Welcome to the next chapter, all! Nothing much to report for this fic today, but I will be releasing a oneshot this week featuring one of the characters that is introduced in this chapter! Keep your eyes open, it should be coming out over the next few days!

Chapter 6: Myth and Testimony

Nestled by the cradling arms of a rocky hillside, row after row of grapevines stretched as far as the eye could see; perfectly straight and manicured as if drawn by an architect's hand, the vines' bright fragrance wafted through the countryside. The Rhone Valley was home to some of the greatest full-bodied red wines in the world, and though some Italian growers may take offence to that belief, to the Delacour family, Cote du Rhone wine was gospel and they were its evangelists.

"Fleur, why must you walk so fast? Our vineyards are beautiful, the sun is shining, and you act as though we are rushing through a train station!"

The elder Delacour sister sighed. Gabrielle was right, it was a wonderful day, but her mind was filled with chattering monkeys each vying for her attention and she was in no mood for a peaceful meander.

"You sound more like Papa every day, Gabi." Fleur slowed her pace and idly toyed with a long, green vine, squishing the young grapes between her fingers while she waited for her sister.

Gabrielle scrunched up her face and huffed, "That's not true! I sound like a perfectly normal little girl, and Papa, he sounds like a… a…" she paused, twirling her silvery hair around her fingers, "A penguin!"

That actually gave Fleur pause, "A penguin?" she asked, her stained fingers freezing around another purple grape before it burst.

Gabrielle beamed back at her, nodding emphatically, "A penguin! He chirps and dances when he's happy, he always dresses smartly, and when he gets mad, he honks!"

A smile slowly made its way onto Fleur's face, "I don't think you've ever seen a penguin, much less heard one, Gabi."

"Not true! Maman took me to the Parc Zoologique de Paris while you were in Britain, and they had penguins there! I loved them!" As she spoke, she straightened her arms down her sides and waddled from foot to foot, imitating the dapper bird.

Fleur giggled, allowing her sister to catch up to her before giving Gabrielle a kiss on the top of her head. She missed being her sister's age, when she didn't have to worry about how fulfilling a particular job would be, how infuriating a man could be, or what her future should be. If she had another interviewer or another date remark on how what she really needed was a safe, secure desk job underwriting studies on the various applications of the cheering charm, she was going to scream!

"Don't let Papa hear you calling him a penguin, Gabi, he will either be offended or, worse, he will be waddling around the house and honking for the rest of our lives. We will never be at peace!"

"Why should he be offended? Papa penguins are so noble! They sit on their eggs for months without eating while the mama penguins look for food! They protect the egg, they warm the egg, they love the egg- "she stopped, a curious gleam appearing in her eye, "Fleur?"

"Yes, Gabi?"

"When we have babies, we're not going to lay eggs, are we?"

For a moment, Fleur was struck dumb. She stood still as a statue, save for her platinum hair waving in the wind like rays of starlight shining through drifting clouds. Her bright blue eyes were dulled by incomprehension and her full lips hung open as she processed her sister's innocent question. When her brain finally restarted, a chuckle started from the pit of her stomach and by the time it reached her mouth, she was doubled over in hysterical laughter.

Gabrielle stomped her foot, "Don't make fun of me! Maman said we came from the great bird goddesses, and birds lay eggs! Maybe we lay eggs too, I don't know!"

Fleur was finally able to collect herself and regarded her sister with a smile, tears staining her face, "Oh Gabi, I wasn't making fun of you, I promise. You took me by surprise, that's all." She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, pulling it back into place with practiced grace as she thought about how to respond.

"Fleur?"

"Okay, okay. First of all, Maman must have told the story of how you were born a hundred times now; did she ever once mention that you came out as an egg?"

The younger Delacour began to blush and her mouth formed a perfect circle. She now remembered the framed baby picture in their kitchen, complete with a younger Apolline Delacour holding a very much newborn, but not so egg-like Gabrielle.

Fleur continued, a smile still blazing on her face but her tone was conciliatory, "You did sprout feathers sometimes though, mostly when you were hungry." A somber thought occurred to Fleur and her smile began to fade and her pace quickened, "It is really time for Maman to talk to you about some of these things. You are starting at Beauxbatons in a few months after all."

