SLITHERING WITH SERPENTS

Over the next few days, Harry began watching Malfoy like a hawk.

He had taken to leaving the Marauder's Map in his bag, and checking it after each class to see if Malfoy did anything suspicious at all. Regardless of what Moony had told him, he knew that Malfoy was the spy, and was determined at all costs to catch him in the act.

Course, it would be loads easier if I was an accomplished Legilimens alreadyall I'd have to do is read Malfoy's mind and know for a fact.

As neither Ron nor Hermione were speaking to him, Harry could not get close enough to practice on them. He tried on Ginny once—but couldn't get past anything other than how red her hair was and how nice she smelled. Several times, he even tried to do it on Malfoy in Potions class. However, he only succeeded in giving himself a headache, and making Snape and Malfoy both think he had something in his eye.

After just a day of this, Harry knew he had to up the stakes. Thus, with most of his spare time, he followed Malfoy around the corridors in his Invisibility Cloak.

He noticed that the blond Slytherin was spending a lot of his time alone. Instead of having Crabbe and Goyle flanked on either side—as was usual the past five years they'd been at Hogwarts—he hardly ever spent any time with them now. And it wasn't just Crabbe and Goyle…

Harry hadn't noticed it before, but it seemed like the whole Slytherin house was beginning to avoid Draco Malfoy. This only made Harry even more determined to find out what Malfoy was doing, and catch him in the act.

I need to follow him, thought Harry one day, in the middle of October. He never says anything where others can hear him, not since he knew I was listening in the bathroom. It doesn't do me any good to follow him in the corridors...

I need to know where he does most of his talking and boasting. A place where he doesn't put on a front, where he's not as he appears to be in front of everyone else...I need to go where he feels safest...

And that is how Harry snuck into the Slytherin common room.


"Sir—professor—"

Hermione jogged to catch up with her Potions master in the dungeon corridor, but he didn't appear to be slowing down. "Sir—"

Professor Snape abruptly turned and Hermione almost bumped into him. She pulled herself up just in time, looking up at him, startled.

"Thank you, sir," she said, voice clipped from his obvious snub.

Potions class had just got out. And Hermione, who had been waiting for quite a while to catch her surly professor at a good time, had picked that moment to talk to him about the Wolflord Potion. Malfoy and Nott both had their cure for boils looking far better than any of the other Houses, so he was in a more pleasant mood than usual. Unfortunately for her, she spent extra time putting her cauldron ingredients away in an effort to wait till everyone else trickled out of the room...only to realize he was leaving with them.

Hence the hurry.

And now, after having caught up with him, Hermione waited till the last of the students (Malfoy, of course) sauntered up the stairs, leaving them alone, before opening her mouth.

"Professor, I need to speak with you about something."

The vexation on his face was overt.

"Then. Speak."

Hermione clutched her books tighter to her chest. She saw his eyes glance down at them and felt a bit of pride at their titles and depth. They were all about werewolves and the more advanced potions that she thought might contain the potion she was looking for.

They didn't.

Snape's eyes paused a moment on the titles that he could see, then flitted back up to her face, and she could tell he knew what she was going to ask. Of course he had heard about Greyback attacking her and Viktor. All the staff members had, no doubt. She'd seen more than one glance of pity and concern thrown her way.

But it wasn't pity she wanted from Severus Snape.

Simply enlightenment.

"Sir...when Greyback attacked me, it wasn't a full moon. Nor was the moon even out at all. And he wasn't completely transformed. He was...shall we put it bluntly...half-and-half," she stated.

A glimmer of a twitch appeared on the side of his mouth.

Was that a smile?

But she took no apparent notice of it, for fear of scaring him away.

Her next words, precise and measured, had been practiced in front the mirror several times in preparation for this very moment. "Professor Lupin told me about the Wolflord Potion, sir. I was wondering if you have any information on it at all that you could give me so I can research the potentiality of an antidote. And, providing there is no such cure, perhaps I could be of service in creating one."

He studied her for a moment, eyes guarded, regurgitating the proper answer. Of course, no compliment would ever come out of those lips, but still...a simple 'yes' was all she needed. Or at the very least, something that was not a 'no'.

And, Merlin abroad, was that a glint of approval in his eyes?

"I will...see what I can do, Miss Granger."

That was decidedly better than a 'no'.

Hermione beamed. "Thank you, professor!" she said, then hurried up the steps before he could change his mind.

Life was assuredly looking up.


