Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

New chapter!

I had not realised how long this story has become until now. It doesn't feel anywhere near as long as it is, perhaps that's because I've kept a lot of filler in though.

Chapter 88

His footsteps echoed across the cobbles, ringing loud and clear across the empty street. There was nobody outside; there was nobody brave enough to venture out underneath the ghastly green light of the Dark Mark before the aurors were visible.

Harry stopped, following the thin streams of crimson back between the stones to the sprawling, maimed and brutalised body he had discarded in front of the cross at Hogsmeade's heart. A single, white lily bowed over the unrecognisable remains of what had once been a perfect copy of Snape's face, the feather soft petals brushed at the floor, and drooped over the snapped pieces of the former professor's wand.

The blood had stained the tips of the flower vibrant scarlet.

He took three more steps away, leaving red footsteps, then vanished the blood from the bottom of his shoes, and apparated back into the Chamber of Secrets.

Snape's part was done.

The body that he had placed in Hogsmeade was a perfect, inanimate copy of the wizard. Flesh, blood, skin and bone were all identical to the former professor's, and alongside the wand and the flower, beneath the skull and serpent, nobody would doubt the identity of the deceased.

It's perfect.

Fleur had suggested the flower, and he had teased her about her obsession without flowers for a good few minutes before she put a finger over his lips to force him to listen. It had been a good suggestion. Dumbledore would see it as Voldemort's declaration of why Snape had betrayed him, and Voldemort would see it as Harry explaining why he had killed Snape.

Neither would suspect the spy lived, and, bound by his oaths, Snape could not contact them in anyway until they were dead. Harry supposed that there was a loophole there, since Voldemort had horcruxes, and had technically almost died already, but he did not expect Snape to be so foolish as to replace himself in the jaws of the vice he had only just escaped.

He slipped quietly over the bridge, sparing a single glance for the outline over the door, and discarding the broken time turner into the pool with a soft splash. It had fulfilled its final use for him. Now he had to quietly ensure that Malfoy found himself under the scrutiny of the rest of the school, so that his attempts to kill his target were even less likely to succeed.

The entrance to the chamber shut quietly behind him and he made his way swiftly towards Gryffindor Tower, pulling his cloak about his shoulders to hide himself from the eyes of any teachers up in the hour before breakfast.

The Fat Lady was asleep in her frame, snoring gently as the painting swung open and then shut to let him in.

'Where have you been sneaking about?' A familiar voice demanded.

Hermione. She, of course, knew about the cloak, though not what it truly was.

'I was awake before everyone else got up,' he answered, pulling it from his shoulders, 'so I went for a walk, and took this because I shouldn't be out of the tower at such a time. Are you going to dock points, prefect?' Harry raised an eyebrow, daring her.

As if I care.

'Yes,' she sniffed. 'Rules are rules, provided they are made by the right people, and you have broken them, so that's five points gone.'

'I'm so ashamed,' Harry responded dryly, tucking the cloak safely back into his robes, and taking a seat next to the fire. There was little point going back upstairs now. 'So why are you up so early,' he ran his eyes over her curiously, noting the mud on her feet, 'and having been out of bounds yourself. You weren't sneaking, were you?'

She flushed, huffing quietly and cleaning the mud from her feet when she realised what had given her away.

'I couldn't sleep,' Hermione admitted after a moment. 'Parvati was having another nightmare.'

'Still not a good reason,' Harry shook his head in mock disappointment, 'rules are rules…' 'You have broken every rule in the school,' she retorted tartly.

'Most of them with you beside me,' Harry reminded her. Hermione exhaled gently, looking quite regretful for a moment. 'They were good times.'

'I am sorry about your wand, you know,' she said after a while, 'I didn't mean to break it.'

'I overreacted,' Harry shrugged, thinking of the horcrux, and the whispering little voice he was sure that it had been. 'What's done is done. I cannot change the past.'

'And the future?' Hermione asked, staring at him intently.

'I'm not going change it,' Harry grinned, catching sight of a dishevelled Neville descending from their dormitory. 'I'm going to decide it.'

Hermione looked none too enthused, and gazed silently into the flames instead of saying anything further.

'Morning, Nev,' Harry greeted him. 'How've you been?'

'Sleeping,' Neville replied flatly. 'I have been sleeping.'

Harry looked all around him, feigning confusion. 'Where's Hannah?' He asked.

