Author's Note: A thousand thanks to all reviewers. I'm glad to see that Malfoy's characterization is going over well. I quite agree, he is a slimy git. Yes, I know, I said I wouldn't update for a couple of weeks. This is what happens when I have papers that I intensely don't want to write. Another special shout out goes to Rani for helping me come up with ideas for the stairs scene. I didn't wind up using any of them, but it was a fun mental exercise, nonetheless. Enjoy.

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Chapter 20: Tragedy

"Ron, if you don't stop that right now, I'm going to have to throw this book at you."

Ron, who had been tapping his foot absently, stopped. "Don't know why you need us here anyway. It's not like we're doing anything."

"Harry isn't complaining," she pointed out, not even looking up from her notes.

"Hmm?" Harry glanced up at the mention of his name.

"Well, some of us are bored out of our minds," Ron said.

Hermione's hand clenched around her quill. "If you want to leave, then go. No one's stopping you."

Ron seemed to consider it, but did not move. "You've been at it for days. Give it a rest."

"I'll take a break for dinner."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning!"

"Either be quiet or get out."

This time he did go, slamming the door with more force than was necessary. Hermione flinched, leaving an ink blot on her notes. Growling under her breath, she balled the parchment up and tossed it into a small pile of discarded notes. "Nothing," she muttered. "Absolutely nothing."

"Why can't we use the Caedus again?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It's not the poison. It's the extraction. The soul isn't part of the alloy this time. It's inside the locket. Which means we need to figure out how to open it before we can destroy it."

"Any ideas yet?"

She shook her head and winced, pressing a hand to her forehead. She looked exhausted, as though she had not slept in days. Harry, who had taken to waking up very early in the morning himself, knew that she had not been going up to her room at night, but had instead taken to sleeping in the living room, often on the floor. When he asked her about it, she would just shrug and say she fell asleep reading.

"I'm going upstairs," she said finally and stood, gathering her books and notes, including the ones she had discarded.

She did not return for lunch. No one commented on her absence, though Ron did seem a bit uncomfortable. However, this may have been more due to Mrs. Weasley, who was fussing over the cuts on his arm and face. "They should be healing better than this," she said as she wrapped fresh bandages around his arm. "Are you sure they don't hurt?"

"They itch," Ron said, scratching his face.

Mrs. Weasley slapped his hand down. "Stop that. They'll never heal if you keep picking at them."

Once they had finished eating, Mrs. Weasley announced that she was going to Grimmauld Place for an Order meeting. "If anything happens, I want one of you to come get me straight away," she said, giving them each a quick hug before she left.

Harry got up and started filling a couple of plates with food. After a few moments, he noticed that Ron was watching him. "What?" he asked.

"You flinched," Ron said.

"Huh?"

"When Mum hugged you, you flinched."

Harry's heart leapt in his chest, and he fought to keep his face passive. "So?"

"You've never done that before. At least, not before we came back here." He paused for a moment. "Is it your scar again?"

"No."

"Then what?"

A knife slipped from Harry's hand with a loud clatter that seemed to echo in the quiet that followed. Then, he pushed one of the plates at Ron. "You'd better bring this up to Hermione." Without waiting for a reply, he picked up the other plate and left the room, heading up the stairs.

Upon setting eyes on the plate, Malfoy wrinkled his nose. "Is this really what passes for food in this house?"

"Keep talking and I might just forget to bring dinner," Harry said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Fine. I suppose you don't want to know about Granger's little visit then."

Harry turned his gaze on Malfoy at once. "Hermione was here again? Today?"

"I thought that might get your attention." Malfoy took a bite of potatoes and made a face. "The question is, what is the information worth to you?"

"Tell me or you'll be eating cold toast for the rest of the week."

Malfoy smirked. "You're finally starting to learn, Potter. She turned the place upside-down not ten minutes ago. Took some little gold necklace. Never thought you for the..."

Harry never heard the rest of the sentence. He rushed out of the room, nearly colliding with Ron in the hallway.

"Harry, what—?"

"The locket," Harry said. "She took it."

Ron dropped the plate, potatoes splattering everywhere, and they took off up the stairs at a run. When they reached Hermione's floor, they did not even bother knocking. Ron waved his wand to unlock the door, and they burst inside.