Harry decided to do it after dinner—that way, Malfoy would be sure to go straight down into the dungeons, and Harry figured he would be the most talkative.

Almost everyone went straight to their common rooms or dorms after dinner. Harry guessed he maybe had an hour, two at most, before curfew. All the years previous, the prefects started patrolling then; this year, however, they had been instructed to start patrolling as soon as dinner. If he wasn't careful, he'd run right into one of them. Even with the Cloak, running into someone was risky.

All through dinner, he kept glancing over at the Slytherin table dodgedly. Every time a Slytherin stood up, Harry half-stood before realizing it wasn't Malfoy.

After his fifth time doing this, Ginny sighed irritably.

"Harry, what is the matter with you?" she said, looking at him sideways. "I haven't seen anyone this jumpy since Fred and George enhanced a Muggle boy's pogo stick."

"Just...nervous," he said truthfully.

"You're not still thinking about Malfoy hexing you, are you? He's not going to do it again—there's no way he'd risk getting more detentions and losing more house points. Besides, even if he did, I'm sure it wasn't all that bad..."

"You weren't there," Harry said darkly into his goulash.

"But I heard Ron was," Ginny said, scowling as well and stabbing her carrot. "I sure gave him a piece of my mind when I found out."

Harry looked over at the far end of the table where Ron was chatting with Dean and Seamus. The three of them suddenly rolled over in laughter.

"I'm sure he's not talking about you," said Ginny, seeing Harry's face.

"Wanna bet?" said Harry glumly.

No bets could be made at that time, however, for Draco Malfoy just stood up.

"You know what?" Harry said, thinking up a quick lie, "I really don't want to be here right now, even if Ron's not talking about me. I'm just...I'm going to bed."

"Are you sure? I've got prefect patrol tonight—you could come with if you'd like—get your mind off things," she said hopefully.

"No, I think I'll just...I'm really tired. Sorry. Good night, Gin," he replied, hurrying out of the Great Hall.

As soon as he reached the entrance hall, he saw Malfoy's robes whip around the corner to the dungeons.

Here goes nothing, thought Harry and, checking first to make sure he was alone, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his robes and threw it over his head.

He hurried after the Slytherin.


Ron was bloody miserable.

Never before had his life been so wretched. The Cruciatus aside. He was morose in the mornings when he woke up, he was despondent during the day, and he was in a bleeding blue funk at night in bed.

Life could seriously not get any worse.

Ron's parents were in hiding. Ron lost his two best friends. As a result of losing Hermione, he wasn't doing so great in his classes. As a result of losing Harry, he wasn't getting that Dreamless Sleep potion that Harry kept spiking his pumpkin juice with, so now he kept having nightmares about Death Eaters and curses. Quidditch practices were hell. He had to be followed around everywhere by an effing guard (or when Ron didn't have the luxury of ditching him, like he'd done just now). And Harry and Hermione were...at least, he saw them...and they must be...and now everyone was talking about the two of them…

Being together.

Plus You-Know-Fucking-Who was after him.

Really, he didn't know which, out of all those grievances, was the worst.

So it wasn't any wonder, really, that he turned the corner on his way up to his dorm after dinner, and saw that someone was following him. He whirled around, wand out, and found himself face-to-face with four Slytherins in an otherwise-empty corridor.

"Why, Weasley," said Nott, grinning over at him. "Just the piss-poor pauper we wanted to see…"

Ron swore and deflected Wilkes' hex just in time. But he did not see the non-verbal serpent curse that Crabbe threw at the same time.

Ron stared in horror as the twenty-foot-long python slithered towards him. Its massive size was rather impressive, but Ron was not about to go and congratulate Crabbe on his freaking Transfiguration skills.

And then the python lunged.


Feeling that perhaps he'd been using the Cloak far too much lately, Harry made his steps as quiet as possible. Malfoy wasn't with anyone—in fact, Harry realized he'd seen Malfoy alone a lot lately.

They both walked down more and more staircases—Malfoy not realizing he was being followed—until they reached the long, blank wall that Harry vaguely remembered from second year.

"Cruor ex inimicus," said the Slytherin.

Harry looked around as the wall before them began to open up, all the bricks shoving each other aside like Diagon Alley's entrance at the Leaky Cauldron. He moved closer to Malfoy to prevent the bricks shutting on him as they stepped into the room.

