A quick note about this chapter: it features some large chunks of writing that are directly taken from the actual OotP book. Generally, I like to avoid doing that, but that was just the way things turned out this time, so please bear with me, and I hope it doesn't affect anyone's enjoyment of the chapter too much.
Anyhoo, on with the story!
Monday 7 August, 1995:
As Lena reached the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, Mortimer poked his head out of her jacket pocket, and let out a small, happy squeak. Lena glanced down at him and smiled. She was just as happy – or probably more – to finally be back.
Pulling out her wand, she unlocked the door and went inside as quietly as she could, not wanting to disturb the portrait of Walburga Black. She hoped the curtains she had bought to cover the picture were still working, but it had been over a month since she'd left. That was a lot of time for things to change in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and she had barely heard anything from Remus or anyone else in the Order while she'd been away, as they hadn't wanted to risk their messages being intercepted.
The entrance hallway was lit, but dimly. Lena could just make out the closed black curtains on the wall at the end, and let out a tiny sigh of relief. Careful not to let her suitcase bang on anything, she crept down the hallway, and turned towards the staircase. Just as she was about to begin her ascent, the sound of a door opening brought her attention to the bottom of the steps leading down to the kitchen. Remus, Sirius and Arthur Weasley were quietly talking amongst themselves as they began to climb the stairs. Lena wondered why Arthur was at Headquarters at almost eleven o'clock at night, but she didn't have long to ponder it before Sirius' gaze fell upon her.
"Well, well," he said, grinning, "look what the cat dragged in."
Remus' eyes snapped to her, and Lena's heart fluttered in the most disgustingly lovesick way.
"Evening, fellas," she called down to them, putting her suitcase down.
For a moment longer, Remus simply stared at her as Arthur replied to her greeting. Then he ran up the rest of the steps two-at-a-time and launched himself at Lena – Mortimer managing to leap from her jacket just in time to avoid being crushed. As their lips crashed into each other and his arms tightly enclosed her, he lifted her off the ground. Completely forgetting they had company, Lena wrapped her legs around him and kissed him back fervently.
'Bloody hell,' she thought as their mouths opened to deepen the kiss, 'I want him. Now.' And by the way his hands were rather aggressively roaming her body, she had an inkling that Remus was thinking the same thing.
Just as she was wondering whether she could undo his trousers without relinquishing the grip her thighs had around his hips, Remus pulled his head back from hers, inducing a small noise of protestation from Lena.
Maintaining his firm hold on her, Remus' eyes bored into hers. "A whole fucking month," he whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again."
Lena smiled at him, then closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I would have been back sooner if it was possible, I promise."
"Aw, aren't you two just the most adorable things?"
Lena opened her eyes and turned to look at Sirius, who was leaning against the wall and smirking. "Piss off," she told him.
"No, it's my bloody house," retorted Sirius. "And you might consider disentangling yourselves; I think your making Arthur a tad uncomfortable."
Lena glanced at Arthur, who was standing at the top of the kitchen steps and pointedly looking away from her and Remus, his face flushed with embarrassment. She didn't really want to remove herself from Remus, but she supposed it was probably the polite thing to do.
"To what to do we owe the pleasure of your company tonight, Arthur?" she asked him, letting go of Remus. "There wasn't a meeting earlier, was there?"
Arthur's expression was confused for a moment, then cleared. "Of course, you left before we moved in."
"Moved in?"
"About a week after you left," explained Remus, "Arthur, Molly, Ron, Ginny and the twins came to stay with us. We figured it would be simpler for them, both being members of the Order, if they didn't have to keep travelling between here and the Burrow."
"Oh," said Lena. "That's a fair few houseguests."
"Plus Hermione," added Sirius. "And, since last night, Harry."
Lena suddenly felt very nervous. "Harry's here?"
Instead of immediately responding, the three men all exchanged significant looks, and a wave of worry rolled over Lena.
She turned to Remus and crossed her arms. "What is it?" she demanded.
Remus rubbed the back of his neck. "He's, erm... been acting... a little... strangely."
The Previous Night:
"Mrs Weasley, why–"
"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash," Mrs Weasley whispered distractedly. "There–" they had reached the second landing, "– you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over." And she hurried downstairs, leaving Harry on the dingy landing.
He stared at the door to the room that apparently was his. Its doorknob was shaped like a serpent's head. It was a little disconcerting, but not as much as the house-elf heads mounted on the walls that he had just passed. Once again, he wondered just who exactly owned Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and why the hell he had been brought there.
Reaching out, Harry closed his hand around the doorknob. But before he could turn it, a memory flashed in his mind.
"Serpentsortia."
There was a white light, and a long black snake shot out of his wand. Lena shrunk back as it turned to look at her, opening its mouth and revealing its fangs. But before it began to slither its way over to her, Voldemort ordered for it to stop. It hissed back, asking why, and he told it to come over to him. He held out his hand, and the snake slowly slithered over.
