Disclaimer: Rowling owns it.

A/N: Really, my favorite part of writing is babbling on and on for pages about absolutley nothing. There is a small amount of diolouge in this chapter, just warning you. Talking overrated.

However, up until now everything was pre-written and this is the last chapter written out so far. Of course, there will be many more, but they will come in long, drawn out, spaces of time. Because now I have to actually write again. FOSHOW. So enjoy this final chapter while it lasts and look out for the next one!

The birds chirped happily, oblivious to the goings on of the castle, as usual. Flowers bloomed courageously, prepared to face a lifetime of hard winters and dry summers. Animals danced about the forest, retracing steps they followed every day.

Max was surprised at this, because she felt as if the trees should be growing out of the sky, cotton candy shaped mists hovering over the ground, as if to mimic the way her own life had turned upside-down. She almost imagined the Cheshire Cat to appear out of nowhere, smiling as he warned her of dangerous decks of cards ahead. Was that a rabbit she noticed hopping near the window?

In all aspects of reality the world had turned upside-down. The great Slytherin Queen had fallen, crawling back to the friend of her past, who just happened to be Harry Potter. Had anybody heard of the story they would not have believed it. It really was a shame the whole school had experienced it first hand, witnessing the fight that had broken out between the Queen and her King.

Yet, even in her lowest times the Queen was not alone. She'd find new princes to marry, new subjects to follow her, and new enemies to fight against. It was sad, though, to see the complete one-eighty of their fearless leader. It would be easy to step all over her now, for even she knew of the embarrassment she'd thrown upon the Slytherin house. Still, a subject does not neglect its Queen so easily. A miniscule fear still remained in the hearts of the Slytherins, for shock had not quite hit and denial still remained burning strong.

Maybe, Max pondered, the whole school would combust from sheer shock and anxiety. Maybe the world would be petty enough to really revolve around her, spinning and shaking as Max readjusted her position.

No, Max was stupid to think such thoughts. The world went on as she'd observed so closely before. It was only her world that felt different. It was only her world that had stopped and changed paths.

And yet, everything felt so eccentrically the same.

For, though Max had seemingly sided with Harry, her true intentions remained with the Slytherins. Gryffindors, aside from Harry, still annoyed her to no end. Voldemort was still her true leader and master; how lucky she was that he knew this! She was only following his orders, after all. Even more importantly, her King was still in place, even if he pretended not to be.

Max took a deep breathe, placing in the corners of the corridors. She had not returned to her common room that night, not daring to enter a place full of hate and potential danger so soon after her betrayal.

She was a floater now, dancing between the lines of good and evil, Slytherin and Gryffindor, dark and light. Her lines had been blurred, character twisted and mixed until some sort of ghost was able to appear, leaving Max alone in the darkness.

Harry had left her that night, but only because she'd forced him too. It was important he keep his life, the one he had before her, safe. He would sleep, though not well, that night and hopefully he could be strong enough for the both of them the following day.

So, truly alone, Max had found a safe haven in the empty corridors, not quite sleeping, but not quite awake. She wondered how long she could stare there, in the darkness, before people found her. Before they noticed she was gone. Forever, possibly, she could desert her world all tighter, living like a monster in the corners of the castle.

It was delusional to think such thoughts, Max knew, as Harry found her bright and early. She didn't know how he managed it, for it didn't appear he'd have looked very long. They didn't speak as he approached her, offering a hand to help her off the ground. He knew why she was there, what she'd been doing by hiding, and he understood. There are some things that need not be spoken aloud for them to be understood.

"I'm here with you," he whispered into her hear, not releasing her hand. Max clutched it desperately, not realizing her own fear before now. She hadn't know how hard the tear from her house would be, how horrible she knew she'd be treated, or how afraid she really would be.

Harry's hand was warm, and though their embrace meant nothing more than friendship he made no effort to let go. She squeezed it often as they walked to breakfast, constantly making sure he was still there, still by her side, for she knew now she could not face her peers without him.

