A massive thank you to all readers, followers, and reviewers, I appreciate the investment of your time so much. Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Tuesday 8 August, 1995:

"Mm, that's starting to smell good."

Remus glanced at Lena, and flashed her a smile. "You reckon?"

"Mm-hmm." She slipped her arms around his middle, and eyed the pancake batter in the pan. "Merlin, I've missed your cooking."

Flipping the finished pancake out of the pan and onto the plate next to the stove, Remus wrapped his free arm around Lena's waist. His fingers gently stroked the bare skin exposed by the bottom of her black T-shirt having been tied to the side in a knot. As he poured the mixture for the next pancake into the pan, Lena rested her forehead on his shoulder.

It was just after eleven o'clock in the morning, and nearly all the other occupants of 12 Grimmauld Place had been up for several hours, so Lena and Remus had the kitchen to themselves while the others continued with the decontamination of the drawing room. Nobody had attempted to get them up any earlier, which Lena appreciated, as they'd only gotten around to sleeping after the sun had risen.

As Remus allowed the mixture to cook, he said softly to Lena, "I'm just glad you got back before the full moon tomorrow night. Without you there during the last one..." He trailed off.

Lena frowned, her gaze shifting to Remus' right forearm, upon which was a long, thin scar that hadn't been there before her departure. She'd only noticed it when they'd woken up that morning.

Reaching out and lightly tracing the wound with a finger, she said, "Well, nothing's going to stop me from being there for you this time. Speaking of which, have you found a safe location for the transformation?"

Although Remus and Sirius had managed to mostly repair the house's cellar he'd used for the last full moon – the damage Moony had inflicted had been quite extensive – it had been decided he wouldn't be changing there tomorrow night. Molly Weasley could tolerate a surprising amount of things, but a werewolf transforming in the same building that her youngest children were sleeping was just a step too far.

"Dumbledore's still trying to decide which of the Order's safe-houses is the most suitable," explained Remus, "but I should know by tomorrow morning."

Lena nodded absentmindedly as she studied his face. He had shaved off his moustache while she was away, but his stubble was quite prominent, even hiding a couple of smaller scars on his jaw. Even with those ones masked, there were still another seven scars on his face that were clearly visible: three large ones across his left cheek, two smaller ones above his right eyebrow and under his right eye, a jagged one that extended from his right nostril to just below the corner of his lip, and a little, diagonal one in the centre of his chin.

She adored all of them.

Remus finished making another pancake, and started on the third.

"When were you planning to catch up with Maggie?" he asked her.

"Hopefully sometime this weekend," replied Lena. "Which reminds me, I need to Owl her about that." She cocked her head. "Did you want to come, or will you be doing work for the Order?"

"I have guard duty on Sunday night, but other than that, I'm free," said Remus. "And Puddlemere United is playing that night, so I expect Maggie will be watching the game then anyway."

"Oh, has the season started?"

"The first games are this weekend. Puddlemere's playing the Catapults." He flipped the pancake. "Two of their Chasers were in the top ten highest point scorers of the last season, so I imagine it'll be a challenging match for Oliver."

Lena chuckled. "You know, I still can't get over the fact that of all the people I knew at Hogwarts, Maggie was the one who ended up dating a professional Quidditch player. She was still calling the seeker of a team the 'snitcher' up until our Seventh Year."

Remus grinned. "Love's funny like that. I mean, look at us."

"What do you mean?"

He put the third pancake on the plate. "Well, imagine if we'd been students at the same time." As he poured mixture into the pan for a fourth time, he glanced at Lena out of the corner of his eye. "Do you really think you would have given me a second look?"

"Do you really think I wouldn't have been intrigued by a werewolf classmate?" retorted Lena. "And just hold on a second – in this hypothetical scenario, are you suggesting that you would be the one pining after the unattainable girl? Because if so, may I remind you that you were part of the popular group, whilst I was the creepy kid who, for the most part, everyone else avoided."

Remus snorted. "You weren't the 'creepy kid', you were the mysterious girl who was both dangerous and sexy."

"No, she was definitely the creepy kid."

Lena and Remus both turned to look at the doorway, where Harry stood. He had removed his glasses and was groggily rubbing his eyes.

Letting go of him, Lena poked her tongue out at Remus. "Told you." She looked back at Harry. "How'd you sleep?" she asked casually.

Putting his glasses back on, Harry replied, "Much better." He gave Lena a meaningful look. "Thank you."

Lena waved a hand dismissively. "No problem. Now, come sit down and have some pancakes, Remus is nearly done."

