A/N: So sorry to have kept you waiting again... and that I kept you hanging... and that I'm going to do it again. Hey, at least it's an update. I've been super busy with school at the moment (home stretch until finals and all), so I've completely lost track of which reviews I've responded to and which I haven't. If I missed you I am SO sorry, please forgive me and know that I so appreciate everyone who has given me feedback on this thing. Please continue to do so.

P.S. Thanks to all of you who wished the opera well. We had a great show :-)

Chapter 12. Insightful, yeah?

Harry sat silently at the table in Grimauld Place, his hands gripping a mug of hot drink—he really couldn't be bothered to know what it was. Molly had thrust the mug into his hands, insisting he drink before heading back up the stairs to assist Madame Pomfrey.

Remus sat across from Harry, silently sipping a drink of his own. He was as haggard as ever, but even peakier looking than usual since the full moon had been two nights prior.

Harry rarely saw the marauder and when he did it was usually only in snatches. Remus was neck deep in Greyback's world of werewolf drones. He wasn't usually in contact with anyone for weeks at a time.

Though Harry really didn't work with the Order directly, crossing paths with them from time to time was inevitable. They helped each other out, but the trio worked primarily alone. It was safer that way; Voldemort wouldn't expect it. Despite this, Remus always made the effort to contact Harry when he could. The fact that they were both at Grimauld Place at the same time was a wonder of a coincidence in itself.

"Alright there Harry?"

Harry looked up from his drink and met Lupin's gaze. For whatever reason, Harry really couldn't be bothered with his usual display of bravado. He reserved that particular show for Mrs. Weasley, for Mad-Eye (who was still very wary of what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been doing for over a year and a half now, and rather unconvinced that they could handle it despite how many times they proved themselves).

But with Lupin, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too tired, too spent, and too furious with himself.

"I've been better professor."

Harry could hardly believe the sound of his own voice. He didn't know he could sound quite so pathetic. He cleared his throat, as though by doing so would explain the strain it had taken to get those few words out.

Lupin waited quietly, knowing from experience that Harry was going to talk. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when the teen was going to wall himself up or let loose. Perhaps it was because he was so reminiscent of James, who Remus had been able to read like a book. Whatever the reason, Lupin just sat quietly as Harry searched for words.

"I… they… they bloody did it again!" Harry exploded, causing Lupin to blink in surprise.

"Did what again Harry?"

Harry held his head in his hands and shook it. "Tried to… to save me. The stupid idiots! I… They're upstairs right now having Madame Pomfrey heal… heal who the bloody hell knows what, all because they jumped in front of curses meant for me! They… why do they keep doing it! It's bad enough I've dragged them into all of this with me."

"Harry," Lupin said gently, "Would you jump in front of a curse for them?"

Harry looked up, startled by the question. "Of course I would," he said, sounding utterly indignant. "I…"

"Then why are you angry for them for doing it for you?" Lupin interrupted.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again, unable to come up with a suitable answer. Lupin watched carefully as the war hardened teenager sank back into his chair. Lupin hated thinking of him like that—as war hardened, but Harry had lost his innocence long ago, and it was obvious that he was now desperately fighting to hold on to himself. Stronger men than Harry had lost themselves in war, and Lupin refused to allow his best friend's only son to fall under that same fate, whatever it took.

"Don't they get it though Remus?" Harry said quietly, causing Lupin to blink in surprise once again. Harry rarely called him by his first name. 'Professor' had become an affectionate term of sorts, and even when that title was dropped Harry still usually addressed him by his surname. "If I loose them," he continued, "I… what will I do?"

The question shot through Remus like lightning. He could almost hear the air leaving his lungs. He could honestly say that for the first time he knew what it felt like to be a father—or as close as one could feel to a father without actually being one literally. He was hit with a strong memory of James, celebrating the announcement of Lily's pregnancy with himself and Sirius, going nearly frantic as the realization of what being a father really meant. "What about when he asks the hard questions Moony? What the hell do I know about those kinds of things?"

Lupin still remembered his answer. With a smirk at Sirius, who was desperately trying not to laugh outright, Lupin took his friend firmly by the shoulders and forced him to look him in the eye. "You will tell him the honest truth James," he had told him, "Even if the truth is ugly, or that you don't know, you'll be honest with him… and he'll respect you for that."

