"I still think this is a bad idea." Harry was going through all his new and colourful robes, though he knew Voldemort's plan was doomed no matter what he wore.

"I trust Miss Lovegood's judgement in this matter. She was quite adamant regarding this next step," Voldemort said from the table in their rooms. He was still finishing up his breakfast. Harry had been too nervous to really eat and had only managed to choke down a slice of toast thanks to Nagini's mothering. "Young Mr Weasley has languished long enough in my dungeons."

Harry scowled. "It's not like he's bothered by that." He took his irritation out on his wardrobe, slamming robe after robe along their hanging rod. Everything screamed either Death Eater or exorbitant wealth. Neither would make a good impression to Ron. "I should be wearing Muggle clothes for this. It'll put Ron more at ease."

Voldemort finally finished his meal and stood up. "Your best friend was raised in a Pureblood family. He will hardly balk at Wizarding robes."

"Can you make these a dark blue?" Harry asked, pulling out one of his remaining black uniforms. "It's the most modest."

Voldemort muttered something about lazy boys not being able to spell their own clothes a different colour but obliged with a wave of his wand.

"Don't blame me for not finishing my education," Harry said. He was still sore that he hadn't been offered tutoring so that he might take his NEWTs.

"A colour-change charm is hardly a seventh-year spell."

Harry ignored him and changed out of his nightwear. He looked himself over in the mirror. He still looked like a stuffy Pureblood, but it was the best he had to work with. He ruffled his hair up to something more messy—more 'Harry'. "So, what exactly did Luna say that made you go against my wishes?"

"She believed that Ronald Weasley's reintroduction to your life is critical for both our wellbeing. She had no explanation to support her assertion."

"You're sure Hermione didn't put her up to this?" Harry asked. Luna was still amiable with Hermione, and even though his former friend didn't shoot Harry unfriendly looks anymore, he hated being near her—it was too much a reminder, and now that the oaths had been removed from him, he only felt more guilty about everything he'd done. "She might not be particularly Slytherin, but she's still cunning enough for that."

"Your Mudblood has nothing to do with it. I believe Miss Lovegood is being directed by seer intuition, if you must know."

Harry stifled a groan. Not that nonsense again. "I hope you realize how much I hate divination."

"Considering our past, I'm not surprised. But while I believe your friend is directed in some way, I would hardly call it divination. Not in the way you are thinking, at any rate." He came up behind Harry, smoothing down his ruffled hair. "You don't need to pretend to be someone you aren't, Harry. We need to see if Mr Weasley will accept you as you are. Not as you were."

Harry turned around and looked sadly up at him. "And if he doesn't?"

Tom bent down and brushed Harry's nose with the flat of his own. "He will."

"I'm scared," Harry admitted.

"I know," Tom said. "But if Harry Potter was brave enough to face Lord Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, then he's certainly brave enough to face Ronald Weasley in St Mungo's."

But that hadn't been bravery, Harry thought as he took one last look at the nervous-looking young man in the mirror.

...

Severus Snape had been practicing the scowl he'd so often used against Gryffindors. He stood just outside Ron Weasley's private room at St Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries clutching a steaming bottle of mandrake restorative draught, and whenever an orderly bumped into him, the sinister looking Potions Master looked as though he wanted to unleash the deadly scream of the primary ingredient on the offender.

When Harry and Tom came near, Snape nodded to them with subdued respect. "We are waiting on Healer Blishwick," he told them.

"Why do we need a Healer?" Harry asked. "Why can't you administer the dose yourself?" Harry was unsure why they were at St Mungo's for this at all. It would have been much tidier doing this at Malfoy Manor. For one thing, he wouldn't have had to dodge all those people in the lobby who'd gawked at him and Tom as they came in together.

Snape grimaced. "I can, but reanimation carries the remote possibility of heart failure." When Harry looked ready to protest, the Potions Master held up a silencing hand. "And while the Dark Lord is capable of restoring Mr Weasley even in that worst-case scenario, surely it would be easier for your friend to wake from sleep rather than be pulled from the jaws of death. That would be far more disconcerting, and we are doing everything in our power to make his reintroduction as seamless as we can."

It was the first time Harry had heard Snape say anything about his own time beyond the grave. All at once, Harry was filled with far too many questions: What was death? Was it nothingness or was there something there to greet them, for good or ill? Had Snape met Dumbledore there? Had he met Harry's mother?

Did they say anything about Harry?

It wasn't the time to ask any of that, but in the wondering, Harry was quick to realize the importance of making sure Ron didn't slip from life right now. What if he were to meet with his family before he could accept Harry? They might poison Ron against him before he could even hope to accept the reasons behind Harry's actions.

Not that Harry held much hope of that.