'Too early,' Neville grumbled throwing a cushion at him which Harry cheerfully summoned into his left hand before it could hit him. 'That's cheating,' Neville commented, running his hands through his hair.

'Says who?'

'Me?' Neville tried hopefully.

'Sorry,' Harry grinned, 'you have no authority here.'

'Anything exciting happen yesterday?' Neville asked, referring to Harry's meeting with Dumbledore, and, beside them, Hermione perked up slightly.

'Not really,' Harry smirked. 'Saw Malfoy and Snape arguing again, Malfoy seemed furious about something, maybe Snape finally told him that he's not all that great after all.'

'Again?' Hermione was definitely interested.

Perfect, Harry exalted.

'Yeah, I've seen it a couple of times now,' he elucidated falsely, 'though this was the worst. Snape nearly saw me lingering on the way back from Dumbledore's office.'

'Good thing he didn't catch you,' Neville chuckled. 'You'd have had detention for eternity.'

'He's stopped doing that,' Harry reminded him.

'He's probably scared you'll enthral, immolate or destroy him,' Neville commented amusedly. He, of course, understood the real reason behind Harry's patronus. The reference was obvious to those who knew about Fleur, even if Hermione had chosen the literal definition to spout to the impressionable class.

'I'm not sure I'd want to enthral him, Nev,' Harry shuddered, 'not like that.'

Neville went slightly green.

'Malfoy must be up to something,' Hermione decided, worrying her lip.

'I'm sure it's harmless,' Harry replied calmly, aware that this would only make Hermione more determined to discover it.

'Well,' Neville said suddenly, 'if you want excitement, then you need only wait until tonight, or you can come back to the DA, we're starting to try actual duelling now.'

'Oh?' Harry's paranoia tingled dangerously, and not at the mention of the DA.

'It's another one of Slughorn's parties,' Neville grinned. 'You get to take Katie, since she has elected herself your platonic date, we get to to watch Romilda, and the rest of your little fan club sulk, and you have to explain it all to Fleur.'

'Fleur doesn't mind,' Harry answered, not entirely confident of that statement. He rather felt that Fleur did mind, and while she felt a bit guilty, and a little sorry for Katie, whom she had basically replaced, even if Harry and Katie were barely together then, that allowing them to go together was not as charitable as it seemed. In fact, while he was certain that Fleur did want Katie to go with him because she felt his friend deserved some time with him, he suspected that she might have an ulterior motive too. Spending the evening so close, yet so far, from what she wanted was a bittersweet reward, and Fleur, he knew, was a vengeful girl.

'Doesn't she?' Hermione looked like she believed it about as much as he did.

'Well,' Harry struggled to keep his face blank, 'she says that she wants me to take Katie, but…' He trailed off, Hermione was smart enough to deduce Fleur's reasons for herself.

'Breakfast for me,' Neville said, as he was accosted by a giant, silvery flamingo that Harry assumed to be Hannah's patronus.

'You know,' Hermione said quietly, waiting until Neville was out of earshot.

'Know what?' Harry asked innocently.

'About Katie.'

'Katie?' Harry pulled a confused face. 'Quidditch player? Really short, messy hair, terrible sense of humour?' No idea.'

'You do, don't you,' Hermione burst out, 'and you just let her!'

'Let her do what?' Harry frowned, his tone turning cold, 'be my friend? Are you jealous that she was able to keep what you threw away?'

'No,' Hermione hissed, 'you let her do everything short of throwing herself at you naked, and for what!?'

'We're not having this conversation, Granger,' Harry interceded, mid-rant. 'My relationship, and my friendships, are none of your business anymore, and you have only yourself to blame.'

Hermione huffed, throwing herself from the sofa and stalking out of the common room to breakfast. It was an unfair comment, Harry had to concede that he was as much, if not more to blame for what had happened between them, but its cruelty was merited by her demands. She was not entitled to know everything, he only owed that to those who returned that trust in kind.

'What was that about?'

Speak of the devil.

'Nothing important,' Harry dismissed, getting up himself.

'Uh huh,' Katie nodded, not convinced. 'So that's why I heard my name a handful of times on the way down is it?'

Harry shot a dark look in the direction of the closing portrait. Hermione had a lot to answer for.

'Not going to tell me then,' Katie laughed nervously. 'It's ok, I can guess.'

'We don't need to talk about it if you have already guessed,' Harry grinned, gesturing towards the exit. 'Breakfast?'