"What kind of things? Maman is always so boring when she talks about 'our proud heritage' and 'what it means to be Veela.' Can't you just tell me instead?" The two sisters walked side by side now, trudging up a steady slope that would soon lead to their charming manor.

For a moment, Fleur was brought back to her own final summer before she started school. She had always been more reserved, less adventurous than her younger sister, preferring to stay inside with her mother and draw rather than tour the vineyards that her father tended. Her mother had been worried for her eldest daughter, knowing that Fleur would never be given the comfortable solitude that the girl wanted and deserved due to the potent blood in her veins. Yes, Apolline would be having a very different kind of talk with Gabrielle, who almost trusted a little too easily, driven by a curiosity and love for people that would not be denied.

Still, that did not mean that Fleur could not humor her little sister, and there was one story that she knew, one that would help open the gates to the rest of the youngest Delacour's future.

"Gabrielle, you do know the story of Fey, the mother of Veela, do you not?"

Gabrielle folded her arms and looked to her sister in disappointment, "Of course. Mémé always tells the same story every time she visits. Fey was one of the ancient bird goddesses and bla, bla, bla-"

Fleur shoved her sister playfully, "No bla, bla, bla! Mémé would be cross if she heard you making light of her stories!"

"Well then she should tell other stories."

Fleur rolled her eyes and continued, "Yes, Fey was one of the Samovila, the forest fairies of Eastern Europe. They were friends and protectors to all the magical creatures of the woods, but her people were notorious for leading human travelers astray and…," for a moment Fleur struggled to find words appropriate for a ten-year-old girl, "kidnapping them to, err, steal their magic." Among other things.

"But one day, Fey found a man helping a hurt unicorn in her forest and decided to wait, for she was curious. She watched the man gently nurse the noble creature, surprised at the trust the magical horse had for this seemingly normal human man. Many men would have been overcome by greed for the unicorn's powerful horn, hair, or blood, but this man was different, for he had nothing but kindness in his eyes and sought nothing for himself."

Gabrielle, her impatience getting the better of her, interrupted, "And Fey fell in love with the man, but he was attacked by the evil sorcerer that was hunting the unicorn in the first place, Fey used her magic to save him, bla, bla, bla! I know the story, Fleur, I know it, I know it!" Gabrielle uttered her final words in a sing-song voice and skipped past her sister, no longer interested in the tale.

Fleur sighed as she watched her sister go, but luckily she knew Gabrielle's weakness. "Wait! Gabi! What if I told you there was a secret part of the story? One that you are just now old enough to hear."

Gabrielle froze mid-jump, her heavy footfalls startling a pair of crows who had been pecking at fallen grapes on the ground, sending them flying off with a couple of indignant caws. The younger blonde whirled around and glared at her sister with an intensity that did not belong on the face of a girl so young.

"Tell me."

Fleur giggled; her sister was too easy. Struck by a rare bout of mischief, Fleur looked upwards, stroking her chin with her fingers, pretending to be deep in thought. "I don't know, Gabi. On second thought, maybe you aren't so ready."

Gabrielle sprinted back to her sister, kicking up the rich soil and skidding to a halt when they were less than a yard apart. "I'm ready, Fleur. Please, please, please-"

"Are you sure it's not too boring? Maybe we can just wait until Mémé visits next time and she can tell her version?"

"Fleur! Please, I'll listen I swear, I have to know!"

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you." Fleur cleared her throat, slowly looking around as if checking for any eavesdroppers, when in reality she was just relishing the anticipation that was building on her sister's face.

"I'm warning you, if you're just teasing me again-"

Fleur's laughter chimed out once more, "Okay, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. So, you know that Fey rescued the dashing stranger from the evil dark lord, yes? But do you know how she did it?"

Gabrielle's eyebrows scrunched and squeezed her eyes as she wracked her brain. "She… used her forest powers to make the trees attack the sorcerer? No, no, she turned into a giant eagle and blew him away with her wings!"

"No. Very creative, but still no. The kind man battled the dark lord all day and all night, protecting the injured unicorn with all his strength, all the while Fey watched, falling in love with the man for his valor and selflessness. At last, the evil wizard was defeated, but as he fell, he struck the valiant man with a terrible curse."