And then the healer was there, and Harry's heart was in his throat. Voldemort clasped his hand, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Harry nodded, then followed Snape into the hospital room. Inside, lying on the white, sterile bed, was Ron. His familiar eyes were still fixed in terror, taking in a Basilisk that had long since slithered off to its lair. Two chairs were setup next to the bed. Hermione sat in one, and she was leaning over Ron. She'd been crying; the handkerchief she was holding was sodden. When she heard the door close softly, she looked up. Harry was shocked by the tentative—and earnest—smile she gave him. He couldn't return it properly but did offer a nod of what he hoped came across as friendly reassurance.

Luna sat in the second chair. She was holding Hermione's other hand in both of her own, rubbing small circles into her palm. Behind her stood Draco. When he saw Harry come in with Snape and the Healer, he gave a gentle squeeze to Luna's shoulder before stepping away. "I'll be outside. I doubt my face will be conducive to the situation, all things considering."

Before he left, Draco whispered something in Snape's ear.

"I'm not so much a fool, Draco," the man muttered before handing the restorative potion to Healer Blishwick. "Regardless of what Mr Weasley might think of my loyalties, he would be in his rights to be disturbed at seeing me here, considering I died in his presence." He stepped into an out-of-the-way corner and Disillusioned himself.

"Excellent, excellent," the healer said, rubbing her hands together. "It's not everyday that we see the devastation wrought by a quintuple X-classified beast. How did he manage to survive?"

"The Basilisk's gaze was hooded," Harry told her. He moved over behind Luna, taking Draco's former spot. He looked over the girls. Hermione was fiddling with her handkerchief and biting her lip.

"Everything will be fine," Luna soothed. "You'll see." Harry didn't know if she was telling Hermione that, or him. He was just as nervous as Hermione, though he thought he hid it far better.

"And here we go," Blishwick said as she approached her patient. She gently lifted Ron's head off the bed. After tipping the potion into his mouth, she rubbed her hand gently alongside his throat to coax it down. "Give him a few minutes, and then please remember that he will have a substantial gap in his memory."

Hermione nodded. She knew that better than anyone.

Harry watched, his stomach roiling with apprehension, as Ron's eyes slowly lost their glassy expression. Not much seemed to happen at first: Ron twitched his nose; he worked his jaw.

And then he shot bolt upright and screamed loud enough to wake his fallen family. "Godric's hairy bollocks!" he shouted out right after. "Run!"

The Healer only smiled and cast a quick immobilizing charm on Ron's lower body. "Good afternoon, Mr Weasley. Welcome back to the waking world."

Ron turned to her. "Wha?" He turned to take in the rest of them, blinking in confusion. "Hermione? Harry? Where are we?" Before anyone could answer, a goofy grin spread on his freckled face. "This is St Mungo's."

Hermione nodded and reached out to brush a strand of red hair off Ron's forehead. She was crying again. Harry imagines she was blinded by the torrent of her tears.

Ron was still gazing about in wonder. "Luna, you made it, too! Merlin—this means we won!" He laughed then, a great giddy wave of relief. "We won. Otherwise, I'd be…you'd be…Harry, you did it!"

Oh, sweet Circe. Of course Ron had to assume the…best? Worst?

But Blishwick was there, taking the pressure off Harry. She finished up casting a diagnostic charm and was holding her wand in front of Ron's face, the tip lit up with a soft Lumos. "Keep your eyes on this, Mr Weasley. Good. Good. And now follow up…and down…excellent. Now can you tell me what you last remember?"

Ron squeezed his eyes shut for a moment once the eye exercises were complete. He blinked a few times upon reopening them. "Remember? Ah, I remember a honking great snake looming over me. What do you think I remember?"

A soft laugh. "I am just trying to make sure there is nothing missing from your memory. No gaps beyond what we already expect." She seemed unfazed by Ron's rudeness. Harry supposed she was used to all sorts, working here. "What can you recall from before you saw the Basilisk?"

Ron looked over to Hermione, as if she might help him as she had done so many other times in preparation for a test or exam. She pulled out from Luna's grip and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "Go on," she murmured, supportively.

Ron looked bewildered for a moment. Harry almost hoped he had forgotten something—or everything, he wasn't picky—but Ron's eyes shifted to him and he nodded, as if recalling the whole event. "Harry here had woken up from a bad dream. A vision, really. He knew that You-Know-Who was on his way, and we were rushing to find a way out."

"So, the Dark Lord was there?" the healer questioned. "And the Basilisk was under his control?"

"Hold on, I wasn't quite…" Ron said, frowning in concentration. "We were racing through the tunnels under the school, and…" His eyes slid from Harry, then, onto the Healer, who was watching her charmed quill as it jotted down everything Ron was saying. "Hold on…"

The Healer looked up as Ron paused. "And then?"