The Slytherin common room looked just as Harry remembered it from his second year—albeit, quite a bit smaller than his twelve-year-old self remembered. It was round, like the Gryffindors', but had a rather low ceiling and the walls and floors were all made of black onyx. Eerie green lights hung from the ceiling, the few rugs on the floor were green and silver, and the curtains that adorned the round windows (Harry could see fish moving behind the thick glass and realized they were looking right into the Hogwarts lake) were the same shade. Even the fire in the grate had a sickly greenish tinge to it.

Malfoy walked around the black leather couches that some sixth-years were sitting in.

Harry had to dodge a mousy-looking boy with long hair in his hurry to follow him. He quickly moved over to the wall so he'd be out of the way.

"Aww, look, Thorgood, it's your auntie's favorite nephew," cooed one of the girls, spotting Malfoy.

Thorgood Rowle, a big blond seventh-year, looked over and sneered. "I bet Aunty Bella's rethinking her decision to train Malfoy Junior over the summer. Occlumency and Dark spells, wasn't it? Trying to help him become greater than her screwed up brother-in-law, no doubt. I guess she thought if she did a good enough job, the Malfoy name won't be mud, now Lucius has duped it. They're all as good as dead anyway."

Malfoy stopped, nostrils flaring.

A small black girl Harry had passed—whom he now recognized as Meghan Freeman, from the Shrieking Shack—looked over at Malfoy, worried.

For a second, Harry thought the blond sixth-year was going to slip his wand out, but he just sat down at the hard-backed chair beside a few bookcases and picked up a book. Confused, Harry wondered why Malfoy didn't jump up and hex them.

"He's going to be snivelling to Dumbledore any day now, so he can be saved from the evil monster," another girl named Daphne Greengrass sneered. "Although he's been hanging out with that werewolf often enough. We know they're not detentions, Malfoy. Any old blind hag can tell you're going to sell us out once your daddy's dead. Never thought you'd do it to the half-breed, but that's blood loyalty for you."

"Shut up, half-blood!" Malfoy hissed. "He's nothing to me!"

The walled entrance opened again and a few boys in their year entered. Nott, Wilkes, Crabbe, and Goyle all sauntered over, in great hoots about something.

"Why'd you leave so soon, Draco, you missed the party," said Wilkes. "We caught Weasley just as he was coming out of dinner. Hexed a snake at him. Scared him senseless for a month."

Harry pursed his lips, the grip on his wand tightening.

"Until the werewolf showed up, anyhow," Crabbe scowled. "I hope Fenrir Greyback finishes Lupin off soon—he's been dying to ever since he first bit him."

Harry's hands shook with fury. He had heard about Fenrir Greyback from Moony over the summer—he was the reason Moony was a werewolf.

And the one who attacked Hermione.

"Why, what's the matter?" said Daphne Greengrass, coming forward and looking at Malfoy's face. "Is widdle Dwaco fwightened for his favorite teacher now? Afraid he's not going to get any more detentions with Uncle Werewolf?"

"I couldn't care less about that mongrel and his so-called detentions," Malfoy hissed. "He can kiss my arse, for all I care."

"Is that what you're going to say to the Dark Lord when he asks if you'll join him?" said a tall, dark boy. Harry recognized this to be Harper—he was the reserve Seeker and in Harry's year, although was dumb enough that he had to repeat a year.

Harper put on a whiny voice. "'Sure, Dark Lord, I'll take the mark, but can I get one of those stick-ons instead? I don't want anyone to know, see, when I switch sides. I need to have room for my arse-kissing werewolf tattoo!'"

The Slytherins listening in laughed. Malfoy's ears turned pink, but his eyes remained trained on the book.

"You mean if he asks, Harper," corrected Rowle. "I doubt that's going to happen any time soon. Unless Lucius stops fumbling around and gives the Dark Lord what he needs. I hear it's going to be any day now—looks like your father's going to be proving to everyone what he really is soon enough, Draco—a blood traitor!"

Malfoy at once stood up, wand raised—

Out of nowhere, Blaise Zabini appeared and took his arm. "Let it go, Draco."

"Shove your arse out of this, Zabini. Nobody cares what you think—you're just a bastard son," sneered Theodore Nott, who had been standing in the corner with Crabbe and Goyle.

"And what do you know, Teddy?" snapped Rowle. "Everyone knows you're just trying to be the hotshot around here—why else do you act like Malfoy everywhere you go, taking his bloody cast-offs as well?"

Crabbe and Goyle both scowled at being referred to as 'cast-offs', but didn't make a move—Rowle was at least a foot taller and wider than them both.

Nott snapped back at Rowle, but Malfoy and Zabini paid them no mind and left down a dark corridor.