Gabrielle had indeed never heard of this part of the tale, and she hung on her sister's every word. "A curse? What kind of curse? I thought Fey saved the stranger!"

"I'll get to that, Gabi. The curse turned the noble man's gentleness into violence, his kindness into rage. The stranger fought against the curse, not wishing to harm the unicorn or the surrounding forest, so he did the only thing he could- he turned his wand on himself and put himself to sleep. As Fey watched him struggle, her heart broke in two. The Samovila were known for their ability to take a man's strength for their own, but for the very first time in their history, Fey did the opposite."

"What did she do?" Gabi's words came out in a whisper that rustled like the wind through the surrounding grapevines.

"She took half of her broken heart and used her magic to weave it into her beautiful blonde hair. It is said that the hair of the Samovila was the source of their power, but never before had it been imbued with love for a mortal. She gathered her hair in one hand, and in one fell swoop, cut it down to the root!"

Gabrielle grasped her own hair as she flinched, "No, she would never!" To this day, Veela had an intimate connection to their hair, and the Delacour sisters were no different.

"She did. And with it, she bound the kind stranger's wound, and she did one more thing." Fleur leaned over and placed a loving kiss on her sister's forehead.

Gabrielle giggled, "Ew, she kissed him? That's so gross, he must have been so sweaty and dirty!"

Fleur stepped back and smiled back, "Indeed she did. In doing so, she claimed him as her partner in magic, and though no one knows if this means that Fey became mortal or if the man became a god himself, what we do know is that their daughters were the first true Veela as we know them today. And we, as you know my dear sister, are proud Veela."

"And now you sound like Maman."

"Thank you. Now, I do not know if this tale is true-"

"What! Then why did you spend all this time telling it? I thought you were trying to tell me something important!"

"Will you just listen for a moment you little jumping frog, I'm trying to tell you!"

"I. Am not. A frog. I am a proud Veela."

Despite herself, Fleur could not keep the smile from returning to her face, and she gathered her little sister in a one-armed hug, "Yes, yes, you're so clever. What I'm trying to say is that as Fey's daughters, our love has power. It is something that some fools would try to take, but it is not something that can be stolen. Our love can only ever be given freely, the most wonderful gift that you could ever give, Gabi. But be very careful with your love, for we can only give the gift of true love once; we only have half of a heart to give."

Gabrielle stilled in her sister's embrace, weighing this new information in her mind. In theory, there was little for Fleur's little sister to worry about, for her magic was not yet mature and she would be in no danger of giving her heart to a schoolyard crush. That said, it was a sad truth that Veela had to be educated on these matters before maturity bore down upon them fast and hard like a diving falcon.

A small voice sent vibrations up Fleur's side, "So, we really are like penguins then, Fleur?"

"What do you mean, Little Bird?"

Gabrielle looked up to her sister with a small smile, "Penguins mate for life, don't you know?"

Fleur snorted, "Then yes, perhaps we are like penguins, in this one aspect."

They continued in companionable silence, side by side, until they reached the top of the ridge overlooking their estate. If Fleur squinted, she could see the boisterous form of her father through the French windows that stood ajar as if to welcome them home. The sun passed behind a thick wave of clouds and the landscape was cast in shadows for a moment; a pleasant breeze swept through and toyed with their hair, tossing it to and fro, golden strands mingling together for a time before separating once more.

Gabrielle leaned her head on Fleur's shoulder, "Do you really have to go to Britain tomorrow? I want to spend my last summer before school with my big sister."

"Do not worry too much, with the way things have been going there is no way I will get the job. The universe wants me to be a secretary, it seems." She spoke with bitterness for a reason; this would be the fourth curse-breaking role that she was interviewing for and seeing as the great French institutions had all turned her away, she was forced back to the desolate isle that had irritated her so much.

"Papa always said that you would have a place in the family business too." There was a tinge of hope in Gabrielle's voice.

Fleur shuddered. There was no way that she would be cavorting with pretentious old wine snobs for the rest of her life. She loved her father dearly, but his life's work could not be duller in her eyes. She enjoyed wine, yes, but she had suffered through too many discussions on the various aromatics and the textures and the noses and the heads and it all was just nonsense to her.

