"Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another."

~ Ernest Hemingway


Chapter 54 ~ What I Do with the Time I Have

The door thudded behind them, a splinter flaking off to the rusty-ground. Harry eyed it suspiciously, dryly asking, "How exactly has this not sunk?" He was curious, and asking about that would be better than whatever it was that Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

Dumbledore might be the Order's leader, but it didn't mean that he trusted the wizard much right now. He'd long since realized that the Headmaster was a master of manipulations, positioning them all like pawns on a chess board.

Given that the pawns were his friends he wasn't exactly thrilled.

"I see your wandless magic has been developing splendidly, Harry."

The Headmaster was smiling at him gently, having taken a seat on old leather bench situated not far behind an old, wooden wheel. Things, mostly of the sharp, dangerous-looking variety, swung from the walls of the deckhouse, a broken barometer's needle spinning in its casing.

Harry just thudded his own back against the door, blockading it, not keen to proceed any farther into the death trap of a room. "Yeah well, isn't that the point of the war bond?"

"Why heavens no, Harry. You would have developed wandless magic regardless given you have the knack. As I mentioned before, the bond merely hastens its development, and couldn't have come at a better time given the current climate, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the Headmaster viewing he and Kaylens' relationship as something strategic for the war effort, but he wisely kept that thought to himself. "If it keeps Kaylens alive," he allowed cautiously, "yes."

He still had mixed feelings about it. If it made magic more powerful it might do the opposite. Then again, it might help.

Harry just didn't know, and that was a frightening thought.

Something slammed into the window outside, it appearing to be a transfigured octopus. Harry shot it a sidelong look as it slid down, briefly catching a glimpse of Mr. Weasley talking to Kaylens.

Remembering the strange looks Mrs. Weasley had been shooting him at the last several Order meetings he almost winced. He'd abandoned his girlfriend to a possible interrogation.

Somehow that seemed worse than having almost let her freeze to death.

Grimacing he turned his attention back into the room, finding Dumbledore quietly studying him, something shrewd within his gaze.

Harry met it levelly, unapologetically remaining silent. Instead he crossed his arms and waited.

Dumbledore got the hint. "It appears," he stated, "you are still angry with me." It wasn't a question, just a casually stated observation. An old clock ticked in the background.

"I'm not okay with my friends being used as pawns."

"I would never view any within the Order as a pawn, my boy. But it is war, and we must place everyone where their talents will be of the most use." Tilting his half-moon spectacles down to peer over them, he added, "Even if it means trusting them to care for themselves in dangerous spots."

"Dangerous spots? So that's what we're calling offering them up to Death Eaters on a silver platter?" The boat rocked, forcing him to take a hold of the door handle to avoid being knocked off balance.

Apparently they were doing this, and doing this now.

Fine. Harry was fine with that. They might as well get it out of the way.

Dumbledore looked unaffected. "I think," the Headmaster continued, "given how often you've played – what is it called? – bait recently that placing oneself in such a situation was something you could perhaps understand, Harry."

He found his own gaze hardening, acutely aware of the door handle digging into his back. He was well aware of what Dumbledore was talking about: his little strolls out into the middle of the streets of Hogsmeade and Grimmauld. The first had bought his friends time to go for help. The second had bought the Order time to get into position. "I knew what I was signing up for," he said, not budging, "they didn't."

"Are you certain of that, Harry? They were warned of the risk of contracting the plague, one Voldemort had set loose, which would imply a certain risk of Death Eater engagement, would it not? I do recall them accepting such risks, even if they were unaware of my secondary reasons for the timing of sending them in after the first team."

The twinkling blue eyes fixed him with a curious look, a bemused smile touching his aged face.

Harry merely gritted his teeth, nodding stiffly. He'd rather be back outside with Kaylens, snagging as much time with her as he could before they all suicidally dove back into that cold sea. "I get," he ground, "that you're trying to make a point. You're saying that the only way to win is to take suicidal risks."

"I'd have called them calculated ones, but your phrasing does turn the tongue a bit better."

"I still think that you should have warned them. Them getting killed wouldn't be worth it."

A strange shadow passed across the Headmaster's face, one that was almost sad. "Oh my dear boy…how I wish that were true, but wars are full of inherent risk, and they are never won without losing some we deeply, deeply care for." Dumbledore's blue gaze turned, moving out the window to view where the rest of the Order went about their business, laughing, joking, attempting to hex one another as they all blew off steam in their own way.

Harry followed his gaze, finding that Mr. Weasley was now crouched down alongside Kaylens, the two chatting. Ron's dad appeared to be miming something with his hands, his thumb pressing down on an invisible button.

Harry frowned, catching her gaze for but a second. Kally was still wrapped in that wool blanket, her hair hanging in front of her face, her eyes glinting with amusement as they met his.

Despite himself, despite the conversation with Dumbledore, a slight smile touched his face as he mouthed, Sorry, at her.

She just smiled more, shaking her head in the negative, as if bemused.

It was, perhaps, the most reassuring thing he'd had that day.

Mr. Weasley was now kicking out a leg, pointing his toes at some invisible foe, Kalliandra's attention darting back to him. For a second Harry just watched, before turning his attention back to find Dumbledore shrewdly watching him.

"You know, my boy," the wizard stated insightfully, "I do believe that some of your anger over that night is perhaps…exaggerated due to a certain witch, who was with that group, dare I suggest?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Was it? Was that the only reason?

No.

Still, the wizard wasn't entirely off base. "You wouldn't," he finally admitted, words stiff, "be entirely wrong."

The Headmaster idly drummed his fingers upon the back of the seat. "It is ironic," Dumbledore observed, eyes looking distant, "that those who are the most willing to fight, to risk death itself, so as to protect the world from bigger things, tend to be the same individuals that the world cannot afford to lose."

Harry understood that. He was living that daily nightmare every time he looked around the Gryffindor dorms. When everything was over how many of them would still be here? The thought haunted him.

And judging from the look in Dumbledore's gaze, it haunted him too.

It was a long time before either spoke.

Eventually it was the Headmaster who broke the silence. "Dare I say," he stated calmly, "that your friends Ron and Hermione, Kalliandra…that they fall into that category?" The Headmaster's gaze had turned back to him, looking clearer, no longer looking off into an unseen void. "If you find yourself lucky enough to have such friends, Harry, or even to love one of those sacrificing types, it probably means you are one yourself." The wizard shook his head. "You cannot change their nature, their willingness to help, any more than you could stop the tides, even if the prospect of losing them proves terrifying." The way he spoke…

It was as if it were from experience.

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles meaningfully. "If you'd entertain an old man's advice for but a moment, Harry, I believe it would be wise to seize every chance you have with them and to not fault them for choosing risks. Tomorrow is never certain."

Hearing that…he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

The boat creaked loudly, a wire swinging far overhead and barely visible out one of the many windows. "It is our curse, perhaps, to love those we could not change," Dumbledore continued, "for to change them would be to alter everything we admire within them." Once more the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared appeared to be looking somewhere else, somewhere not in the deckhouse, not even on the boat or even in this time.