Harry hastily followed, though reluctant to leave the hostile room where everyone was against each other.

The corridor steeped downwards until they were descending steps that opened into a dormitory—the Slytherin sixth-years' dorm. It looked rather like Harry's, but the furniture was, again, black and green. The room was much tidier as well—perhaps they demanded the house-elves clean their room more often than the Gryffindors did.

Malfoy at once strode to his wardrobe and pulled something thin and silver out of it. Harry leaned closer, trying to see what it was, but Malfoy's hand was in the way.

"Good, it's safe," muttered Malfoy, tucking it under his robes.

Zabini sat down on one of the beds. "You shouldn't listen to them. I know this thing with your father has got you worried, but it'll be fine—"

"No, it won't!" snarled Malfoy, throwing his book across the room. "They're right, the lot of them—the Dark Lord is going to kill him—or worse. He's already pulled him out of Azkaban. We have only one more chance to fix this—if we fail, you can say goodbye to me now—I'll be as good as dead—"

"Then don't let it happen. Help your father."

"Believe me, I will," Malfoy hissed. "Once I find out if Snape's really a traitor to the Dark Lord or not. Mother's already got me asking around. But if they all think I'm going to go beg at Dumbledore, they've got another think coming. It all depends on Snape. This mission was entrusted to me, and I hate it more than anything, but...this is the only way to save our necks. Mother's counting on me now. If I screw up like my fool of a father..."

Harry couldn't believe his ears.

"What about you, Blaise? Are you going to take it?"

Blaise shrugged his shoulders smoothly. "It all depends on Mother. She's been rethinking her circles ever since the Dark Lord murdered Gibbon...she was shacking up with him..."

Harry was no longer listening.

He was backing up, heading down the long corridor, intent on getting out of there. He had to get out as quickly as he could—he had to tell someone—Moony, Dumbledore, anyone. He resurfaced in the Slytherin common room and bumped into Pansy Parkinson.

"Watch it, Davis!" she snapped at the girl next to her. "I don't want your half-blood slime getting on my new skirt..."

Harry made a beeline for the entrance wall, careful not to trod on anyone else. The wall opened as soon as he got there—several people looked to see who was coming in, but Harry didn't care.

As soon as he was shot of the place, he started running. He raced up the stairs and out of the dungeons, gaining speed as he ran—Dumbledore's office was right next to Moony's—

I have to tell someoneI have to tell them—

Malfoy is the spy.

The castle was red from the light of the sunset as Harry raced through it.

Ten minutes of this, however, and Harry was no longer running; Quidditch training only kept him so fit. Which idiot ever thought of stairs, anyway, he thought as he faced his fifth set.

Malfoy's words kept running around his mind.

"...once I find out if Snape's really a traitor to the Dark Lord or not...this mission was entrusted to me...if I screw up like my fool of a father..."

He had just sprinted up the stairs to the third floor corridor when he heard voices. Quickly, he ducked around a tapestry—and then remembered he was invisible.

To Harry's utter surprise, Ron and Hermione came around the corner. They weren't together by choice, however, for they were in a heated argument.

"We already did this floor, Hermione. I would like to get to bed sometime tonight," said Ron sourly.

She answered scathingly. "Why? Don't want to miss a goodnight kiss, do you?"

"You're one to talk!" said Ron, ears burning red. "I heard Vicky gave you a Love Locket—just can't get enough of him, can you? I bet you wear it all the time...I'm sure your dreams are filled with the pair of you! In fact, I bet you're wearing it now. And that you just can't wait to meet up with him to have some sort of secret rendezvous. That's why you're combing the castle now, isn't it? Dragging me along just so you can go find him and—"

"I told you, Professor Dumbledore is not here tonight again, which means patrols are doubled! This has nothing to do with Viktor! If you don't like this, then take it up with Moony—"

Harry silently cursed. If the Headmaster was gone on another mission, who could he tell about Malfoy?

"Oh, Moony, is it? You and Lupin on a nickname basis now?" Ron snarled, switching tactics. "I expect you'll be going out with him any day now. After all, you seem to specialize in teachers—"

SMACK!

Harry stared flabbergasted when Hermione slapped Ron, who likewise stared at her, open-mouthed. Ron rubbed his cheek, surprised—she probably never hit him before—

Can't say I didn't see that one coming, thought Harry, impressed. I'd have slapped him too...