Harry took a seat as Lena waved her hand again, this time sending three plates and sets of knives and forks over to the table, followed by a dish of butter and a pot of cream.

"Tea?" she asked Harry.

"Yes please."

Two minutes later, the three of them were tucking into the pancakes, accompanied by three cups of steaming hot tea. Lena and Remus were sitting next to each other, their chairs as close as possible. Harry was directly opposite them, and as he swallowed his first mouthful, a small noise of pleasure escaped him.

"Mmm. Okay, that is delicious."

"He's annoyingly talented, isn't he?" said Lena, shooting Remus a teasing smile.

"I honestly can't imagine cooking for your own enjoyment," admitted Harry. "Not after all the meals I had to prepare for the Dursleys. Between Uncle Vernon and Dudley, it was more like trying to cook for twenty – or a couple of hippopotamuses."

Remus' lips twitched in amusement, while Lena snickered.

Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Sirius walking into the kitchen.

"Well, this all looks very cosy," said the Animagus. "I was just passing by your room, and saw that you'd gotten up," he told his godson. "How are you this morning?"

"Better than I have been," replied Harry.

"Glad to hear it," said Sirius. He looked at the pancakes on their plates, and then at Remus. "You've been cooking?"

"Yes," answered Remus through a mouthful of food.

"Did you make any for me?"

"No."

"Bastard."

Lena rolled her eyes, and speared a piece of hers with a fork. "Here," she said to Sirius, holding it out to him, "you can have a bite of mine."

"Why, thank you, Lena," responded Sirius, grinning as he sat down next to her. "It's nice that someone is so considerate." He made a rude gesture at Remus as he leant over to eat the morsel off Lena's fork.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lena could see Harry regarding the intimate interaction between her and Sirius with a strange look.

'Just wait until he spends more than five minutes around us,' Lena thought to herself, smiling inwardly. 'He's going to be horrified when he sees the flirting.'

"How's it going in the drawing room?" Remus asked Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. "Nobody's been poisoned, grievously maimed, or killed by anything yet, so I'd say pretty well." He looked at Harry. "You going to join us in there once you've finished your breakfast?"

In response, Harry gave Lena a questioning look. "Are we starting lessons today?"

Before Lena could reply, Sirius cut in, frowning. "What lessons?"

"Occlumency," said Harry.

Both Sirius and Remus turned to Lena, the former surprised and the latter wary.

"Why does he need to learn Occlumency?" asked Sirius, sounding confused. Remus continued to stare at Lena, and she knew he was thinking about who had taught her the ability.

When Lena hesitated to answer, Harry spoke again. "Because I've been having more dreams this summer, like the ones I had last year that made my scar hurt."

Sirius' expression immediately changed from puzzlement to worry, and he began firing off questions. "What? Why didn't you write to me as soon as they started? Did you tell Dumbledore? What have you been seeing–"

"Hold up, Sirius," interrupted Remus, "and give him a chance to answer."

Meanwhile, Harry was looking at Lena with an expression that said, 'Help me.'

Lena cleared her throat. "Harry," she began, keeping her tone neutral, "has been experiencing some of Voldemort's memories in his dreams, due to the connection they share as a consequence of the failed Killing Curse."

"Experiencing?" said Remus, glancing at Harry. "What exactly does that entail?"

"That he not only views the memory from Voldemort's perspective, but feels all the same things that Voldemort felt at the time, as well as retrospectively," explained Lena. "And as you can imagine, it's been taking a toll on Harry's..." She searched for the right word.

"Mental state?" suggested Harry.

Lena half-smiled. "If you're comfortable with saying that."

"But why not tell us before?" persisted Sirius.

Harry spread his hands helplessly. "Because I wasn't sure how to."

"You were worried what we might think," said Remus quietly. "But you knew that Lena would understand."

Harry and Lena caught each others' eye.

"Yeah," said Harry simply. "Yeah, I knew she would."

"As for starting your lessons today," Lena said to him, "yes, I think that would be wise. But not until later this afternoon – there are still traces of what I gave you last night in your system, and we won't be able to get much done while it's there."

"Okay," said Harry. "What time, then?"

"Three o'clock," replied Lena unthinkingly.

Harry stared at her for a moment. "And I suppose," he ventured, his voicing sounding a little odd, "that it will last for about two hours."

Lena involuntarily twitched as she understood his response.

It had been precisely three o'clock when Voldemort had begun each lesson with her.

At three o'clock, Harry left Hermione, Ron, Ginny, the twins, Mrs Weasley and Sirius in the drawing room, and knocked on the door of Lena and Remus' bedroom.

