The first thing Harry noticed when he walked into the Great hall for breakfast the next morning was that Dumbledore wasn't in his usual seat at the center of the head table. He might have harbored the hope that the headmaster was merely delayed – or maybe the man had eaten earlier – if not for his friends, who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to act an extension of Harry's own eyes and ears at Hogwarts.

"I've been here since daybreak, he hasn't been here," Luna told Harry without preamble. He'd waved at her on his way to the Gryffindor table, his mind still half on the headmaster, and she'd jumped up to talk to him.

"Huh? What?" asked Harry, finally turning to look at her.

"Dumbledore hasn't been here. At least, not since daybreak," said Luna. "Although," she continued thoughtfully, "maybe he only eats when it's dark out. You know, so he doesn't deplete his magic. Men with long beards need to be concerned about that, you know." She looked unblinkingly at Harry who wasn't sure how to respond. "It probably explains a lot about Hagrid," Luna continued. "He eats all the time, doesn't he?"

"Uhh, yeah," said Harry. "Umm, you said that you haven't seen Dumbledore?"

"Nope, not all morning," replied Luna. "You wanted to talk to him today, didn't you? That's why I thought you'd want to know that he hasn't been in the Great Hall at least since daybreak."

Harry finally had to smile. Luna may have a roundabout way of thinking, but she got to the point eventually, and usually offered some amusing commentary along the way.

"Thanks, Luna. Let me know if you do see him, okay? Use your coin."

The six of them had spent a few minutes the night before (after the horror of Harry's news had finally sunk in), fixing their fake Galleons so that they could send simple messages to each other. Harry squeezed the one in his pocket reassuringly. It reminded him that he was once again connected to his friends.

"Where do you think Dumbledore is?" Ron asked him as soon as Harry sat down. Uncharacteristically, he was scanning a Daily Prophet and more or less ignoring the plate of sausages and toast in front of him.

"Not sure," replied Harry. "Uhh, is everything okay?" he added warily.

Ron looked up. "Fine, why?" he asked.

"Because you're reading the newspaper instead of stuffing your face, you git," said Ginny, slapping him on the back of his head before giving Harry a kiss on the cheek and sitting down. "I'll bet Harry's afraid that he's turned your head again, or that you are actually Hermione using Polyjuice or something."

Ron shuddered. "Ewww, Ginny. That's just . . . weird." Next to him, Hermione snorted.

"Afraid I'd take the chance to look at your bits, Ronald?" she asked.

"Not until you mentioned it!" Ron groaned.

Harry lay his head on the table. "Hermione's joking about looking at Ron's bits, Ron's reading the news – doesn't something seem off to all of you?"

Ron clamped him on the shoulders. "We're just doing what you asked, mate. Trying to be normal and all." He shrugged. "And I thought it wouldn't hurt to keep up to date on what the enemy is up to."

"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, carry on, I guess." He looked at the paper. "Anything of interest in there?"

"Not that I can tell," said Ron.

"I wonder how long Dumbledore's going to be gone," Neville mused. He'd joined them at the table and was reading the paper with Ron.

"Do you think he's really gone?" asked Ginny. "Maybe he just didn't feel like eating this morning or something."

"Maybe," said Harry. He stood up. "I'm going to find out."

Harry walked up to the Head Table just as Professor McGonagall was leaving. "Uhh, Professor, do you know where Professor Dumbledore is? I, er, need to ask him a question."

Professor McGonagall peered at Harry through her glasses. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Potter," she said mildly. "Not only from your most recent escapade that landed you in the Hospital Wing, either." She gave one of her rare smiles and Harry suspected that she had at least some idea about what had been going on for the past five months.

Well, of course she does. You've been in her class since September – even though you can't remember how you acted.

"Thanks Professor. Is he in his office?"

"I don't think so," said Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem inclined to say anything else.

"Do you know where he is?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look. "It's none of your concern, Potter. The Headmaster has a lot of demands on his time." She started to walk away.

