The petite owl nearly crash-landed on his desk, squealing happily and dragging the letter, which was far too big on it, behind it. The Dark Lord gave it a bewildered look, not quite knowing whether he could really call it an owl. He put down his quill and spelled his ink-stained hands clean before carefully taking the letter in between two fingers. He made sure a thin layer of magic covered his hands so his skin did not actually come in contact with the envelope.

Summoning some small insects for the bird –he did not think it could possibly take on something larger-, he left the bird to fend for itself and turned his attention to the letter, carefully examining it for any traces of curses or jinxes. His eyes saw a weak glow of fading magic on it, but that could either indicate that it came from a place like Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, or any other magical village, or that there was something wrong with the letter itself. While the first option was most likely, he didn't want to take any risks.

He glanced at the small, elegant clock on his desk and saw it was late night already. The one who had sent him this must have been in a haste to contact him, unless it came from somewhere in Europe. Finally finished examining the letter and not coming up with anything unusual, he decided it could do no harm and a quick Diffindo cleanly cut it open.

The contents were not exactly what he had expected from a late-night message.

Dear Lord.

I am aware of that you wished for me and Hermione to stay at Hogwarts. However, I find that I am unable to sit back and do nothing. I therefore ask you kindly for help. Is it possible that you could reconsider your orders so that I can actively participate in our cause? I realise that I am still underage and hence, unable to cast magic. However, Harry seems to have somehow gotten around the Trace. Is it possible that I could do the same?

Thank you in advance and please send my regards to Harry.

Yours sincerely,
Ron Weasley.

He didn't feel the need to reread the letter, but folded it and put it in his robe, should Harry have a wish to read it. He hadn't particularly liked the youngest Weasley son the few times he'd met the boy. While he was undoubtedly very loyal to Harry, he had also neglected the knowledge of his heritage and much rather had fun than study. His lack of knowledge had been horrifying, and while his parents could partly be blamed, it really irked Marvolo that Weasley had never picked up a book himself either. If it had been the girl who had sent him a letter like this, he would not have hesitated, but he really did not know what to do with this.

As far as he knew, the boy did not have sufficient education yet, had no money and thus no means of providing for himself. Granting him the wish of being taken out of Hogwarts would come down to taking the boy into his own home, as he had nowhere else to go. There were still the Twins, but he knew that they needed all their time and focus for their inventions and shop. While he could order them to take Ronald in, he was certain that they would not exactly be happy with such an arrangement, and Marvolo also did not wish for their product to suffer under it.

Pushing that aside for a moment, he thought about the other aspects. The Trace would not be hard to get rid of. It could happen within a few hours if he managed to establish contact with his followers in the register department of the Ministry, the same he had done with Harry. From Harry's stories, he did know that his lover held his friend in high regard, despite the boy's faults. While he was not one to put his studies first, he was efficient when it came down to it, and had always been there to aid Harry in whatever crazy adventure they managed to land themselves in. He would certainly not be useless.

He sighed heavily, knowing that Harry would want to have the last say in this.

He got up to see if the other was still awake, but when he entered their bedroom, he saw that his love was sleeping, albeit troubled. Harry moaned quietly, his head trashing from side to side, and despite the scarce light, Marvolo saw the droplets of sweat on his forehead. He strode to the bed, worry creasing his forehead. Quick and graceful, he dropped down on one knee next to the bed and placed his hand on the other's forehead. It was hot to the touch and quickly confirmed his suspicion.

A hand clawed at the sheets as if trying to pull them away, but because of Harry's movements, he only managed to tangle himself up more. Trying to wake the other, the man gently shook him, but to no avail. The only result was an animal-like wail.

Thoughts about Ronald Weasley forgotten, Marvolo quickly shed his clothing and climbed in the bed as well, running soothing hands over Harry's body to try and cool his temperature. Finally, hazy eyes opened, giving him a wild look.