She could not enter the Great Hall after so much was lost, without a bit of gain to show in return. Her plan had worked flawlessly, her and Harry now rooted permanently in a friendship that had been dormant for far too long.

"I'm scared," she confessed, surprised at the venerable honesty in her own voice. It was a trait Max was unaware she had, so used to lying and keeping her heart far away from all situations. Gryffindors wore their hearts on their sleeves, though, and now Max was a temporary Gryffindor so it was only prudent she join them. She was shocked at how easy it was, though.

"Don't be," Harry said, turning to face her with his eyes of emerald. Emotions flowed strong in them; Max's heart stirred. "I won't let anybody hurt you. You'll be fine," he assured, smiling.

In any other situation Max would have been offended by the way she was being spoke to, as if she were incapable of handling herself. As if she needed Harry. Max was not one to need anybody and she didn't appreciate the way he spoke as a protector, the way a father would speak to his daughter, possibility.

Max couldn't bring herself to retort, though, and instead felt an immense appreciation for Harry. In all honesty she did feel like a child at the moment, and it was wonderful not to be alone. It was wonderful to have somebody around that cared enough to promise her safety.

Nobody had ever done that before. Whether it was because nobody cared or nobody could promise such a think, nobody had showed such protection over her. She believed every word Harry said when he told her not to be afraid, he was there. Though he'd broken the promises they shared as children it was a new age now. He would not break these ones.

It was a shockingly horrible feeling, though, to realize the lengths Harry would go to protect her. She'd become one of him now, part of the special group he'd do anything to keep safe. He's jump in front of a killing curse for him and Max's heart ached to know she could never do the same. That wasn't what she was in this for.

Bitter truth thrust itself upon her as Max came to terms with the fact that she could never be enough for Harry's loyalty. Whatever friendship she could give him, because Max knew there was some that she could, it would never amount to what he would give her in return. Of course, he'd understand this, understand the inner battles she had, but not because he knew what they were. He could only guess, for Max would answer no questions.

The familiar pang of guilt washed through her, settled down in its permanent place near her heart. It would not go away, not ever, now especially that she'd come full circle, back to being Harry Potter's friend. Max had admitted it to herself, finally, that she had always wanted his friendship back, ever since she lost it. And even though the friendship was based on her intentions to kill him Max was grateful for the second chances she would be offered. Until the final moments, until she absolutely had to, Max would not screw it up.

That was a fact, and it was not something she was doing for Lord Voldemort.

Harry squeezed her hand, opening the doors and entering. Max ignored the eyes that she knew would fly to their bodies and instead focused on those she'd get lost looking into, the shades of emerald she could never forget, even if Voldemort obliviated her a thousand times.

Max Connors loved Harry in ways she couldn't herself describe. Looking up at him and seeing the affection that lay in his emeralds it was such a contrast to the cold look she'd received so many times before that Max couldn't stop herself from grinning.

Though in a purely platonic way Max could feel nothing but the love for him, and thankfulness for the friendship they'd rekindled. Though there were no romantic intentions-Max was still devoted to Draco-there was also no denying that it was a pure loved, only tainted by the mission bestowed upon her.

Max shook her head, inhaling deeply as she kept her eyes safely to the floor, away from any faces that could hinder her thinking. It was important now, more than ever, to keep her head.

With one movement Max pushed all thoughts of her Death Eater core in the back of brain, promising herself to focus on her friendship with Harry and not the reason behind it. She was not a Death Eater with him, not anything resembling the evil Slytherin she was before. She'd bullshit her way through telling the Dark Lord whatever he wanted to know, becoming the first ever Slytherin to be friends with the Gryffindors.

Max Connors had become a new person, but whether this person was more like Mallory or more like Max it was unknown.

Harry released her hand as they sat down across from his friends, leaving a cold space where his body had been. A wind, strangely similar to the one that had been so evident at yesterday's breakup, blew in, fluttered Max's hair around her face.