Voldemort glanced at the still frightened Lena. "It's all right," he murmured to her. "It won't hurt you. I won't let it."
Harry released the doorknob and stumbled back a few steps, clutching his forehead as his scar prickled. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out deeply.
It was only a snippet of a much longer memory he had dreamt two weeks ago – Voldemort's recollection of the time he had told Lena about his connection to Salazar Slytherin and his ability to speak to snakes. It was one of twenty-nine memories Harry had seen over the past month – each one showing a time that he and a young Lena had been together.
It always started the same. Harry would be back in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. He would watch, helpless, as Voldemort ordered Peter Pettigrew to 'kill the spare', and see Cedric Diggory's lifeless body hit the ground, his eyes still open. Bound to a tombstone of Voldemort's father, he would witness the resurrection of his parents' murderer. He would remember the exertion of trying to resist the Imperius Curse's attempt to force him to bow to Voldemort. He would hear his own voice cry out 'Expelliarmus' as Voldemort roared 'Avada Kedavra' , and he would meet the gaze of those unflinching red eyes–
And then Harry would be looking through them as if they were his own, and he would see and feel what Voldemort had fourteen, fifteen years ago. He met the small Lena in the kitchen of the Lestrange house, defying her cruel mother; so clever, so curious. He offered her lessons, and saw her control over her magic grow week by week. He felt his affection for the brilliant pupil develop more quickly that he could have imagined, and was enraged when Bellatrix used the Cruciatus Curse upon her. And he remembered their final ever lesson, when Lena had told him she wished he was her father and oh, how he had wanted her to be his child.
Sometimes, when Harry woke up from these dreams, his head hurt so much he could barely move. Other days he was filled with a restless energy, as if he could feel the magic in his blood coursing through his body. He would twirl his wand in his hands, desperate to use it and only barely resisting the urge. It had almost been a relief when the Dementors had shown up in Little Whinging and he'd finally had an excuse to cast a spell – even if the Ministry doubted the validity of his reason.
Harry couldn't suppress a grimace at the thought of the Ministry, and particularly Cornelius Fudge himself. He had no doubt that the wilfully blind politician had a hand in what the Daily Prophet was writing about him.
Just as Harry was reaching out for the doorknob again, the door was suddenly opened from the inside, revealing a young, bushy-haired witch, who stared at Harry for a second, before flinging her arms around him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat.
His vision obscured by her hair, Harry heard a loud twittering from within the room as Hermione shrieked, "HARRY! Ron, he's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? We've been so worried! We've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us – the Dementors! When we heard – and that Ministry hearing – it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations–"
"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron, grinning. His owl, Pigwidgeon, was zooming around the room excitedly. "And maybe let him inside the room before you start giving him legal advice."
Still beaming, Hermione let go of Harry and stepped back, allowing him to cross the threshold. There was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry's shoulder.
"Hello again," murmured Harry to Hedwig. They had let her out of her cage before leaving 4 Privet Drive to fly here on her own. Evidently, without Moody's diversionary tactics, she had arrived much sooner than they had.
"I'm surprised we haven't seen more of her here," commented Ron, closing the bedroom door. "You've been a bit quiet this summer."
Harry didn't respond immediately as he stroked Hedwig's head. It was true – he hadn't been particularly communicative this past month. When he'd initially been going to write to Lena but had decided against doing so, it had occurred to him that any sensitive information about Voldemort and the war probably shouldn't be passed through letters. So that only left him with writing about his own well-being, and that wasn't something he really wanted to discuss with Ron and Hermione. He didn't expect they would really be any help when it came to the matter of not only reliving the night of the Third Task whenever he slept, but also Voldemort's memories of his time spent with little Lena.
In fact, Harry couldn't bring himself to write to anyone about the dreams. Not Sirius, not Remus, not even Dumbledore – and certainly not Lena. Countless times, he had tried to put pen to paper to explain to one of them what was happening, but he could never find the right words. He had thought it might be easier to say it in person, but when he had seen Remus tonight, words had yet again failed him.
"Well, until the Dementors showed up," he finally replied, "there wasn't really much to write about. I'm sure you two have had a much more interesting summer in this..." he waved his hand around, "... house. You might even be able to tell me exactly what this place is."
"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," said Ron at once.
Harry nearly pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He shrugged his shoulder, indicating for Hedwig to find somewhere else to perch. She took off with a hoot, and resumed her position on top of the wardrobe. "And is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix–"
"It's a secret society," said Hermione quickly. "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."
"Who's in it?" asked Harry, moving over to one of the two single beds in the room – the one that Ron hadn't already claimed. "Apart from Remus, Moody, the others who came to get me, and your parents."
"We've met about twenty of them," said Ron, "but we think there are more. Bill's in it – he came back from Egypt to join. Charlie's a member too, but he's staying in Romania."
"Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards involved as possible," added Hermione, "so the Order can stay informed if the Death Eaters are acting abroad."