Harry hadn't meant for the question to be answered really, and Lupin knew this. But it didn't matter. He had the answer to that question, and he was going to tell Harry so, no matter how much he didn't really want to hear it.

Harry met Lupin's gaze suspiciously, trying to read the expression on the weary werewolf's face. Their eyes locked and Lupin made sure to hold Harry's there without a word.

"You'll live Harry," Lupin said firmly.

Harry furrowed his brow and sat back in his chair once again, rather perturbed by the harshness of the words. Lupin was never one to be so bluntly insensitive.

Lupin continued to hold Harry's gaze as the younger man worked frantically to understand why his serene and understanding surrogate uncle would say such a thing to him at such a moment as this.

And then it hit him.

Harry's expression softened as his throat suddenly went dry. Lupin could say such a thing because Lupin knew. Lupin understood, in a way few others could, what it was like to loose the people you loved—the people you lived for.

Harry continued to stare at his former professor and he slowly nodded, letting Remus know that he had understood.

"And…" he sad suddenly, almost surprised to find himself capable of speech, "this… living, even without them, it's… it's not… you know, unbearable?"

"Some days," Remus answered softly, "but you find that it can indeed be done. It starts out as a shadow at first, like you aren't really sure why you're alive really, and then, eventually, you realize that there are still things worth living for."

"Tonks," Harry said simply.

A shade of a smile passes Lupin's lips as he nodded slightly.

"Mmm, she would be one of those things, yes. But there was more, before her. You, for example."

Harry bit his lip and dropped his eyes away from Lupin's, who leaned forward towards Harry.

"I'm sure that you have always wondered, since your third year, why you were not given into my care when your parents died…"

"But I imagine the werewolf thing might have had something to do with it," Harry said for him.

Remus nodded sadly. "It killed me."

Harry shook his head, a small smirk making its way across his features.

"You lived."

1111111111111111111111111111111

George glanced around his youngest brother's flat and frowned. He was never sure whether to show up in Ron's place or Ginny's and it was always rather awkward apparating right into their living rooms as well. He sometimes wished they'd decided to live in a wizarding apartment complex, but he understood why they'd chosen to go muggle. It wouldn't do to have neighbors whispering about how the infamous Golden Trio had moved in. It just wasn't worth messing with.

"Anyone home?" George called, his eyes scanning down the hall.

"In the kitchen… George?"

"Very good. I remember when you couldn't even tell me and Fred apart even after we told you about Fred's birthmark." George replied, entering the kitchen and grinning widely at Hermione.

His grin faltered however, as he took in the sight of the bushy haired Gryffindor. She was bent over several books and rolls of parchment, a cauldron simmering just to her left. She looked, if George had to be honest, like a train wreck.

"Well it's not like your collarbones are exposed when wearing a school robe—or even a t-shirt for that matter," Hermione replied, still not looking up from a piece of parchment containing her own handwriting.

"Ah, very true," George said, feeling a little uncomfortable—not a regular occurrence for George, but it seemed to be happening more and more in recent months.

At last, Hermione looked up from her notes, smiling weakly and apologetically at George.

"I'm sorry. I get a little preoccupied. Did you need something? Someone?" she asked.

"Er…" George faltered, "Actually I just thought I'd pop in to say hi… check up on Ron maybe?"

Hermione frowned. "Oh… well, you can see him if you want, but he's pretty out of it at the moment. Harry's with him. He's… he's pretty sick George."

"I gathered that," George replied, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "What about you? No offence Herms, but you've certainly looked better. When's the last time you even got out of this place?"

Hermione just shrugged. "I'm working on a potion… for Ron. He's got to break this stupid curse. He's been stuck here longer than I have."

George nodded, that unfamiliar feeling of awkwardness filling the air around him again.

"Right. Well, is Gin around then?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought before answering, "Erm, the balcony maybe? I'm not sure. She's around somewhere. I don't think she went back to our flat."