"Harry?" he whispered gently, but he saw no recognition in the wild look he was given, and he had not expected anything else. Feeling as helpless as the other times this had happened, he didn't know what to do. He feared for what re-opening the link that he had closed to be able to work would do while Harry was in such a state, and without a proper check-up on the boy's body, he could not heal him either. Hoping it was nothing worse than flu again, Marvolo embraced the other, gently pressing Harry's face in his neck with one hand. The other shuddered, and for a moment the man was afraid that the other would throw up, but thankfully he only coughed, though the rattling sound did nothing to ease his worries.

It hadn't been the first time this had happened last months, and it was frightening how often it occurred. When he had first witnessed this they had still been at Hogwarts, but over the months, Harry had often fallen ill. While the disease itself could be cured easily, it was still worrying that it happened in the first place. Even if Harry had been a Muggle and should not be supposed to have a natural defence against Muggle diseases, his body should not break down the antibodies so quickly. Everytime, without fail, it had started while the other was sleeping, so it had to be connected to that somehow, but that wasn't much information to work with.

"Ma... Marvolo?" he heard, and for a moment he thought he might have imagined the soft, broken word, but when he loosened his tight grip on Harry, the boy pulled away slightly and clearly tried to focus on him, though it was with great difficulty.

"Harry…" he softly said, kissing the teen's brow softly.

"I had a nightmare." the other confessed. "You were dying."

Marvolo tensed up at Harry's words. "I won't die love. You know I can't die."

"I know but... there was snow, and blood, and you were just lying there, and your Horcruxes were all cracked and broken and... and…" Marvolo winced, uncomfortable when nails dug into his shoulders as Harry's hands cramped. He hugged Harry again as the other pressed himself close, sobbing.

"Shh… don't you worry dear." he muttered. "I promise you that I don't plan on dying."

Even so, Harry's vision –dream, not vision, dream- put him off, and he pondered once again on finishing his path to immortality. On making his last, final Horcrux.

"Calm down Harry. It was just a nightmare. You're ill again." He said on a tone as if he was comforting a small child. It seemed to work though, as the other slowly relaxed. "Come, I'll look you over so I can heal you." He muttered, quickly pressing a kiss to the other's skin again.

"Okay." Harry quietly said, shivering again.

Marvolo spent the next few minutes running spells on the teen until he finally came to the conclusion that it was indeed a version of the flu. Somewhat relieved that it wasn't anything worse, he started healing Harry, and when it was done and the blue glow died, Harry's skin had regained some of its colour and his eyes were brighter.

"Thank you."

"You really should visit a Healer soon Harry." Marvolo pressed, knowing the other would deny it.

As he knew would happen, Harry put up his defences instantly. "There's really no need. I mean, it's just the flu…"

"Yes, but wizards aren't supposed to get the flu, unless their environment is less than desirable. Our home certainly does not fall into that category. This is the fifth time in three and a half month!

"People get ill all the time…" Harry muttered. "You can easily heal me, right?"

"Harry, why won't you go see a Healer? You don't even have to go to St. Mungo's. I can summon one right here to our home if you would only allow it. Please, you know I don't like doing anything that you don't agree with when it concerns you, but it worries me! Every damn time I don't know for how long you are out. You don't even know me when you're like that! Today was not so bad, but last time it took hours before you stopped struggling to get away from me."

"I really don't want to see a doctor Marvolo…" the other said, his voice muffled, and the man looked down, shocked to find brilliant green eyes panicked and teary. Stroking the boy's check with his fingers, Marvolo gave the other a sad look.

"Harry, can't you tell me why?" He asked, and sighed deeply when the teen shook his head abruptly. The link was still as shut as an iron door, and he didn't really feel like prying it open when knowing it would take a long time before Harry would forgive him. "Then, tell me something else. I heard that you have been a rather... constant occupant of the Hospital Wing in Hogwarts. As far as I know, you never feared that. Why?"