Sitting on the bed, Harry mused whether that was what Lena was doing overseas. It seemed likely; Remus hadn't acted strangely at all when he'd mentioned Lena to him, so presumably she was working with the Order, rather than doing something on her own.
'Well, that's somewhat reassuring,' Harry admitted to himself. Aloud, he inquired, "How about Percy? Is he involved too?" Considering he worked at the Department of International Magical Co-operation, surely establishing foreign contacts would be right up his alley.
Ron and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Harry in a tense voice.
"Why not?"
"Because–"
Ron was interrupted by two loud cracks as Fred and George materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room, right behind where Hermione was standing, which caused the girl to let out a loud yelp and flinch violently. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe.
"Stop doing that!" said Hermione weakly.
"Hello, Harry," said George, beaming at him. "We were wondering why Hermione was shouting before–"
"–And only just realised it must have been because you'd finally arrived," finished Fred. "Welcome, by the way."
"Thanks. You two passed your Apparition tests, then?"
"With distinction," replied Fred. Harry noticed he was holding what looked like a piece of very long, flesh-coloured string.
"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Ron.
"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. Following Harry's gaze, he held up the string in his hand, and said, "Extendable Ears. We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."
"Invention of yours?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.
"One of our finest yet," confirmed George, looking at the item in question like a proud parent.
"You want to be careful," said Ron, staring at the Ear, "if Mum sees one of them again..."
"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," said Fred.
"So they really don't want you guys to know what they're discussing," remarked Harry. He had to admit it was slightly relieving to know that he wasn't significantly more out-of-the-loop than they were, just because he hadn't spent the last month at Headquarters. "What do you do all day if you're living here, but not allowed to be involved at all with the Order?"
Ron scowled. "Cleaning."
"More like decontaminating," said Hermione. "The house has been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomorrow. It's probably going to be the worst one yet, because Remus said that he and Lena barely touched it when–"
"Lena has been here, then?" Harry blurted out without thinking. "Have you seen her?"
Hermione, Ron and the twins looked at him oddly. It took a second for Harry to realise why – it was probably the most emotion he'd displayed since he'd arrived.
"No, we haven't seen her," answered Ron eventually. "She left on business for the Order before we came to stay."
"And Remus didn't go with her," said Harry, more to himself than the others.
"I don't think it was his choice," said Hermione. "He misses her terribly."
"Half the time we see him he's staring off into space looking like someone kicked his Kneazle, and the rest of the time he's in a bad mood," said Ron.
"Pent-up sexual frustration," said Fred knowingly, sitting on Ron's bed. "He's got it bad."
"Fred!" hissed Hermione, looking horrified. "You can't say things like that, he was our teacher!"
"He was Lena's teacher too," George pointed out, sitting next to his twin, "and now she's his girlfriend." He shook his head, almost admiringly. "Shagging a student – I've got to say, I would have expected it from Lockhart, but from Lupin?"
"Ah, you see, it's the quiet ones you've got to watch out for," said Fred, grinning. "They're usually the ones with the freakiest kinks."
Harry, uncomfortable with the topic of Remus and Lena's romantic escapades – he'd already seen more than enough when he'd walked in on the two of them in Remus' office the day he'd resigned –tried to steer the conversation back to before Fred and George's entrance. "Anyway, Ron, why am I not allowed to mention Perc–"
But before he could finish saying the other Weasley brother's name, they were interrupted again by the bedroom door opening, and Ginny walking in.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she said brightly. "I didn't know you'd arrived." Turning to Fred and George, she said, "It's no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."
"How'd you know?" said George, looking crestfallen.
Lying back on the bed, Harry started to drift out of the conversation. He'd spent so much of this summer on his own, that it was almost overwhelming to be in a room with five other people. He would have thought that the social interaction would prove a welcome distraction from being stuck inside his own head, but instead it was surprisingly exhausting. He was just about to close his eyes, when George mentioned a name he hadn't been expecting.
"... what old Snape's been up to."
"Snape!" said Harry quickly, jolting upright. "Is he here?"
"Yeah," said George, as Ginny sat on the foot of Harry's bed. "Giving a report. Top secret."
"Git," said Fred, idly.
"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly.
Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him from being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us."
"Bill doesn't like him, either," said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.
For the third time, Harry attempted to find out what had happened with their other brother. "So, what's the deal with Percy?"
This time, meaningful looks were exchanged between all four siblings and Hermione. However, there were no interruptions, so Harry finally learned what had gone on between Percy and the rest of the family. He was a little shocked: he had never liked Percy as much as the others, but he'd never imagined he would say such things to Mr Weasley.
"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," he said slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof. Unless–" It hit him. "He's taking the Daily Prophet seriously, isn't he?"
They all nodded.
Harry sighed, and flopped back. Staring up at the ceiling, he muttered, "Well, isn't that great?"
