. A bitter taste crept into his throat as he recalled the day he'd woken up and seen his mother. His chest ached and he wanted to go back to that time and do it all over again. Borrow Hermione's time turner and make things right....

"I understand if you're still upset. Honestly, I am too. But we won't stop being upset with each other if we don't talk about it."

"I'm not upset with you," Harry finally said, scowling slightly.

"Oh." Taken aback, Lily thought a moment before saying, "Well, I suppose that's a step in the right direction then."

"If I'm upset at all, I'm upset with myself. There are things I should-- I forgot stuff that people just don't forget. I mean, there's no way-- It doesn't make any sense."

Lily walked into the room and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Honey." She sighed as if there was more she wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Everything was so complicated in my dream, but all the simple problems that came up had simple answers. Now, everything is simple, but there aren't any answers, so it's just frustrating. I wish I could just go to the doctor's and have them wave a magic wand and make all my memories come back," he confessed, feeling inexplicably guilty and somewhat ashamed.

Lily hugged Harry tightly. "I wish it worked that way, too," she whispered. She sat there, holding him for several minutes before saying, as if the pause had never happened, "But it doesn't work that way."

"Are you really that mad that I'm not going to church any more?"

"No. Not now. I wish you would change your mind, though."

"Why?"

"God is important."

"If I ever decide I want to learn about God, it won't be from Tom Riddle," he said firmly. He didn't want to leave any doubt in her mind as to the fact that he was not stepping foot inside that church again for any reason. He'd let his father hope about soccer until he'd been forced onto the team. There was no way he was giving Lily that option.

"What did he say to you?" she asked in a voice so soft he could only hear her because her lips were right by ear.

Memories of that long-ago interview in Riddle's office and the resulting nightmare flooded Harry's mind with painful clarity. It had hardly been the end-all war that the wizarding world had been preparing him for, but he had seen Voldemort in Riddle's eyes, and just knowing that that creature really existed inside the man was enough to turn his guts to ice and make his throat tighten. Not trusting himself to even give half an explanation, Harry remained silent, sitting in his mother's embrace, hoping she wouldn't push the subject.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Mom."

"Let's not be mad at each other any more." Her voice was still a thoughtful whisper, as if she might be talking to someone else entirely who she alone could see.

"OK," he answered in a whispering voice equal to hers.

Another minute passed before Lily released Harry from the embrace. She brushed his hair back out of his face and smiled, her cheeks streaked with dried tears.

A feeling of resolve and comfort filled Harry. It was quickly replaced by his returned curiosity concerning Pansy. If he'd had only an ounce less tact, he probably would have asked his mother about her right then. As it was, he gave Lily a half smile to show all really was forgiven and forgotten, and decided to bring it up again after dinner. The sooner he worked out the mystery of Draco and his relationship, the sooner he could move on to worrying about other things. And right now, Pansy seemed to be the only person besides Draco who knew anything about it, and who might be able to help him.

TBC

**~~***~~**

There you have it. The school year begins. I really liked writing the summer stuff more because it was less hindered by a schedule--I could just say it was any day I wanted and that anything had happened. Rereading over it, I think this and the next chapter will be my least favorite, though I do love the part where Harry accidentally calls the chemistry class a potions lab. Interesting note: I really did type "potions lab" by accident when I first wrote this part. I started to change it, but thought it would be funny to leave it in, so I added Ron's reaction. Comedic genius at it's best.... -_-*

Review responses.... First, a thanks to everyone. Umm, it's a little weird reading the reviews when I've finished the story and I know what's coming.... Some of you expressed strong opinions about certain characters and situations.... Luna will be in it. Next chapter, maybe the one after (I'm not positive). She isn't in it very much though. I will say that we don't see Pastor Riddle again. We might have, but the story took a different turn than I first thought. We will definitely hear about him again, but I won't say any more about that right now.

I'm surprised there haven't been a lot of comments about Snape, but that's probably just because I adore him so much.... I hope you'll all like what I do with him in later chapters.

For now, another huge thanks to you all. I'll try to update again tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll be able to. If not, Wednesday, definitely.