"I'll keep that in mind, but I need to do something for myself. I thought that the tournament would allow me to prove myself, but- "

Gabrielle looked to her sister in admonishment, "But nothing! You were a brave champion and that tournament was a… a fiasco from the start!"

"That may be the case, but it seems that all that matters are the appearances. Fourth place in the Tri-wizard tournament, what a joke." She really shouldn't be unloading her insecurities on her little sister, but this was one monkey that she just could not get off her back.

Gabrielle was quiet for a moment, lost in a memory, and Fleur had a feeling she knew which one it was. Her little sister had been unable to shut up about a certain British wizard for months after the second task. Suddenly, the little girl's face erupted in a slightly pink-tinged grin.

"Do you know who a good papa penguin would be, Fleur?"

"Gabi, don't you dare say it."

"Harry Potter!" She drew out the words of her savior with a dreamy sigh, but a sudden thought gave her cause to send her sister a glare. "You kissed him. You had better not have stolen him from me, Fleur! When I am older I will be the one to give him my heart!"

Fleur groaned, "Not this again. No, I have no interest in your Harry, he is the only wizard for you, you two were made for each other, bla, bla, bla."

Gabrielle crossed her arms and sent Fleur a more playful look, "Good. And don't you forget it." She smiled; her mission was accomplished, for her sister was no longer moping.

"Come on Love Bird, let's go home. We'll have Maman give you a better talk than I did, there is still much to learn." As Fleur took her first step down the hill that led to their home, the sun peeked out from behind its veil and bathed her in golden light, and she smiled subconsciously at its warmth.

Gabrielle followed close behind and the Delacour sisters made their way home just as the sun set on the horizon, just as it set on an era of both their lives.

XXX

"Filthy half-blood master will unhand Master Regulus' locket! He knows not what he touches with his blood-traitor fingers, Kreacher must protect it!" The house elf had been worked into a fury; it was likely only the ancient magic that bound his line to that of the Black's that prevented him from taking the locket back by force. As it was, the shriveled creature looked as if he would set Harry's own head on the mantle if he could.

Harry breathed heavily, still affected by the familiar, evil magic radiating from the golden piece of jewelry in his palm. Voldemort's magic, he was sure of it. This was the only lead he had found in over a month; he would not relinquish it without a fight.

"Kreacher, do you know what this is?"

Kreacher spat on the floor and fixed Harry with a menacing glare, "No business of yours little master. Tis only business that Kreacher and Master Regulus knows, yes, and you must not interfere."

Harry narrowed his own eyes at the house elf, "I am the heir of House Black, Kreacher. Is that not the case?"

"It… is, master." Kreacher looked as if he would rather pull out his own final two teeth rather than admit to it.

"As heir of your house, you must answer any question honestly, Kreacher. You know this."

Kreacher threw himself on the floor and beat it with his fists, screaming "I won't, I won't!" and Harry was reminded of the other, more friendly house elf in his life. Were they all this hysterical, or maybe it was just another case of his infamous luck?

He felt a tingle in the palm of his hand, and he was struck with an urge to punish the elf, make it pay for withholding secrets that were rightfully his! This little cretin dared to get in the way-

Harry took a deep breath and shoved the dark influence aside. "Kreacher, I order you to tell me everything you know about the locket in my hand. You must not hide any secrets, and you must tell me why Regulus told you to protect it. Now."

Kreacher ceased his caterwauling and pushed himself back to his feet, defeated. "Filthy half-blood master dares to force Kreacher-"

"And you will do it politely."

With a final withering glare, Kreacher began his tale, detailing how the Dark Lord had taken him to a distant cave and forced the house elf to drink 'the vilest of viles, the terrible green potion of ice and misery,' and placed the very same locket in Harry's hand into the empty basin. He told Harry of Regulus's sacrifice to retrieve it, how his noble master had duped the mighty dark lord, and of his promise to find a way to destroy the locket. When the house elf had finished, Harry saw the wretched creature, speaking in a forlorn croak with tears in his great, clouded eyes, in a very different light.

"Kreacher… Thank you for telling me this. Regulus was a noble master, and you have done well to honor his wishes."