A second later, it was opened by Lena, who smiled at Harry. "Come in," she told him, stepping back to let him through.

She was barefoot, and still wearing the clothes – grey leggings and a black T-shirt tied up at the corner – that she had been wearing at breakfast, despite the look of disapproval Mrs Weasley had given when she'd seen her. Lena might not have exactly been a bombshell, but that hadn't stopped Fred and George looking appreciatively at her exposed midriff and long legs. Harry supposed it helped that she looked less sickly now than she had at Hogwarts.

"Take off your shoes," said Lena, "and come sit down with me." She climbed onto the double-bed and sat cross-legged in the centre.

Harry did as he was told. "So," he asked when he was sitting opposite her, "where do we start?"

"Well," said Lena, giving her hair a tug so her high ponytail became even tighter, "why don't you tell me everything you know about Occlumency and Legilimency?"

"Only what you've told me," confessed Harry. "That Legilimency is the ability to invade someone else's mind, and Occlumency is the way to defend yourself from such an invasion. And there are a couple of ways to practice it, and the way you do it is similar to the method of Loki–"

"Loci," Lena corrected.

"Right, which involves making a mind mansion–"

"A memory palace."

"–and isn't as complicated as it sounds, but requires a lot of effort and time. Actually," he added, "I was wondering about that. If it isn't super complicated, why don't more wizards learn it? Because from the way Sirius reacted, it sounds like it's a pretty uncommon ability."

"Well, it's not something on the Hogwarts' curriculum," said Lena, "or any other magical schools, as far as I'm aware. And it takes time to learn, of which a lot of grown witches and wizards don't have the amount required. Of course, there are occasionally people born with a natural ability for Legilimency, but it's incredibly rare."

"What about Occlumency – can someone be born with the skill?"

"Not that I know of. But some certainly have a greater affinity for it than others."

"Like you?"

Lena inclined her head. "Precisely. Even so, I still worked exceptionally hard to get to the level I'm at." She paused for a second. "I'm going to be completely upfront with you, Harry – no matter how well I teach you, and how much effort you put into this, you will never be as good as me. It isn't possible, because I started learning when my brain was still significantly developing. To me, it's like reading and writing."

Harry nodded, another question forming in his mind. "There aren't any spells required for Occlumency, right? So, potentially, could a Muggle learn how to do it?"

"No," answered Lena, "and neither, I believe, can a Squib. Legilimency and Occlumency require the practitioner to be magical, for the same reason only witches and wizards can become ghosts after they die."

"And what reason is that?"

"Having magic changes both our souls and our physiologies. In particular, it affects the way our brains work. For instance: on average, magical children usually learn to read and write more quickly, as well as figure out simple mathematical equations. Now, that doesn't mean when they grow up that witches and wizards are usually smarter than Muggles. Often, it's quite the opposite. But our cognitive functions do work a little differently."

Trying to get his head around this new information, Harry said, "Right. Then what is it about our minds that allows us to read other people's, and stop that from happening?"

"The first thing you need to understand," explained Lena, "is that whether we're magical or Muggles, memories are not stored in our brains like books, or little films. Rather, they are many, tiny pieces of data that have been encoded and stored in a part of the brain, which we can then retrieve and decode when we need to remember something. We split up this stored information into three sections: sensory processing, short-term, and long-term. Someone with a basic grasp of Legilimency can break into another person's mind and interpret the short-term data, which is what they're thinking about in that moment. If the Legilimens is more skilled and wants to see something that resides in the long-term section, they can get their target to bring some of those memories into the short-term by making a suggestion."

"A suggestion?"

"Of varying subtlety. For example, if I say 'Don't think of Hippogriffs', the first you'll think of is–"

"Hippogriffs," finished Harry. "Particularly any personal interaction I've had with them. So, after Hermione and I freed Buckbeak, if a Legilimens had suspected me, they would have just needed to say, 'Hippogriff' and look into my mind to find out what had happened."

"Correct," said Lena, looking pleased with him. "But an advanced Legilimens wouldn't need to make the suggestion, because they could navigate their way through your long-term memory."

"But your method of Occlumency defends yourself from that kind of invasion."

"Yes," said Lena. "And that's what I'm going to teach you to do. And to begin, we need to talk about visualisation, because that's where the difference between Muggle and Wizarding minds comes into play."

"How so?"

"Because our minds can visualise things to a more heightened standard than those of the non-magical – something you will clearly notice if you ever see a Muggle memory in a Pensieve. We are able to decode those tiny pieces of information inside our brains into more exact memories. Again, this doesn't mean that Muggles can't remember things as well as wizards and witches, just that we have the greater potential to see things in our mind to a higher precision – a potential that is often not realised."