Part of Harry wondered what it was Dumbledore was seeing, yet still…

Harry breathed harder, the line of his mouth growing tense. He would not lose them. He wouldn't lose any of them.

It wasn't an option.

The Headmaster offered a small, knowing smile, as if aware of where Harry's thoughts were. "There are things worth fighting, dying for Harry. I just merely hope that there will be fewer of the latter kind when this is all said and done." With that the Headmaster patted the seat alongside him once more, questioning, "Would do an old man a kindness? You have grown considerably and looking up while seated so does strain the neck."

Harry shot him a bewildered look. Dumbledore sore? Still…he took a deep breath and moved away from the door, dropping stiffly onto the bench alongside him. Things were strained, tense, given he was still outright pissed, and yet…

He was still going to listen, even if it didn't make any damn sense to do so.

"Can you imagine, Harry, what would happen if we didn't fight? How many we would lose if those such as Tom were permitted to shape the world as they saw fit?"

The old leather made a squelching sound as Harry shifted on it, fixing Dumbledore with a serious look. "Yeah, we'd have a bunch of murderous psychopaths running around. What I'm still hung up on is why you're so content to allow so many of them into the Order." He wanted to know. He really wanted to know. First Snape, then Angelina, then Regulus, then Krum, then Dean.

There were too many Death Eaters, or ex-Death Eaters around for him to be comfortable. So if they were going to talk strategy, he was going to finally get some answers.

Dumbledore had wanted a chat, so fine, he would chat.

Dumbledore's eyes took on a look of understanding. "Ah, you question their motives."

"I question," he darkly ground, "why they aren't in jail, or worse."

A fishing hook swung as the ship rocked again, the barometer's needle spinning in a new direction.

"Years ago, Harry, had I refused Severus' offer of help, the death toll on our side would have been much, much higher." The tenor of the Headmaster was low, taking on a different quality. "It was a lesson hard learned, as I'd refused the help of another years prior, resulting in the deaths of many."

The wizard removed his spectacles, holding them up to the light streaming in through the glass to inspect the water spots upon them. "My trust is not easily earned, Harry, but I find it foolish to refuse help from those offering, even if I do not trust them."

Harry about balked. "You don't trust them, yet you're letting them help?" he demanded incredulously.

The look Dumbledore fixed him with was somewhat sly. "Now who said I was letting them help with anything actually important, Harry?"

"Is that or is that not Dean Thomas outside, right now, about to help us hunt down a horcrux?"

"Ah, well Mr. Thomas I do admit to having a soft spot for, Harry. I believe his motivations to be rather…true."

Harry grunted, not bending. "He could have killed everyone in Dublin. He could have-"

"Indeed Harry, he very well could have, but did not. And therein lays the difference between whether I would trust him or not. His choices speak volumes."

"He chose," he muttered, "to take the Dark Mark."

Dumbledore peered at him with a type of resigned curiosity. "From my understanding, Harry, it was hardly a choice at all. He was unaware of the Order's existence and thought he were to die if he chose otherwise."

"Then he should have." Lupin had said as much to Pettigrew: better to die than betray your friends.

Dean might not have killed anyone, yet, but he could have. And if he had killed Ginny, Neville, Kally

Harry would have killed him.

Dean was his dorm mate, his house mate, his Quidditch team mate, Kally's apparent best friend.

It didn't matter.

Harry had killed, and he would again if Thomas forced him.

"Those types we talked about before Harry, the self-sacrificing ones? They are not limited to those like Ron and Hermione, you know. They include the Death Eaters amongst us. Regulus and Dean, Severus and Angelina."

Harry opened his mouth to retort how very off base that was, but Dumbledore held up a steadying hand, silently requesting to be allowed to finish. "Take a step back, Harry, and consider this…they, perhaps more than anyone, acted selflessly. They knew the consequences of their actions if caught helping our side, if caught breaking direct orders from Tom, yet they did it anyway due to their refusal to kill. And then, instead of running, Harry, they stayed, despite knowing that our side would most likely shun them, whilst their former side would kill them." Pausing, he continued, "Given choices like that, death or the lonely life of a pariah…even brave men and women would have run, or would have at least tried, and yet…"

Dumbledore gestured out the window, Dean and Regulus now chatting, some of the former's hair singed off by one of Bill's spells.

"There they are."

Harry took a deep breath. He understood what Dumbledore said on a logical level, but on a purely visceral one he didn't trust them. He didn't trust Dean, even if Kally did. He didn't trust Regulus, even if he had been Sirius' brother.

He wasn't sure he trusted Dumbledore's judgement, the realization like an icy dagger in him.

"You might trust them," he finally said, "but I don't."

"I would hope, that one day Harry, you will again find the capacity to have faith in other people."

"Give me a full calendar year without anyone trying to kill me," he drawled back, "and I'll take it under consideration."

Dumbledore actually laughed, the sound startling. "Fair enough, Harry. Sometimes I forget in all my years how very much you have been through, and how very condensed a time it has all been."

Even Harry had to snort at that. "A century plus really got to you, huh?"

"It goes by," the Headmaster smiled, "faster than you would ever imagine."

For a long moment silence reined, the Headmaster looking thoughtful. "Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect, Harry?" Blue eyes fixed upon him, finding only his own skeptical expression looking back.

Unfazed as always the Headmaster continued on. "A single choice, a single decision can have far reaching effects on seemingly unrelated events. A butterfly flaps its wings in China, and triggers a tsunami in the Pacific Northwest."

"Sounds," Harry grunted, "like a bad Muggle movie."

The Headmaster smiled congenially. "How about another example then? Angelina's choice to become a Death Eater ultimately saved Kalliandra's life, even though the two events would seem, on the surface, entirely unrelated."

The sudden change of topic sent Harry's chest twisting, heart thundering. The memory of waking up with Kally on the couch, where they'd been sleeping together within Number 12 Grimmauld, her in his sodding arms, only to find that she didn't know who he even was…

It was still far too fresh.

"Injecting her with that blood nearly drove her insane," he grated. Unicorn blood carried both memories and a curse. Kaylens could have lost her mind. She could have-

"But she did not, Harry," Dumbledore interjected, as if reading his thoughts. "As close as the two of you have grown surely even you can admit that without such a magical, healing buffer within her veins that Kalliandra would have overdrawn numerous times by now."

The quiet, calm look fixated upon him had his gut twisting, clenching, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix pressing, "We would have had to bury her long ago, Harry. Without Tom's recruitment and tutelage of Angelina, I do doubt that the idea would have come to her independently, nor would she have had access to such healing blood had she not been gathering it for Tom's purposes."

Harry leaned back against the wooden wall, finding his heart pounding hard. This wasn't something he wanted to think about.

Somehow he knew that's why Dumbledore had chosen it as his example.