But Ron was staring at the Healer with suspicion. And then at Harry. His gaze swept round all of them, then settled back on Blishwick. "You sound like…were you a Death Eater?" He pressed himself to the back of the bed, his eyes shifting now to the healer's dormant wand.

Blishwick's mouth fell open in surprise. When she'd gathered herself enough to answer, she said, "No, I'm not. Why do you ask?"

Harry knew why, though. Apparently no one had given the healer a heads-up that Ron wouldn't know about the change in Wizarding Britain's leadership, nor that Voldemort's preferred title had become commonplace.

Ron explained, nervously. "What you said just now. What you called You-Know-Who. Only Death Eaters call him that." He looked again at his gathered friends. "What's going on?"

"I…" What could Harry say that wouldn't condemn himself from start to finish. Nothing. All he could do was explain and hope it was enough. He didn't dither; there was no more time: "I'm a Horcrux."

Ron's eyes glazed over, and for a second it was as if the restorative draught hadn't been used at all. It was a terrible sight. And when they refocused—well, Ron wasn't stupid, no matter how much he'd never cared much for his education. He would know the implications.

"And I didn't want to die," Harry added, looking down at his feet.

Ron stared at Harry in silence for a good long while, long enough that Harry had begun to think that his former friend would never speak to him again. And Harry couldn't really blame him.

But then Ron blurted out, "Bloody hell." His lips sealed again in that way they always did whenever he was trying to get his head around something. Finally, he managed to croak out, "How did you find that out?"

Harry's eyes never left the floor, though his mind was replaying the whole thing. "Do you remember that memory Snape gave me before he died? I went up to the Headmaster's office to watch it in the pensieve. Apparently, Dumbledore had told Snape what I was before he died, with the instructions to tell me 'when the time was right'."

Ron looked outraged more than anything by that explanation. "What utter fucking-! No wonder you ran off like you did."

Harry remembered, then, how he'd misled his friend back in the Chamber. "I didn't run, though. I went to…to Voldemort. And I told him what I was." Harry's mind flooded with every horrible moment of that confrontation, and even now that all was worked out between him and Tom, he could still feel his face naturally take on the expression of the fear he'd felt back then.

Ron looked confused again, and his eyes roamed the hospital room, taking in his friends' faces. "But I don't understand. How did you get away?"

He still thinks the Light won, Harry realized. "I didn't," Harry explained quietly. "I surrendered—yes, I know I'm a coward." Harry held his hand up to ward off the oncoming accusation. "So you don't need to tell me."

Ron's eyes widened. "I wasn't going to say that. Blimey, Harry, you should have come to us. We could have worked something out. And now he knows what you are—shit—and…did you at least kill his snake?"

It was Hermione who answered. "What good would that even do now, Ron? Without destroying all the Horcruxes, there's no point targeting her." And now she looked at Harry. "And we're done going after Horcruxes."

"There's no point to them now, anyway," Harry added. "He's immortal through the Deathly Hallows."

Ron went from looking floored to looking thoughtful. His gaze shifted to Luna, who smiled benignly back at him. "That was what your dad was on about, wasn't it? What does that even mean?" he asked the blonde girl.

But it was Hermione who answered. "Voldemort gathered the three Hallows: The Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand."

"And now he's the Master of Death," Harry finished. He could not keep the smile from his lips, no matter how hard he tried. Ron stared at his mouth, uncomprehending his delight.

"But what the fuck does that mean?"

A black figure stepped out of non-existent shadow. "It means, Mr Weasley," Snape said softly, "that the Dark Lord is far more powerful than ever before."

Ron squeaked his surprise. "P-p-professor?"

Snape sighed. He turned to Healer Blishwick. "You are no more attentive now than you were six years ago during your NEWTs. Mr Weasley is due for a second dose of the restorative draught, unless you wish to tell our Lord why his consort's best friend died only minutes into his awakening."

That got Blishwick moving. She unstoppered a new vial of potion and handed it to Ron. "I believe you can manage to drink this on your own this time." Then she took Ron's vitals again before handing him a small, red orb. "This is charmed to alert me should the need arise. Just give it a firm squeeze and I'll check on you right away."

Ron nodded as he watched her leave. Before the door swung shut again, Harry caught a glimpse of Tom's voluminous black robes from the corridor. From the expression on Ron's face, he had as well. Ron set the orb on the table next to his bed, then glared from Snape, to Harry, to Hermione and back to Harry again. He ignored Luna, but then he must have realized she'd had nothing to do with any of this. "Someone best tell me what's going on."