"But how does being able to visualise things better help with hiding those memories when someone's looking for them?" asked Harry, perplexed.

Once again, Lena smiled. "I'll show you." Before Harry could ask how, she told him, "Close your eyes."

Harry did so.

"Okay," he heard her say, "I want you start breathing more slowly. In through your nose, and out through your mouth."

He took in a deep breath through his nose, held it for a second, then let it out of his mouth.

"Now, I want you to imagine a black wall. Nothing on it – just a plain black wall. Let me know when that's the only thing you can see in your mind."

It took about ten seconds for Harry to complete this strange task. When he informed Lena he was ready, she instructed him to imagine a door in the centre of the wall.

"A simple door," she added quickly. "One that I can easily visualise in my mind as well."

The first thing Harry saw was a serpent head doorknob. "How about one like the bedroom doors here?" he asked.

"That will do nicely," replied Lena. "All right, you can clearly see the door in the centre of the black wall? Good. In a moment, I'm going to take your hands. When I do, don't let your concentration slip. Keep your mind focused on the door."

A couple of seconds later, he felt Lena's hands take a firm but gentle hold of his own.

"Okay," she said a moment later. "Just give me a couple of seconds... right. I'm going to count down from three. On one, I want you to push open the door. Get it?"

Harry imagined his hand was on the doorknob. "Got it."

"Good. Three, two, one."

He twisted the knob. The door swung open, and his mind was flooded with light. For half a second, he felt the strangest sensation, as though somebody was pouring pleasantly warm water all over him. Then the feeling disappeared, and the light faded enough from him to see Lena standing in front of him, holding his hands.

Harry stared at her. Her appearance was as clearly defined as if he was looking at her with open eyes.

"Wha–"

"Come on," said Lena, and tugged him through the doorway.

Bewildered, Harry took in his surroundings. He appeared to be standing in the front garden of a white, two-storey house. There were trees, shrubs and flowers all around him, and the whole area was surrounded by a high, stone wall. But it was what was floating around in the air that really caught his attention.

There were thousands, perhaps even millions, of little wisps of something that was almost but not quite gaseous. They were lots of different colours, and moving around at varying speeds. Letting go of Lena's hands, he raised his own to try to touch a wisp floating past him – only to stop when he noticed there was something not right about his hands.

They were glowing with a blue tint. Indeed, as he inspected his body more thoroughly, he was glowing all over.

He looked at Lena. She appeared perfectly normal, and exactly as she had in the bedroom.

"It's to keep you all together," said Lena, responding to his questioning look. "I did it as I brought you inside my mind, to stop you from breaking up into a million different pieces of information."

"So," Harry surveyed his surroundings once again, "right now, my mind is inside yours?"

"Part of your mind," corrected Lena. "But yes–" she gestured towards the house, "–welcome to my mind."

"But don't I need to know how to do Legilimency to be inside of here?" asked Harry, scratching his head.

"No, because I invited you in," said Lena simply.

"How?"

"By simultaneously opening the same door I got you to imagine in your mind," said Lena. She started walking towards the house, and gestured for Harry to follow her. "In doing so, we created a link between them."

It was a little difficult for Harry to understand, but he didn't dwell on the matter – he had too many other questions to ask her.

"Okay," said Harry, catching up to her, "what are those?" He pointed to one of the colourful floating tendrils.

"The pieces of information I haven't properly visualised because I don't need to," Lena informed him. "My semantic and implicit memories: more instinctive things, like words, how to use objects, and basic facts about how the world works."

They came to a stop at the front door of the house. Harry inspected the building.

"This is your, er, memory palace?" he said.

"Basically," said Lena. "Only, as I told you before, it's a little different to most. See, what people – Muggles and wizards alike – generally do with a memory palace is choose a place they know really well, like their house. Then they convert the information they are trying to remember into images, because concrete pictures are easier for our mind to recall than more abstract things like words and numbers. Then they take those images and plant them into different areas in the house, like the kitchen or a bedroom. But they're placed throughout the house in the order they're supposed to be remembered, so that if you were to walk through the house, you would come across each thing in that order."

Harry nodded slowly. "But that's not how you do it."

Lena smiled. "Not exactly. In ordinary memory palaces, the creator will usually erase the information from the house once they no longer need it, so they can use the space to store new data without it getting cluttered. I never intentionally erase anything from my mind." Once again, she gestured around the area. "This whole place is my entire long-term memory."