George nodded and stepped out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione to her cauldron. He just stood in the living room for a moment, wondering why he had even bothered to come over here. A mental image of Angelina chatting on about curtains however, quickly reminded him. George loved his brother dearly, and he loved Angelina as well, but watching the two of them discuss decorating plans for the flat that he and Fred had bought together was a bit much. He would be moving in with Lee after the wedding. Lee had a flat just outside of Hogsmeade and Fred and George had decided it was time to go ahead and open a second shop there. Fred would run the one is Diagon Alley, while George oversaw the new Hogsmeade shop. Again, it was all a bit much.

Shaking his head, George forced himself towards the door to the balcony, a grin spreading across his face at the lone figure leaning against the balcony railing.

"Evening Miss Weasley."

Ginny spun around in surprise, registered that it was George, and glared evenly at him.

"Well, that's a fine way to greet your brother now isn't it?"

Ginny just continued to glare fiercely at the ginger haired man.

"O-kaaay… Erm, what did I do?"

Ginny huffed in exasperation and put her hands on her hips.

"You told mum; remember?"

George shrugged again and tried to think of something to say. A joke at the moment probably wouldn't do much good, and he'd already apologized more than once for his blunder a few days ago.

"Oh never mind," Ginny said, allowing her arms to fall limply at her sides. "What are you doing here anyway? Is Fred with you?"

It suddenly dawned on Ginny how odd it was that George had just showed up at the flat unannounced. She didn't mind, but it was still slightly weird. Fred and George were almost always busy with something or another. Watching George, Ginny suddenly thought he looked quite… bored. It wasn't a look she could recall ever seeing on either of the twins before—there was supposed to be something always scheming just beneath the surface with those two.

George shifted his gaze away from Ginny and just shrugged, making a half attempt at a smirk. He strode over to the railing and leant across it, his back to Ginny.

"Fred's not here Gin. He's… he's at the flat. Can't a guy just come visit his baby brother and sister?"

Ginny sighed and walked back to the railing to stand next to George. She had always gotten on quite well with the twins. They'd let her tag along with them far more often than Ron used to, and she'd mostly stuck with them her first couple years at Hogwarts since Ron was always with Harry—Ginny had always been such a nervous wreck in front of that stupid boy. It was funny how things ended up. She was much closer to Ron than she was Fred or George. The twins never really involved her in anything personal; they had each other for that.

Despite this, Ginny understood why George was here. He just didn't have anywhere else to go really, now that Fred had things in his life other than George to occupy himself with.

"It sucks doesn't it," Ginny said, not looking at her brother.

George stayed very quite, a feat Ginny didn't know he had in him, and continued to look out at the glorious view of the parking lot, entertained by a muggle tenant bemoaning the fact that her keys were locked inside her car.

"It's not so bad," he said finally, pulling his wand out of the pocket of his magenta work robes and taking careful aim of the car.

Ginny nodded slowly, eyeing George's wand.

"Yeah… but it still sucks."

George snickered and shook his head.

"Ever the insightful one you are."

"At least I don't go around pretending to be a shallow twit with no feelings."

George turned to look at Ginny, his wand temporarily forgotten, looking slightly impressed.

"Ouch Gin."

"Who said I was directing that at you?" Ginny asked innocently, earning another snicker from her brother.

George smirked and muttered "alohamora"at the car. The frustrated muggle woman gasped as her car door suddenly flung open in front of her. Ginny shook her head and glanced over at George, who pocketed his wand again.

The siblings stood in silence once again before a sharp cry of terror made its way faintly through the walls of the flat and out on the balcony. George snapped his head up in alarm but Ginny just sighed.

"It's just Ron. He's alright."

George spun around to face his sister, his brow furrowed in confusion. Ginny sighed again and threw her arms in the air.

"I know George! Okay? I bloody well know! It's a mess! Everything is a mess! Hermione is going nutters trying to come up with a solution; Ron is too damn sick to keep her from stressing herself out to the point of insanity, and Harry… Merlin George, I don't even want to talk about Harry! And you know what the worst part is?"

George just stared at his sister, waiting for her to finish, completely gobsmacked by her sudden outburst. Ginny had a temper yes, but she was usually very level headed about it.

"The worst part George, is that this is the bloody IMPROVED version of things around here!"

Ginny shook her head and flung her hair over her shoulder in agitation. George just continued to stare at her, completely out of his element.