Nobody else said anything. After ten seconds or so of an increasingly awkward silence, Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the others. They appeared to be trying to have a silent conversation among themselves.
"What?" said Harry tiredly.
They all shifted their gazes back to him, and Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, Harry, it's just we expected – having been so, erm, removed from it all this past month – that you might, erm, be a little more curious about... well, everything."
"Yeah," agreed Ron. "When Dumbledore made us promise not to tell you where we were or anything else to do with the Order, we thought you'd be really frustrated about how vague we were being in our letters."
Harry stared at them. "You think I was expecting you to put sensitive information in them?"
"Well, no," began Hermione, "but even so–"
"You weren't supposed to know."
Once again, the Weasleys and Hermione all looked around at each other, but this time, they were the ones who were confused.
"Know what?" asked Ginny, frowning.
Harry sighed, and rolled onto his side. "That Voldemort had returned," he explained, ignoring their flinches when he said the name. "There weren't supposed to be any witnesses, except for his Death Eaters. The first thing he said when he saw Cedric was, 'Kill the Spare'. He didn't want to risk anyone getting back to Dumbledore and alerting him that he was back. He wanted the advantage of surprise. If he had wanted people to know, he would have killed me in a public arena, as a demonstration of power. But the whole thing was supposed to be a secret. Instead, I got away and told Dumbledore. But because Fudge is an idiot, Voldemort's plan didn't totally backfire. Even though the person he fears most knows the truth, the government and media are convincing everyone that Dumbledore and myself are nuts, which is great for Voldemort. He still gets to go mostly unnoticed, and his greatest enemy is being positioned as the real threat to magical society. So, anything the Order does has to be incredibly covert, because they're in this fight alone." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's why I haven't been demanding answers from you – I already know you don't have them."
"Huh," said George, after a moment. "You have actually thought about this properly, haven't you?"
"I haven't exactly had much else to do but think," said Harry simply. He noticed that Hermione was watching him with an expression that was equal parts wary and impressed. "What is it?" he asked her.
She bit her lip, before quietly saying, "Nothing. You just sounded a lot like Lena."
Harry pursed him lips and shifted onto his back again, not trusting himself to speak. Of course he sounded a lot like Lena – he had been listening to her learn from Voldemort every night for the last four weeks. It was how he'd figured out why Voldemort hadn't made his grand re-entrance into the Wizarding world after his fourteen year long absence: he had spent so much time in Voldemort's mind, that trying to see things from his perspective was almost second nature.
It wasn't long before Mrs Weasley came to the door, telling them the meeting was over and it was time for dinner. As they went out onto the landing, they could see the Order's members – including Snape, to Harry's distaste – departing. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Weasley began to whisper directions to the kitchen to Harry when there was a loud crash as Tonks tripped over the umbrella stand. Her apologies were cut short as the velvet curtains Harry had passed earlier flew apart, and the portrait of an old woman in a black cap began screaming. Her noise, in turn, woke up all the other portraits along the hallway, who also began to shriek, making such a racket that Harry had to cover his ears.
Mrs Weasley and Remus were attempting to shut the curtains, but it was to no avail, as the old woman continued to screech insults. Giving up her efforts with the curtains, Mrs Weasley pulled out her wand and hurried up and down the hallway Stunning all the other portraits. At the same time, a man with long black hair came charging up the staircase that presumably led down to the kitchen.
It was Sirius. After shouting at the portrait – which howled back at him – he and Remus managed to force the curtains closed again. The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.
Panting slightly and sweeping his hair out of his eyes, Sirius turned to face Harry. "Hello, Harry," he said grimly. "I see you've met my mother."
"Your–"
"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Lena bought these curtains, which helped for a bit, but it seems like the painting is somehow draining the magic in them, so we might need to find another solution. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."
At last, Harry learned what 12 Grimmauld Place was: the family home of the Blacks. Harry had known that Sirius was related to Dark Wizarding families because he was Lena's cousin, but he hadn't realised the Black family itself was so, well... Dark.
In the kitchen, Harry became reacquainted with Mr Weasley and Bill, and was introduced to Mundungus Fletcher – the wizard who was supposed to have been watching him on the night of the Dementor attack. When Mrs Weasley had finished preparing the food, Fred and George attempted to use magic to bring it over to the table, which led to Sirius being almost stabbed in the hand by a breadknife.
Throughout dinner, Harry kept glancing at Remus. He appeared to be engaged in his conversation with Mr Weasley and Bill about goblins, but every now and then, his eyes glazed over and his expression became morose.
'I wonder why Dumbledore didn't send him on the same mission as Lena,' thought Harry. He knew Remus had spent a great deal of time with Lena over on the continent during the past year, working with her on various jobs of questionable legality.
After they had finished eating, Harry debated whether to ask Remus if he knew when Lena would return. However, before he could make a decision, Mrs Weasley yawned and said, "Nearly time for bed, I think."
"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."
The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Remus, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary. Harry, for his part, stared down at the table.