"Angelina chose to save her, Harry. She chose to do so to her own discovery and detriment." Lowering his glasses, peering over them at him, he pressed, "I would certainly say that speaks more about her character than a hastily made decision when she was in fear for her life, wouldn't you?"

Harry's teeth ground and he inhaled a long breath. He couldn't argue with that. Angelina could have let Kaylens die. She could have sat back and just watched. Instead she'd done something that had gotten her caught, and she'd been under the Order's lock and key at Grimmauld ever since.

"Equip people with the knowledge that they have friends, Harry, allies willing to stand beside them when they confront their fears, and you would be amazed at the transformations they can make."

"It doesn't mean," he countered finally, "that they're not cowards, that they won't go back to him the second they are given the chance."

"Again, Harry, that goes back to having faith in other people."

"Agree to disagree, because I'm not bending on that."

Dumbledore considered him for a long moment. "I suppose," he said finally, "I should not find this surprising, given everything you have been through."

Harry grunted acknowledgement, a truce at least reached. He wasn't comfortable with this, but he was at least listening. "Okay," he managed, "that explains why you're tolerating Dean and Angelina. Care to explain Krum?"

"Ah, that."

"Yes," Harry replied with a frown, "that."

"Viktor is hardly a reformed Death Eater, Harry. I do believe he was put in our path as Tom's attempt to gain a true insider without our ranks, once they lost Angelina, which I'm certain he has realized by now."

Harry stared, not fully processing that. "Come again?"

"Oh of course, that would be somewhat shocking information wouldn't it?" Dumbledore said amicably. "It certainly has put a great deal of stress upon poor Severus. He really has to step up his double agent game."

This time Harry managed to blink.

"You see Harry, I believe once you adamantly refused to reveal either of the prophecies, that they were left with little choice but to either kill Ms. Granger or to make her useful. Voldemort certainly is familiar with your unwillingness to bend, so I believe they staged the 'springing her from her prison' with Viktor in an attempt to force us to trust him."

The ship creaked noisily, the sound of water cutting past the hull loud, hypnotic.

"It is of little matter. We have been using him in turn to feed Tom false information about our movements. He really did underestimate me this time. I fear all his self-experimentations in his foolish quest for longevity may actually be affecting his intellect."

"His intellect…" Harry repeated this, staring at Dumbledore as if he'd gone mad. Viktor was not reformed, in any way, and yet they were letting him walk around free?

"Your friend, Ms. Granger, has of course been instrumental to that end."

Something cold coiled in him. "What do you mean instrumental?"

"Why helping the Order, of course. She has become rather adept at feeding Mr. Krum false information."

Harry's mouth opened, startled. "What-Hermione hasn't seen Viktor in months." None of them had, not since he and Kaylens had shown back up after the battles of Hogsmeade and Grimmauld, and that had been in November. They'd not heard a solitary word since, that being one of his main points of contention with the adults in the Order.

They'd let he, Ron, Hermione, Kaylens, Neville, Luna and Ginny into it, but they sure as hell had only shared information with them on a need-to-know basis.

Dumbledore merely smiled at him. "I do believe, my boy, judging from your expression that Ms. Granger has done an excellent job of keeping her assignment a secret. She has, in fact, been dating him."

A strange sound emitted from his throat. "Dating…Krum?" He said it slowly, carefully, making sure to annunciate each word. He wanted to make sure he'd heard this right.

"Why yes, I have always said that she is the cleverest witch of her age. She has, unsurprisingly, also proven quite talented in this arena." Dumbledore smiled slyly. "Viktor, of course, has tried to use her subtly for information about the Order's actual ongoings, something she predictably has refused to supply. When the right moment presents itself though we will allow her to let some false information slip. She already has fed him some true tidbits about far more trivial things, so as to make it all the more real once it is something actually important."

Harry was fairly certain he'd been hit with a bludger. He flat out gaped at Dumbledore.

"Viktor is of course not within the Order, Harry, but we felt it necessary to make him believe he still had access to some useful information, on occasion. We are positioning our chess pieces, if you would forgive an old man's analogy."

Now there was no question, his throat was making noises on its own. "Hermione's what?"

There. He'd managed words. He was almost proud of himself.

Dumbledore frowned. "Feeding a spy false information about our ongoings, Harry. We must make Voldemort think he has gained inside access to our ongoings, so we have the opportunity to use Viktor against him. He will, I dare say, prove a useful tool for us down the road when we need it most."

"So Hermione has…"

"Yes," the Headmaster replied pleasantly.

"How?"

Dumbledore looked momentarily thoughtful. "Well, we realized Voldemort's plan shortly after she was returned to us. It appears he made several – as you youngsters would call it – 'moves' on Hermione," the Headmaster made air quotes – actual air quotes, "but some of his questions were rather…concerning. The clever girl alerted us immediately."

Something dangerous stirred in him. "So you decided to force her to date Kru-"

"Why of course not, Harry," Dumbledore interjected pleasantly. "That was entirely Ms. Granger's idea. A rather brilliant one, I might add."

Harry made a strangled, sputtering sound.

"Given his status as a famous Quidditch player and Mr. Weasley's obvious infatuation, she convinced Krum to keep their liaisons secret in the interest of their overall privacy and to of course spare dear Mr. Weasley's feelings."

Harry's mouth was still hanging open.

"I believe, their main topic of conversation has been international wizarding relations."

Harry choked.

"It of course made sense, for her to monopolize on the 'warm and fuzzy' feelings that a woman might develop towards her rescuer."

Harry racked his mind, trying to think of when Hermione could have been seeing Krum in secret. More to the point, how? He'd have known, he'd have realized, he'd-

He'd been with Kaylens, almost every sodding second when he wasn't training for battle with Ron and the others.

Hiding something from him would have been sickeningly easy.

The truth of that hit him with a sickening, nauseous feeling. "So Hermione's been dating Krum, all so we can feed Riddle false information at some opportune time later on?"

"Indeed, Harry. I do confess I was a bit concerned you'd become so angered that you would miss the larger picture. I'm glad to see you're taking this well, despite the difficulties with speech." The Headmaster smiled benignly.

"Oh no," he muttered darkly, "I didn't miss the larger picture. I'm just planning to kill Krum now too."

Dumbledore looked at him with a frown. "Harry, I wished to speak with you to try to ensure that we were on the same page. If not in principles, then at least in methods. If we desire to win, to beat Voldemort, then we must have every tool available to us. And this, my boy, could prove to be a very useful one."

Harry eyed the wizard as if he'd never seen him before. He'd known Dumbledore was a master manipulator, the knowledge having come as quite the shock, but this? "How much danger is she placing herself in?"

"Very little, Harry. Ms. Granger, as I am sure you know, is rather formidable with a wand. Any liaisons she has had with Mr. Krum have indeed been…closely monitored. Mr. Krum, is of course, unaware."

Harry immediately relaxed, breathing slightly more easily. "Who was monitoring her?"

"Severus, of course."