"I… I don't really know myself." Harry answered after a slight hesitation. "Well, the first time I had to go there, I was in the magical world for only a short time, and other than Draco and his cronies, had not really come across anyone bad, you know? I suppose I connected anything to do with magic and Hogwarts as wonderful… It might also be because of Madame Pomfrey herself. She's so… I don't know… is McGonagall-ish a word?" he half laughed.

Marvolo rolled his eyes. "No, but I understand what you mean."

"Yes, well, the first time I had to go to the Hospital Wing I was unconscious, I believe… something with Quidditch. I remember a lot of pain, but when I awoke I was completely fine. Completely healed, and there Madame Pomfrey was scolding me, but obviously worried. I never was... afraid. But now, to see a Healer I don't know… I now know that magic doesn't make a person good. The Dursleys took me to several doctors in the Muggle world and… and those are experiences I'd rather not repeat."

"Even so, I really want you to have this looked at. What if I managed to bring the Hogwarts school nurse here?"

"Madame Pomfrey? Here?" Harry asked, perplexed. "Is she on our side?"

"No. Not as far as I know. She isn't in the Order either though."

"Then… you are planning on kidnapping her?"

Harry sounded rather doubting, but Marvolo nodded. "I do. If someone can get her out of Hogwarts' wards and force her to take a Portkey…"

"But who? I doubt Eyolf can make her leave the hospital wing. She'll just tell him to bring the patient to her."

"Indeed… and that is where your friends come into play."


"Ron, Ron!"

"Huh?" he grumbled, looking at Hermione. At the front of the classroom, professor Binns' droning voice didn't change a bit. "What is it?"

"Pigwidgeon!" she hissed, pointing at one of the windows, where indeed, a tiny ball of feathers was trying to imitate a fly, constantly bumping against the glass in an attempt to get in.

"Oh bloody bird." Ron said, getting up and opening a window. He plucked the owl out of the air, ignoring the cooing sounds of the girls in the classroom. Stuffing the letter away, he glared at the bird. "Couldn't you have come during breakfast? You know, mail time?"

Pig chirped and 'affectionately' picked his finger. "Ouch!" He let out a stream of curses as the owl continued pecking happily, oblivious to Ron's discomfort. He was glad the lesson was nearly over, and spent the next ten minutes until the bell rang by trying to fend Pig off with a few pencils until finally, Hermione had enough mercy to freeze the animal, to much dismay from the rest of the class.

When class was finally over, he and Hermione excused themselves and searched a hiding spot in a rarely used corridor. While Hermione threw up just about any protective ward she could think of, Ron carefully opened the letter, and was surprised when he saw Harry's familiar scrawl. "It's from Harry!" he said, excited, and Hermione hastened towards him to red over his shoulder.

Hey Ron, -and judging by the wording and handwriting of the previous letter, I guess Hermione too-

I told you it sounded nothing like me! Why did you feel the need to rewrite that whole bloody letter?"

"You sounded like a troll in your first draft Ron! Just continue reading!"

We got your letter yesterday, and though it took some convincing on my part, Marvolo is willing to let you stay here until you find somewhere else. The Trace is absolutely no problem. He's getting rid of that this instant. –Hermione, for you too, just in case- Before you come here, he does assign you a task though. See it as a test of sorts. I included three Portkeys in this envelope. The numbers on them show the date and time they will work, so you have three chances. They only work outside of the wards, so you will have to be in either Hogsmeade or one of the tunnels leading there. You could try the Room of Requirements as well, it might be easier. Well then, when you portkey over here, make sure Madame Pomfrey gets transported as well. She's not on our side, so you'll have to trick her, but it's really important that she gets here. Marvolo will write Eyolf a letter to modify the memories of whoever is in the Hospital wing when you try and get her to 't be worried about your stuff, we can get a house-elf to pick that up later. Hogwarts' wards don't detect one from coming and leaving when they don't take humans with them.

Good luck, and I hope to see you soon.
Harry.

P.S. Ron, I feel that I should warn you for having to see an awful lot of gay snuggling when you live here. Hope it won't bother you too much.