Hermione let out a strangled yelp from across the room, spinning around to face them. She was wearing the locket.

"Hermione...?" Harry started.

"Don't!" She said, holding up a hand. "Don't come any closer."

Harry stopped in his tracks, but Ron did not. He only made it halfway across the room, however, when he stopped, pressing a hand to his head.

A moment of silence passed in which none of them moved. "Ron?" Hermione said tentatively.

The voice seemed to grab Ron's attention and he started for Hermione again, a dangerous glint in his eye. Hermione's eyes widened in fear, and Harry broke out of his stupor, hurrying forward, too.

When he reached the same spot where Ron had stopped, a great fog settled over his mind. He stumbled backwards a few steps giving his head a little shake. He looked up, but it was too late. Ron had already reached Hermione. He seized her by the shoulders, pushed her against the wall, and then...

He kissed her.

Harry froze, staring at the pair of them. Finally, Hermione managed to push Ron off of her, breathing heavily. "Ron, listen to me. You—"

Suddenly, the mist in Harry's mind transformed into a towering rage. "Great," he said, waving a hand at them. "We're in the middle of a war. People are dying out there, but by all means."

Ron whirled around, his eyes flashing. "Oh, you're one to talk. Tell me, how many hours have you wasted playing house-elf to Malfoy?"

Harry's fists clenched, and he rushed at Ron. A few feet away, however, he felt an odd sensation in his head, as though something was wriggling around in his brain. He stopped and pressed a hand to his forehead.

A scream caught Harry's attention. Hermione leaned against the wall again, tears streaming down her face. Her hand was clutched around the necklace, as though she had tried to remove it. Smoke curled up from the spots where the locket touched her hand and neck.

Concern flooded Harry, his eyes watering to the point that his vision blurred. "Herm—" His voice cut off with a groan as the squirming sensation in his head increased, his heart pounding in his ears. He thought he heard a voice whispering, too, but he could not quite tell what it was saying.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Harry stepped toward Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reaching out to stop him and shoved it away forcefully. Caught off guard, Ron fell over, hitting the floor hard. Harry stretched his hand toward Hermione and with one swift motion, flicked the locket open.

White, blinding light met Harry's eyes and pain erupted in his scar, sending him reeling. Ringing filled his ears, a sound both terrible and beautiful at once. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he was able to make out Hermione again. Then, he saw it: a tiny ball of light, only slightly larger than a grain of rice, hovering inside the locket.

Harry's hand reached out again, as though independent from his body. He was close enough to feel heat emanating from the locket now. As he continued to stare, he realized that the light inside was pulsating, like a tiny heartbeat. His own pulse quickened as his fingers drew nearer, now just inches away.

Then, a grunt sounded from far off and the locket slipped away. Ron had dived at Hermione, sending her tumbling to the ground. As Harry stared, his mind still fighting to sort out what had happened, Ron scrambled to his feet, and there was a loud crunching sound. All at once, the noise stopped, the pain in Harry's head evaporated, and he fell to his knees, shaking.

"Shit!" Ron swore loudly. He lifted his right foot and quickly pulled off his shoe and sock, the heels of which were emitting copious amounts of smoke. On the floor, the locket lay flattened, its glass shattered, the chain still wrapped around Hermione's neck.

Hermione herself was just starting to stir again. Harry's eyes were drawn to her right hand and he sucked in a quick breath. A strip of skin on her palm had been burned black. As she sat up, the chain shifted around her neck, revealing another patch of blackened skin.

Then, Hermione let out a strangled yell and, to Harry's horror, the affected areas of her skin started to grow, slowly spreading outward. He and Ron exchanged a look of panic.

"D...desk," Hermione gasped out, her eyes watering. "P...potion."

Forcibly shaking himself from his shock, Harry turned his attention to the desk. Among the mess of parchment and books, there was a bowl filled with a deep blue potion. He seized it and hurried over to Hermione. The moment the bowl was within reach, she plunged her good hand into it. The thick liquid clung to her fingers, and she drew them back out, applying the potion generously to the afflicted areas. Then she settled back against the wall, breathing heavily. The burned skin now stretched over a good portion of her neck, and her right hand was almost completely covered, black veins stretching as far as her forearm.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, wincing as her hair brushed against and clung to the wound on her neck.