This time Harry's sputtering was so loud that Kaylens and Mr. Weasley actually looked up from clear outside the deckhouse, identical looks of concern on their faces.

"Does Ron know?"

"Not quite yet. Ms. Granger felt that, if he were to discover them, his anger would be the most convincing factor of all, so she intended to keep him in the dark, at least," Dumbledore smiled knowingly, "until Mr. Weasley works up the courage to ask her out. Then she said she would let him in on the little secret."

For the thousandth time Harry realized how very little he understood about women.

And then something else occurred to him.

"Then why are you telling me?"

The boat turned, wheel in the deckhouse spinning, the unoiled metal parts screeching slightly.

"Because of where we are going, Harry. There is a strong possibility that not all of us will be returning. As much as I hope that is not the case, I wanted to ensure that I had not made the mistake of not filling you in on critical things that you would need to know."

It took him a second.

A long second.

Then he realized…

"You're not planning on making it back, are you?"

"I would far rather it be me than someone else, Harry," he told matter-of-factly, "as I have been afforded a long, interesting life. Though I do intend for all of us to make it back, I have been alive long enough to know that Tom has undoubtedly made such a concept rather difficult. He was fascinated by that old divination curse when he was in school, the one about if thirteen are seated at a table then the first to rise is the first to die?"

Harry's blood went cold.

"Well there are thirteen doorways to enter the island through, Harry. From the looks of them they will require a blood sacrifice from each of us, but to leave…I cannot imagine all thirteen will be permitted. At the worse, death would be required, and at best, remaining stranded."

Harry had stood before he'd even realized what he was doing. "How-how are you so calm about this?"

Dumbledore fixed him with an unruffled look, merely peering over his glasses at him as if they were discussing what to have for lunch. "Why because, Harry, I have you."

Harry's heart was definitely thundering now, staring down at the Headmaster. It felt like something was strangling him. Dumbledore had alluded to this before, but this had been his plan? To plan to just not leave the island?

"I trust, Harry, that you will keep my intentions secret until the last moment, until we know if it will be needed at all or not. If it is, it will be your job to ensure that all others get back safely."

He sputtered. He couldn't help it. Something in him felt incredibly, undeniably deflated.

"But I've been so mad at you." The words sounded childish even as he uttered them, but now…

Now it all seemed idiotic, juvenile. Dumbledore was the one person who couldn't die. He was the only one that Voldemort was actually afraid of, and without him…

That same wizard was looking at him with a benign smile. "There is nothing wrong with being mad, Harry. On my end it has changed nothing." The way Dumbledore was looking at him, almost grandfatherly…

Harry didn't have to ask if he was forgiven, he already knew he was. And that...

His stomach coiled uncomfortably.

"You have a good heart, Harry, even though parts of it have been hardened recently. I just hope you will remember to try to have faith in other people. That…it is the only thing that separates us from him."

Standing there on a rocking boat, hidden within the trawler's deckhouse with the Headmaster, Harry realized something.

Dumbledore was right.

He felt sick.

"Harry," the wizard stated, almost cautiously, "there is one more thing…"


Tonks had been cleverly listening in to Arthur Weasley for the past twenty minutes, perched cross-legged atop one of the many metal fish storage containers with Fleur and Bill, by using a few well-placed hearing enhancement charms.

Bill shook his head, muttering, "This is so wrong on so many levels."

"Hush you," Fleur reprimanded. "This iz just getting to be good, and I vill not have you spoiling it."

Tonks decided instantly that she rather liked the veela, tapping her on the leg rather gleefully as Arthur Weasely continued his little, impromptu chat with Harry's girl.

"Harry's like my brother," Bill hissed in protest. "I don't think he'd appreciate us listening in on my dad interrogating his girlfriend."

"Sssshhh!" Fleur's hissed request for silence was scarily animalistic, it reminding Tonks that the girl was a quarter-creature.

Bill groaned, Tonks whispering, "It's hardly an interrogation, Billy. He's just chatting her up and dropping in a few choice questions." Practically cackling, she listened in as drifting pieces of conversation floated over.

She barely heard Bill incredulously repeat, "Billy?"

"So Kalliandra," the voice of Arthur drifted over, "have you kept in touch with any of your friends at your former school?" AKA Dad-speak for finding out if she was talking to any other boys other than Harry.

The girl had responded in the negative, Arthur muttering, "Ah, that's a shame, that's a shame. Though I suppose you haven't had time to be too lonely while here with all your classes, have you? I know you don't have to learn to actually cast them, but simply learning about so many things must be quite the challenge!"

Tonks about clapped her hands in delight. "He's trying to find out if she's talking to other boys!" she declared. Fleur murmured with intrigue, the two huddling shoulder-to-shoulder to watch. Remus had stalked off ten minutes before in an effort to show his disapproval of them eavesdropping on the girl, who Tonks suspected he thought of as a surrogate daughter.

Really, it was so cute how protective he got over his little pups.

Arthur was asking if she'd had the 'opportunity' to get to know many of her other classmates yet, outside of her dorm. AKA he was asking about boys. Really, the man was an absolute master. She'd had no idea that Arthur could be so manipulative. Then again…

Shooting a sidelong look towards Bill, catching sight of Fred attempting to juggle several slippery and clearly dead fish far behind him, she realized that shouldn't come as a surprise. He had sired those two. Plus he was married to Molly.

She had it on good authority that despite the woman's allegedly matronly nature that there was actually nothing innocent about her.

The clunk-clunking of a peg-leg on metal resounded loudly, Mad Eye limping up and fixing them all with a disapproving glare. "Don't," he reprimanded, "we have better things to do than spy on teenagers?"

"Apparently not," Bill informed wryly, his personal veela smacking his arm. "Protesting it," he warned, "only gets you abused."

Mad Eye snorted outright, sitting down and stating, "My money's on the girl figuring out that this is just a veiled interrogation attempt by Molly."

All three heads swiveled slowly towards Moody, Tonks raising a delighted eyebrow.

"She's Potter's girl. Mean's she's gotta be smart." He tapped the side of his head pointedly. "We taught the boy better than to choose a dumb one."

Tonks let out a happy cackle, her attention turning back to the scene at hand.

After a minute Bill let out a resigned sigh, stating, "I'll take that bet and raise you a galleon, Alastor. Smart or not dad's good. I'm betting she just thinks he's over there for a chat."

"Raise ya," Tonks countered around a conjured handful of popcorn, "a sickle that Harry comes out and intervenes."

"Pfft, ye do not understand boys his age. Harry vill not even notice, he is a man after all."

There was a slight delay as the two males processed the insult, followed by Bill protesting, "Hey!"

Fleur turned near translucent eyes upon the Weasley, blinking with feigned innocence. "Oh Villiam, you are vonderful, but you are still an oblivious male."

Moody snorted. "She's got you there, Weasley." He slapped him on the back. "Life lesson, we will never win when pitted against the female sex. They are far more manipulative and conniving than we could ever dream to be."

