After finally having extracted the memory from Slughorn, Harry was eager to tell Ron and Hermione everything that had happened the night before. Being far too anxious to wait till lunchtime, he cast a muffliato during their morning's Charms lesson and divulged everything. His friends were both satisfyingly impressed by the way he had wheedled the memory out of Slughorn and positively awed when he told them about Voldemort's Horcruxes and Dumbledore's promise to take Harry along, should he find another one.

"Wow," said Ron, when Harry had finally finished telling them everything; Ron was waving his wand in the direction of the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing. "Wow. You're actually going to go with Dumbledore… and try and destroy… wow."

"Ron, you're making it snow," said Hermione patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes had started to fall.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise. "Sorry… looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now…"

He brushed some of the fake snow off Hermione's shoulder, his cheeks turning crimson as he did so, but Hermione simply returned the kind gesture with a small smile. Harry was bewildered by their behavior and yet too relieved to comment on any of it. Things were far from normal between the three of them and neither one knew how to fix it but they were trying and that's what mattered. Watching Ron and Hermione the last few weeks, he'd been waiting, expectantly, for a careless remark or a subtle slur, to upend the fragile peace but Ron had never been so patient, Hermione so attentive. Even Ginny had begun acting differently. She had barely spoken to Ron or Harry since the incident, other than to tell them that something bad had happened between Hermione and Malfoy and not to press her for answers till she was ready. It didn't seem as if Ginny was particularly angry with them—disappointed, in the both of them, sure—but if Harry had to guess, he'd almost say she herself felt guilty, although, he couldn't imagine what for. Harry wondered then if she had known… because she hadn't seemed altogether surprised when Harry and Ron told her what had happened on the Astronomy Tower and before it.

Despite the relief of retrieving Slughorn's memory, and the madness of everything else that had gone on, a battle still raged inside his head: Ginny or Ron? He was aware that a selfish part of him still wanted Hermione to be with Ron. He'd been thrilled to hear of his break up with Lavender and to see his two friends grow close again. In a way, he supposed that if Ron had his happiness, then he would be more willing to allow Harry his.

But Malfoy had ruined that happiness, just like he ruined everything… except he had to admit— hadn't they all had their parts to play? Hermione, by lying. Ron, by running off to confront Malfoy, and Harry by using the Prince's spell. Ron, without saying so, had been furious with him for having hurt Hermione, whether it had been an accident or not and Harry was afraid now, more than ever, that Ron would consider it base treachery if Harry tried to take his happiness with Ginny while he was left tending to his wounds with Hermione.

And yet Harry could not help himself however much his conscience ached. He found himself wondering how best to get Ginny on her own; walking back with her from practice, sitting next to her for their meals, speaking to her with the pretense of it regarding the upcoming Quidditch game with Ravenclaw, any opportunity he'd take.

Once or twice Harry considered asking Hermione for her help, but he couldn't stand bringing it up while she was so lost. And that was the only way to describe how she seemed. Fine, but not altogether there, like she was daydream—

"The diary?" asked Hermione, breaking Harry from his reverie. "Tom Riddle's diary, you're sure it was a Horcrux? Dumbledore was certain?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, he said, "Yes Hermione, for the last time—"

"Flitwick," coughed Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms master was bobbing his way toward them, and Hermione was the only one who had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry's and Ron's were still murky brown.

"Now, now, boys," squeaked Professor Flitwick reproachfully. "A little less talk, a little more action… Let me see you try…"

Together they raised their wands, concentrating with all their might, and pointed them at their flasks. Harry's vinegar turned to ice; Ron's flask exploded. After the initial shock, he looked to first Harry and then Hermione in a confused daze. Her mouth was pursed with a look of sympathy as she held back a smile.

"Yes… for homework," said Professor Flitwick, reemerging from under the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of his hat, "practice."

They had one of their rare joint free periods after Charms and walked back to the common room together. Looking over at Hermione, who was chewing her lip, Harry thought she seemed upset, almost worried, to hear that the diary had been a Horcrux but he couldn't see why it would bother her so much. The diary had been destroyed and…

So immersed in his own thoughts, Harry barely noticed that they were climbing through the portrait hole into the sunny common room, and only vaguely registered the small group of seventh years clustered together there, until Hermione gave a small cry, "Katie!' she gasped. "You're back…"

Harry stared: It was indeed Katie Bell, looking completely healthy and surrounded by her jubilant friends.

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione slowly.

"I'm really well!" she replied happily. "They let me out of St. Mungos on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McLaggen and the last match and…" Her eyes darted from Harry to Hermione dancing over her frame—looking for scars no doubt. "And the accident."

"Yeah," said Harry awkwardly, wanting very much to change the topic of conversation. "Well, now you're back. We still have a decent chance of beating Ravenclaw, which means we could still—"

"Do you remember who gave you the necklace?" interjected Hermione in one quick breath.