Ron finally broke free of his daze. "Have you lost your mind? Why were you trying to do this by yourself?"

"I would've done just fine if you two hadn't shown up," she shot back, pulling herself to her feet. She gingerly touched her mouth. "I think you bruised my lip."

Ron turned scarlet and stared at his feet, mumbling something unintelligible.

"But why did that happen?" Harry asked.

"The locket was messing with your emotions," Hermione said. "As the wearer, I was immune. I thought if I went it alone, I'd have an easier time of it."

"But you knew it would burn you," Ron said, waving his hand at the bowl. "What would you have done if you couldn't get to the potion in time?"

"I had a plan. Besides, it's not—ouch!" She had just tried to flex her fingers and grimaced again, clutching the hand to her chest.

Harry stared down at his own hands. "But...why didn't it burn me?"

Hermione glanced at Harry briefly. "Maybe it didn't see you as a threat," she said in a small voice.

"No, but it knew I was," Ron said, holding up his shoe, staring at them through the still-smoldering hole that had burned through the heel. Then, he gazed at the shattered locket. "So that's two down."

"But how're we going to find the next one?" Harry said. "We don't even know what it is."

"I'm still working on that," Hermione said, moving over to the desk.

"Oh, no you're not," Ron said. "You're taking a break. At least until Mum can have a look at those burns."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but her shoulders slumped. "Fine." She shot another quick glance at Harry. "Um, Ron, can I have a word with you?"

Harry turned to Ron, but he seemed just as confused. "I'll just...go then," Harry said. Neither of the others tried to stop him.

About halfway down the stairs to the second floor, Harry froze in his tracks. The door to his room still stood open. Malfoy had ventured out of the room a few feet and was currently surveying the food scattered over the floor from the plate Ron had dropped. "Charming," he said. "Rest of the house look like this, or just the hallways?"

"Get back in the room," Harry said stiffly, "or you'll be trading it in for a cell."

Malfoy smirked and clicked his heels together. "Yes, Mr. Harry Potter, sir," he said in a mocking tone, retreating back into the room. Harry growled under his breath and set to cleaning up the mess.

Hermione and Ron did not come downstairs for nearly two hours. Ron's face was beet red and he refused to look Harry in the eye. Hermione, who had pulled her hair up into a bun to keep it off her neck, moved to sit on the sofa and opened a book to start reading.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron shook his head, muttering something about telling him later. Then, he raised his voice to address Hermione. "I thought you were going to take a break."

"I am," she said, holding up the book so they could read the title: Palmer's Potion Compendium. "See?"

Ron narrowed his eyes and moved behind the sofa, glancing over her shoulder. "A dictionary?"

"A potion dictionary," Hermione corrected, turning a page. "There is a difference."

"But why?"

She sighed. "Oh, all right. I'm looking for more potions to help us. I thought this was as good a place as any to look."

Harry was still staring at the spine of the book. He was almost certain that he had never seen it before. "Where did you get that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Picked it up in Diagon Alley a few years ago." She turned a page and hunched down over the book.

Harry glanced at Ron briefly, and they headed into the kitchen. "I think she's still...Ron?"

"Huh?" Ron stopped just short of running into the table.

"What did you two talk about?"

"I'm...I'm not really sure."

"What?"

Ron sighed and sat down. "She ranted a lot," he mumbled. "She said you were right. That we're in the middle of a war and people are dying out there."

"Why—oh," Harry said, remembering the context in which he had said those things. "So, are you two...?"

"Well, that's just it. I don't know. She kept talking in circles. Then she just walked out right in the middle of a sentence." Ron hesitated, looking up. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged. To be honest, he did not want to talk about it. He had never been quite comfortable with the idea of Ron and Hermione getting together, mostly because he knew what would happen to their friendship if they broke up, but this was different. The mere thought of discussing it made him feel ill.

"Are you—?"

"Fine," Harry muttered. To avoid the subject further, he turned and went back out to the sitting room. A moment later, Ron followed.