"And I thought I had problems," he said finally.

Ginny snorted and leaned against the railing once again.

"I dunno George, seems like no matter what I do, I'll always just be stuck on the outside, watching those three try and put their lives together. They're… they're unbreakable that lot. Sometimes I just wish… I wish I could be part of that but…"

"…but you know that there are some things you will just never be a part of… no matter how close you are to them," George finished quietly, surprising both himself and Ginny.

Ginny blinked up at George, who managed to meet her eyes in return.

"See," he said proudly, "insightful, yeah?"

1111111111111111111

"She's eating, right?"

"Don't try and talk Ron, you'll end up coughing up a lung… again."

Ron would have lectured Harry if it didn't take so much energy. He opted for a rude hand gesture instead which Harry rolled his eyes at.

"Oh very intimidating," Harry said, "And yes, she's eating. I make sure of it."

Ron tried to reply, but it came out as a muffled grunt instead.

"Your welcome mate," Harry told him.

Ron sighed to himself. Both he and Harry knew that Ron was going to fall asleep. There was no way around it really. His body simply had to have it, and Ron's best efforts were thwarted no matter how desperately he preferred to stay awake. By now, Harry could tell when Ron wasn't going to be able to fight it, and Ron recognized when it was pointless not to just give in. There was little else that could be done about the situation, except for Harry waking Ron when the night visions were too much.

Harry bit his lip and glanced nervously at his best mate. Ron was staring intently at the wall opposite his bed, as though by doing so would enable him to sleep with his eyes open and not force him to see whatever it was Ron witnessed when he closed his eyes. Hermione was still the only one Ron had revealed the nature of his nightmares to.

"Oi," Harry finally said, nudging Ron slightly with his foot, "Stop fighting it mate. I won't let it go on long."

Ron looked over at Harry who was currently propped up against the footboard of Ron's bed, parchments full of quiditch plays scattered around him. Harry had just been informed that as a reserve player, he may be called on to take the place of any given teammate if they were unable to play in a match. A poor Keeper was better than no Keeper after all, so Harry had to be up to date with all of the team's plays and strategies—an area that Seekers typically played little part in.

"Really Ron, you know it's going to happen."

Ron sank back into his pillow and allowed his eyelids to slide closed reluctantly, a grimace already plastered on his features.

Harry sighed and went back to his parchment, not really seeing any of it as he made a mental note of the time. The goal was for Ron to get at least an hour's worth of sleep before waking him, but it was hard to let it go on that long. Harry had an extremely difficult time watching his best friend writhe around in distress. It was too reminiscent of memories Harry would rather he didn't have.

After 45 minutes, Harry was off the bed and pacing back and forth across Ron's room, only barely restraining himself from jerking Ron away from the nightmare that plagued him. He tugged nervously at his hair, and looked at the clock for the hundredth time when Ron suddenly let out a sharp cry, his voice ringing with defeat and frustrated agony.

That was the last straw. Harry rushed forward and gripped Ron by the shoulders.

"Ron? Ron, wake up. Come on Ron…"

Ron jerked awake and immediately sat up, gripping at Harry's shirt with a frantic look in his eyes.

"It's me Ron! It's alright, it's just me. You're ok mate."

Ron gasped and instantly went into a coughing fit as Harry dutifully stepped away and allowed Ron to get his bearings.

"You alright?" Harry asked finally, once Ron stopped coughing and looked less frantic.

"Yeah," he said weakly, "Yeah… I'm alright."

Harry nodded and cautiously resumed his perch at the foot of Ron's bed, as was his custom, and just watched Ron for a moment.

Ron rolled his eyes and propped himself up slightly.

"Fever's down Harry; I hate when you look so concerned. It gives me the creeps."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, managing to break into a smile. "I just feel a bit awkward with you so sick. Ginny and Hermione have it much easier. Or perhaps you want me to stroke your hair for you?"

"Shut up. Only a git would tease his best mate in a state like mine."

"Well you've informed me several times that I am exceedingly good at being a git, so there you have it."

Ron shook his head and then leaned it against the headboard, shivering as he closed his eyes before quickly snapping them back open again.