She opened the door and went inside the house. Harry took a deep breath in, then followed her.

The floor was wood-panelled, and the wallpaper was cream, covered in a vine pattern. There was a table against the wall to Harry's left, which had objects like books, quills, sheets of parchment and a little silver tray scattered across its top. To his right was a hatstand, upon which hung numerous hats and coats, some of which were clearly not Lena's. And the many, colourful wisps floated around inside here too.

"Come along," called out Lena, heading down a hallway.

Harry jogged to catch up to her, his eyes darting around, trying to see everything. The house was lit by both the natural light streaming in through the windows, as well as small lamps that hung from the ceiling. Moving paintings hung on the wall, depicting everything from cityscapes to pot plants. There were also many closed doors. Lena continued to lead him through several more winding corridors.

"I swear the house didn't look this big outside," muttered Harry, as they turned a corner into yet another hallway. The place was practically a labyrinth.

Lena glanced back at him. "Of course it didn't. It's bigger on the inside," she told him matter-of-factly.

Harry snorted softly. 'Yeah, of course it is, Harry,' he thought to himself sarcastically. 'Try and keep up.'

His internal dialogue made him think of another question. "Lena," he said, "when we're speaking to each other in here, are we actually speaking aloud in, er, the real world? Or is it all just in our minds?"

"The latter," replied Lena, sounding slightly distracted. "Ah, here we go." She stopped outside one of the doors and opened it, ushering Harry inside.

It was a bedroom, but one that appeared to be primarily used for storing things, rather than sleeping. There was clothes strewn across the neatly made bed, a full bookshelf with ornaments lined up across the top, several closed boxes sitting around the floor, and a dresser with a hairbrush and various makeup items upon its counter.

Lena flicked a hand, and one of the objects flew off the dresser and towards Harry. As a reflex, his hand shot out to catch it. It was a dark pink-purple lipstick.

Instantly, everything around Harry began to dissolve and reshape itself. A second later, Harry found himself in a familiar memory.

"So, Potter, what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"

Harry watched as his twelve-year old self squirmed in response to Lena's almost-purring voice. On her lips was the same shade he held in his hand. It was the day he had run into Lena – or as he'd known her back then, Lestrange – in Knockturn Alley.

He looked around at the grimy street as Lena continued, "Let me guess – you got out at the wrong fireplace?" He had, of course, thought about that day many times afterwards, but never with such clarity as he viewed the memory now.

Wanting to return to the bedroom, he dropped the lipstick, and his surroundings immediately transformed back. Instead of falling to the ground, the lipstick vanished, and reappeared in its place on the dresser, which Lena was leaning against.

"Is that how it works?" he asked curiously. "You reduce a memory down to a single object, then store it one of these rooms?"

"Not exactly," said Lena. "If you'd held it for longer, you would have seen there were a lot of other memories attached to the particular object – you just saw the one that was most relevant. And there are other things inside this house that could probably transport you to that memory."

Harry rubbed his forehead. "Somehow, you're making this sound even more complicated than I already thought it was – and you haven't even got to the part where you tell me how you defend all of this from intruders."

Lena moved over to the bedroom's window, and beckoned for Harry to join her.

"The wall," she said, pointing at it once he was standing next to her. "That's what stops people from breaking in."

Harry stared at it, remembering a discussion with Lena two years ago. "When we were in the Chamber of Secrets," he began to say, "and I said that Voldemort–"

"Was my father? Yeah, that sent this whole place into meltdown." Her voice was quiet, with a hint of bitterness, but when Harry looked at her, she wore a neutral expression.

"Lena–"

"Not now," she said firmly. "It would be unwise to talk too much about Voldemort while you're in here."

"Why?"

She gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Let's just say there are some things in here you don't want to wake up."

Well, that sounded bloody ominous.

Thinking of another question, Harry said, "You told me this place was your entire long-term memory, but what about your short-term? Do you have a separate Occlumency shield for that?"

Lena spread her hands out and waggled her fingers. "You're looking at it."

Harry screwed his eyes up, trying to understand. "This," he pointed a finger at her, "is your short-term memory?"

"Correct," affirmed Lena. "Another name for short-term memory is working memory, and as long as it – that is to say, I am in here, the wall protects it too."

They left the bedroom, and after a moment, it occurred to Harry they were in a completely different hallway to the one from which they'd entered. When he asked Lena about this, she said, "Yeah, I can change the layout of the house to get to places quicker."

Harry furrowed his brow. "Why didn't you do that when we were trying to get to the room?"