Tonks had quietly been sneaking her wand around her back, sending a quick stinging hex at Moody's arm.

A guttural grunt indicated a direct hit. "Nymphadora!"

Who said there weren't fun ways to pass the time while sailing towards your potential doom?

Tonks conjured up some more popcorn, offering some to Fleur, the veela snagging it and somehow elegantly chewing it. Tonks shot her a strange look, then chewed her own with exaggerated sass, spitting the kernels out into her hand in as gross a manner as possible.

Then she promptly lobbed the kernels in Fred and Dean's direction, smirking as her targets yelped.


The rickety door flew open, hinges screeching even over the sound of the waves as it thudded against the deckhouse's outer wall.

Kally and Mr. Weasley both jumped, the two mid-conversation about the exact purpose of Muggle hand weights, as Harry barreled out of the deckhouse, disappearing towards the aft of the trawler, out of sight from where everyone else was.

Something had been off about his expression, Kally instantly curling her feet under her to get up, sending Mr. Weasley an apologetic look. "Mr. Weasley if it's alright I'd kind of like to-"

"Of course, Kally," the wizard smiled, interrupting and obviously understanding her intention. "I'd be concerned if you didn't."

Her mouth opened, trying to think of something to say for rudely bolting off, but she settled on, "This was your way of interrogating me, wasn't it?" He'd asked way too many questions about boys at her old school for it to not have been.

Off in the distance she heard the distinct sound of Mad Eye Moody letting out a barking laugh.

Mr. Weasley just looked at her, blinked, then let out a laugh of his own. "Ah, so I was more transparent than I realized. I do apologize, Kalliandra, but you see Harry…he's like a son to Molly and I. I confess we were rather taken aback enough when we found out that he'd even started dating, let alone someone we had never properly met."

Tucking her hair back behind her ears, she actually winced. "Yeah, getting that a lot, actually." First Tonks, now him. It was good that Harry had that many people worried about him, but-

She needed to find him.

Scrambling to her feet, Mr. Weasley rising with her, she started to go only for a hand to fall on her arm. "You will be good to him, won't you?" he asked.

Her lips parted, the question somewhat surprising. Quickly she shook her head, hair falling back in her face. "Thought not to never crossed my mind," she honestly told, finally escaping. Waving at where Ron, Luna and Neville were chatting, Ron shooting her a quizzical look and making a questioning gesture back at where Harry went, she quickly mouthed, No idea, at him.

Then she darted back behind the deckhouse, barely noticing the disappointed round of groans coming from across the deck, Tonks grumpily handing Moody a sickle.

Kally found Harry at the far side of the boat, out of sight and far away from where everyone else was.

Harry's back was to her, both of his hands curled around the railing in a white-knuckled grip, the wizard staring out at the Atlantic. Its calm surface was a stark contrast to the tension rippling through him, the muscles in his forearms standing out.

Kally's feet came to a quiet halt several meters off, eyes flickering over him. Obviously something had happened, but-

Potter's familiar voice sighed resignedly, not even turning to look. "I know it's you, Kaylens. And if it's not, then damn Ron, you've started smelling a lot better."

Her lips parted in a shocked, silent laugh. "You should give him more credit than that, Potter," she replied. "Ever since Hermione spent the night in your dorm I think he's actually started to shower."

She approached, settling in alongside him, leaning her lower back against the rail. Small droplets of mist, kicked up by the stern, blew up on the light breeze, wetting her elbows.

The cold spray might have bothered her had she not been studying Harry so intently, firm lines etched in every line of his face.

"You're not okay," she whispered, her soft observation hanging in the air.

Potter's eyes narrowed against the wind, his glasses slowly getting coated in mist. "You're right," he affirmed darkly, "I'm not."

Tilting her head to get a better look at him, hair falling over her shoulders, she quietly murmured, "What happened?"

"Honestly?" he grated. "Not sure I want to go into it."

The mid-day sunlight beat down on him, glinting harshly against the lens of his glasses. Kally's brow furrowed. He didn't want to go into it…

Something in her twisted uncomfortably at his admission. But looking at him, seeing how bothered he obviously was, her unease didn't matter.

"Okay," she murmured finally, nodding as her hair was swept into her face by another cool breeze. "So what do you want to talk about?"

A cutting, malachite gaze shifted to her, Harry finally looking at her for the first time since she'd shown up. Every line of his expression was stony, conflicted. "You're not going to press?"

"When," she calmly inquired, "has that every helped?"

His mouth opened, before closing, the wizard shaking his head. "Never."

Inclining a solitary eyebrow, she questioned, "So why would you ask me to?"

For a second even Harry looked confused, a grimace crossing his features. "You're right. You never press. I think-I think I'm just used to Hermione." He let out a hard, wry breath. "The witch never stops."

"I think the word you're looking for," she corrected, "is unrelenting."

"Oh? Am I now?" For the briefest of seconds the hardened look disappeared, his mouth actually twitching.

"Yes," she confirmed, ignoring her hair as another breeze kicked up off the ocean's expanse, swirling her long tendrils wildly around her face. "Unless of course you want Hermione thinking you want her to shut up, but last time I checked she hexed better than you." Smiling slightly, her elbows digging against the wooden rail, she inclined both her eyebrows at him in silent challenge.

The wizard shot her a look. "She does charms and transfiguration better than me. I," he dryly corrected, "hex better."

"Sure you do."

This time he growled at her, Kally smiling slightly at the sound. The scent of saltwater and fish hung heavy on the air, it quintessentially ocean-like.

Still, the way Potter was looking at her, the intensity of his gaze…

It was like he'd never seen her before.

Abruptly Harry shifted, turning to lean his side against the rail, the wizard now fully facing her. His new glasses were speckled with mist, the water droplets so thick it was almost comical.

He barely seemed to notice. "How is it," he questioned seriously, "that you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get my mind off things."

Genuine confusion flickered within her gaze, Kally unaware she'd been able doing that. Sometimes Potter was so caught up in his own dark thoughts she honestly thought nothing she could ever do would help. Wetting her lips, eyes flickering over him, she scuffed her shoe on the grimy deck thoughtfully.

Then she smiled slightly, pushing herself away from the railing, reaching up to steal his glasses right off his face, studying them with a tisk. "I hear," she said casually, "snogging someone routinely helps with that." She wiped the lenses off on her shirt, the front of hers still dry, unlike his. His entire front half was dampened with sea spray.

Harry just fixed her with a strange look, Kally inspecting the glasses until she was satisfied they were clean. Turning her attention back to him she reached carefully up, placing them back on his nose. Her fingers lingered for a moment, something about the way he looked even wearing these startling, enough to make her stomach twist.

Her fingers were moving without her permission, sliding down the frames on either side, brushing past both his ears to linger on the ends of his perpetually messy hair. Studying him, aware that he wasn't okay, aware that there wasn't anything she could do, her chest did strange, skipping things.