Harry knew what that meant, and knew the routine. It was distraction time. It always went unspoken. Sometimes Harry and Ron just sat in silence, and other times Harry chatted on and on as much as he could. He just instinctively knew which tactic was needed and when by now. Unlike the girls, Harry ignored all of the gasping Ron did between sentences, as well as the coughing fits that commonly interrupted all conversation, and Ron liked it that way. He didn't feel like an invalid when Harry was 'on watch' as he'd come to call it.

"So," Harry began, "What's the first thing you intend to do when you're better?"

"Take Hermione on a proper date," Ron answered promptly.

Harry tilted his head in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah. We've never been on one. Isn't that ridiculous?"

Harry frowned. He had never thought much about it, but he supposed Ron was right. Considering Ron had been bedridden for the majority of his relationship with Hermione, it wasn't really all that surprising.

"I was thinking I'd maybe take her to Hogsmeade you know? Since that's where our first date should have been if I hadn't been such a moron back at Hogwarts."

Harry snickered. He had to agree.

"Plan on taking her to Madame Pudifoot's tea house?"

Ron wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Merlin no. Unless… you don't think Hermione would fancy a place like that do you?"

Harry just shrugged. "She is a girl Ron—as you so eloquently pointed out in our fourth year. She probably secretly likes all that girly romantic stuff deep down. I swear I heard her sigh at Lockhart once.

"Bet she read loads of fairy tales when she was younger too," Ron agreed, rather glumly. "I hope I don't turn out to be a rubbish boyfriend."

Harry arched an eyebrow at his friend in surprise.

"I thought I was the one with bad self esteem here," Harry said with a grin.

"You are. That wasn't bad self esteem that was lack of self confidence, which happens to be my specialty if you don't mind; you can't have all the psychological issues you know."

Harry snickered and went back to shuffling through the parchments he was now half buried in. He had never really done any Chasing during a quiditch match, and was rather nervous that if he had to sub in for anyone he'd make a complete fool of himself. He briefly considered asking Ginny to help him out a bit, but she had seemed rather cold towards him for the past couple of days, and Harry wasn't sure he had the energy to find out why.

Ron sank deeper under his duvet and curled up on his side. Harry knew his best mate felt far worse than he sounded, but he also knew that Ron was tired of being treated like he was dying.

"Something's off with Hermione lately," Ron said suddenly, not bothering to turn his head enough to see Harry.

"Er… you mean besides her near insanity over helping you get better sooner?" Harry asked, only partly joking.

Harry waited patiently as Ron gathered the energy to speak and Harry readied himself to pay careful attention. It could get rather hard to understand Ron with all the wheezing and coughing in between words, but he would never show that to Ron. The situation was bad enough already, and Harry wouldn't want his near inability to speak to be pointed out to him if he were in Ron's place.

"No. She's… I'm not really sure what it is. Distant? Something like that. It's almost like she's torn about something whenever we're having a serious or intimate conversation or what have you."

Harry blinked and leaned back against the footboard. Ron Weasley had just used the word intimate without so much as flushing. He also couldn't help thinking that it was a slightly deep observation for Ron. Then again, Hermione was the worst liar he had ever met. The only exception had been her performance in front of Umbridge fifth year.

"I don't know what to tell you mate. She's been the same old Hermione around me. You didn't say anything stupid did you?"

Ron wished he had the energy to kick Harry but instead settled for turning his head enough to glare at him.

"Why is it that everyone always assumes that's the case?"

Harry stayed silent and grinned cheekily.

"I really don't think I've said anything," Ron went on. "I don't know. Maybe I'm starting to imagine things now as well—going a bit delirious."

Harry laughed and patted Ron's ankle encouragingly.

"Well if you are mate, you could always blame anything you might have said on that."

Ron rolled his eyes but didn't comment. He slowly began to flip on his back and swing his feet over the edge of his bed, still lying across his mattress.

"Uh… what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Hang on," Ron mumbled, nearly incoherently as he closed his eyes and waited for the pounding in his head to subside.

After a few minutes, Ron finally opened his eyes again and made a move to sit up—an attempt that failed miserably as his head swam and he flopped back down onto his mattress, glaring angrily at the ceiling.

"Ron… seriously. What are you trying to do?" Harry asked again, sitting up from the footboard and peering over Ron.