"Actually Professor," Harry spoke as politely as he could, but made his voice firm. "It is my concern. And I need to speak to him."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth and then closed it again. "He didn't say where he was going," she finally admitted. "Or when he'd be back. He just told me to keep an eye on you." She raised her eyebrows. "Are you thinking of starting some sort of trouble?"

"I'm never thinking of starting it. Trouble just seems to naturally find me." Harry sighed. He suspected he knew where the headmaster had gone – or at least – what he was off trying to find, and truth be told, Harry was a little disappointed he hadn't been invited along. The Horcruxes were his problem, after all. The sooner they were all found and destroyed, the sooner . . . well, Harry wanted them all found anyway.

"When he comes back, will you let him know I need to speak to him?" That was the best he could do for now. There would be plenty of time – or at least, some time – to talk to Dumbledore about Harry's future after he returned to the castle.

Ron and Hermione caught up with Harry as he was leaving the Great Hall. He looked around for Ginny, surreptitiously, he thought, until Ron said pointedly that she'd had to run before she was late for Herbology.

"I wish she was our year," Harry mumbled as the three of them left for Potions.

Draco slouched into Slughorn's class feeling nauseous. Even though Madam Pomfrey had assured him that he should not be suffering any lasting effects from whatever it was she had done when Snape had dragged him to the Hospital Wing last week, Draco still felt terrible. When he felt like letting his façade down to be honest with himself (which was rarely and only when he was alone in the Room of Requirement), he knew that his malaise had nothing to do with the stupid Vow attempt with Potter. Well, it did, actually, but only because of its failure. His failure, and what it meant for his task for the Dark Lord.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, trying to will away his thoughts with the pain. The last thing he wanted to do was start worrying about it now, in the middle of Potions with that pompous fool Slughorn refusing to give Draco any slack. The class was a waste of his time. Snape could give Draco all the instruction he needed at a later date, there was no reason to have to listen to a soft, stuffed old man who didn't even know where his loyalties lay. He sighed, wishing he could just put his head down on his desk and forget about everything for a while.

The door opened and Draco could tell from the voices that Harry was arriving with Ron and Hermione. So far this year Draco had tried to pretty much ignore them in class – it wasn't like he could do anything about his task in here. Harry had pretty much ignored him back – he'd ignored everyone, really, but Draco had been too wrapped up in his own duties to think much about it.

Maybe he should have paid more attention, because something definitely had changed. The three of them were laughing together over something or other – a sound Draco realized he hadn't heard from the trio in ages. Potter had been weird all year – even Slughorn had stopped fawning over him after the first class where Harry had won the Felix – and Granger barely raised her hand. Harry and Ron had been openly hostile to each other and Draco had enjoyed watching them fight – when he bothered to pay them any attention at all, that is.

They'd been different outside the Room of Requirement too¸ he suddenly realized. In the after effects of everything that had happened, Draco had forgotten. But it was true – he'd even mocked them for getting back together. Harry certainly didn't seem terribly concerned about not completing the Vow. For a sick second Draco wondered if Harry had been able to figure out what he was doing some other way. Could he have gotten into the Room?

Draco forced himself to take deep breaths. Even if Harry managed to get in, it wasn't like he would be able to figure out what Draco had been doing in there. It was just a room full of broken magical junk – nothing interesting – unless you knew what you were looking for.

Slughorn bungled into the room and set them all making a potion to restore strength after an illness. Draco sighed and pulled out his scale to start measuring ingredients. Maybe if he finished early he could feign sickness and grab a few extra minutes of work on his real task.

"Well now, that is quite extraordinary, I must say." Slughorn was across the room, peering into Harry's cauldron. "You finished this potion faster than almost anyone I have ever seen – you take after your mother more than you know."

Figures, thought Draco. Harry's back to being Sluggy's little pet too. Look at him fawning and fussing over him – the man looks like he's about to start shining Potter's shoes or something.

"I hope you still think I have a thing or two to teach you, Harry," Slughorn was saying.