"Don't you dare say that about me!" she cried. "I don't—I would never—"

"I know!" Ron said quickly, alarmed at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"—for your information, I'm not even wearing the necklace Viktor gave me, and it isn't even a Love Locket anyway! And not that it's any of your business, but I'm not snogging Harry, either—nor would I—and as for Professor Lupin—! I—I—I wouldn't—he's like a father to me—!"

"I know you'd never do that—I didn't mean—look, I'm sorry—"

Ron looked rather like he didn't know whether to put an arm around her or pat her shoulder. He settled for neither.

"I am too," she said miserably, all the fight gone out of her. "I hate fighting with you—it really shouldn't matter that I'm going with Viktor and you're going with Lavender—and your crude insinuations about Harry and me...Ron, seriously...I love him like a brother! He means more to me than that...oh, please, let's just stop fighting—"

Harry decided if he was going to do it, that now was as good a time as any. They were both in an apologizing mood—and if he didn't tell someone about Malfoy, he was simply going to burst.

He took a deep breath and moved forward.

"Look, I still hate the git, but—OW!"

"What—hey—!"

Harry had grabbed both their arms and dragged them into an empty room. Hermione's prefect badge fell unnoticed to the hallway floor. Ron dropped his cloak and tie. Instead of retrieving them, however, Harry locked the door behind the three of them and whipped off his Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry!"

Ron sounded accusing, but Hermione just sounded surprised.

In his desperation, Harry didn't even notice that the room he had dragged them into was the same one that housed Fluffy in their first year. Although the trapdoor in the floor was still there, the giant dog was long gone. He wondered briefly if McGonagall's chess set and Snape's potion bottles had been removed from the chamber beneath them as well.

Ron and Hermione took no notice of this, however, and at once started shouting at him.

Their voices mingled together and echoed off the walls of the empty room. Harry couldn't hear what either of them were saying, but if they both didn't stop soon, Filch would be onto them in seconds.

"I KNOW!" he finally roared.

He looked at their accusing stares and said quickly before they could open their mouths again, "I know, all right? You're both royally pissed, you have every right to be, I should have told you, it wasn't fair for me to tell Ginny first, I'm sorry you found out about the prophecy that way, and I should have told Dumbledore as soon as you guys told me about Voldemort being after you, believe me I know, and I deserve everything you said. But just wait till you hear what I've got to say, all right—I've got loads to tell you!"

Hermione's curiosity peaked, but Ron just stared at him, disgruntled.

"I'm not going to listen to anything he says," Ron said, still peeved, and acting as if Harry wasn't even in the room.

"Ron, I know he's done wrong, but he just apologized—"

"I don't care—"

"Please, Ron?" she implored, eyes beseeching. "Haven't we punished him long enough? Haven't we punished each other long enough?"

He looked at her. Harry held his breath.

"Fine. But this doesn't mean I forgive you!" Ron warned Harry.

"Fair enough," Harry said quickly.

Hermione beamed and kissed Ron on the cheek.

"So, what is it?" she said to Harry, as Ron looked dazed.

Harry suddenly remembered what Moony said, and shot a Silencing Spell over the door, walls, trapdoor, and ceiling. He didn't even see any cats or mice hanging about.

Thinking those were good enough precautions, he told them everything he had gleaned from Malfoy, starting at the bathroom scene a few days ago. When he got to what happened after with the upside-down and the dangling, he purposely skipped the embarrassing part, not looking Ron in the eye.

"Listen, Harry, I—"

"Save it," said Harry, ears red, not really wanting to talk about that now.

"But no really, I'm sorry. I was being an arse, not helping you, and my actions were de—"

Harry talked over him, proceeding to tell them what Lupin said afterward in his office. Ron got the hint and shut up about it.

Hermione gasped when Harry came to the part about the Spy. But Ron was unamused.

"It makes sense," Ron said darkly. "There's been at least some sort of spy at least every year we've been here—Quirrell, Riddle, Wormtail, Moody, Umbridge—"

"You don't think it's a teacher again, do you?" said Hermione.

"I bet you all seven of my O.W.L.s it's Malfoy," said Ron.

"That's what I thought," said Harry grimly. "So that's when I decided to sneak into the Slytherin common room—"

"You did what?"

Harry told them about how he got into the Slytherin common room—("Wicked!" said Ron, impressed, and forgetting all about his current annoyance at Harry)—and what all the Slytherins were saying about the Malfoys. Then, of course, the truth coming out of Malfoy's very own mouth.

"It's Malfoy," said Harry when he had finished. "He told Zabini everything. He's the Spy."