"Bathroom," Ron muttered, still glaring at the ceiling. "I figure it's been about 2 hours since I last puked and a little longer than that since my temperature has shot up. So, if there is any pattern to my life at all I should have a fever within the next 20 minutes and intense nausea in the next 30. So if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a pee before I'm too damn miserable to get out of bed."

Harry blinked at his best friend, not sure whether he felt amused or sorry. While it was nice to know that Ron was still, well—Ron, it was upsetting to see him like this.

"The energy it took saying all of that could have gone towards actually getting up you know," Harry replied, climbing off the mattress and sticking his hand out to help Ron up.

Ron just sighed and took Harry's hand, allowing Harry to pull him up. He sat on the edge of the bed, trembling as he concentrated on keeping his breathing even and his head from spinning. He hadn't been able to keep much food down for quite some time, making him incredibly weak. Ginny had warned him that if he couldn't keep anything down for 3 days in a row they would have to take him to St. Mungo's—a place Ron really did not want to have to be.

"I… I don't think…"

Ron didn't need to finish as Harry dutifully stuck his hand out again and hauled Ron to his feet. Ron swayed slightly and Harry had to hold on to his elbow to keep the red head from falling over. Without a word, Harry pulled one of Ron's arms across his shoulders and took the brunt of Ron's weight as they traversed the agonizingly long (in Ron's opinion anyway) stretch between Ron's bed and the bathroom door.

"Jeez Ron. You've lost an awful amount of weight," Harry commented, to which Ron wished he had the strength to retort.

The doorframe took over Harry's leaning post duties, and Ron closed the bathroom door behind him, rolling his eyes as Harry reminded him not to lock it in case he collapsed. Harry never seemed to remember that he could use his wand to unlock things.

Ron leaned heavily on the sink counter, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He glanced up at himself in the mirror and cringed. He looked like hell. There was no other way of saying it, and Harry had been right—he'd definitely lost weight; he felt like he was as gangly as he had been at 14.

He emerged moments later, and Harry once again took the brunt of Ron's weight before the red head collapsed back into bed.

Harry resumed his position at the foot of the bed and once again went back to his parchment while Ron caught his breath.

"When's the last time I had a shower?" Ron asked suddenly, surprising Harry slightly.

Harry looked up and gave Ron an amused look before shaking his head and looking back down at the quidditch plays.

"Seriously Harry. I don't think I've showered for 4 days now and…"

"Ron," Harry interrupted, "For your own health, just stop. We both know you feel horrible. No, you really don't smell that great. Yes, your girlfriend has to see you like this and that kinda sucks but that's how it is. No, I don't think she's even noticed. And yes, I would be happy to stay with you tomorrow to give Hermione a break and help you take some sort of a bath."

Ron nodded mutely and curled up under his blankets, thankful that Harry had covered everything he'd wanted to say. He truly didn't think he had the energy to argue with him even if he'd wanted to. It was a wonder he could have as much conversation as he did—although such moments were few and far between.

Harry looked up at Ron again and sighed.

"It'll be alright mate," he said quietly, "You're… you're strong ya know? You'll be able to fight this."

Before Ron could reply, the door creaked open and Hermione nervously poked her head in.

"Er, can I come in?"

"Yeah of course," Harry answered.

"Join the fun," Ron quipped weakly.

Hermione stood at the doorway, looking rather timid, and held up a small flask of black liquid.

"I think… I think this just might do it."

A/N: I couldn't very well have him get better yes now could I? I'll do my best to have another chapter up before the week is over... though my paper(s) DO get priority... or at least I'm telling myself they do.

Mel (as I know I didn't respond to you since your anon.)- Thank you as always for your devotion to this fic... and keeping me encouraged about it lol. I'm happy to hear that the Molly/Ginny scene was alright. Molly seems like she'd be so easy to write, but it's tricky to get her balanced. I like her character though... she's a fun challenge rather than a pain in the butt one... like Percy for example. I keep trying to think of something to do with him but he's too dang infuriating to write. Ah well, whatever. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and again, thanks for your reviews.

Please Review... particularly the 35 of you who have this on alert or favorites ;-) Thanks, by the way.