Hermione burst out in giggles at the last sentence while Ron became beet-red.


"Silence!" he shouted, trying to hide his nervously trembling hands by gripping the back of the chair in front of him. He felt the wood become slippery with his sweat and gritted his teeth. This couldn't happen. He should be stronger than this. These vultures knew nothing about the hardships of his position… who were they to judge him?

The people inside his office were agitated, fishing for answers he didn't yet know. Fudge wished they would all go and leave him in peace, but peace was not something granted to him since You-Know-Who had publically made his announcements. And now this… 'Where do you stand?', 'What is your opinion of him?', 'Will the Ministry continue to be able to protect the people?', 'Will we negotiate with him?'

How should he know when not having had even a minute of rest to think this situation over? Breathing heavily, he adjusted his lime-green bowler and looked each of them in the eyes. It didn't do as much to calm his nerves as he had hoped it would.

"Leave."

"But-"

"Leave!" he thundered. "I am the highest authority here, and you will not tell me what to do, so leave!"

They scurried out of the door, though his personal assistant lingered behind, frowning at him. "The people await answers, Minister. If you cannot give them those, they might look for those elsewhere or, Merlin forbid, start gossiping."

"I don't need your opinion on this Jones. I'm very well aware of the situation." he curtly replied, and the man left his office with a last nod.

Finally, he sat down, sighing heavily, groaning at the luxury of sitting for more than three seconds. It was something he'd been denied far too long. He gathered some parchment and began to write down the facts. He had not answered You-Know-Who's call. As Minister, it would not have been wise to openly obey a Dark Lord known for throwing the country into chaos and a bloodbath before. Personally though, he wished he could have gone, so he would not have a target painted on his back as he had now. He recalled You-Know-Who's words… enemy of the new regime. That is, if He would succeed.

He still didn't know what to do. He had seen the whole event through several memories, but he still did not know what stance he had to take. The Ministry's relationship with the Order of the Phoenix was feeble at best, and now Harry Potter so openly supported the Dark, he did not think the Order would be much of a force. Dumbledore was way past his prime and would not be able to take down a second Dark Lord.

And with the army the Dark had gathered and the sympathy they got of the masses… perhaps the Ministry wouldn't be able to either. But he would be damned if he was going to let a tyrant take over his job!

Perhaps… perhaps he could play a double game to buy some time. It would be a high risk, but maybe it would allow him to make a better decision in time.


Bursting through the doors of the Hospital Wings was one very distressed Hermione Granger, and Madame Pomfrey looked up, ready to scold the girl until she saw the state the student was in.

"Miss Granger, what is going on?"

"It's Ron." Granger said, wringing her hands nervously. "He... he had discovered a secret passageway and decided that he wanted to see where it led to today. I told him not to, of course, but he didn't listen and now the tunnel gave in and half crushed him. I don't know what to do. I considered going to a teacher but I don't want him to get in trouble… could you… could you help him? I was afraid that I might do more damage than is the case now if I tried to levitate the rocks…"

"Very well, but it should have been better if you would have found a teacher first." The nurse scolded her, worried. Why did she ever choose to become a nurse in this godforsaken castle… At least she currently had no other patients than Daphne Greengrass, who was just recovering from her broken nose, and Roderick Yeats, chaser on the Hufflepuff team who'd just had what they now called, a 'Lockheart incident'. She never would understand why players were not brought to her before random onlookers tried to prove they could win the next Healer of the Year Award.

Taking her wand and making sure the other two were currently fine, she followed Granger with a brisk pace, irritated when they did not come across any other staff members who could have helped her. Really, students these days… getting themselves stuck Merlin-knows-where… She had hoped that after the banes of every teacher, the Weasley Twins, had left, she wouldn't end up with Weasleys all over the place anymore, but now their younger brother had apparently decided to take their place.