She gave him a long look, opening her mouth several times as if there were things she wanted to say, then smiled sadly, and nodded. 'Breakfast,' she agreed resignedly.

She knows I know, Harry deduced from her slightly hesitant manner.

Katie was walking slightly further away from him that normal, the moments when she would burst against him, or the casual, usual manner in which she was always so close, and so cheerful had faded. A withdrawn, silent, nervous looking girl half-followed him to the Great Hall.

It will pass, he hoped. She'll forget I know, and go back to acting like she usually does.

He missed his bright, beaming Katie already. She cheered him up every morning after the locket flared hot against his chest, and helped him smile, rather frown at the knowledge that Fleur was thinking of him far away.

It took almost the entire meal for her to perk up again, and he'd almost given up trying to lure her into conversation after every attempt would bring her back for a few seconds before she remembered and fell quiet again. Even talking about the rapidly approaching Christmas didn't hold her attention for long, though he did manage to extract a promise from her to stay with Angelina and Alicia rather than going back to Diagon Alley.

It didn't help that Harry was keeping an eye out for anything that might be wrong with his breakfast at the same time. If Malfoy was still adding extra ingredients to his food then he didn't want them finding their way onto Katie's plate.

'I have project work with McGonagall almost all day today,' Harry bemoaned. 'I thought it would just be the odd thing here and there, but she wants me to change, over and over, for her?'

'Change?' Katie looked up again at the mention of her favourite subject.

'Transfigure myself into the animal that suits me best,' Harry explained.

'You're an animagus?'

'No,' Harry shook his head. 'I know my form and can transfigure myself into it with a wand; there's a big difference.'

'What form?' She was munching more happily again, rather than picking disconsolately at her toast.

'A raven,' Harry answered evenly.

'A raven,' Katie's tone wavered, 'quite similar to a crow then.'

Harry had feeling recollection of watching crow of silver mist bobbing its head around Katie's ankles in the Room of Requirement.

'Yeah,' he forced his smile not to slip, 'they're fairly similar. Crows aren't as maligned though, they're more mischievous and playful, and they have silly, bald heads.'

'Crows are better,' Katie agreed, nodding in a manner oddly similar to her patronus. 'They're more fun, and,' she continued shifting back to her usual, cheerful self, 'they don't eat the intestines of dead things.'

'Yes they do,' Harry told her, 'that's why they're bald, so they can stick their heads inside without getting their feathers all messy.'

Katie sulked, patting her hair gingerly. 'I McGonagall makes you a raven permanently,' she decided.

'No you don't,' Harry grinned. 'I'd come and fly around your face during quidditch and distract you.'

He ducked as Hedwig swooped down onto the table, depositing the sizeable box of crystallised fruit Harry had ordered upon learning it was something Slughorn enjoyed.

'I would get our new beaters to use you for target practice,' Katie retorted, inspecting the box curiously 'they need it.'

'Quidditch not going well?' Harry raised an eyebrow. 'It's not for you,' he told her, chuckling when she pouted.

'Not as well as it used to,' she confessed. 'We're still winning, but it's a bit… disjointed, without Angelina and Alicia, and Fred and George, not to mention out star seeker is still not playing for his house.'

'Someone stole his broom,' Harry commented dryly.

Katie giggled. 'You'd need it back to play, wouldn't you,' she sighed. 'Good thing Ginny's pretty good,' she beamed.

'I'm never getting that back, am I?'

'Over my dead body,' Katie nodded, smiling so brightly her eyes shut. 'So,' she began, finishing her breakfast in a few quick bites as the hall began to empty, 'apart from being turned into a bird what else are you doing?'

'Hmmm, let's see,' Harry feigned checking an imaginary schedule, 'transfiguration project, hiding from Romilda, and, ah yes, Slughorn's lunch party.'

'Sounds like a good day,' Katie beamed smugly. 'I have nothing to do except quidditch practice this evening, and Charms this morning.'

'And Slughorn's party,' Harry reminded her. 'I'm not taking Romilda, and Neville is playing hard to get, so that means you have to come and endure it with me.'

'You're not blonde enough for Neville,' Katie grinned, but she looked happier than Harry had seen her since she fell asleep on his shoulder in the common room after the last party. 'There's nice food there, though,' she nodded thoughtfully.

'Wait,' Katie said softly, catching his arm as Harry got up to leave. 'Fleur won't mind, will she?' Her face contorted reluctantly. 'I don't want to cause any trouble.'