For the longest time they just stood there, her fingers playing with the tips of his hair, both of them simply looking at one another.

Abruptly she tried to pull her hands away-

Harry's caught her around one wrist before she could reclaim it, the wizard just standing there, studying her. Her breathing quickened, Kally going still under his intense scrutiny. "Potter-"

"I think," he interrupted, "Dumbledore figured out how smitten I am with you." His thumb was rubbing against the underside of her wrist, an unbidden shudder coursing through her.

It was all Kally could do to breath normally. "Did he now?" Her breathing was shallow, golden gaze trying to remain open as the pad of his thumb moved, tracing across her bare skin, sending goosebumps prickling over her arm. The sensation was unbelievably relaxing, distracting…. Potter was slowly nodding, studying her.

"I think," he disclosed seriously, "he's amused."

"Well," she revealed, "you haven't exactly done a good job of hiding it."

Harry's brow creased, words suddenly, undeniably serious. "I wouldn't," he grated, "want to."

"Good."

They stood there in silence, studying one another, her wrist caught within the confines of his hand, only the creaking of the trawler and the sounds of other Order members drifting back to them on the wind to interrupt.

"He called you," he continued, breaking the silence, "a self-sacrificing type." He shifted, bringing the back of her hand against the rough stubble of his jaw. The feel of his unshaven chin against the back of her hand sent strange tremors coursing through her.

It was exhilarating.

"Sounds," she countered, "just like you." Of all the people she'd ever met he was the only one who routinely tried to sacrifice everything, always blaming himself, unable to stop.

The ship bounced over a wave, Kally's foot slipping on the slick deck-

Potter's free hand snared her by the waist, fingers fisting in her shirt as he steadied her, the corner of his lips twitching. "What's the matter, Kaylens? Haven't gotten your sea legs?"

She shot him a glare, one that instantly lessoned as his strong grip slid down, squeezing strongly against her hip.

Once more she shuddered, be it from the cool breeze at the aft or from his touch, she didn't know. What she did know was that her eyes had finally fluttered shut, her breathing slowing, everything in her enjoying the sensations his skin on hers caused.

She'd been physically with him not twenty four hours ago, the mere memory of how he'd touched her, held her, moved inside her, claimed her…

"What are your plans after Hogwarts, Kaylens?"

Sucking in a breath she opened her eyes, her long lashes shielding her hazel irises as she studied him carefully. Something creaked off to the side. "You mean assuming we survive this?"

"Well this," he told levelly, "and Ron's snoring. Assuming you've of course realized I have no intention of letting you go back to your own dorm when we get back."

The corners of her lips curved. "McGonagall would kill you."

Harry's fingers slipped unapologetically into her jean pocket, tugging her a step closer. "Doubt it. After Hermione I'm her favorite student."

"I think," she murmured, "you're confusing yourself with Neville." Teasing, her fingers rose, curling against the front of his damp shirt, giving it a slight tug. "And I certainly don't ever recall snogging Neville."

His fingers tightened against her jeans, a low growl emitted. "Wicked woman."

"You sound surprised."

"With you?" he challenged. "It's a constant state of existence."

Despite herself, despite the knowledge that something was wrong, a soft laugh escaped her, the sea lapping loudly all around them. "I meant," she disclosed, "surprised that Neville's her favorite."

"Lies." Harry's shockingly green gaze bored into hers, something unreadable flickering within them despite his spoken jest. His lips wet, voice roughened, "Still…wouldn't mind if I drug you into my dorm for the night more often." Everything about him looked, sounded undeniably serious.

Kally's fingers tightened upon his shirt for but a moment, before dropping back down to the rail. "McGonagall," she reminded, "would have kittens, Harry."

"You underestimate how sneaky I am."

Her eyebrows rose. "I think you're underestimating McGonagall."

"She doesn't," he defied, "scare me."

"She should."

Harry's fingers wiggled in her pocket, eyes narrowing. "Don't think," he reminded, "I haven't noticed that you didn't answer me. Plans Kaylens, now, unless you want me to contemplate snogging it out of you."

She shot him a bewildered look. "You're not very good," she disclosed, "at threats, are you Potter?"

"Only with people I haven't seen naked."

Her mouth fell open, gaping at him. "How many people exactly have you seen-"

His expression grew amused. "Told you, I don't mess around. Just you. Now seriously, what are they?"

Her lips parted, nothing falling forth. Instead she let out a sigh, shaking her head. "I don't-well what are your plans?"

He smirked incorrigibly. "No turn abouts, Kaylens. I asked you first."

A breeze sent mist scattering around them, the droplets creating a strange fog for a fleeting moment. He was asking what her plans were…only she was supposed to already be dead. "Nothing," she honestly, gently told. "I don't-I never planned to be alive this long, let alone after anything." Aware of how that would affect him, his proximity palpable, she hastened to add, "Not that I'm complaining, just…I never thought about it."

Potter's gaze remained utterly unreadable behind his glasses, the wizard's hand releasing her wrist, flipping around to snare hers fingers between his callused ones. For a second she thought he would argue, that he'd say something against what she'd just said, but instead…

Instead his eyes narrowed, tone thoughtful. "What were you plans before all of this?"

She didn't have to ask what he meant. She already knew. Before the Death Eaters had found her. Before her family had been taken from her. Before Hogwarts. Before the wizarding world. Before the plague. Before she'd found herself standing on a fishing vessel of questionable stability, moving towards an island that would surely try to kill them. Before him.

Kalliandra tugged her lower lip between her teeth, contemplative. "Navy," she murmured truthfully. "Like my dad and brother. They have these…biomedical research positions…" Shrugging artlessly, she almost shyly murmured, "Always thought that sounded like fun." Her eyes raked over his impossibly green ones. Telling him that, telling him anything about her from before him, before this world…

It made her feel vulnerable in a way even baring herself before him had not.

The ship rocked beneath them, Harry's hand slowly slipping out of her jean pocket, moving to her actual waist. "No wonder," he uttered, "you like potions."

"Mmmhmm," she agreed. Her free hand slipped along the rail, finding his forearm, fingertips lightly running over the tensed muscles within it. "I played fair, Potter. Your turn."

"Auror," he responded seriously, without delay. "Always figured if I survived Voldemort that's what I wanted to do, assuming," he dryly added, "I got into NEWT level potions." She eyed him questioningly, Potter already smirking. "Snape really wanted to keep me out of his class on account I only got an E and not an O on my OWLS."

She was clearly missing something, her lips parting in question, Potter actually snorting. "You're going to ask what an OWL is, aren't you?"

He left her with no choice; she gave his forearm a pointed flick with her fingers.

The wizard at least had the good grace to make a mock pained face. "So violent," he groused. "And they're tests that we take at the end of our fifth years. The highest grade is an O, second highest is an E. Snape didn't want to accept any E students, and you need NEWT level potions to become an Auror. Dumbledore had to step in, on account he'd have had only two students otherwise."