Snape must have decided to play professor again, for he stepped closer and settled himself on the foot of Ron's bed. Ron scooted his legs up, more in a move to keep away from his most hated professor than to give the man room. Snape sneered but ignored that. Instead, he sighed. The weight of all he'd been through seemed to wash over his features in the moment before he began talking. "You know that Albus had begun seeking out the Dark Lord's Horcruxes." He didn't wait for, nor even see, Ron's bobbing head. "Unlike Mr Potter, he did not explain to me the purpose behind his ventures out of Hogwarts during your sixth year. I only knew that he was searching for a way to win the war.

"One day, shortly before your sixth year was to begin, Albus returned to Hogwarts terribly cursed. You must remember the way the headmaster's hand looked that year. I managed to slow the curse, but it was lethal; it was only a matter of time before Albus would weaken and die." Snape then went on, explaining how Dumbledore had asked him to do what he could to stop Draco from fulfilling the role of murderer, how he'd planted the Sword of Gryffindor in the Forest of Dean, and finally, how he'd been asked to explain to Harry that he carried a piece of Voldemort's splintered soul. "I died thinking I'd fulfilled my purpose, that Mr Potter would sacrifice himself, and that the Dark Lord would be nearly mortal. I had not expected to be brought back from the dead and taken to task as a traitor. Yet here I am."

Ron was back to staring at the door. He was quiet for a time, clearly considering everything he had just heard. Apparently, unlike with Potions class, he had taken in everything Snape had told him, for he turned to Harry and said, "You're You-Know-Who's consort? The fuck, Harry? The last thing I remember is you being squeezed to death by his snake, then two massive yellow eyes. Then I'm waking up and you've gotten married to your worst enemy. What the sodding fuck?"

But he didn't look angry, or even disgusted. Perhaps that would come later. For now, he only looked bewildered.

"We're holding a second ceremony next week. I was hoping you'd be my best man," Harry said, his tone light, as though it were a joke…even though it was all true. He hadn't actually expected Ron to smile back at him, so when his poor attempt was met with a look of incredulity, he ploughed on: "This is actually new for me, too. We didn't start out like this. At the beginning, I was just a thing to him. But now…" Harry still wasn't sure what prompted Tom to raise Harry up. "Things have changed."

"And it's not just that," Hermione broke in. She began talking about her own work, explaining to Ron about the reports she'd been writing up and the legislation she was helping to draft. "I know most Muggleborns are still struggling," she finished, "but things aren't so bad as they were. That horrid department Umbridge was running has been dissolved. She's even gone missing."

"She died in childbirth." It was Luna's first contribution to the conversation.

Hermione's face fell even as Ron made a disgusted face.

"That's terrible."

"Who would want to knock her up?"

Luna, thankfully, didn't respond to either of them.

Hermione took a deep breath, then continued filling Ron in on what he'd missed. Finally, she said, "And in September, Harry was attacked in his bedroom. He was very nearly killed."

"Who was it?" Ron breathed. He'd seemed to have forgotten who was waiting just outside his room, and only occasionally gave Snape a distracted glare.

Harry swallowed. This was the test. "Your sister," he said, quietly. "She and Bellatrix were working together." There was no need for him to know that she'd been Imperiused. No one needed to know that.

Ron took in Harry's grave look. "Is…is she…?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if what he said next would help Ron cope, or would cement himself forever as the villain. "She's been buried next to the rest of your family."

Ron nodded. From his blank look, though, he hadn't really taken in what Harry had said. "Right. Right."

Snape swooped in, his wand drawn. Everyone tensed, but all the Potions Master said was, "I think we have invaded Mr Weasley's recuperation long enough. I'm certain he still has many questions, but I think we might agree that we all have much to think about and should give him some space."

Luna stood at once and headed to the door. Harry paused, then gave Ron a nod, and followed Luna out. Snape followed and shut the door quietly behind himself. "We will give Ms Granger a moment alone." He spoke to Tom for a few minutes in a hushed voice before he retrieved Hermione. "You'll see him again this evening, if his recovery goes well," he told her, even as she kept turning back to Ron to tell him how much she'd missed him.

Hermione finally let Snape pull her out of the room, but before she could follow the Potions Master down the corridor, she turned to Harry and Tom. She looked between them, taking in their entwined hands. She took a deep breath, then said, "This is an awful lot for him to take in. I beg you to be merciful, should he say something out of turn. It took me a long time to come around."

Voldemort inclined his head. "I did not allow his restoration just so I might torture him, Ms Granger. I will grant him the time he requires to make this adjustment. I understand that his world has been suddenly flipped. Despite what you might think of me, I am not unreasonable."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to deny she thought that, but in the end, she simply gave her thanks along with a ridiculous curtsey. Then she made her way to where Snape, Draco, and Luna were waiting for her near the lifts.