She followed Granger to a rather empty part of the castle –and really, no-one could make her believe that had he 'accidentally' discovered a secret tunnel here if he hadn't been actively looking for one-. The only reason for the particular corridor to be here seemed to be that the Founders hadn't had enough bricks to fill up every useless space in the castle. Her suspicions increased after the girl tapped the only thing in the corridor, a rather ugly statue that had undoubtedly been moved here so it wouldn't hurt anyone's eyes, and murmured a spell, making the hump open up, revealing a dark entrance.

"He's in here, a good half a mile in, I think." the girl said, still looking worried. "What time is it?"

"Time?" Madame Pomfrey asked, bewildered. Why would anyone care about the time right now? "If you're afraid to be caught out of curfew, don't worry, last time I checked it was half past eight. It can't be past nine yet so curfew is still some time away."

"Right." the girl said, obviously relieved by the answer. "It's just that I hadn't checked after dinner so…" She didn't continue, and climbed into the statue. "Careful, it's low here." she said, her voice echoing spookily. On her guard, Pomfrey followed the Gryffindor, keeping her head ducked and her wand ready. Granger lit the way with her wand, and after a long time, they saw a twist in the tunnel. "It's right behind this corner. Ron? Ron, how are you?" A pained groan followed, and Pomfrey pushed forwards, stepping in front of Granger to reach the boy.

She heard the words, but reacted too late, and in a few second, she fell to the ground, every limb of her body rigid. It helped somewhat that arms caught her just before she hit stone, but as sharp rocks dug into her skin, she knew her legs would be bruised in a few hours nonetheless.

"Oh, gods, I can't believe we did this…" Granger said, her voice laden with horror.

"Well, we did." Weasley answered with a shrug. "And come on Hermione, it's not like we haven't deceived teachers before… What about that time you set Snape on fire?"

"But that… that was a whole different situation!" Granger huffed. "And Snape is not the school's nurse."

Weasley burst out in laughter, probably imagining Severus as a nurse, and even Poppy had to smile inwardly at that image. Severus, bustling about the infirmary in a white apron and cap… Sometimes, imagination was frighteningly limitless.

"How long do we still have?" Ron asked.

"I'd say a minute or ten… I stupidly forgot to check before going here, and as we're out of the castle I can't cast a tempus either… you'd better hold it ready. We can't keep her hidden till the day after tomorrow." On that, Weasley sat down on the ground next to her and took her hand, a round object pressing against both their palms. "Ron…" Granger said, her voice quivering. "It will be long till I see you again, won't it?"

"Yes… Hermione, I wish you'd come too… it'd be like the old times… Harry, you, me, adventures…"

"A war is not exactly an adventure." the girl somberly replied. "You don't have to go…"

"Of course I must. If not before, I surely must now. What would he say if I chickened out now?"

"I don't care what he would say." she snapped.

"'Mione… I want to stay together too, but I must do this. I signed up for this and I'm going to carry out my duty too. I'm not useful at all at Hogwarts. We spoke about this before… But… but even…" Weasley took a deep, shivering sigh, and Pomfrey was really getting annoyed at the harsh grip of hand. "Even though we'll be apart… you'll always be in my thoughts. You're an amazing friend and I really don't know what I would ever have done without you."

"Ron…"

"No, let me finish please. I'm sorry for all my jerkish behaviour. I know I was wrong last year, with Krum but... I was just…"

"A prat?"

"Jealous!" Weasley said, and Poppy let out a mental suffering groan. Teen drama. Great. "I didn't even know it then, but Hermione, I lo-"

A slap echoed through the tunnel, and two pair of disbelieving eyes fell on the suddenly furious girl.

"Don't. You. Dare finish that sentence Ron Weasley. All this time. ALL this time you could've told me and you choose this moment? When you're about to leave to fight in a war without knowing when you'll come back, if you'll come back? Oh no, I will not have it. It's either too late or too soon, but I will not be cooped up in this castle, waiting for what we might have after this war."