He wasn't sure how to respond to Sirius. Yes, he wanted to know everything the Order knew of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. On the other hand, he was worried that if they started discussing it in depth right now, it might flood his mind with Voldemort's memories, and cause him to pass out or have some sort of breakdown in front of them all. And really, after the last couple of hours of talking and just being around other people, all Harry wanted at the moment was to be alone.
At last, he looked up. "Maybe tomorrow," he said to Sirius politely. "But I'm actually quite tired, after... well, everything, so if it's all right with you–" he stood up, "–I would like to go to bed now."
Everyone was staring at him with shocked faces. Remus looked concerned, and Sirius was clearly bewildered.
Mrs Weasley was the first to recover. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea," she said, standing up and smiling warmly at Harry.
Sirius looked like he wanted to protest, so Harry quickly left the kitchen before he could get a word out, and speedily ascended the stairs. He hoped that Ron would take a little longer so he would have some time to himself in their bedroom. He just needed at least five minutes of solitude.
"But he hasn't asked a single question today," finished Sirius. "I think he's barely spoken to anyone."
"I asked Ron and Hermione," added Remus, "and they said he's been acting distantly ever since he arrived."
Lena, who had crossed her arms during their story, tapped her fingers against her upper-arms. It all sounded extremely out-of-character, and it concerned her.
'If he isn't interested in gathering all the information on Voldemort that he can from the Order, that must mean he knows something else,' she realised. 'And he doesn't want to tell anyone about it.'
She unfolded her arms. "I need to talk him," she announced, masking her nerves.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You think he's going to be any more responsive to you?"
Lena thought about the fact that she hadn't made any effort to contact him since Voldemort's return. "Oh, I'm sure I'll get a response. Which room is he in?"
She Banished her suitcase to their bedroom, then made her way up to the second landing and turned to the door on the right. Taking a deep breath in, she knocked upon it. For a few seconds, there was no response. Then the doorknob turned, and the door was pulled back a few inches, and Lena found herself looking directly into a pair of emerald eyes.
The door jerked open the full way.
"Lena?" said Harry, looking almost dumbfounded.
"Hi," she replied, a little too uncertainly for her liking.
Harry's hand twitched slightly, as if he was going to reach out to poke her, to check that she was real.
Lena cleared her throat. "Erm, I don't suppose you'd like me to hug you?"
Harry appeared to consider for a moment. "No," he said finally, "I don't think we're there yet."
"Fair enough," said Lena, nodding . "Can I at least come in? Or do I need to make an appointment?"
He gave her a wry look. "What, to fit you into my incredibly busy schedule?"
"No, but according to Remus and Sirius, it's been nigh impossible to get a word out of you since you arrived, so I was wondering whether there was now some sort of application process required for having a chat."
There was a brief silence. Then Harry said mildly, "You didn't write. At all."
Lena shrugged. "You never told me that you'd had a vision of Voldemort and Pettigrew last summer. So I think we've both got reason to be pissed off with each other."
Harry blinked, then snorted. He stepped back and gestured for her to come through. As Lena entered, she noted that he must have been sharing the bedroom with Ron, but the other boy was not there at the moment. Presumably he was with his siblings or Hermione.
As she sat down on the bed that she thought was Harry's, he shut the door and turned around to face her.
"So, was not contacting me your way of showing you were pissed, or was it a safety precaution?" he asked, leaning against the door.
"Mostly the latter," said Lena. "Although there was a part of me that wondered even if I did take the risk, would you actually want to hear from me?"
Harry tilted his head to the side. "Why did you think I wouldn't?"
Crossing one leg over the other, Lena calmly replied, "Because you had just watched Voldemort kill an innocent boy, and barely escaped with your own life. And you know the way I feel about him."
A muscle twitched in Harry's face, and he closed his eyes. The tension in his body was clearly visible.
"You would sit together, cross-legged, on the floor in the centre of your bedroom..."
Lena stood up so quickly it almost made her dizzy. "How do you know that?"
His head in his hands, Harry slid down against the door until he was sitting. "Every night," he was muttering. "Every single bloody night..."
She crossed back over and knelt down in front of him, slowly figuring out what was going on. "Harry," she whispered, gently touching his shoulder, "have you been seeing Voldemort's memories?"
A noise escaped Harry that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Seen them?" He finally looked up at her. "Lena, I've been living them! Every single night for the past month, when I fall asleep. I'm back at the graveyard, then I look into his eyes, and the next thing I know, I'm seeing through them." He let out a long, shaky breath. "Seeing you. Because he won't think of anything else."
Shock caused Lena to fall back on her backside. Trying to get her head around what Harry was saying, she asked, "When did this start happening, Harry? You said a month?"
"It started the night I got back to 4 Privet Drive," said Harry, sounding miserable.
The night of the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. When Snape, upon Dumbledore's instruction, had reported to Voldemort that Lena was part of the Order.