'I asked her,' Harry said bluntly, 'and she said that she wants me to take you.'

'Did she?' Katie looked briefly delighted, then her eyes narrowed, coming, no doubt, to the same conclusion that Harry had about Fleur's other motives. 'I suppose it is fair,' she admitted, looking slightly guilty herself. Bittersweet, it seemed, was better than nothing.

'I'll meet you just outside,' Harry promised her.

'I only have that green dress,' Katie apologised. 'I can charm it a different colour though.'

'It's fine, come however you want,' Harry smiled, 'I'll transfigure something to match when I see you.'

'You should buy some dress robes, Harry,' Katie sighed.

'Fleur's parents bought me some,' he grinned, 'but I think they're in France still.'

'You're hopeless,' she beamed, waving cheerfully as he trudged in the direction of McGonagall's office, box under his arm.

The small huddles of younger students parted before him, scattering from his path, clutching books and bags to themselves in fear. He grinned at their apprehension, despite the Ministry's sudden change in tune, nothing had really been printed to undo the reputation he had been painted with, though only those young enough to be naive still avoided him.

It didn't bother him. Not anymore. He'd learnt from Fleur not to care for the opinions of those who did not care for his, and it made going anywhere in the school easier with no first years underfoot.

There are enough rumours about me that anyone who has heard half of them has probably stopped listening or caring.

'Mr Potter?' McGongall greeted sharply from her desk when he reached the open door. 'You're a little late.'

'I was waylaid at breakfast,' Harry shrugged, by way of an excuse.

'Try not to let it happen again, Potter,' she sighed, knowing he wouldn't listen, 'this project will require considerably more effort from myself without your assistance, enough to make it almost untenable.'

'Sorry, professor.'

'Right,' McGonagall strode around the edge of her desk, 'straight to work, then.'

'Which bit of me am I changing?' Harry asked, flicking his wand out, and carefully placing the box beneath the nearest chair.

'I trust, Mr Potter, that you have read the things I advised you too?'

'I have,' Harry answered, embellishing a little. Read was probably not quite the right adjective. Skimmed might be more apt, or glanced at.

'In stages, then,' McGonagall decided, looking pleased. 'Start with your hair into feathers, then your bones, and onwards until you are a raven. I shall observe, and note the point at which your behaviour changes.'

'Wonderful,' Harry said glibly, beginning the transfiguration.

Now he was no longer entirely guided by instinct he found it much easier to keep the sense of the raven at bay, its curiosity prickled in the back of his mind once he had finished changing his bones too the lightweight constructs of a bird, but it wasn't until he began to change the soft tissue within himself that he began to struggle to distinguish between himself and the raven.

'That'll do, Mr Potter,' McGonagall decided after a while. 'Redeo,' she snapped, flourishing her wand when he didn't respond to his name.

Harry's form swiftly reverted to its usual nature, and collapsed gently onto one of the chairs pushed back around the edge of the room. Controlling the change in such fine detail, and changing so slowly was surprisingly draining.

'Biscuit, Potter,' McGonagall offered, waving a tartan patterned tin under his nose. 'They're ginger.'

'Thanks,' Harry selected the least battered looking one, at bit a corner off.

It's probably the safest thing I've eaten in a while, actually, he grinned ruefully.

Everything else had likely found itself under the attention of whichever house elf Malfoy and tricked or convinced into adding the aconite to his food. It was about the only way Harry could imagine him managing it. House elves could be very subtle when they wanted to be, or when ordered.

'It's quite nice,' Harry decided, taking a larger bite of the biscuit.

The awfully coloured tin returned to a safer distance.

'They go well with Ogden's,' the transfiguration teacher said absently, frowning sharply the she realised who she had said that to. 'I'd prefer it if you kept that to yourself, Potter,' she instructed tersely.

'You use the bottle caps for lessons with your fourth years,' Harry grinned. 'Everyone knows.'

A soft knock at the open door interrupted the professor's reply which, from the softer edge to her frown, was likely some anecdote to do with one of his parents.

'I'm not interrupting, am I?' Dumbledore asked softly, poking his head, and half the length of his beard around the door frame.

'Not at all, headmaster,' McGonagall smiled.

'Good,' he beamed, sweeping into the room. 'I wanted to see this handsome raven for myself.'

Of course you did, Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You are not sure whether I managed to deceive McGonagall, or if I genuinely am not an animagus.