"Harry," Hermione Granger hissed, leaning across the table to scold him. Max frowned slightly, angered by the bushy haired girl. It was obvious she was about to berate Harry for his relations with Max, but was she really tasteless enough to do it here, in front of her?

"Hermione, no," Harry protested, holding up his hand, the same one he'd used to hold Max's.

"What about Ginny, mate? What about my sister?" Ron demanded, his face turning red from anger. Max bit her lip, not knowing until now what the extent of the trio's hate for her had been. Also, was it really her fault Harry had broken up with girlfriend? She'd suspected it, but hearing it confirmed so viciously sent chills through her spine.

"Ron, you know this has nothing to do with that. That was about me, okay? This is about Max."

Three pairs of eyes turned on Max then, and she found it was more unbearable than the hundreds that had turned on her as she walked in. Two pairs glared, challenging her, as if to ask what she was doing there, invading their world. The third, as promised, was encouraging, standing strong and being there for her. The mouth they connected to defended her, even against his friends.

Now, it was Max's turn to make the first move. The only problem was, she wasn't quite sure how to play this game.

"Don't hate me," she blurted, eyes open in fear. She couldn't think of anything else to say, really, except the pleads that escaped her lips almost without warning. In turn, Hermione opened her mouth to retort something, but having no expected such candid responses closed it.

Ron, however, was not so merciful. Whether he was a generally more angry person, still riled up about his sister, or just having a bad day, his glare did not soften the way Hermione's had. The fact that he was the only one whose anger still burned strong only seemed to add to the flame.

"Why shouldn't we? You've done nothing but hurt us in all your years at Hogwarts!"

Max turned to look at Harry, missing the safety she felt when they'd held hands before. He was leaving her alone this time, though. He couldn't force her upon his friends and for that matter wasn't going to. His loyalty to them, Max realized, was stronger than that which he held for her. Sure, he would uphold his promise that she wouldn't be hurt, but he could not save her from the cryptic eyes of his friends.

"I know," Max admitted, the perfection of the plan faltering in her brain. How much longer could she uphold a friendship with Harry when his own friends hated her? If forced to choose, she was sure which one it would be and that would not be her.

"Just because Harry has some wild idea that you've changed doesn't mean we do," Ron went on, glancing briefly at his friend. Hermione sat quietly, staring at an interesting piece of skin on her hand. She'd taken herself out of the equation, keeping her head, but leaving Max within the fury of Ronald Weasley.

"I know that," Max exclaimed, her temper bubbling. "Don't you dare for one second think I don't know the circumstances I've put myself in here," she seethed, standing suddenly. A few nearby eyes turned to face her. "You've got no reason to trust me and neither of us have any reason to be friends, but this is where we are. I can explain everything to you, I promise, but not now-"

"Why not? You have to double check your story first?" Ron demanded, crossing his arms. Max glared at him, towering over the sitting boy. He did not recoil, as she had been so used to before, but rather stood his ground, unafraid.

He knew, though Max's hot head had not recognized it yet, that Max could no longer to anything to him. If she so much as brandished her wand in the situation Harry would grow angry and leave her. If she was going to stay within the safety of her old friend she was going to have to be civil to his new friends, no matter how hard it was.

This did not stop the girl from clutching her wand angrily inside her cloak.

"You just don't get it, Weasley, do you?" she yelled, and like the day before a gust of wind blew in, blowing her hair around furiously. Her eyes were alit with anger, almost blank as night. "I can't be a double agent because I don't have another side to go to. After yesterday do you think anybody from my house, all my friends, is going to want to talk to a traitor like me? Even if I wanted to give you all out I couldn't because I have nobody left on that side of things," Max sighed, her voice softening. "I gave all of that up. And that's why you should listen to me because I'm sure as hell not giving this up either."

Harry watched her carefully as she spoke, the words flowing out dangerously as her anger grew. He knew she was growing irritated with Ron and Harry could see the clash from a mile away. While Hermione may give Max the chance to tell her story Ron would not, his stubbornness overruling Harry's wishes.