"There was a Death Eater meeting," continued Harry, "and he heard your mother punishing you for something, and went to find you. The two of you sat on the stairs as he explained why he didn't want you to kill Bellatrix, and then he invited you–"
"To come to the meeting," whispered Lena, her fists curling. She remembered it well. "What else have you seen?"
"The first time you met, your first proper lesson, when you first Conjured a flame in your hand, him teaching you about Legilimency and Occlumency, punishing Bellatrix for using the Cruciatus Curse on you, your last ever lesson..."
"Fuck," muttered Lena, screwing her eyes shut. She was scared she was either going to cry, break something, or throw up.
"And I told you," she heard Harry add, "I'm not just seeing it from his perspective – I'm feeling it too. Every thought, every emotion. And Lena, he–"
"No," cried Lena, shaking her head wildly, but refusing to open her eyes. "No, don't say it!"
"He loved you."
Lena's right hand acted on its own accord, smashing into the floor like it was trying to punch it. There was a sickening splintering sound as some of the bones cracked. Lena's shriek of pain caught in her throat, and for a moment she choked on it.
Her outburst, however, appeared to have brought Harry back into the present. He stared at her, a mixture of frightened and appalled.
"Lena!" He got onto to his knees, moving closer to her as she cradled her hand. "Bloody hell, what were you thinking? You've broken it!" He started to rise. "I'll get Remus–"
"No," hissed Lena, tugging him back down. "I'll deal with it myself." With considerable difficulty, she pulled her wand out of her sleeve. Holding it in her left, she lightly dragged the tip across her broken hand, muttering healing incantations. She could sense that Harry was watching her closely.
"Why did you react like that?" asked Harry slowly. "When you first told me about your relationship with Voldemort, you said yourself that he cared for you."
"Cared, yes," muttered Lena, wincing as the small bones started to knit themselves back together. "Loved..." she glanced up at him, "well, I never dared to hope such a thing."
Harry pursed his lips. After a pause, he said, "After everything that happened with Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore told me if there was one thing that Voldemort couldn't understand, it was love. But now–"
"Harry," interrupted Lena, "whatever Voldemort felt or still feels for me, it isn't comparable to your mother's sacrifice for you. That was the act of a woman who truly understood love – something entirely unselfish, a protection. I sincerely doubt that even if Voldemort does–" she hesitated before saying the next word, "–love me, that he could comprehend the idea of putting someone's life ahead of his own."
An expression of relief spread across Harry's face. "Oh."
A realisation dawned upon Lena. "That's part of what's been troubling you, isn't it?" she said softly. "You thought his inability to understand love was his greatest weakness, and you were starting to worry that wasn't the case."
"I was confused," admitted Harry. "Dumbledore sounded so adamant when he told me that Voldemort was incapable of love, but after spending so much time in his memories..." He shrugged. "I wasn't sure what to believe."
The last bone mended itself, and Lena flexed the muscles in her hand. It made her grimace; they had healed, but the magic she had used was still buzzing, causing quite an unpleasant sensation. Doing her best to ignore it, she sheathed her wand back in her sleeve and took a deep breath. It was time to give Harry at least part of an answer as to why he was having these dreams.
"The morning after Voldemort returned, I woke up to a message from him," she told Harry, looking him directly in the eye.
Harry's posture stiffened. "What sort of message?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.
"A very personal one," said Lena with a grim smile. "You see, he had gone to the Lestrange Estate, but I wasn't there. Instead, he found the Blood Magic I had used for the Protective Enchantment, and he manipulated it. Using the blood inside my body as his ink, he wrote his words into my arm."
Harry blanched. "That's... sick."
"It was certainly something of a violation," agreed Lena drily. "He was at least courteous enough to make it only temporary. It had completely faded away after twenty-four hours. In any case, I believe my lack of response might be the major contributing factor to his fixation on me this last month, which has been bleeding through into your dreams."
"I did wonder if it was because he had reached out, and you had rejected him," said Harry quietly.
"Clever you."
"Clever enough to learn Occlumency?"
Lena arched an eyebrow. That was unexpected.
"Are you asking me to teach you?" she said curiously.
Harry nodded. "I thought it might be the way to prevent the dreams." His shoulders slumped, and he sounded exhausted as he added, "And I really need them to stop, because they are seriously messing with my head."
Lena's fingers found a loose lock of her hair, and began to twirl it as she considered Harry's request. Dumbledore had told her to keep her distance from Harry – which she was currently disobeying big-time – until they were sure that Voldemort wouldn't exploit the connection to gain access to either of them. But from what Harry had said, it sounded like Voldemort was completely ignorant that he was transmitting his memories directly into the boy's mind. Perhaps now would be the best time to attempt to train Harry's mind from blocking any invasion by Voldemort, before he became more aware that such a connection existed.
"I could try to teach you – bearing in mind that I've never actually taught someone Occlumency before," she warned him. "In any case, it wouldn't be a solution in the short-term. It could be months before you're skilled enough to stop the memories coming in your sleep."