When Mrs. Weasley returned that evening, she caught sight of Hermione's injuries at once. She went to work immediately, casting a slew of spells on them.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, showing her the broken locket. "I found it at Grimmauld Place. I didn't realize it was cursed."

As unbelievable as the story was, Mrs. Weasley accepted it, clearly too worried about the burns to over-think the explanation. "They aren't healing. Let's at least cover them so they won't get infected."

"How was the meeting?" Harry asked.

"Uneventful. Hardly anyone turned up. Half the Order's still out looking for Arthur, and Mad-Eye's put together his own team to hunt down the Nott boy."

"Why does Moody care so much about catching him?"

"Nott's father is the reason he lost his leg." She finished with Hermione's bandages and stepped back to survey the three of them "I have half a mind to start locking you all in your rooms when I leave. Especially you, Hermione. I thought you had more sense."

Hermione just stared at the floor, biting her lip. Ron seemed to be trying not to look at her, focusing instead on a spot in the corner of the room.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Come on, then. It's time for dinner."

Harry was not hungry in the least, but he put on a show of eating to keep the others from asking questions. Still, midway through the meal, he became fed up with the questioning looks and announced that he was not feeling well. As he stood, Mrs. Weasley asked what he meant, and he mumbled something about being queasy.

When he reached his room, he found Malfoy reading one of his Occlumency books again. He glanced up when Harry entered. "I thought you were taking the mickey," he said.

"What?"

"About not bringing dinner."

"Oh." Harry glanced down at his empty hands, as though he might be able to will a plate to appear. "I forgot."

"Right. Funny how that always seems to happen."

"You're lucky you get anything at all."

"You have an interesting definition of 'luck.'"

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Can we not do this tonight? I'm really not in the mood."

"You say that a lot, Potter. I don't think you know what it means."

"You're hardly in a position to tell me what I don't know."

"Is that right?" Malfoy shut the book and stood. "Okay, we'll skip the prelude then." He started to advance toward Harry.

Harry retreated several steps, drawing his wand, but Malfoy did not even flinch. When he had closed the distance between them, he seized Harry's wrist. He pried the wand from Harry's hand, tucking it back into his waistband.

"Come on, Potter. White makes the first move. What's it going to be?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand out of Malfoy's grasp. Not missing a beat, Malfoy grabbed his shoulders and shoved him against the wall, leaning in. Harry started to push him away, but Malfoy's hand snaked its way down the front of his trousers. Harry's breath hitched, his eyes rolling back in his head.

He did not hear the knock. He did not hear the lock click, or the door creak open. The voice, however, rang through loud and clear. "Harry, Mum wanted me...to..."

Harry's blood turned to ice as he broke off from Malfoy, turning to the door. Ron stood frozen in the doorway, a plate of treacle tart clutched in his hand, his face ashen.

Harry shoved Malfoy, who seemed similarly shocked, off of him and stepped forward tentatively. "Ron..."

The plate slipped from Ron's hands, shattering on the floor. He took no notice of it, stumbling backwards into the hall. His back hit the wall and he jumped, spinning around. Unfortunately, he moved too fast, and he was too close to the stairs. Harry rushed forward, but it was too late. Ron slipped just out of his reach and fell. His head slammed into a stair about midway down and he tumbled the rest of the way, rolling a few feet before finally coming to a halt.

Harry shot down the stairs like a rocket. "Ron? Ron!" He dropped to his knees next to Ron's still form. Ron's right arm was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood slowly pooled around his head. As Harry stared down at him, a roaring filled his ears, his vision blurring. This was not real. This could not be happening.

From far away, he heard quick, heavy footfalls. "Is everything all right up there? I heard—oh!" Mrs. Weasley gasped and rushed forward, kneeling on Ron's other side. Behind her, Hermione stood a few steps down, her eyes as wide as saucers and her hand covering her mouth.

Mrs. Weasley leaned over Ron, her ear hovering over his mouth. "He's breathing," she said. She gingerly lifted his head off the ground, wincing when she saw the blood matted in his hair, and waved her wand.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

Still nothing.

"Why isn't it working?" Hermione said shrilly.

"I don't know." Mrs. Weasley lowered Ron's head and waved her wand over his body, levitating him into the air. "I want you two to stay right here. Don't leave the house." She flicked her wand again to float Ron's body toward the stairs.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice barely penetrated Harry's mind. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see her crouched next to him. "What happened?"