Kreacher merely shook his head, huge drops of tears splattering on the weathered wood, "I tries and tries to destroy it for ages, that is why Kreacher put it in this room, there is no magic that Kreacher can do that will even scratch this horcrux." He said the name as if he had sucked out snake venom from a wound and was spitting it upon the ground.

Harry froze. "Horcrux? Is that what this thing is called, Kreacher?"

"That is what Master Regulus says. He says, 'destroy this disgusting horcrux, Kreacher, and the Dark Lord will be mortal once more.'"

Elation. Harry could barely contain himself; after all his searching, he had found the answer he was looking for in the most unlikely of places. Kreacher could be the key to this whole puzzle!

"Kreacher, why did you never tell anyone else about this, this horcrux. Don't you think someone else would have helped you?"

Kreacher sneered, "Who would Kreacher tell? Mistress Walburga, lying on her deathbed? The blood-traitor Master Sirius, unfit to breathe the same air of the true Master?" Kreacher looked Harry up and down with half disgust, half appraisal, "Half-blood master, who silenced the Mistress's portrait? Kreacher would have no help. Or so he thought."

The elf raised a good point. Harry's mind raced, he wanted to use this information to find out more, Hermione would surely have a spell to help him, right? And Sirius deserved to know that his brother died doing what was right as well. Kreacher would have to be sworn to secrecy, for no one else could know about the horcrux, he had to protect it, horde it, use it…

Harry glared at the offending locket in his hand and grabbed a stray bit of cloth from a centuries-old robe and wrapped the jewelry within. He could feel the dark influence receding a bit as it was no longer making direct contact with his skin, but the whispers of the Dark Lord's power remained in the peripheries of his thoughts.

Harry sighed and turned back to the withered house elf, still looking at him with a strange look of constipated approval. "Half-blood master… will help Kreacher destroy Master Regulus' locket?"

Harry nodded. "I want the Dark Lord destroyed more than anyone, Kreacher. I promise I will fulfill Regulus' last wish."

Tears filled Kreacher's eyes once more, and he gave Harry a short bow. "Kreacher… would be most grateful, young master."

Harry, overcoming his shock at the turnaround in the house elf's demeanor, decided to tie off a particular loose end. "Kreacher, I will help, but you must swear never to tell another soul about the horcrux, about me finding the locket, or that we had this conversation at all." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "The others cannot be trusted."

Kreacher nodded vigorously, "Kreacher knows it young master, Kreacher will obey."

"Good. Now, Kreacher, if you would do one thing for me?"

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Please clean the third-floor bathroom, it's becoming a safety hazard."

XXX

Harry set a brisk pace as he searched the ancient house for the person he was looking for. He was so close to his goal, and if the missing piece could indeed be found in the Black Library, there was only one person he could think of who would know the necessary spells to help him find it.

He had made the painful decision not to tell Sirius of his brother's fate as it would raise too many questions at the moment. Though it was necessary, it was yet another choice he had made recently that added to the hefty weight in his gut. He was consoled by a promise to himself that he would eventually come clean to everyone, as soon as this nightmare was behind him.

He rounded the corner of a narrow hallway and crashed head first into the other young witch currently living in the house. In a flurry, both were sent onto the ground, and Harry was struck with a tinge of horror as the cloth-covered locket tumbled out of his pocket and onto the dusty hardwood floor.

The witch sat on the floor with a grimace as she rubbed her forehead, and she glared at him, until she realized exactly who had sent her on such a rude tumble. "Err, Harry! Are you alright?" A familiar pink blush was spreading across her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine Ginny. Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going." Harry cast a surreptitious glance at the covered locket by Ginny's feet and hoped to the gods above that she wouldn't notice.

Thankfully, Ginny looked as she would rather disappear on the spot and was not paying attention to such trifles. "No, no, it's not your fault, I, err, didn't see you there either."

Harry brushed himself off and moved to help Ginny up, stealthily kicking the locket behind him. Ginny did not see a thing, seeing as she was preoccupied by the daunting prospect of grasping onto Harry's hand.

Harry pulled her up, and smiled at her, hoping to come off as nonchalantly as possible, "We haven't talked much this summer, how have you been doing?" He glanced down at his hand, which Ginny still clung to. It was rather sweaty.