Poppy tuned out the tearful confessions of Weasley that followed in favour of letting her mind wander to dark, happy places where she could imagine all the ways in which she would let them suffer when she would be able to move again. Irritated when she tried to move her stiff joints and didn't succeed, she gave the boy, who had apparently given up and looked pretty defeated, the most evil glare she could muster, not at all feeling sorry for him. Really, what had he expected for Granger? An 'oh I'll wait for you forever, nevermind that you only just now realised that you should get me before someone else does'?

He seemed to hesitate for a moment and looked at her, shaken by the force of her glare –she hoped- "Sorry ma'am." he whispered. "I wouldn't do this if I hadn't been ordered to."

She thought it was a pretty lame excuse and made no effort at all to lessen her glare. Weasley sighed and looked up at the girl. They had apparently reached a silent agreement, for Weasley hesitantly reached out to grab the girl's hand, getting a tight, comforting squeeze in return before letting go.

"It shouldn't be long now so…" Ron started. "Bye 'Mione. Take care, I'll write you soon."

"Bye Ron." Granger said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Try not to get on his bad side." she chuckled weakly. "Or Harry might have you head."

"Harry?" he laughed. "You're worried about what Harry might do? I'm far more concerned about what the Dark Lord might do if I pissed him off!"

Granger smiled and opened her mouth to answer, but the next moment they were thrown into a spinning blur with the telltale feeling of a hook behind her navel. She hated Portkeys… She disliked most everything in general out of principle so that didn't say that much, but she really hated Portkeys.

From the scene she saw when she landed and the previous conversation she'd heard, she had a pretty strong feeling that she knew exactly where she was. A door swung open before she could take in the whole room and she closed her eyes, counting to ten after getting a glimpse of the man who entered, mentally cursing when she opened her eyes again and he didn't have the decency to be a hallucination. Poppy just averted her eyes to look at the Weasley brat. –not that he was such a pleasant sight. He'd gone pale and was dirty from the tunnel they'd just left.-

"Weasley. I'm pleased that you were able to find an opportunity so soon." the Dark Lord spoke in a smooth, soft voice that nonetheless sounded as dangerous as the poisoned teeth of a Peruvian Vipertooth. Surprisingly, despite all the horror stories she had heard from the staff members who were part of the Order, he didn't really look all that scary. Strange, yes, but she wouldn't call him ugly. She stopped her assessment of his looks when he turned to her.

"Mrs Pomfrey." He nodded, and she felt life return to her limbs. "I apologise for the circumstances, but I did not think you would react on a summoning of mine if I had personally asked you."

"I would like to know why I've been kidnapped, and I also would like to draw your attention to the fact that I can kill someone as easily as I can heal one when treating a patient. If you will force me to do something I strongly disagree with, be sure to suffer the consequences!" she stated, squaring her shoulders and completely ignoring the fact that he towered over her. Height was relative anyways.

Though a bit disappointed when he didn't falter a bit and his only reaction was a raised eyebrow, Poppy continued to hold his gaze without fear. He obviously needed her here for something, and she would fully exploit that.

"As you know, Harry Potter is here. He is in need of a Healer, and you are the only one he trusts. I can't fathom why. Follow me. Weasley, go to the second floor and pick a room. I will send a house-elf to fetch your belongings later. We will talk about what further to do with you tomorrow."

"I... can't I go see Harry first?" Weasley said, but was met with an unrelenting expression.

"No. His health comes first."

Pomfrey was surprised that he had answered her question, and even more so about that she was here because of Potter. She could have known… that boy always got in trouble. What she also hadn't expected was the underlying worry in You-Know-Who's voice, though if she wouldn't have been forced to deal with concerned family and friend of patients her whole life, she probably wouldn't have caught it.

"What's wrong with him?"

"At the moment he's fine, but his condition can change quickly and I want him healed as fast as possible. Now go. You are in my home now, and are expected to follow my word without question. This was both your first and last slip-up, I may hope?"

"Yes, my Lord." Weasley mumbled, and quickly went up the stairs.


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xx GeMerope