The man seemed almost ashamed about something. Most of the class was feverishly working on their potions and not paying any attention. Draco wouldn't have thought twice about it except for the fact that it was Harry that Slughorn was talking to, and Harry was of great interest to Malfoy these days.

"It's fine, Professor," Harry responded. He looked slightly repulsed about something.

"Please don't think poorly of me. I had no idea." Slughorn's voice was so plaintive that most of the rest of the class looked up.

"Your mother, Harry. She was one of my favorite students – you know that. I would never intentionally . . . I just couldn't face . . . anyway, I know you can put things to right, can't you? Isn't that was this is all about? After all, Albus said . . ."

The man suddenly realized he had an audience; the entire class had stopped their work and was hanging on his words.

"What did Dumbledore say?" asked Theodore Nott rudely It had gotten really quiet. The only people in the room who didn't look terribly curious about what Slughorn meant (besides Harry), were Ron and Hermione. Ron looked rather angry at the potions master; Hermione looked almost as sick as Draco felt.

"It's true, isn't it?" broke in Terry Boot. "What the papers are saying?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all," muttered Slughorn. He took a deep breath. "Come on now, only ten minutes left to finish. I know you all can do this."

Several of the students didn't look like they cared about finishing their potions. The Ravenclaw students were whispering to one another, occasionally looking over at Harry. Draco thought he heard one of them mutter 'Chosen One', but he couldn't be sure. The sick feeling was worse now.

If it was true – if Potter was the Chosen One, what would that mean for Draco's job for the Dark Lord? Was it even possible? Or had Draco been set up – like Potter had suggested – given an undoable task as punishment for his father's failure?

He couldn't think – he had to get back to the Room of Hidden Things – had to fix this, once and for all.

The whispering had gotten louder. Slughorn made one more half-hearted attempt to get the class to be quiet and then gave up. He moved back towards the front of the room and began rummaging in one of the deep drawers in his desk finally pulling out a bottle.

"What's that?" asked Ernie McMillan.

"Ahh, this is some of Madam Rosmerta's finest oak cured mead," said Slughorn grandly. He seemed to have regained some of his composure. "I received several bottles as a gift from a very highly placed member of the Ministry – such a good friend. I'm planning on giving Professor Dumbledore a bottle or two for Christmas, but I think I need . . ." he broke off.

"Never mind, never mind. Just finish up your potions and bring me a flagon before you leave for the day."

Draco watched Slughorn practically caressing the bottle of mead – he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the class anymore, but every once in a while, he saw the professor cast a worried glance in the direction of Harry.

The Potions teacher's renewed interest in the so-called "Chosen One" was mildly interesting, but Draco had more important things to think about, and as he watched Slughorn and the bottle, an idea came to him. He said he's planning on giving Dumbledore some of that mead for Christmas, did he? All may not be lost, after all.

"Slughorn shouldn't have been talking about that memory in class like that," said Hermione as they left potions.

"Shhh," cautioned Harry, looking around. It hadn't escaped his notice that Malfoy had been watching them.

But the blonde boy was nowhere to be seen.

"He disappeared awfully fast," said Ron, frowning. "You don't think he's hiding somewhere, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "I think he's run off to work on whatever it is he's doing for Voldemort," he said quietly.

"You don't think he's figured anything out, do you?" asked Hermione. "He still looked pretty nervous to me."

"Me too," said Harry. "No, I think things are still going badly for him."

"Not for you though, mate," said Ron. "That potions book is a lifesaver!"

"What potions book?" asked Hermione.

"The one Harry's been using all year," said Ron. "Although until today, I thought he was mental for trusting it."

Hermione frowned. "I don't remember that. Have you been beating me in potions?" She looked put out all of a sudden.

"Yep," said Ron. "All year."

"Isn't it dangerous to trust something that someone wrote in a book?" she asked.

Harry held it out. "It's just an old book that someone calling himself the Half Blood Prince wrote in. All kinds of alternative directions for making potions and things." He frowned. "I've been using it all year, right?"