"No," said Katie, shaking her head ruefully as her friends started gathering up their things; apparently they were late for Transfiguration. "Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies' in the Three Broomsticks. I know I pushed open the door," she continued, "so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory's a blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungo's. Listen, I'd better go, I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to give me lines even if it is my first day back…"

"So you're okay then?" asked Hermione sounding relieved. "I-I'm glad."

Grabbing her bag and books she nodded cheerfully, before hurrying after her friends, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to sit down at a window table; Ron pondering out loud while Harry and Hermione sat in uncomfortable silence.

"So whoever cursed Katie was a girl," said Ron. "Otherwise wouldn't it have looked strange, a bloke going into the girl's bathroom?"

Harry's eyes darted to Hermione who was watching him from beneath her eyelashes, waiting for his reaction to Ron's statement—waiting for Harry to tell him that it was Malfoy, that Hermione herself had said he'd admitted so.

"I guess," murmured Harry, his gaze peering out the window as he was unable to look his best mate in the face as he lied to him. Except, he didn't really lie, because he didn't really know how Malfoy had given Katie the necklace only that he'd been responsible. McGonagall herself had confirmed that he'd been in detention with her so…

There were still so many questions Harry needed answering but he wouldn't ask Hermione, at least, not yet. At first, he'd considered going to Dumbledore again—this time, dragging her along to confirm what Harry had told the professor earlier— that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. He'd even considered going to Lupin with the information but despite himself, Harry could not deny that whatever the Slytherin was; he made a terrible Death Eater.

By the time the curse had left Harry's lips, it had been too late and Hermione was already falling, slumping to the floor and Malfoy, for all his arrogance and swagger had simply crawled to her, her name a whisper on his lips, clawing to her, covered in her blood, as Harry, Ron and Snape dragged him away screaming. Then Professor Snape had cast a sleeping charm rendering him unconscious and Harry realized, like a stone in the pit of his stomach that Malfoy, given the choice, would've gladly taken the Sectumsempra curse instead.

And frighteningly, he was fairly certain Snape now knew too.

The balmy days slid gently through May, and Ron seemed to be there at Harry's shoulder every time he saw Ginny. He found himself longing for a stroke of luck that would somehow cause Ron to realize that nothing would make him happier than his best friend and his sister falling for each other and to leave them alone together for longer than a few seconds. There seemed no chance of either while the final Quidditch game of the season was looming; Ron wanted to talk tactics with Harry all the time and had little thought for anything else.

He wasn't unique in this respect; interest in the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game was running extremely high throughout the school, for the match would decide who won the Quidditch Cup. Slytherin's resounding victory in the match against Hufflepuff had come as a surprise to Harry and everyone else. It had dispirited him to hear of Malfoy catching the snitch, especially when he himself couldn't play the final match against Ravenclaw, but Ron was especially livid. It seemed to act as a personal reminder that Malfoy was capable of taking away, not only Hermione but anything else he wanted. As for Hermione herself, she said nothing regarding the Quidditch, nor did she ever tell them what had happened between her and Malfoy even though, by the dark circles under her eyes and the faraway expression on her face, it wasn't difficult to guess, that whatever it was, it hadn't been good.

And for a brief moment, Harry suspected that Ron believed he had won… until it became clear that the only thing their separation had proven was the depth of her affection for Malfoy. Whatever misery the blonde was putting her through, she was enduring it quietly. The gold bracelet still twinkled around her wrist, a declaration that nothing had changed and he often wondered when, if ever, she'd take it off.

Things only got worse from then on. On the day of the final game, Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room from his detention with Professor Snape to find that they had lost the Quidditch Cup by a small margin of points. The atmosphere was solemn. Even Ginny was in a rather sour mood and later that evening, believing desert would cheer up Ron, they sat in the bustling Great Hall, Hermione next to him while Harry sat with Ginny.

"You played so well," said Hermione sincerely. "You're a great Keeper Ron."

Just then Harry's head snapped to the doors of the Dining Hall. A bunch of Slytherins had just sauntered in, headed by Urquhart holding the silver trophy high up in his arms taunting the Gryffindor team. A clamor of hoorah's echoed from the Slytherin table and across the Hall.

"Shouldn't they be in their common room throwing a victory party?" asked Neville in between mouthfuls.

Harry frowned, looking toward their table. "Why celebrate in the dungeons when they can gloat to everyone here instead?" he said with mock derision. Jabbing a potato with his fork he resumed sulking.

"Second place isn't bad," said Neville earnestly. "Especially since Harry wasn't seeker."

Ginny, to her credit, actually managed to smile and that smile was contagious. "That's true," said Harry. "You made a great substitute seeker Gin."

She turned to Harry watching him carefully. "Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied softly. "You're amazing."