An aggravated noise escaped Harry. "So, what, I have to keep getting stuck in Voldemort's mind every night for the foreseeable future?"
Lena patted him on the knee comfortingly. "Don't worry, I'm sure I can think of more immediate methods," she said. An idea popped into her head. "In fact, I have a way we can stop the dreams tonight – but it's a one-time thing."
"What is it?" asked Harry immediately.
"Erm, it's sort of like... a sleeping pill."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Like a Dreamless Sleep potion? Would that work?"
Lena shook her head. "No, they only affect your subconscious, and that's not the source of what you're seeing. You need something that would basically shut down all your brain functions except the vital ones."
"That sounds dangerous," said Harry nervously.
"With the incorrect dosage, it is," replied Lena honestly. "But I know what I'm doing, and I'll give you the correct amount so that your body can get the sleep it needs, but will wake itself up on its own accord. You just can't have it again anytime soon, because it would start to have, erm, adverse effects on your cognitive functions."
"And you just happen to have this potion on hand?"
"It's not so much a potion," explained Lena delicately, "but more of a... substance."
Harry's eyes widened. "Are you going to drug me?"
After a momentary hesitation, Lena said, "Essentially, yes."
"Why do you even have–"
"For work."
Harry continued stare at her for a few more seconds, then looked away, muttering, "Creep."
Lena rolled her eyes. "Do you want it or not?"
Following a short internal debate, Harry nodded. "Yeah, all right. Thanks."
"Okay," said Lena, standing up. "I'll just go get it from my bag. If there's anything you need to do before you go to bed, do it now, because this works pretty much instantaneously, and it'll knock you out for a full twelve hours."
Just as she was about open the door, Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, Lena."
She turned around. "What?"
To her surprise, Harry hesitantly lifted his arms, and Lena realised he wanted to hug her. She smiled, and pulled him closer, hugging him firmly. Harry returned the embrace with equal warmth.
After ten seconds, Lena released him. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, opening the door and exiting the room. She crossed the landing and entered the bedroom she shared with Remus, who had just finished changing for bed.
"Did you find out what's wrong?" he asked Lena as she opened her suitcase.
"Yeah," muttered Lena distractedly, searching for the vial she needed.
"What are you looking for?"
"Something to help Harry– ah, found it!" She picked up the vial and inspected it.
Remus squinted at it. "Is that–"
"Yes."
"Why–"
"It's the only thing that's going to help him sleep tonight," said Lena simply. She looked at Remus. "I'll explain later, I've got to give this to Harry, and then I need to go see Dumbledore–"
"Dumbledore?" interjected Remus. "You have to see him now?" He was beginning to look frustrated. "Can't it wait until tomorrow morning?" He took a step closer to Lena, reaching his hands out towards her. "I literally only just got you back."
Lena sighed. "I know," she said, gently pushing his hands away, "I'm sorry. But it's important I speak to him as soon as possible."
Remus folded his arms. "Because of what's going on with Harry?"
"Exactly," she answered, turning around to leave.
"And you can't tell me what it is."
Lena paused. "Not really, no," she said quietly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Remus rubbing his face tiredly.
"Shall I wait up for you?" he asked at last.
"I might be a while."
Remus sat down on their bed. "All right," he said, although the tone of his voice implied it wasn't really.
Lena started to leave, but paused again in the doorway, looking back at Remus, who was staring down at the floor with a forlorn expression. A pang shot through Lena's heart.
"I love you, Remus," she said softly.
He looked up at her. "I love you too," he replied with a pained smile.
For a split-second, Lena considered running back over to kiss him before she left 12 Grimmauld Place again. But she was worried that a single kiss might lead to much more than that, and she really needed to give Harry the contents of the vial and then see Dumbledore. So instead, she turned around and left.
"You would be teaching him your method of Occlumency?"
Lena nodded. "I think it would be more effective than the, ah, simpler version."
Dumbledore didn't respond right away, continuing to stare into the fireplace. They had met in a private room upstairs in the Hog's Head. The Headmaster was sat in an armchair, his hands steepled in front of him. Lena had perched herself on the arm of another chair, and was watching Dumbledore intently.
The old wizard had been surprised to learn of Harry's dreams, and especially that the boy had not attempt to tell anyone of them before Lena. She wondered if he suspected it was partly because of the influence she'd had on him over the past few years – that Harry was starting to internalise things more, rather than immediately ask for help.
"Are you sure it is wise," said Dumbledore eventually, "for you to be the one who teaches him?"
"Because Voldemort was the one who taught me, you mean," said Lena levelly. "You think that would make Harry more vulnerable to him."
He looked at her. "It is a possibility we should consider."
Lena disagreed. "I don't think it's a concern. Even though Voldemort taught me, I could still successfully keep him out. Anyway, who else would you have teach him?"