"It can't be...but I thought...I thought...I don't really know, I suppose. But not that…" Hermione was glum.

"Slimy bastard," said Ron, shaking his head. "We've got to tell Dumbledore."

For once, Hermione didn't chide him for his language; it seemed she had other things on her mind.

"He's not coming back till Halloween," she said glumly. "That's two weeks away. We'll just have to wait till then."

Ron mused, "Why do Lupin and Dumbledore keep disappearing, anyway? What could they possibly be doing?"

And then Harry told them about the small snippet of memory he saw inside Dumbledore's head. When they heard about him performing Legilimency—and on the Headmaster, no less—they were both suitably impressed.

"So Dumbledore knows who the Heir of Hufflepuff is, then?" said Hermione.

"Sounds like it. I wonder who it could be…"

"I would like to know how Malfoy's feeding information to the outside. Owl post, d'you reckon?" said Harry.

"Mail's being checked," said Hermione. "All packages and letters are."

"He might have a friend in Hogsmeade he slips letters and things to. I didn't see him anywhere last visit..."

"I always knew Malfoy was an arse. But this is low, even for him," said Ron. "Becoming a spy for the Death Eaters…"

They slipped into silence as they contemplated that.

"Hermione...I just...I have to know. What happened? In Hogsmeade? Lupin told me bits of it, but I can't believe…" Ron trailed off, haltingly and with dread.

Hermione gave a deep sigh, and told Ron exactly what she'd told Harry.

Harry could see why she didn't want to tell Ron. He was having a really hard time handling the news. He kept pacing around the room, clenching and unclenching his fists, but was able to rein in his anger in the end.

"And you didn't get any scratches? No…" he trailed off, horrified, the unspoken word hung in the air between them.

"No…" she said softly.

"A-a-and that bit you said about Malfoy? And the love potion?"

"Oh, yes...so I did end up confronting him about it. I've had a mind to for a while now, but last Hogsmeade trip and everything Krum said about not knowing that bottle was spiked...well, it spurred me to action, so to speak…" said Hermione, then she told Ron everything that she had confronted Krum about. Harry chimed in with the bits he remembered. When they were both done, the three of them sat and stewed in this new information about Draco Malfoy.

"I just can't believe he would do that. Any of that. I mean, I knew he was a git but I thought...I thought...maybe he was just that. Hoped, I supposed," said Ron, depressed. "We can't trust anyone, can we?"

"Definitely not a snake," hissed Harry. "So...let's recap, shall we?"

He stood up and started pacing, following Ron's former walk around the stone-edged room.

"Recap?" said Ron.

"Voldemort wants me," explained Harry. "But he can't get me because I have too much protection. From my mother, and from Hogwarts and Dumbledore, and all that rot. So….he decides to go after you two to get to me. He saw how I was willing to risk my life for Sirius last June, and knows I will do the same for you two. So he sends Malfoy. The one person he knows hates me just as much as he does. Lucius probably volunteered Draco for the job too. But he couldn't get the Dark Mark because...well, then everyone at school would know where his loyalties lie, wouldn't they? So he was sent to Hogwarts to try and get the two of you, who aren't as protected as I am."

"But Harry," Hermioned reasoned. "He couldn't have been the Death Eater in the woods because you and Ron knocked him out in the train, remember? Plus, he wasn't near tall enough. The voice was...different."

Harry paused, thinking. "You're right. That must have been someone else. I mean, it could be any Death Eater...take your pick...Malfoy Senior, the Lestranges, Nott Senior, it could have been any of the ones that escaped from Azkaban, it could be a new recruit even…"

"So if Draco Malfoy is the Spy, you reckon he's behind...everything that's happened so far at Hogwarts? Not the Death Eater attack...and not the Slytherins knocking me out on the train or setting that damnable snake on me today...but stealing the Love Potion from Hermione, taking her wand as well, and that day they had her after Hagrid's class, plus we already know he hung you in the air—" said Ron, postulating, but Harry broke in.

"Of course he was, he was actually there for most of it too. I bet that Death Eater that attacked us was his father too...trying to get back into Voldemort's good graces…"

There was a lull in their conversation as they ruminated this.

"What if it's Snape?" Ron asked.

Harry sucked in his breath with his teeth. That idea was far worse than any other they had come up with so far. As much of a git as he was...for him to actively be trying to kill them…

"It can't be," Hermione said. "I've been working with him. On the Wolflord Potion. Him and Professor Jones both."

Harry noticed she didn't say why that Death Eater couldn't have been Snape, but he did not go into it with her.