Her eyes held his and his heart fluttered at the proximity of her sitting next to him and how incredible she was when she smiled. He glanced away quickly when he realized he'd been staring at her for too long and tried to act casually as he could feel everyone's eyes on them. Forcing himself, he raised his fork to his mouth and began to chew. Looking over at the Slytherin table, he noticed now that Malfoy was the only one in their year missing the revelry. Harry wondered for a brief moment as to where he was… he thought back to the potions class he'd had with Malfoy and Ernie yesterday while everyone else was taking their apparition tests. The Slytherin had looked quite pallid and quiet for someone who'd recently just caught the snitch and won his team the game. In fact, Malfoy had barely glanced in Harry's direction and seemed to be able to blend in with the ghosts around the castle.

His attention snapped back into the present as Zabini suddenly jumped up onto the table, his arms in the air with boastful pride. Nott, Pucey, Crabbe, Goyle and the others began sparking fireworks from their wand, one in particular that lit up the air in a violent burst of colorful light.

"Prancing peacock," huffed Ginny, making it a point to look anywhere other than at him.

Ron turned to look over his shoulder, shooting them a venomous glare. Pansy Parkinson's eyes twinkled with a malevolent gleam as she saw how much it was bothering Ron. Returning his icy stare, she brought her hands up and slammed her palms down onto the table, over and over, a steady beat beginning.

And then she began…

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

The others began to join in and soon everyone who wasn't singing was either laughing or lighting more fireworks. Ron turned back around, growing, if possible, a special shade of red as the taunts became louder.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just ignore them," she muttered.

"She's right," sighed Harry. It wasn't even Ron's fault they'd lost. It was Snape's. He'd purposely selected the times when Ron had Quidditch practice for him to serve his detention and Ron had ended up missing five drills.

He mumbled something under his breath.

"What's that?" asked Harry as he watched Ron grip his fork till his knuckles went white.

"Said I fucking hate that Parkinson," gritted Ron.

Harry looked back over to the Slytherin table where she was. Her head was thrown back, the sound of her laughter like a vicious kick to the gut. The sound of it made Ron turn back around. Pansy caught his gaze once more, resting her chin on her hand, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face. Zabini who had settled back down in the seat next to her whispered something in her ear. Her smile widened into an overbearing grin, as she continued to taunt poor Ron. His friend was muttering something under his breath again but Harry didn't ask him to repeat himself this time. He'd heard the insult quite clearly.

In the midst of all his preoccupations with the loss of the Quidditch Cup and the discovery of the Horcruxes, Harry had not forgotten his other ambition: finding out what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. Just because he was keeping quiet about it, didn't mean he'd let it go.

He had continued to check the Marauder's Map, especially after Hermione had confirmed that Harry had been right about Malfoy taking the Dark Mark. So whenever he had the chance he'd take the map out and search for him… except he was unable to locate the slippery Slytherin on it anywhere. Harry had assumed that he couldn't find Malfoy because he was spending so much time in the room, but it was strange... at any given hour, whether at night or in between classes, he couldn't be seen on the map at all.

If Malfoy wasn't here in the Dining Hall, there was a chance it was because he was in the Room of Requirement at this very moment.

"Going to head back to the common room, see you guys in a bit?" said Harry as casually as he could.

Too busy brooding, Ron barely acknowledged his departure. Ginny and Hermione merely smiled and said they'd be up soon themselves.

Harry made his usual detour along the seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder's Map as he returned to Gryffindor tower. Once again he could not find Malfoy anywhere and assumed he must indeed be inside the Room of Requirement again. Pacing in front of the wall, Harry tried to get inside to catch him red-handed, but no matter how he reworded his request, the wall remained firmly doorless. Cursing out loud he took out the map again for answers. Nothing, he was nowhere to be found. Another thought suddenly came to him—that Hermione had done something to the map to shield Malfoy from appearing on it… but it didn't make sense because Ron had been able to find Malfoy that night and Harry had had the map with him the whole time after, so—

"Spying again Potter?"

Harry whirled around with the map in one hand and his wand held firmly in the other. Malfoy had been behind him and not seen or heard; nor had he appeared as a dot next to Harry on the map.

"How did you do that?" he blurted.

A lazy smirk tugged the side of his lip. "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… not going to let Weasley or you get the drop on me again with that little map of yours."

The Slytherin, whose team had just won the Quidditch Cup did not look at all triumphant. His eyes were glazed, his lips bloodless and he seemed, Harry thought, tipsy. He took a quick glance at the map in his hand. Sure enough, Malfoy was not on there.

"She told you about the map?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"Among other things."

Harry's eyes narrowed on the blonde as it dawned on him that Malfoy must've cloaked himself somehow from the map which was… annoyingly impressive.

"We need to talk," he said suddenly.

"I have nothing to say to you," spat Harry turning around to march off to the common room to give Hermione a piece of his mind. How could she betray him like that and tell Malfoy about the map, Malfoy, of all people, a Death Eater no less, how could she—

"Potter," he sang out.

Harry whirled around, anger radiating off him in waves. "WHAT?" he yelled.

The blonde boy looked amused; a crooked smile on his face.

Harry wanted to hex it right off but then Malfoy drawled—

"Ever heard of a little thing called a Horcrux?"