'Did you know, Harry,' Dumbledore began cheerfully, 'that one of the few ways to tell between an animagus and a simple transfiguration is the homenum revelio spell?'

'I didn't,' Harry eyed the professor curiously. 'Why does it only work on one?'

'It is one of the spells that relies on the existence of a soul,' the headmaster elucidated gently. 'However, the principle is rather like that of the sonar employed by bats, and other insects. The caster magically throws the outline of his own soul out around him, and anything similar is revealed.'

'Ah,' Harry nodded, understanding, 'the distinction of self unique to an animagus is related to the soul.'

'It is,' Dumbledore agreed, running his fingers through his beard. 'I, and no wizard or witch that I am aware of, understand exactly how, but a full transfiguration into an animal also changes the soul, though an animagus transformation does not.'

'You could have told me this before, Albus,' McGonagall snapped exasperatedly. 'That would have been a most useful piece of information for this project.'

'Oh,' Dumbledore looked momentarily taken aback. 'I must admit that I had not considered that. Would you like to test it?'

'Well,' Harry kept his face innocent, as if he did not know the game Dumbledore was playing, 'I can transfigure myself to see if it works?'

'That would be very kind of you, Harry,' Dumbledore smiled. 'I would quite like to see this raven that Professor McGonagall mentioned.'

I'm sure.

He pushed himself out of the chair, letting the sense of the raven envelop him, even while changing as slowly, and as carefully as he could manage, just in case Dumbledore thought he was trying to conceal his ability by transforming lazily.

He hopped onto the dead-wood in front of him, croaking his displeasure at the cold wash of alive-not-alive power that covered him briefly, and eyeing the shiny, round thing under his feet, pushing it from side to side with his beak and watching it glitter.

'Redeo,' the headmaster murmured gently, and Harry found himself standing rather foolishly on McGonagall's desk.

'What did you see?' He asked, jumping down to a more conventional level, catching the bottle cap that had been under his foot before it hit the floor.

'No red,' the headmaster mused, 'you would have shown up red if you were an animagus.'

'I am not,' Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

'Nobody becomes an animagus after a few weeks, Mr Potter,' McGonagall reassured him, mistaking his affected indifference for disappointment.

'I confess I did not come here just to see Harry's form as I intended when we spoke yesterday,' Dumbledore sighed heavily, glancing at McGonagall. 'Another Order member has lost their life.'

'Another?' McGonagall looked both shocked and weary at the same time. 'There are not many of us left, Albus.' She pursed her lips. 'You should go, Mr Potter, I think we are done for today in the light of this news.'

'No,' the headmaster shook his head gently, 'Harry should stay to hear this, it pertains to him.'

'Who?' McGonagall asked hoarsely, looking at Harry. 'Not another of the Weasleys?'

'Severus,' Dumbledore answered gravely.

'Severus,' McGonagall blinked, 'but-'

'Tom finally discovered him, it seems,' the headmaster sighed. 'Without him I fear we are as blind as we were at the start of the first war, and this time Tom is being much more clever than the last.'

'Snape is dead?' Harry asked, rising both eyebrows and adopting his best disbelieving face. It wasn't overly hard, not given he knew the man was likely somewhere in Germany, lying low.

'Professor Snape acted as spy at great personal risk,' Dumbledore said slowly, 'and he has finally been revealed to Tom, though I am unsure how.'

'Serving two masters must have been dangerous,' Harry said carefully.

McGonagall flinched slightly, opening her mouth to retort angrily, but the headmaster raised his gloved hand, the injured one, to forestall her comment.

'Professor Snape died for the one he loved,' Dumbledore told Harry gently, 'or, I suppose, he died for her memory, and the child she left behind. There is no more noble a death than the sacrifice he has made; it should not be belittled.'

'It would have been more noble if he hadn't betrayed her to die in the first place,' Harry said coldly.

'I'm sure if he could have died to save your mother he would have done,' the headmaster murmured. 'It is not behooving to speak ill of the dead, Harry,' he remonstrated gently, 'especially not of a man so devoted to the woman he loved that he would die for not just her, but her family too.'

A brief stab of guilt at the words of his necessary deception pierced at him, because Harry could only agree that had Snape truly died in such a manner it would have been a noble sacrifice, one Harry might have admired, even if it had been made as much in the pursuit of vengeance for his mother than in her name. He pushed the remorse away, burying it being the knowledge that he had given the wizard his freedom.