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. After a few moments, he just sighed and turned his eyes back on the blood. He felt oddly hollow, as though something had been ripped from his chest.

"Come on." Hermione tugged on his arm. "We shouldn't be here."

Harry numbly got to his feet. For a brief moment, his mind snapped back to reality and he glanced up the stairs, but the landing was empty, and his door was shut. He turned away, following Hermione down the stairs.

She brought him to the sitting room and led him to an armchair off to one side of the room. She herself settled down on the floor in front of the fireplace, staring into it. The embers still glowed slightly from the fire Mrs. Weasley had used to leave, illuminating her face. Dark circles under her eyes and no expression made her look almost dead.

Time passed strangely, seeming to fly and to crawl at the same time. Neither Harry nor Hermione moved from their spots once, still sitting in the same positions when the first rays of morning light streamed in through the windows.

Just a few minutes after sunrise, the fireplace flared, and Lupin's head appeared in the flames. "Molly sent me," he said. "Lower the wards."

Hermione leapt to her feet at once and went to the painting. Lupin withdrew his head. A moment later, the flames roared green and he stepped out, shaking soot out of his robes.

"Is Ron..?" Hermione trailed off, as though afraid to say the words.

"No time for that," Lupin said. "Molly wants you two at Grimmauld Place right away. Go. I'll get your things for you."

"But what about—?" Harry started.

"I'll take care of it. Just go."

Hermione left first, vanishing into the green flames. Harry hesitated again just in front of the fire, glancing back at Lupin. Then, he tossed the Floo Powder in and stepped forward.

Harry was not sure who he had expected to meet them when they reached the kitchen, but he did a double take when he saw who it was, his stomach clenching painfully.

Hermione seemed just as surprised. "Why—?"

"We were already here," Ginny said. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her eyes puffy. "Tonks is still setting up the wards on the shop. Come on. Mum's waiting."

She led them up the flights of stairs and down empty hallways. Silence pressed in all around Harry, threatening to smother him. The house felt dead, as though they were the only living souls there. About halfway down the third floor hallway, Ginny took a sharp right and pushed open a door, ushering them ahead of her.

What lay inside was just a normal bedroom. Potion vials and bandages were scattered over the desk, and a few extra chairs had been brought in, where Mrs. Weasley, Fred, and George now sat. Ron lay motionless on the bed, his arm in a sling and bandages wound tightly around his head.

Mrs. Weasley stood when they entered and gave Harry and Hermione each a hug. "I'm sorry you had to wait so long," she said. She looked like she had been crying. "It was a little touch and go there for a while."

"Is he okay?" Hermione asked.

Mrs. Weasley hesitated, glancing back at Ron. "Kingsley called in a few Healers that are loyal to the Order. They did what they could, but it seems that spell he got hit with last week is affecting his ability to be healed. They managed to stop the bleeding, but there's no way to tell yet if there's been any brain damage."

"Shouldn't he be in St. Mungo's?" Hermione said.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, not looking at either of them. "St. Mungo's isn't safe anymore," she said softly.

"Mum," Ginny spoke up, lightly touching Mrs. Weasley's arm, "come on. Let's go make some tea."

Mrs. Weasley looked as though she might object for a moment, but finally allowed herself to be led out of the room.

"What happened at St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

"You didn't hear?" George said. "St. Mungo's was attacked a couple days ago."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Was anyone hurt?"

"A couple of Healers were cursed, but that's it. The attackers haven't been identified yet."

Nobody spoke for a few moments. Then, Fred stood up. "We should go."

"You don't have to—" Hermione said.

"We have orders to send out," George explained. "Business doesn't stop just because the shop is closed. You'll come get us if he wakes up?"

"Yeah."

When they had gone, Hermione took Mrs. Weasley's empty chair, hunching over and rubbing her eyes. Harry could not bring himself to join her. He still felt as though he were caught in some horrible nightmare and would wake up at any moment. Taking that next step would make it all too real, and he was not ready for that yet.

Ginny returned a couple of hours later, looking slightly more at ease. "I convinced Mum to get some sleep." She turned to Harry. "Lupin wants to talk to you down in the kitchen."