"Right," said Ron. "And brewing circles around the rest of us – not that you seemed to care. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, sort of," said Harry. "All that time seems kind of fuzzy to me though." It was weird, he thought. For the first couple of days after he learned to fight the Horcrux, he'd been constantly aware of it – of having to keep his thoughts and emotions in check. Now, several weeks later, he didn't really notice the effort at all.

"I wonder if it's hiding again," he mused out loud.

"If what's hiding?" asked Ron. They were taking a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower and no one was around.

"The Horcrux," said Harry. "I don't feel like I have to work so hard around all of you anymore."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "Maybe whatever made it become active in the first place is finally gone."

"Maybe," said Harry slowly. "But it's just as likely that the thing is just trying to figure out another way to get me."

"Nah," said Ron. "It just probably figured out that we aren't a danger to you, so it gave up."

Harry doubted that was true, but it meant a lot to him to hear Ron try to be encouraging, so he kept his mouth shut. He'd begun to wonder about something else with respect to this Horcrux inside him, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up to the others without creating false hope about his survival. Or, was it really hope – or just selfishness on his part? Harry didn't know, and so he kept his mouth shut as Ron and Hermione continued to discuss what the Horcrux might be doing right now. To hear them talk, one might think they were discussing a particularly disobedient pet or something. Eventually they began bickering and Harry smiled to himself. At least he wouldn't be expected to give his opinion now.

"So are you?" Ron's question broke into Harry's thoughts.

Or maybe he would. "Uh, am I what?" asked Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Are you going to try to figure out where Dumbledore went or are you too busy daydreaming about my sister?"

"I wasn't daydreaming about your sister," began Harry as they climbed through the portrait hole.

"And why not, Potter? I was daydreaming about you."

Harry blustered for a moment when confronted with Ginny, hands on her hips, looking quite stern. But before Harry could stammer out an apology for something – he wasn't sure what he needed to be apologizing for – her face broke into a grin.

"Just kidding," she said. "You just looked very serious when you came through the portrait hole."

"I was listening to Ron and Hermione quarrel – that was my 'ignoring them' face," he said out loud, moving over to kiss her. "And I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about – only you," he said quietly into her hair. He'd just decided then, but it made sense. He knew he needed Ron and Hermione and the others just as much, but Ginny had been with him since the beginning of all this, and he felt more used to telling her things right now. He wanted to tell her his theory alone first.

"Okay," she said quietly back, and Harry knew it had been the right thing to do. Hermione would have begun questioning him right away – Ron too. Neville and Luna would have to wait. He'd talk to them all later, when it was sorted out in his own mind.

"During dinner?" he asked. "We could sneak down to the kitchens and get sandwiches."

"Sounds good," she agreed.

The hardest part was getting away without making the others too suspicious. Harry finally had to hint – more blatantly than he wanted to in front of Ron – that he and Ginny were skipping dinner to go snog.

The sandwiches were easy to get – almost too easy – and Harry finally had to promise to return to the kitchen the following night for more, just so he and Ginny could get away without an entire cake and two pies as well.

The Room of Requirement provided them with a small sofa (so that were forced to sit close together – a touch Harry appreciated), and some soft music playing in the background. Ginny sat down next to Harry and looked at him expectantly – obviously understanding that they were not there just for a snog.

Although, looking at her lips, Harry considered that maybe a snog wouldn't be a bad idea. They were completely alone, the sofa was extremely small and comfortable, and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to hold off this discussion until a later date.

Except, he really couldn't. He had no idea how much time he had left, really. Dumbledore might be finding the remaining Horcruxes right then; he might come back to Hogwarts in a couple of days and announce to Harry that they were all gone, except for one, and that now it was Harry's turn to do what needed to be done. Neither can live while the other survives.

"What if I can survive?" he said out loud.

"What?" asked Ginny. "Did you figure something out?"

"Not really," Harry sighed. The real reason he had wanted to hold off having this discussion was that he was kind of ashamed of where his thoughts had gone. As if his own survival was more important than the entire Wizarding world..