Kally let out a slightly incensed breath. "Snape's an idiot."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Talking about your mentor that way, Kaylens? Tisk, tisk."

She shot him a glare, the scent of salt hanging comfortingly around them, it a stark contrast to the stenches of the fishing trawler. It obviously had not been cleaned in a long time. "So why the sudden interest?"

Potter was shaking his head, his dark hair slung messily over his brow. "Just realizing…I don't know nearly enough about you, Kally. And I want to. Besides," his hand slid over her waist, grip clutching tighter, tone somber, "wanted to see if your plans might mesh with mine."

A solitary golden eyebrow was raised. "Mesh?"

"You know," he drawled, hands tensing upon her, "what I mean."

Her heart rhythm went erratic. She did. Just his meaning frightened her. "So…do they?"

"Think," he ground gutturally, "we could make it work." Pausing, he dryly added, "Even if you are abandoning me for a ship."

A sad, slow smile slipped across her lips. "Never said," she whispered, "that's what I want to do now."

"Fair enough. Gives me time to convince you to remain land-bound."

Her fingertips trailed over his skin for a moment, everything in her going very, very still. Something was wrong. Something was going on. Eyes sweeping over his face, she shook her head, hair slipping over her eyes. "Something really bad must have happened," she quietly observed, almost afraid of the answer, "for you to be in this good of a mood." Kally didn't expect a response, nor a disclosure.

She wasn't sure what she expected, but slowly she wrapped her hand around Harry's forearm, just…waiting.

Something in him had changed, the humor leaving his eyes. "I just…I want to do as much living as possible, Kaylens, and I tend to find doing things with you – dare I say it - enjoyable." The way he was looking at her…

It scared her.

Swallowing, she drug in a controlled breath. "Harry…" she all but whispered, trepidation in her voice.

Harry's hand suddenly released hers, it against the side of her face, as if he needed to touch her, to get her closer, Kally's breath catching at the welcome feel of his rough, calloused palm against her skin. His other hand made a gesture, a blue shield arising around them, a privacy charm cast.

His voice came out in a barely whispered croak.

"I'm a horcrux," he ground hollowly, eyes hard upon hers. "Dumbledore…he confirmed it."

The roar of the sea seemed to increase in volume, everything within her growing tense, breaths shaking. Kally's eyes stared back into Potter's, her lips parted, unable to form even a solitary syllable.

He was a horcrux.

It was as if her lungs had begun doing terrible, awful things within her chest. Painful things she hadn't known were possible, her voice a barely heard whisper. "What?"

Potter looked pained, his thumb sliding along her cheekbone with a gentleness not betrayed by his contorted expression. "Kally," he muttered, voice a raw grind, "you heard me."

She had. Releasing a breath, wetting her lips, she tried to not shake. "Is he sure?" Even before Potter nodded, expression growing – if possible – even more strained, her eyes were already flickering up to his forehead, his scar barely seen beneath his messy hair.

Without thinking Kally's hands released him, sliding into his hair, her entire form suddenly trembling.

So was his.

Curling her fingers tightly within his hair she tugged his brow against hers, her eyes locking upon his very close ones. "Hey," she whispered firmly, words forced, "it doesn't matter. It's not going to happen."

The way his voice broke, cracking, nearly broke her. "Kal…"

"Well find another way," she interrupted, serious. "Even if it means I have to reach into you myself to kill it, okay?" Frantically she searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was okay, that he might be okay. She needed him to be okay.

Horcruxes had to be destroyed. They needed to die if they ever wanted Voldemort gone. They both knew what that meant. He'd warned her months ago, and she'd chosen not to run.

She still wasn't. She wasn't going anywhere.

His line of questioning suddenly took on a chilling meaning: he'd wanted to know what they both might have done if he wasn't expecting to die.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, she wanted to make plans. She'd never before wanted to make plans, but now it was all she could think about. Her heart was pounding, racing, everything in her terrified even if she didn't want to admit it.

Harry wasn't allowed to leave her.

She drew in a shaken breath, whispering against his lips. "I mean it, Harry," she breathed, her fingers already again sliding through his hair. That look she'd seen in his eyes, the one she hadn't recognized…

She knew what it was now.

It was fear. Harry was afraid. The wizard she'd personally seen walk into the streets of Hogsmeade to whistle at Death Eaters, the one she'd seen saunter out into the middle of Grimmauld Street when the killing curse was flying, inviting the Death Eaters for a little chat, the one who had faced off with Voldemort himself was scared.

For a second she breathed, just breathed against him, the feel of his warm breaths ghosting against her own lips unbelievably comforting. She shook her head against his brow, her nose bumping alongside his as she quietly promised, "I'm not leaving you, Harry."

Both of his hands had fallen to her waist, his gaze falling closed to everything around them, strong fingers tightening instinctively upon her. "Kaylens…I can't ask you-"

"You're not," she hissed fiercely. "Believe it or not you're one of the few people I can actually stand here, Potter. So I'm not going anywhere. I told you, I'm with you, wherever it goes." Breathing unsteadily, fear slithered into her, but it was overpowered by something else…

She needed to make sure he was okay. She'd do anything to get him there.

"Kally," he brokenly whispered, gaze finally opening to meet hers, "we both know how this ends."

"Everybody dies, Harry," she murmured back, words a harsh whisper. "What matters is how well you live. What you do with it while you can." Something Dumbledore had told her a long, long time ago, when they'd been telling her about her own odds of survival.

At the time they hadn't been good.

Harry made a strange sound, his left hand sliding up her ribcage, moving so slowly it was as if it were the first time he was touching her.

Throat tight, Kally's hand slid to the side of his face, her mouth suddenly, needingly pressing to his, desperate. She needed him. She sodding needed him more than she had ever wanted to admit.

It took her a second, a very long second of her mouth claiming his, of his moving back, everything about the kiss desperate, shaken, broken, before she could pull back. Slowly her fingers slid through his hair, her eyes studying him seriously. He'd wanted to see if their plans meshed… "I want," she whispered, "to make plans with you." And Merlin help her…

She did.

Everything about his stance, the stiffness of his form, the way his eyes clenched closed told her what she'd needed to know. He did too. "Potter…" she whispered.

"I don't," he croaked, "want to be the reason you break, Kaylens. That you overdraw. I-" His hand had slid up, tightening within her hair, clenching. "I don't-"

"You won't," she promised, breathing quickly. She knew where he was going with this. He was scared she'd get upset when – no!- if he died. He was scared she'd lose control and wind up joining him prematurely. That wouldn't happen, because he wasn't going to be destroyed. It took her a moment, a long moment of sheer, overwhelming panic to remind herself that she wasn't losing him yet. She still might not.

Against her she could feel him breathing unsteadily, the carefully constructed wall he'd had gone. "I didn't want this for you, Kaylens. Hell," he breathed bitterly, "didn't want this for me either."