It took a while for Harry to get his legs working again. He left the room and set off down the stairs. He found Lupin waiting for him, standing off to one side of the kitchen.

"I stored the trunks in the rooms you stayed in last time," Lupin said. "Malfoy's a little shaken up from the trip, but that's all."

Harry nodded silently, gazing at the floor.

"I'll look after him for the next couple of days or so, until this all sorts itself out."

Harry just nodded again.

"Are you all right, Harry?" When he did not receive a reply, Lupin pressed on. "Molly told me you were there when—"

"Fine," Harry said much too late. His voice sounded distant and not his own.

Lupin paused, looking as though he wanted to say more. Then, he sighed. "You should probably head back up."

Once again, it took Harry a few moments to start moving, trudging back up the stairs. When he reached the room, he took up sentry by the door again, staring listlessly at Ron.

Mrs. Weasley returned just a few hours later, looking even less rested than before. She tried to send Harry, Hermione, and Ginny off to bed, but did not put up a fuss when they refused. Ginny and Hermione took it upon themselves to make lunch, returning with a platter of sandwiches that sat untouched. Ginny left not long after that, mumbling something about checking in with Fred and George. She did not return.

That evening, Mrs. Weasley left the room. She returned about half an hour later with two cots floating along behind her. "You two should get some sleep," she said after she had set them up. "I need to go have a word with Kingsley."

Hermione took the cot closest to Ron's bed, lying on her side so that she faced him. Harry hesitated for a moment, but his legs were starting to hurt, so he finally moved over to his own cot and lay down, staring at the ceiling. He had not expected to be able to sleep, but exhaustion caught up with him. The moment his eyes closed, he felt himself start to sink.

The fire was burning low tonight, little more than embers. Nagini lay curled up near the hearth, warming herself on the bricks.

Harry turned his eyes toward the door. Two burly men stood there, holding a weedy-looking young man with stringy hair tightly by the arms. Rookwood stood off to one side, watching.

"You're quite the clever boy, Theodore," Harry said, "but far too reckless."

Theodore Nott pulled against the hands holding him, glaring.

"What should we do with him?" One of the wizards asked.

Harry glanced briefly at Rookwood. "Take him to the dungeons for now."

"Yes, my Lord."

Harry waited until they had gone before turning back to Rookwood. "Is everything in place?"

"Yes, my Lord. It's only a matter of time before she tries to make contact."

Harry nodded his approval. "You have your orders. Once you've taken them, have Nott and Malfoy moved as well."

"What about Weasley?"

Harry's lips curled. "I believe our friend has outlived his usefulness. Nagini!" He spoke the last word in a whispered hiss. A moment later, the great snake climbed up the back of his chair and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do it quickly and come right back."

Nagini flicked her tongue out, slithering silently to the floor and out of the room.

"My Lord?" Rookwood said.

"Go," Harry said, turning back to the fireplace. He waited until the door swung shut and then began to concentrate.

He slithered down the halls again. This time, though he was cold and lethargic, he did not even consider stopping. He traveled the familiar path, slipping between the metal bars.

The red-haired man was curled up on the floor once more under his ragged blanket. His skin was pale and shriveled, his eyes sunken. He was barely conscious and not even shivering anymore.

Harry moved swiftly across the room, slithering up against the man's exposed arm. The skin was much colder than he would have liked, but he resisted the urge to recoil. The man showed no reaction whatsoever, his eyes staring blankly and his mouth hanging open slightly. As Harry opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into the arm, he heard a scream from far away.

A dull pain shot through Harry's side as he hit the floor, having rolled out of bed, but it was only a pinprick compared to the agony in his head. He retched several times, but he had not eaten anything for so long that all that came up was liquid. He could hear someone yelling his name, but before he could even think about who it was, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed, blacking out.

- - - - -

Author's Note: Please review. I'll just be over here, ducking the various objects being thrown at my head. Next chapter: depression, Firewhisky, and letters. Harry learns the true meaning of rock bottom, Lupin's deepest secret is finally revealed, and Malfoy gets a rude awakening. This next chapter's probably going to be another short one, but it's also rather delicate, so it may take a while to edit. Then again, who knows?