"You forgot about what Malfoy told me, Harry," said Hermione softly. "He said that capturing me and Ron started out being his job...but then it was given to someone else."

"Well...again, take your pick. Out of all those Slytherins in their common room that wished him harm...Nott, Rowle, Crabbe, Goyle, Harper, Wilkes, Urquhart, Zabini...even those Slytherin girls could be it. Victoria Vaisey, Tracy Davis, Pansy Parkinson, Meghan Freeman—"

"Not Meghan Freeman," Hermioned interjected. "Just...not her. She really is a sweetheart once you get to know her. It's not her fault she's a Slytherin, anyway, and that tough front she puts out is just the cover that helps her survive in those dungeons. Besides I know she's a fifth-year, but really she can't be more than 14…"

"All right," Harry agreed. "Not Meghan Freeman. But everyone else in the Slytherin House is a suspect. I don't want either of you alone with any of them. Especially you, Ron...I'm glad Moony came along to save you when he did. How did he get rid of the snake?"

Ron reddened. "Oh, it was just some counter-charm. I knew it, but I was far too busy not pi—" he remembered himself when he looked over at Hermione, "—er...I mean...you know. Trying not to wet myself at the time to get my head on straight and cast it. The sods…"

"You know on the real battlefield, you're going to be scared shitless then too and not have anyone saving your arse," Harry said sternly. "You got lucky this time. If it is Nott who was tasked with taking you guys to Voldemort, you would have been prime pickings for him today."

"I know," Ron said in chagrin, nodding. "I was lucky. I need to work on being quick on the draw, like you both are. Lupin says I have a lot of stamina, but I just don't like to do things fast, if you've noticed. On the chess set, I take my time. On the Quidditch pitch, I take my time. In schoolwork, I take my time. During that Hogsmeade attack, I took my time. But there's going to come a day when I don't have time."

They sat, contemplating this some more.

"You know, it's funny," Ron spoke again, staring at the trapdoor in the floor. "Five years ago we went down there to stop V-Vol...Volde...oh, you know who...from becoming immortal. And now...we're further away from achieving that than ever."

Hermione nodded. "We were so young then. We thought our parents could save us from anything...that our teachers knew what they were doing...that books held all the answers..."

"That somebody else would save the world..." Harry said softly.

"Harry..." said Ron, suddenly serious. "There's something that's been bothering me. We heard that you know what the prophecy's about...but I haven't heard what it says."

Harry sighed...he'd been dreading this. They were both looking at him expectantly.

So he took a deep breath and told them everything that Dumbledore had told him in June. When he finished, neither of them said a word for a very long time.

"So..." Ron spoke up. "You're supposed to either kill him...or be killed?"

Harry nodded slowly.

Hermione was biting her lip, trying hard not to cry. "Oh, Harry," she said miserably. "You know we'll be with you to the end, right? Wherever you go, we'll follow."

"To the end, mate," said Ron bravely.

"No," said Harry. "You know I can't—"

"It doesn't matter," Ron interrupted stubbornly. "It's not your choice. I'm sorry it took weeks of my pigheadedness to notice that—"

"That's why I couldn't tell you," said Harry. "I didn't know how to—I mean, how do you tell your best friends that in order to live….you have to become a murderer?"

"It's not murder," said Ron forcibly. "If it was, the bastard would have to be alive. He hasn't even got a real body—he's living on your blood, his dead dad's bones, and my old rat's flesh. Right now, Voldemort's just some walking, talking bag of cast-offs."

The three of them chuckled, relieved to find something to joke about amidst the darkness they were facing.

"Ron," said Harry, suddenly looking at him, "I think that's the first time you've said his name."

Ron's ears grew pink. "Figured it was about time I stopped being afraid of him. Considering how close we were back at the Department of Mysteries. Besides….he can't even hear me."

"We really should be getting back, you two," said Hermione, after casting a Tempus. "It's past curfew, our patrol ended an hour ago, and we don't want to get caught."

Harry grinned and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. "Think we still fit?"

They did—but only just. All the way up to Gryffindor tower there were low mutterings, curses, and very many pokes, prods, and whispered apologies.

When they made it through to the empty common room, safe and sound, Harry pulled it off them and found his two best friends were very pink.

"You two ready for our Hogsmeade trip tomorrow?" he said.

"To be fair," Ron said, "It'll be nice being with you two instead of...Lav-Lav...I am sorry to say but she is a bit...rather...that is to say, she's a tiny bit...you know…"

"Shrill?" said Harry and Hermione frankly.