Kally was tilting her face, feeling his breath ghosting across her lips, her mouth so sodding near yet doing nothing. "Will you just shut up," she whispered, "and make plans with me?"

Harry drug in a shuddering breath against her, hesitating-

Then his head nodded slowly against hers, Kally breathing in relief. If she lost him…that would be one thing, but if she lost him now, because of fear….

Her mouth was moving against his, words murmured as she snared breath between kisses. "Holding you to that. Just-"

He'd claimed her mouth for a long, long moment, Kally unable to breath, let alone think. It wasn't until he'd stopped, the breeze blowing her hair around both their faces, that she managed a breathless, "Let me know what you come up with…"

"You might," he lowly ground, "want to tell me what you want to do then, soon as you figure it out." His hand raked slowly across her back, muttering, "You know…so I know how hard I have to work to keep you on land with me."

A breathless laugh escaped her, her head shaking against his, her hands tangling in his messy black hair. "You're-"

"Not sure I want to put you through this." The words had been uttered against her lips, his gaze clenching. The chill to the words…

Instantly she shook her head in a silent denial, murmuring, "Too bad, because I want this."

He uttered nothing. He just remained there, hovering close with her, breathing deeply.

One of her hands fell to his shoulder, Kally pulling back mere centimeters to better regard him. "Besides Potter," she forced, interjecting a casualness into her intonations that she did not feel, "in case you've forgotten, you're dating a Reach." Brushing her lips over his, she quietly whispered, "I specialize in killing things, very precisely. Killing a little horcrux in you shouldn't be a problem."

Even as she murmured the words the icy fear that she couldn't slithered through her, but…

She had to try.

Potter's hands had gone still, very still on her. His gaze cracked, looking deeply at her. "You honestly," he questioned skeptically, "think you can?"

Despite herself, despite her own sodding doubts, she found herself nodding. "Just let me practice on some other ones first," she whispered. "If they're alive, I can allegedly kill them." Everything she'd found so far had proven that statement to be true. Not that she had any idea of how to, but she couldn't lose him.

If being a Reach could help him…all the hell it'd come with would be worth it.

Harry was breathing hard, heavy, the rise and fall of his chest matching hers as they clung to one another, standing alone near the aft of the ship. Potter's hands slid through her hair, moving across her form, Kally closing her eyes and kissing him as if it were the last time she would. At some point the wandless privacy charm had fallen, neither noticing.

She refused to stop, even as his arm slid firmly around her waist, turning her until her back once again pressed against the ship's wooden railing. Her fingers clenched within his hair, her free hand raking down his shoulder, words murmured with a seized breath against his lips. "I love you, Harry, you know that, righ-"

"Yes."

Kalliandra found herself breathing hard, Potter's head tilted against hers, their arms tight upon one another. Waiting, the silence lingering, she forced a smile against his lips. "Just in case it doesn't work…" she whispered, sounding shockingly serious, "we should probably be having lots of sex."

Harry made a sudden, choked sound, her fingers sliding to the base of his neck. "I'm talking," she murmured in continuation, smiling more genuinely, "truly obscene amounts."

His hold on her re-doubled, his mouth hard against hers. "The things I would do to you," he growled, "if we were alone."

"Save it for when we get back," she whispered promisingly, pressing against him. Goals. They were important, right?

Harry made another sound, only for a familiar, mood-wrecking voice to interrupt.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear any of that."

She and Harry both froze, breathing hard, their heads slowly turning to find Ron standing there and looking highly traumatized.

Potter's composure seemed to snap back into place, the careful walls he always had up rising right before her eyes. "You're a real buzzkill, Ron," he told, as if nothing other than snogging had been going on. As if he hadn't just been talking about dying, needing destroyed. As if he hadn't just been making plans in case he actually lived.

Ron just groaned, oblivious. "Ugh. I should have known better than to come check on you if Kaylens was back here first."

She peered out from around Harry's broad shoulders, offering Ron an apologetic smile. "You really should have," she affirmed, feeling Harry squeeze his fingers against her spine, as if to scold her. His eyes practically pled with her: haven't we traumatized him enough?

She smiled wanely, still seeing the stirrings of fear within his gaze, Kally wanting nothing more than to fix it for him.

"Why don't we head back?" Harry suggested, spying the look she was giving him, his tone conveying that he was clearly done discussing anything more serious than a blast-ended skrewt breakout.

Nodding, brushing her mist-dampened hair out with her fingers, she felt his hands slip away from her, the wizard already headed back around the rear of the deckhouse and towards the bow, quickly disappearing from sight.

Kally remained standing there for a moment, blinking after him, stunned at how quickly he'd shifted from telling her what had happened to having walls up and disappearing.

Ron too remained right where he was, staring after where Harry had gone. It was a good minute before he'd turned back to observe her, his gaze fixing seriously. "Kaylens…look, I don't know what's going on with him, or if you even do, but…" He grimaced, looking like he was thinking better of it but proceeding anyway, "Don't hurt my friend, okay?"

She shook her head, a bemused, shaken look in her eyes. "First your dad, now you?"

Ron looked truly confused. "My dad talked to you?"

Kally opened her mouth to respond, only for another voice to interrupt. "So Mr. Weasley did interrogate you?"

Harry had come back, apparently confused as to why they hadn't immediately followed, his jade gaze cutting between the two of them. Ron just shot him a sheepish grin, Kally shrugging, "Yeah….he had a lot of questions about boys at my old school."

Ron guffawed, and for a second Potter looked amused, the stress of before melting away. "Guys at your old school?" he repeated, mock threat in his tone. "He's not the only one to have questions."

Kally's lips parted in explanation, right before she shot him a wicked grin. "There were only," she teased, "one or three."

Then she darted behind Ron, using him as a shield. Potter's eyes narrowed as he immediately lunged for her, nearly smacking Ron in the head. "One or three?!" he challenged, Ron shouting, "Leave me outta this! BILL HELP!"

Bill Weasley had come back as well, leaning casually against the railing with a knowing smirk. "Sorry little brother. Dumb enough to get in between that, then you have it coming."

Before she had a chance to wonder how Bill Weasley had gotten back here so quickly, she was nearly snagged by Harry. She twisted Ron around, the Weasley merely holding up his hands helplessly. "I never said their hair was better, Harry," she taunted. "I mean the one was curly-"

The snarl Potter let out was loud, thunderous.

He snagged her around Ron a second later, Kally tugged flush to his chest, her arms pinned to her sides as she struggled.

Ron quickly patted himself down, as if checking for broken bones, and then made a scene of straightening his clothing and slicking back his hair. "Alright, Harry," he told, "you hold her still, I'll obliviate the other guys from her head."

Then he took a menacing step towards her, wand out.

Kally shrieked, proclaiming that she had been kidding, there'd only been one and it'd been a truly awful date, Bill Weasley finally taking mercy upon her and helping.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar manner. The traces of fear, unease within Harry were suddenly gone, hidden.

It didn't mean that it wasn't there though, and that…

That was worth fighting for.