Yet, for the second time since he'd seen Max argue he wasn't focused on what she was saying, but rather what she was doing. It seemed habit, by now, that the weather come into the picture and bring life to whatever battles she fought. Her movements were quick and unexpected, though her arm did not leave the sleeve of her cloak, where Harry was sure she was clutching her wand. Her olive skin was losing color in her wand arm, proof that she wouldn't stand for Ron's behavior any longer.

You can take a girl out of Slytherin, but you can't take the Slytherin out of a girl…

Harry noticed, also for the second time, that a green haze had surrounded Max, subtle enough that he was sure nobody else noticed. The wind did not startle it like it did her hair, and it hovered peacefully in an outline of her body, as preparing itself for what Max was going to do next.

Max was not controlling this, though. Her focus was deeply on Ron, nobody else in the room important. When Max fought she threw all of herself into the argument; maybe that was why she often won them.

Her wand arm was still shaking, though, making it painfully obvious that she was ready to strike. There was no proper way to explain what was going on with the girl's body, for not even she was aware of it. Out of everybody in the whole room Harry was the only one who noticed, or maybe even the only one who cared for that matter. Harry's never seen anything like this before, never heard of an energy that surrounded and engulfed a person like this.

A wave of fear shot through his veins, another quiet reminder than Max wasn't normal, that there were things about her that Harry didn't know, wouldn't ever know, probably.

It was chilling to think that aside from that there were things about herself that even she didn't know.

"Fine," Ron agreed, not having a retort to her long speech. "This afternoon, after class."

"Thank you," Max said coolly and Harry watched as the magic about her settled, her skin returning to its normal color and the girl was normal again, though she made no attempts to move. Her hand had slipped out of her pocket, though, and Harry could see the tips of her fingers were red from the blood rush.

"Sit down, Max," Harry soothed. She turned to him then, as if just realizing he was there. With a nod she obliged, melding back into the large pack of students. It seemed, in the time it took for her to argue with Ron, the rest of his class had scooted away from her, leaving a large empty space beside her.

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and took her hand again, offering her an encouraging smile. She didn't speak, but her mouth turned upwards a bit and she happily placed a piece of toast on her plate and persisted to nibble at it slowly.

Harry's eyes traveled throughout the room then, not willing to face his friend quite yet. He saw Ginny, a few seats down, glaring at him with such fury he winced. Her eyes were hard, a strange look for the fiery red head. They traveled down his arm, where it connected ever so lightly with Max's.

With a jolt Harry realized Ginny though he was with Max. The idea was preposterous for him. Sure, he'd held her hand for support as she entered the new word she'd created for herself, but never before had Harry thought of Max Connors in a way that wasn't purely platonic. How strange of Ginny to think differently.

He was surprised that, other than shock, Harry felt indifferent to whatever Ginny thought of him. Had it not been weeks before that he'd been infatuated with her? How could that have faded so quickly. He saw, though, why Ron was angry at him. He'd, in essence, replaced Ginny with Max, an action that was not to be taken lightly.

It also, apparently, angered the Slytherins, for as Harry examined the room he caught each and every one of them periodically gazing over. Some glared, like her old friend, others just stared in shock. It was quite clear, however, that Max would not be welcomed back, not after what she did.

Harry also noticed, with a hint of smugness, that Draco Malfoy was not amongst the group.

--

"So that's that," Max finished, folding her hands and placing them delicately in her lap. She'd just finished explaining to Ron and Hermione exactly what had caused her to give up her Slytherin life in favor for Harry's.

"That's that?" Ron questioned, still furious. "You just woke up one day and decided not to be a Death Eater?"

To Harry's immense surprise Max laughed, something strange and surprising, for it was of genuine amusement, almost warm in contrast the usual biting words and noises that came out of her mouth. She'd just finished telling Ron and Hermione why she'd chosen to give up her Slytherin ways and throughout the whole ordeal she'd remained fairly calm.