Ginny followed his gaze and blushed a deeper red and released his hand. "You know, just been, err, cleaning? Percy has been a huge prat, which I'm sure you've heard about, and you know, that's been weird, and Mum has been driven around the bend and I think that's why she's been so crazy about getting everything clean, which we've all been paying the price for, err, obviously," she paused to take a deep breath, "H-how, are you, Harry?"

"Never been better, Ginny. By the way, do you know where Hermione is?" While she was fumbling to answer, he pulled his wand out and used it to levitate the locket behind his back, suppressing a grin when he felt the weight of the locket settle into his back pocket.

"Err, yeah, we were cleaning up one of the spare bedrooms on the second floor and we needed Mum's help with a few spells, so that's what I'm doing now, finding mum, and you know, Hermione should still be there, cleaning, and… err, everything. Yeah."

Jackpot!

"Thanks Ginny, I'll see you around!" With that, Harry left Ginny behind, his destination firm in his thoughts and the awkward interaction already leaving his mind.

A strange thumping sound and Ginny's mumbled groan behind him caught his attention, however, and he peeked his head back around the corner. She stood facing the wall, or to put it more accurately, she was banging her head against it.

"Everything all right there, Gin?" Ron's sister was certainly acting peculiarly, he hoped that her proximity to another horcrux didn't have anything to do with it. He subconsciously stuffed the locket deeper into his pocket.

She froze, but did not physically respond to his presence, "Peachy, Harry. See you later."

Strange. "Alright, then," and he was back to the races. Taking care to listen for the sound of footsteps around the next corner, he made it to the stairs and took them two at a time, startling a couple resting portraits as he landed.

He exchanged quick greetings as he passed Fred and George, who seemed deep in conversation over their next project, and then the doorway he had been searching for was within sight.

"Harry, dear, do you have a moment?"

Harry froze in his tracks and slowly turned around, his senses screaming danger. Molly Weasley stood at the far end of the hall with an absolutely filthy set of drapes in her hands, her sweet tone betrayed by the slightly mad glint in her eyes.

He had to think fast, nothing would distract him from getting to Hermione, and those drapes looked like they would take hours of heavy beatings before they were clean. Inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue, "Mrs. Weasley! Don't come any closer!" He tried to inject as much frantic desperation into his tone as possible.

Molly's face scrunched in obvious concern, "What's wrong, dear? Are you hurt? Don't tell me you were possessed by one of those wretched spirits haunting the fourth-floor study?"

Note to self, avoid the study on the fourth floor.

"Nothing like that, Mrs. Weasley. I was cleaning the third-floor bathroom, and if you get any closer the stench might rub off on you!"

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened and she instinctively dropped the curtains to cover her nose. She spoke through her hands with a muffled voice, "You're a saint, love. I don't know what punishment I'll hold over the boys now, but no matter, you should take the rest of the afternoon off."

Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief, "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Hermione's set up a small cleansing ritual in this room here, but I'm not sure if it will do the job. It may be a good idea to avoid this wing for a few hours."

"Are you sure you don't need any more help dearie? I've cleaned up after six boys for twenty years after all!"

"Thank you, but I think Hermione's got it covered. She's been raring to put this runic array to the test; she made it herself."

The Weasley matron beamed, or at least her eyes did, "That Hermione is quite bright, we're so lucky that little Ronnie brought both of you into the family! I'll leave you to it!" Keeping her nose plugged with one hand, she bent down to gather the drapes with the other, and after she hurried down the other direction, Harry was finally alone.

Storing his redhead friend's embarrassing nickname for later use, Harry at last turned back to the doorway and gave it a soft knock, praying that Hermione would be able to help.

Her voice called out from the other side, "Just a second, Ginny!"

"It's Harry! Can I come in?"

The door was flung open and there stood Hermione, red faced and sweating, strands of her bushy brown hair plastered against her forehead while the rest looked like a colony of mice had made their nest in it. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

"Harry! I thought you were cleaning with Ron, or did he finally drive you mad as well?"

Harry grinned, "I had to call it quits after the third rendition of the Gryffindor fight song. Remind me again how we've stayed friends with the bloke for so long?" He made his way into the room and Hermione shut the door behind them.