"Because I was still getting used to your presence in my mind," she said. "And–" they turned a corner, and were suddenly back at the house's entrance's hall, "–here we are again."

As Lena went to open the door, Harry paused, something on the wall catching his eye. It looked like a crack, but when he moved closer to inspect it, he realised it was more than that.

It was as though something had eaten through the wall, exposing a black vein beneath it. The black substance was strange, something between a gas and a liquid. Harry gazed at it, fascinated. It was as though he could almost hear it. He reached a finger out–

"Don't touch it."

Harry jumped slightly, the severity of Lena's tone and expression surprising him. She was standing at the door, her eyes fixed on the black vein.

"W-what is it?" asked Harry hesitantly.

Lena's eyes snapped back to his. "My illness," she said shortly.

Harry blinked. He'd almost forgotten that Lena had been gravely sick during her Seventh Year, and still had to take medication daily. He was about to ask more, but then decided against it. Her face was very clearly saying she didn't want to discuss it.

They went back outside and to the door Harry had come through. He took the opportunity to look at the Occlumency-wall more closely.

"What's it made out of?" he inquired.

"Intense concentration," said Lena, "and sheer willpower. Come on." She took Harry by the hand and pulled him through the doorway. He was thrust into darkness, and felt as though someone was pulling a warm blanket off him.

Then he opened his eyes, and found himself back in Lena and Remus' bedroom. He blinked a few times, rubbing his head.

"How do you feel?" said Lena, watching him closely.

Harry straightened his back and gave her his full attention. "Like I've got a lot to learn."

Wednesday 9 August, 1995:

Moony blinked and sniffed the air as all his senses adjusted. His ears perked up, and he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. It was dark, but he could tell he was inside. The question was: where?

He sniffed the air again, and a wonderful scent he recognised very well floated into his nostrils. He turned around to face the source of it, his eyes just able to make out her outline.

Lena. He remembered quite clearly when she had first taught him the name, a few full moons ago. Not that he could make the sound, but he recognised it, and said it in his mind when he thought of her.

It brought him enormous relief to see her. She hadn't been there last time, and it had been awful. His old friend was no replacement for her. And he once again had been imprisoned in a small space, rather than the larger outside area to which he'd become accustomed.

Letting out a happy whine, he leapt towards her. She was sitting down, her back against the wall, which meant she couldn't prevent him from enthusiastically licking her face, despite her sounds of protestation, and half-hearted attempts to push him away. At last, when he was satisfied that she was aware of how pleased he was to see her, he flopped onto his back and looked up at her expectantly.

She waved her hands, and suddenly there was a small ball of light in one of them, and Moony could see her more clearly – especially the smile on her face. She threw the light into the air, illuminating the space, and began scratching the belly which he had presented to her. He made a pleased noise, which in turn induced a laugh from Lena.

After a minute, Moony was content that his itch had been dealt with, and got to his feet. He explored the space, searching for the exit. Finding a closed door, he pawed at it, and looked back at Lena expectantly.

But she shook her head. "No, Moony," she said, her face looking less happy than it had before.

Moony scratched the door more urgently, but she did not come over to open it. Desperate to escape his confinement, he began throw himself at the door.

"Stop it, Moony!"

For a moment, he cowered. She sounded so angry.

Moony didn't want to make her angry.

Her expression softened, and she came over to him, kneeling beside him. She said something to him in a gentle voice. He didn't know every single word she said, but he understood her meaning.

He had to stay here all night.

Sitting down, he threw his head back and began to howl.

Friday 11 August, 1995:

As the sun came out from behind a cloud, Lena flipped her sunglasses down over her eyes, glad she had brought them with her despite how grey everything had been when they'd left 12 Grimmauld Place a couple of hours ago. She had driven Arthur and Harry to the Ministry this morning for the hearing, as it had been decided that arriving via a non-magical method would look best for Harry's case. She had dropped them off in a neighbouring street to the visitor's entrance, and then headed off to do some shopping, primarily groceries and Potion supplies. She had been intending to head back to Grimmauld Place, as the hearing wasn't even due to start for another hour, when Arthur's weasel Patronus had popped up to tell her the hearing was over, and Harry was ready to be collected. From the sound of his voice, it was good news.

Now, Lena was sitting on the bonnet of her car in the otherwise deserted street in which she'd dropped them off, waiting for them.

Arthur and Harry appeared, and Lena hopped off the bonnet as they crossed the street.

There was no look of devastation on Harry's face, so Lena smiled at them when they reached her. "Not guilty, then?"

"Cleared of all charges," confirmed Arthur, beaming.