There was a pause, before Dumbledore said, "Severus is an exceptionally skilled Occlumens."
"Absolutely not," said Lena, a little more aggressively than she'd intended. "Teaching Occlumency is incredibly invasive for the pupil. If Harry's going to learn, he needs it to be someone he completely trusts. And sure, we know where Severus' true allegiance lies, but Harry will always be suspicious of him, so it would be totally counterproductive for Severus to be his teacher."
Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose so." He stood up. "Well, Lena, you have my blessing to teach Harry Occlumency–"
"Thank you."
"–but do you have any idea of how to block the dreams in the meantime?"
"I've come across a few things in my readings," said Lena. "I've never actually put them into practice before, but I think I'll be able to do them."
Dumbledore nodded. "Keep me updated." He gazed at her, his eyes piercing. "How are you feeling, now that you know Voldemort had such a... strong reaction to your joining the Order?"
Lena chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'm not exactly sure," she answered truthfully. "Surprised, I guess. A little queasy. Perhaps even... flattered." She cocked her head. "Is that terrible of me?"
"I think the fact that you are asking me," replied Dumbledore quietly, but the intensity of his gaze not lessening, "is all the answer you need."
Remus wasn't exactly sure what it was that woke him, but the first thing he noticed was that the bedroom was not in total darkness. Something in the corner was emitting a soft light. Propping himself up on his elbows, he squinted in the direction of the glow. The source was a ball of blue fire, that was hovering in the air just above the armchair in which Lena was sitting, her legs dangling over the arm. She had shed her jacket and boots, and she had stuck her wand through the middle of her messy bun, completely absorbed by the book she was reading.
The whole picture was incredibly arousing for Remus, especially considering how long it had been since they'd had sex. The strain on the crotch of his pyjama pants was almost instantaneous.
Sitting up, he asked, "When did you get back?"
Lena started slightly at the sound of his voice. Evidently, she hadn't realised he was awake. "About an hour ago. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"
Remus shook his head. "Why didn't you come straight to bed? Aren't you tired?"
Lena's eyes drifted back to her book. "I just had to read up on something," she explained absentmindedly. "For Harry."
Remus glared at her. This was getting ridiculous. "Please come to bed."
She waved a careless hand. "I will," she murmured. "I just need to–"
"Now, Lena."
She look up at him, once again surprised. She blinked, then quirked an eyebrow. "Persuade me."
Throwing off the bedcovers, Remus got up and promptly pulled down his pyjama pants, leaving himself completely naked.
"Yep," said Lena, closing her book and dropping it on the floor, "that'll do it." She stood up and pulled her singlet off as she walked over to him.
As soon as she was in reach, Remus drew her close to him and kissed her fiercely. He heard her hands undoing her jeans, and his own quickly joined them to help pull off the offending garment. Once they were at her ankles, he lifted her up – leaving the jeans on the floor – and tossed her onto the bed.
He had no intention of letting her leave it anytime soon.
So, it occurred to me that with the amount of time Lena has spent with Harry over their last couple of years, advising and teaching him things, that by this point, the To Be Human Harry would start to diverge from Canon-Harry, both in terms of characterisation and narrative (also, Voldemort's relationship with Lena was bound to have an impact on Harry too). Don't worry: this story isn't going to become totally AU. However, a different path might occasionally be taken to get to a certain place in the original story. Bearing that it mind, what did you guys think of this chapter? Any highlights? Criticisms? Theories or questions?
Some responses to reviews:
MiaParrish: Thank you muchly for all your kind words :) In regards to how long I spend writing a chapter: it really varies. It usually depends on two things: how busy I am with work, and how engaged I'm feeling with the story (and although it's probably not a good thing, the reviews I get for the previous chapter can really affect that). Sometimes, if I have nothing else on and I'm feeling focused, I can write at least half a chapter in one day. Other times, I struggle to get 500 words written across a week. And generally, after I finish writing a chapter, I wait a day or two, then read through it again - and at that stage, I might change things significantly, reworking sections, cutting out and adding large chunks. When I'm happy with that version, I wait another day or two, then do a final edit for typos, grammatical errors and plot inconsistencies, and then I upload. And even then I'm basically never 100% happy with the chapter, but if I don't give myself deadlines, then I would never publish anything. Hopefully that answers your question :)
Einklley: I'm going to be upfront about this: Lena's probably not going to have a huge amount of interaction with Bill and Charlie, which kind of breaks my heart because I love them, and I'm sure scenes between them would be so much fun. But I really need to start being stricter with myself regarding what I do include in this story, because it's already so bloody long, and there's a lot more to go.
To the Guest who said they're rereading this story from the beginning, and didn't want to be annoying by posting a review on every chapter: I can wholeheartedly tell you that I would not find it annoying in the slightest. Quite the opposite. Reading this story once is already amazing, but twice is unbelievably kind. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint :)
And an enormous thank you to all the other reviewers who said lovely and interesting things, I appreciate it so much :)