Hermione matched his grin, "He may be an insufferable prat sometimes, but he's our insufferable prat. I hope you've come to help with all this." She gestured to the mess around her, and for the first time Harry noticed the state that the room was in. Feathers were strewn about, pillows were gouged with tiny claw marks, and a large wooden desk lay on its side, papers and trinkets sprawled out nearby.

Harry whistled, "Blimey, 'Mione, you didn't give Crookshanks catnip again, did you? I thought you would've learned your lesson after last time."

"Oh, shut up, I've apologized to Parvati a thousand times already!"

"Doesn't bring back her grandmother's saree, does it?" He ignored Hermione's characteristically mature response of a stuck-out tongue, "Right, so what really happened here?"

Hermione grimaced, "Doxies. Dozens of dastardly doxies. They built a nest in the mattress and were quite protective of their home. I got rid of them, but I'm not cleaning another inch of this awful house!"

"Oi, you do know that I am the Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black now," he drawled out the words in his best Malfoy imitation, "That's my house you're talking about!"

She shot Harry a mock-scathing look, "Oh, please forgive me my lord. I swear if you ever sell this place when you're older I will be asking for a fee. I have half a mind to involve my solicitor!"

"Since when do you have legal counsel? A couple weeks studying pureblood law does not a lawyer make."

Hermione adopted her own posh accent and raised her nose in the air, "I will have my father hire somebody for me. The best that money can buy, to reclaim the fruits of my valuable time."

"I thought your parents were dentists, "Mione."

"Well, they're very good dentists. Harry." The two friends fixed each other with faux glares for a few moments, before they both burst with laughter. It had seemed like ages since they could just sit together and talk without some sort of weight coming between them- some dragon to slay, some trial to prepare for, some headmaster causing interference. It was nice.

"How about I just give you all the books in the library and we'll call it even?"

"I can't always be bought over with books, Harry, I do have other interests!"

Harry's only response was a raised eyebrow hovering over a deadpan stare.

Hermione would have blushed if her face weren't already pink with exertion, and she ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, "Fine, you've made your point."

Acting on instinct, Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a refreshing charm over Hermione, the same one he had used on himself countless times in the past few weeks. The sweat disappeared from her face, her clothes rearranged themselves, and her hair was almost contained. She stiffened at first but then shot him a grateful smile, and this time a true blush adorned her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry."

When had Hermione become so… so…? Harry shrugged weakly and spoke softly, "I figure you've repaired my glasses enough; I was bound to return the favor eventually."

For a moment, chocolate brown eyes met emerald-green, and Harry somehow knew that they were both lost in similar memories; Hermione had truly been the best friend he had ever had. Even when they had fought over the Firebolt that Sirius had sent him, she had only ever been trying to look after him. While Ron had turned on him at the beginning of the tournament, it was Hermione who stayed by his side, working tirelessly to make sure he survived the first task.

It was Hermione's arms that crushed him in a warm embrace after she woke up from petrification, her hands that had held his waist as they flew upon Buckbeak to rescue Sirius, her lips that had pressed upon his cheek at the end of last year. And her face that was leaning towards his in this moment, eyes fluttering shut, blush growing redder. He mirrored her movements, heart thumping in his chest, every fiber of his being telling him to inch closer-

No.

Harry wrenched his heart out of the clouds and brought himself back to reality. It wasn't fair. He turned his face to the side and Hermione's lips met his cheek, and he felt her stiffen before she slowly stepped back. Confusion was written upon her face for the merest moment before it was schooled in a mask of a friendly smile, but her eyes told the true story.

He wanted nothing more than to embrace his friend, but he had been mistaken before. An ugly truth did stand in their way; he was tarnished by Voldemort's malice, and though he may be close to figuring out his escape, he wasn't close enough. He knew he couldn't give Hermione the time or focus she deserved while he was weighed down by such a burden and could not risk the pain he would cause if he failed.

Harry cleared his throat, the spell was broken, and he forced himself to choke his words out, "So, err, I came here to ask a favor."

Hermione broke eye contact for an instant, once again pulling her wild curls out of her face, and when she met his gaze once more, she seemed like her usual self save for the air of fragility that shrouded her. When she spoke, it began with the timbre of clinking glass before shifting into her familiar tone of voice.

"Of course, Harry… What is it?"