"So what did you want to talk to me about? We're not here to snog, but you didn't want Ron and the others here, either. What's up? Are you breaking up with me?" She waggled her eyebrows and Harry knew she wasn't really worried. One of the many things about Ginny that Harry loved.

"It's going to sound really bad," Harry said.

"Worse than, I don't know, harboring the soul fragment of an evil dark wizard in your body while it tries to kill your best friend?" Ginny sounded amused.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Maybe not that bad," he said. "It's just, well, Voldemort hid all his Horcruxes really well, right? So no one could find them and destroy them?"

"Right," said Ginny.

"Because if they get destroyed, he's mortal again, and can be killed," Harry went on, as if reciting a lesson.

"Yes, we know all that," said Ginny.

"Well," said Harry, taking a deep breath, "what if, after we destroy all the other Horcruxes . . . what if we tell him that I'm one too?"

There, he'd said it. He still didn't know how he felt about the idea, but it had been gnawing at Harry for several days and he couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Tell him?" asked Ginny, confused. "Why would you want to . . . oh."

Harry could see the understanding flood her face.

"It's the most selfish thing ever, I know," Harry rushed to say. "Yeah, maybe he wouldn't want to kill me if I was the only thing keeping him immortal, but if I don't die, then Voldemort can't either. It's a stupid idea, forget it." Now that he'd said it out loud, Harry could feel how much it wouldn't work. How could he walk around for the rest of his life, knowing that the only reason Voldemort was still there, terrorizing everyone, was because he – Harry, was a selfish coward? There was no way.

"Well it's about time," Ginny said, breaking into his thoughts.

Harry looked at her, confused. "About time for what?"

"About time you thought about yourself, and only yourself for once."

"But I can't . . . I mean, I know what I said, but I'm not going to really . . ." Harry broke off because Ginny was grinning at him.

"I know," she said. "But you absolutely have the right to be selfish – even if it's just in your thoughts – and to not feel guilty about it." She put her hand softly on his. "Harry, I know what you're going to decide in the end – we all do. We hate it, more than anything, and the unfairness of your life is . . . well, there aren't words."

"It hasn't been totally unfair," began Harry. Ginny shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"See, there you go again," she said. "Just admit that it's totally unfair, and that you deserve so much more – it's okay to do that. It's okay to want something more than what you're ending up with."

"I do," Harry admitted. "I want a lot more. I wish I could have it."

He felt like a weight was lifted off his chest with his words. Not a big weight – most of his pain had been removed when he got Ginny and Ron and Hermione and everyone back. And some of it was never going to leave, he knew. But he felt a little better nonetheless.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Cause that's something I want right now that I can have."

"Of course," smiled Ginny.

Harry kissed her lightly, gently, then pulled her head down to his shoulder and stroked her hair.

"I don't want to tell everyone else," he said. "Not because I'm ashamed – I just don't think we need to get into it."

"They've discussed it already anyway," said Ginny. Harry twisted to look at her, surprised. "When?"

Ginny shrugged. "Just . . . off and on, when we've been talking. Neville wondered what would happen if we all just told Voldemort that you were a Horcrux – if it could keep you alive."

"And what did everyone else think?"

"That you deserved a chance to live," said Ginny. "But that you wouldn't do it if it meant keeping Voldemort alive too."

"I wouldn't consider that living anyway," said Harry.

"Exactly," agreed Ginny. "There's no reason to tell everyone what they already know."

"Okay," said Harry. "Good." He relaxed into her.

"Is that all?" asked Ginny.

"Isn't that enough?" he said, twirling her hair through his fingers.

"For now it is," agreed Ginny. She turned against him and shuffled forward so that she sat in his lap. "Those sandwiches will keep, won't they?" she asked, motioning to the plate on the small table next to them.

"As long as we want," said Harry, leaning closer, until all he could see was the warm glow of Ginny's eyes and a few blurry freckles.

They didn't talk for a long while, after that.