"See?" Lena said to Harry. "I told you."

"Lena?"

"Hmm?"

They were lying on Lena and Remus' bed, having just concluded the Occlumency lesson. It had ended like the previous two, with Lena going inside Harry's mind to put a temporary seal over his connection with Voldemort. It would last for the night, stopping the memories, but would dissolve when he woke up. Of course, it didn't stop Harry's dreams of the graveyard and, in fact, lengthened them, but he had told Lena that it was preferable to being thrust into Voldemort's twisted mind.

Staring up at the ceiling, Harry asked in a quiet voice, "What's going to happen to me if I lose the hearing tomorrow?"

Lena twisted onto her side, looking down at him with a frown. "You're not going to lose, Harry. Dumbledore's speaking for you."

"Fudge has spent the entire summer trying to make Dumbledore look like a crazy old man," Harry pointed out.

"The decision isn't Fudge's to make. Amelia Bones is the one presiding over your hearing, and she's an intelligent and competent witch who I doubt has much time for the Daily Prophet."

"But what if Fudge is somehow able to influence the verdict," persisted Harry, "and I am found guilty? What happens to me then?"

"It's not going to happen, Harry."

"But what if it does? What if I'm expelled, and they snap my wand in half?"

Lena sighed impatiently and sat up. "Then I will take you to the guy who made my wand and get you a new one. Then Remus, Sirius and I will assume responsibility for your education. But it won't happen, so stop worrying about it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And of course, you're never wrong," he said sarcastically.

"No, but I'm rarely wrong."

"Well, I'll let Harry tell you all about it, because I've got to go sort out a regurgitating toilet," said Arthur brightly. He held a hand out to Harry. "Congratulations, Harry."

"Thanks," replied Harry, shaking the proffered hand.

"I'll see you both tonight," said Arthur. He turned around to leave, then stopped and looked back at Lena, his expression becoming graver. "Before I forget – Lena, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry, talking to Fudge on Level Nine."

"Oh, was he now?" said Lena grimly.

"Yes, and the two of them went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

Lena noticed a shadow flicker across Harry's face when Dumbledore's name was said, but simply told Arthur, "Yes, I'll send him a message when we get back."

"Thanks," replied Arthur, then headed back the way he and Harry had came.

Lena opened the passenger-side door for Harry. "Hop in."

As they both got in the car, Lena could see that Harry's mind was preoccupied – presumably something to do with Dumbledore.

"How was Amelia Bones?" she asked him, starting the car.

"Yeah, good," said Harry distractedly. "Though I'm not sure about everyone else in Wizengamot."

Lena looked at him sharply as they drove off. "What do you mean? You were tried in front of the entire assembly?"

"Yep. And they changed the time and place for the trial at the last minute."

Lena scowled. "Sneaky fuckers," she muttered.

Harry snorted, but didn't say anything.

"Tell me about the rest of the hearing," Lena prompted him.

"It was fine," said Harry, shrugging.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Lena pursed her lips. She wasn't used to Harry being this cagey with her.

They were coming up to a roundabout. To get back to Grimmauld Place, she needed to turn right.

At the last moment, she decided to turn left.

Obviously, Harry had been paying attention to the route she'd taken on the way to the Ministry, because he straightened in his seat. "Er, Lena, I think you took a wrong turn there."

"No, I didn't." The street they had turned into was lined with cafés, take-away shops and other such establishments. "Have you ever had chips and gravy?" she asked Harry nonchalantly.

Harry stared at her, obviously confused. "Um, no. Why?"

Lena pulled over into a parking space. "I find the urge to indulge in some has overwhelmed me."

As she took her seatbelt off, Harry hesitantly said, "Aren't you supposed to be taking me straight back to headquarters?"

"Yes." She opened the car door. "Come on." She started to get out.

"Are you sure I'm allowed to be outside in London without, er–"

"Permission, and a guard of highly-trained wizards?" finished Lena wryly. "Oh, you're definitely not allowed." She flashed him her almost-predatory smile. "Consider this a kidnapping."

After a brief moment, Harry grinned. "All right."

They bought a box of chips and gravy from one of the take-away places, and then walked down the road to Trafalgar Square, taking a seat on the edge of one of the fountains. Both residents of London and tourists milled around, some enjoying the unusually hot English summer more than others.

Lena let Harry take the first chip, and watched his positive reaction with a grin. "Good?"

Harry finished chewing, and swallowed. "I'm definitely into it." He had to eat several more before he finally admitted to Lena what was wrong. "Dumbledore didn't speak to me before or after the trial. He barely even looked at me once."