How could he ask for a favor now of all times? Then again, would it make the situation worse if he didn't act as if everything were normal, even if it seemed as though something had fundamentally shifted between the two of them?

"I, err, came across a term while I was studying and I want to find more information about it, but it's not in any of the books I've looked through. Is there a spell that I could use to help?"

A ghost of a smile graced her lips and Harry's heart pounded once more, "I swear, I don't know how you have made it this far without utilizing Monroe's directory charms."

"I've had you."

The moment the words passed his lips, he knew it was the wrong thing to say, the wrong time. Hermione turned away and busied herself with some of the clutter on the floor. But he knew, the ever-growing pit in his gut told him, that she was hiding from him.

"I suppose… The spell is Quaerere, you should have the topic you're searching for firmly in mind, and any book that covers it will glow blue. It… helps me if I imagine that I'm scanning a table of contents when I cast as well."

That was it. A simple charm was all it would take, but his victory felt hollow. His heart told him he could not simply let things lie as they were between them; it begged him to gather the bushy-haired girl in his arms, to save what he had squandered, to trust her.

But he had already sacrificed so much on his path, he couldn't stop now. He could not be their burden.

"Thanks, Hermione. Do you, err, need any help cleaning up?" It was just an empty gesture, and they both knew it.

"That's okay, Harry. It seems like you've got something important to do, I won't keep you." When he heard her voice crack, his heart gave a final cry, pleading with him to reconsider, but his mind shut it down with finality.

"Alright then, I'll see you later, 'Mione." When he walked out the door, he felt as if he was leaving a piece of his soul behind. But wasn't that his goal in the first place?

XXX

Yet again, Harry was hunched over one of the desks in the Black Library in the wee hours following midnight while the rest of the house slept. This time, however, the thrill of his task carried extra tension, an excitement teetering on the edge of anxiety, the promise of knowledge that would alter his fate one way or the other right around the corner.

Hermione's spell had worked, well, like a charm, and before him sat three books that contained the word 'horcrux.' Two of them he had already perused, and though he could have sworn the topic had been mentioned in passing in both texts, it had been brief and superficial enough in both instances that the word had not captured his attention.

The third book, however, was one that he would have never thought to open as it was a simple, tattered thing, bound in unassuming black leather while the cover was inscribed with a mere monogram- 'DRB.' His previous experience with strange diaries notwithstanding, there was a sparking electricity that tingled down his back as soon as he picked up the book as it sat half-hidden amongst much bolder and more assuming titles.

Harry grasped the diary and took a deep breath to calm his trembling hands; now that the solution to this riddle was lying quite literally in his fingertips, he wondered if he truly wanted to open it. Any hesitation was smothered by the images of Sirius, trying his best to be the mentor he needed, Tonks, drilling him in combat positions and putting her job on the line for a teenage boy she barely knew, Hermione…

This had to be worth it; he had to take this next step, if not for the chance to get the Dark Lord's parasite out of his soul once and for all, then to justify all the choices he had made to lead him here. If he did not have courage in this instance, he would have betrayed them, lied to them all for no reason.

With resolve tempered by shame, Harry opened the first page of the diary and began to read.

This is the testament of Delphinus Robustus Black, Lady of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, sister of the Dark Lord Lacerta Rex Black, and within these pages you will find the true events that led to his demise, and the role that I played in it. Beware, for there is magic within that is not for the weak of mind, the faint of heart, or the impure of blood. Trifle with these spells and rituals, and you will perish. Respect the intent with which this magic was crafted, and you will avoid the mistakes that we made as we allowed my brother to rise to power. Consider yourself warned, my heir, and remember, Toujours Pur.

Alright, another in the bag! I know Ginny is over her crush at this point in canon, but I thought it was a great opportunity to give JK's world a little lighthearted tease. I won't bash Ginny by any means, but she was always a weak character to me and I think it's funny to see Harry just brush her off so casually, not even interested in the slightest. As you can probably tell, there will be a few other witches in this fic that capture his attention a little more thoroughly.

Thank you to x102reddragon for being my wonderful beta and to Foreal the Chronicler for joining me on this journey, and this week I want to send a special shoutout to AlexTheVoice, because I wrote the vast majority of this chapter while racing against him and he gave me the extra boost to get this out fast! Thank you everybody, I'll see you next time!