It was a striking difference when compared to the way she'd acted at breakfast that morning, but Harry found he favored it. It melded nicely with the weather, for she had chosen to tell her story outside by the lake. It was bit chilly outdoors, but the sky was clear and the water a lovely shade of blue. They sat under a tree as she spoke, her words animated, tone pleasant, though it was of dark things she said.

Harry found he relished every moment of her story, for it was the first time this year he could finally piece everything together. Max hadn't gone into much detail, but finally everything came together in order, no longer a puzzle without pieces but a quilt without so much as a stitch out of place.

She'd explained to them so carefully, the words not coming easily, how Harry-himself-had pestered her constantly about her drawings, bringing back rough memories from the past until she finally could not take it anymore. She had chosen, tired of all the doubts that rang through her mind, and so she broke away, desperate to redeem herself from the constant regret she felt so intensely all the time.

Harry was happy to have played such a part in it, so much that he couldn't understand why Ron was still acting so belligerently. Even if she was lying-which Harry knew she wasn't-she'd been very convincing. What was there not to believe?

"Well," Max started, considering his comment for a moment, "There was a bit more thought put into it than that. After all, it is not easy to leave everything you've known behind, even if it is for the better."

"And why should we trust you?" Ron demanded, still filled with doubt.

"I can't give you a reason, Weasley," Max sighed, looking out towards the lake. "If I were you I wouldn't trust me either, but I'm telling the truth."

"Because I trust her," Harry interjected, adding a lovely awkward tension that pleasured itself in hanging in the air. For the third time that day Harry took her hand, as if to visually show the alliance they now had.

"Harry's right," Hermione whispered, the first words she'd spoken about the situation since that morning. Ron gasped, struggling with his words and spluttering about, not believing the words that touched his ears.

"Are you bloody crazy, Hermione?"

"Harry has made it clear that he trusts her," Hermione started, taking Ron's own hand. "It seems to me that we are either with him or not."

"But-" Ron fumed, his face growing red with rage.

"I'm sorry about your sister," Max blurted unintentionally. "If that what this is about," she added. "I didn't mean to steal Harry away from anybody."

"Yes, well," Ron mumbled, running out of useful responses.

"It's okay," Hermione said politely. "Ron and I should go, though. I promised to help him with an essay," she finished, taking Ron's hand. He looked up at her, befuddled, but followed her lead, leaving Max and Harry alone.

"Thank you," Max started, the beginning to a well rehearsed speech about how grateful she was for him taking her in. Harry shook his head, putting a finger to her lips. Max shut her mouth, looking up at him with confusion. He'd lost the warmth in his eyes, the one she'd been so used to all day. She'd enjoyed the encouraging looks he'd given her, a constant reminder of his friendship and protection from vicious peers. Now, though, he stared at her with a coldness she could only remember him using on various Slytherins, including herself.

In fact, Harry looked downright angry as he stared at her, preventing her from speaking.

"Listen," he started, offering her a hand as he stood up. The kind gesture confused Max, a direct contrast from the icy look on his face, the chilling bite to his tone.

"Harry-" she pleaded, an immediate reaction to ask for forgiveness because of whatever she'd done.

"No, it's my turn to talk now," he interrupted, releasing her hand and standing before her. "I'm risking a lot by befriending you like this. Not only is there a chance you could be still on Voldemort's side, but I'm sure Ron and Hermione will be furious with me later, after you've gone. Hermione only acts polite, after all.

"But I trust you, Max. We were friends before and I can't imagine you could have lost all of what you were back then. I want to make up for lost time, for broken promises, and I find myself believing in you now, liking you now, even when you aren't the Mallory I remember," Harry paused, glancing at something out of Max's vision.

"However," he started again, and his eyes of emerald darkened considerably. "You've chosen sides now. This is permanent because if you ever turn your back on me, if Ron and Hermione turn out to be right and you are working for Voldemort, then there will be no forgiveness. I will sell you out for who you truly are, a Death Eater, and land your ass right in Azkaban. And if that doesn't work I'll make life hell for you here. Or worse, there will be no mercy. I'll kill you myself."