Ah. Yes, Lena had wondered if Harry would notice. Instead of saying anything, she took another chip.

"Lena, why doesn't Dumbledore want to look at or talk to me?"

As she finished the chip, Lena considered her options. She couldn't tell him the real reason, because the last thing they needed was Harry panicking about the idea that not only could he see into Voldemort's mind, but that Voldemort could potentially look into Harry's. She had taught Harry enough about Occlumency for him to realise that although he might soon be able to block out the dreams that were unconsciously being transmitted to him, he was a long way off being able to shut out an intentional invasion from such a skilled Legilimens. And it would be stupid of her to simply tell Harry not to worry about Dumbledore's reticence to speak to him, because of course he would. He wasn't an idiot.

Instead, Lena chose a different approach. "The thing about secret organisations, Harry," she said evenly, "is that they don't work as well if everyone knows everything, because the more people who know more things, the greater risk there is of others outside the organisation finding out those things."

Harry looked at her suspiciously. "Are you saying you don't know the reason, or that you do, but I'm not allowed to know?"

Lena picked up another chip. "I'm saying that you need to get used to the idea of not knowing everything, and instead trusting that the people on your side are doing their jobs."

Harry's expression became incredulous. "Really? You, of all people, are telling me to just accept I'm ignorant about something, and not do anything to remedy that? To simply rely on other people?"

"Firstly," said Lena, holding up a finger, "I'm talking about this in the context of being in a covert organisation, not in general life. Of course, if there are gaps in your education you should endeavour to fill them, and you should always be incredibly careful about in whom you place your trust. But the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't work if everyone demanded to be privy to every single piece of information. Secondly, yes, those words do sound hypocritical coming from my mouth. But I am a narcissist and a control freak." She pointed the finger at him. "You are not."

There was a long pause, before Harry finally said, "You're very good at avoiding answering questions."

"Perhaps I should become a politician," said Lena drily.

Harry half-smiled. "I'm not sure the Wizarding world's ready for that."

As they ate their way through the chips and gravy, he filled her in on the finer points of the hearing, and their run-in with Lucius.

"I asked Mr Weasley if he thinks Malfoy has Fudge under the Imperius Curse, but he said they think the Minister's acting on his own accord," finished Harry.

Licking some stray gravy off her finger, Lena said, "Cornelius Fudge is a not especially talented wizard who became Minister because he had a knack for low-level bureaucracy and not pissing off the powerful families. And," she added after a moment, "because of the whole Barty Crouch Jr. thing. In any case, he's always been an insecure and petty man, making him perfect prey for someone like Lucius, who can be very charming when he wants to, and is also filthy rich. Putting him under the Imperius Curse would be an unnecessary risk."

Harry appeared to consider this for a bit, then asked, "Did you know him well?"

"Who, Lucius?"

He shook his head. "Crouch Jr.."

"I didn't know him particularly well, but I saw a fair bit of him." Bitterness leaked into her voice. "He idolised my parents."

Harry seemed to sense that their conversation was in need of a new direction, and remarked, "Remus looked a lot better this morning."

Lena swallowed. "Yeah," she said softly. "It... wasn't a good full moon for him."

"I didn't think any full moon was good for him," said Harry.

"Moony's gotten used to roaming around the grounds of the Lestrange Estate," explained Lena. "Obviously, even then he still wants to leave to hunt, but he won't try to hurt himself. Going back to being locked in a basement..." She was unable hide her misery. "Even with me there, it's too much. He's forced to deny his nature."

"His nature being a compulsion to attack humans."

"He can't help what he is!" snapped Lena, making Harry flinch. "I'm sorry," she amended, staring down at her lap as a lump formed in her throat. "It's just... really hard. To see him in so much pain."

When, after ten seconds, Harry still hadn't replied, she looked back up at him. He was gazing at her, a burning curiosity in his eyes.

"What is it?" she asked him.

Harry bit his lip, almost seeming embarrassed.

"Spit it out, Harry."

"What's it like to be so in love with someone?" he blurted out. "It's just – seeing you and Remus together these last few days, the way you look at each other... I just can't imagine what it must be to feel like that, it's so, so..."

"Intense?" Lena suggested quietly. She paused, trying to think of the right words. In the end, she used not her own, but those of one of the few men she thought was cleverer than herself.

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love."

10 house points to anyone who knows which Shakespearean play that last quote is from :)

Oh, and if you're interested in learning about how memory works, I highly recommend Joshua Foer's book Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything. It's absolutely fascinating.