Ron reddened, not wanting to speak ill of the dreaded.

"It'll be so much nicer going with you two and not Viktor," Hermione said with a smile, eager to get the conversation off of Lavender. Then she realized how that sounded, and backtracked. "Not that he's not fun and all…"

"He really isn't, is he?" Harry teased. For the life of him he couldn't imagine Krum grinning like a schoolboy in a sweetshop.

Ron snickered with him, but Hermione didn't seem to mind much. "He has teacher stuff to do," she said. "So I'll be by myself. Well...with my Auror guard, at least…so Ginny wanted to be pals."

"Oh, how come they didn't patrol with you two?" Harry asked.

"They don't have to go with us everywhere. While we are patrolling we are fine as long as we take the Marauders' Map, plus the Aurors are also patrolling the castle so that really does help give us that added protection," said Hermione. "Anyway, we have the Quidditch match Saturday after next, as you both well know. And after that there's another Hogsmeade trip on Thursday, Halloween day. That's when we are having the Halloween Ball."

"Wait, that's in less than two weeks?" said Harry, discouraged. "Blimey, I need a date."

"You want Lavender?" said Ron, looking hopeful. Harry made a face. Hermione laughed, and Ron looked glum. "Oh well. It's too late to break it off with her so close to it anyhow…"

"Ron, that's very nice of you," said Hermione, looking rather pleased. "It really would hurt her rather dreadfully if you broke up with her right before it. If it were me, I'd...erm...want one good night with you before you broke it off so gently a few days later. Just...be gentle with her. She really is invested in your relationship."

Ron just stared at her, lost in thought, ears pink.

Harry looked around, suddenly feeling very intrusive. "So...er...do they know where it will be? The Ball? Will it be in the Great Hall again?"

"Oh!" she said. "No, actually, it's an outside ball. It'll be in that beautiful courtyard this year. The one with the pergolas covering over all of it, and that big fountain and statue in the middle…"

"Did you hear, Harry?" said Ron, interrupting Hermione's girly descriptions. "We get to go to Hogsmeade on Halloween too! Two Hogsmeade trips in a row! Dumbledore's not too bad for letting us have so many outings. We've been given permission to go to the twins' opening on Halloween!"

"Wicked!"

"Yeah, we'll be able to get things half-off—"

"You ready for the Quidditch match next Saturday, Ron?"

"You kidding? I'm about to piss myself…"

They noticed Hermione staring at them with a smile on her face, and stopped talking. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "I just missed this."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, brows raised. Girls.

It was really quite wonderful having Hermione and Ron speaking to him again, thought Harry with a grin after they had gone up to bed.

It was just as they were getting ready for bed, that Ron asked Harry his last question.

"Harry?"

Harry grunted in reply as he pulled his shoes off.

"Is there...anything...going on...between...you...and…" Ron paused, his words being wrenched out of him so slowly and methodically that a Muggle dentist would have been impressed.

Harry waited for him to finish. Ron didn't.

"Hermione?" Harry finished for him.

A grunt in the darkness from Ron was all that replied.

Pausing what he was doing, Harry tried to find the words that best explained the situation.

"Look...Ron...I don't know what you heard...or what you saw...but I love Hermione like a sister, all right? Like how you love Ginny. I care for her deeply, I really do...but not….in the way you're thinking. Not like...you and Lavender," he said, hoping he got the point across.

There was a creak in the bed as Ron laid down.

"Good," he whispered, and Harry could hear the palpable relief in that sigh.

Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Should he say something about his own...feelings...for Ron's sister?

But a second later, snores soon drifted over from Ron's bed, and Harry grinned as he realized it had been way too long since he'd last heard Ron snore.

It seemed Ron was finally sleeping.

Harry pulled back his covers and climbed in, feeling more than ready for sleep to claim him.

The first half of October had seemed rather lonely and dreary, but now that the three of them were on good terms, it brightened considerably.


Author's Note:

Thank you SO much for all the love! It really brightens my day and makes me not want to wait till night to post.

Sure hope this quells the fears of whoever was wondering when the Golden Trio would stop fighting with each other. Also hope this was enough Romione for those die-hard fans (don't worry, you guys are my peeps). No, I did not forget about that green-eyed owl, who will be coming back for more. And yes, please, drop everything to come and read these chapters and leave me a lovely review! (Except babies...don't you DARE drop those babies...)

Cheers!

Next chapter, "Blood Traitor's Alley"...