'What happened, sir?' He asked, more quietly, as if chastised.

'His body was found in Hogsmeade,' Dumbledore said sadly. 'Tom did not let him die easily,' the headmaster's fingers strayed to his maimed hand, 'we were only able to identify it by the wand until St Mungo's confirmed the identity.'

'He was tortured?' McGonagall had gone very pale. She clearly did not have the stomach for this, but Harry wasn't surprised, she was a professor, not an auror.

'Tom is not kind to those he believes have betrayed him,' Dumbledore sighed, 'there is no other offence he punishes so severely.'

'Poor Severus,' McGonagall whispered.

'He was found under a bloodstained lily,' the headmaster shook his head, the slightest hint of tears visible beneath the half-moon frames.

A masterful performance, Harry decided. Either he is genuinely remorseful for the loss of Snape's second chance, or he is a superb actor.

'I suppose he won't be able to redeem himself after all,' Harry murmured.

'Has he not,' Dumbledore turned to fix his sad, electric blue eyes on Harry, 'there are few deeds an act like that cannot redeem.' He turned back to McGonagall. 'We are meeting at headquarters, to discuss how we will proceed now that Severus has been lost.'

Has been lost, Harry mused, and I almost believed him.

Had it not been for that last reference, the slight indication that he viewed Snape as a resource more than a man, Harry might have accepted Dumbledore's sorrow as truth.

'I have to attend Professor Slughorn's party,' Harry excused himself.

'There are better places to find inspiration to getting permission to take your NEWT early, Harry,' the headmaster told him, the slight note of disappointment evident again as he stared hard at the box beneath his arm.

'I ordered it three days ago, professor,' Harry said calmly, but if anything the headmaster only looked more dismayed.

'My apologies,' he said at last, 'after sharing that memory with you I'm afraid I jumped to conclusions.'

'That's ok, sir,' Harry nodded. 'It's the intent that is important, isn't it?'

'I try to do everything for good intentions,' the headmaster smiled softly, reassured.

I'm sure, Harry thought bitterly. I shall see you on the road to hell, professor.

At least everything was going as he had hoped. There had been no suspicion in Dumbledore's eyes, none of his conversation had seemed to indicate he might consider Harry possibly responsible for Snape's death.

The time-turner served its purpose well.

He left McGonagall's office, leaving hurriedly in case he was late and had to sit next to Zabini, or, worse, Malfoy, whom he knew was actually invited to this one.

It was only three corridors to the venue, one of the slightly better lit classrooms usually used for charms.

'You're early, Harry,' Slughorn chuckled, catching him outside the room.

'I brought you a gift, sir,' Harry smiled, following him in and placing the box on the table beside him. 'I heard that it's your favourite,' he added, unable to resist.

Slughorn nodded happily. 'You spoil this old man,' he replied fondly. 'You were quite right that it's my favourite,' his hand froze over the box for a instant, 'did you have a question?' His tone shifted wary.

'I just wondered if you'd put any thought into letting me take my NEWT early,' Harry said easily, leaning against the doorframe.

'Well,' Slughorn sighed, looking visibly relieved, 'that seems harmless enough, nothing Dark about that.'

'Dark, sir?' Harry asked innocently.

'Don't worry, m'boy,' the potions teacher clapped his hands together, nearly catching the dangerously strained brass buttons upon his waistcoat between his fingers. 'I'll write your note this evening.'

'Thank you, sir,' Harry grinned. 'I need to find my date, if you'll excuse me?'

'Of course,' the professor nodded, chins wobbling. 'Can't come like that to one of my parties, what would Miss Bell think?' His eyes turned sly, his fingers drifting to tug at his moustache. 'Or should that be Miss Delacour?'

'No girl could ever condone such terrible form from their date,' Harry smiled, avoiding the question.

'Indeed not.' Slughorn's fingers fell from the vast swathe of silver hair beneath his nose, looking a little as if the wind had been cut from his sails.

Katie was already outside, tapping her fingers against the wall while she waited for him.

'I made it blue and silver,' she smiled. 'I thought you might like it in this colours?' To her credit her tone didn't waver.

'It looks nice,' Harry told her gently, waving his wand over himself until he was dressed in robes of silver and sapphire himself.

'Romilda was furious,' Katie giggled. 'I think she hoped to catch you before I was around to fend her off, but apparation classes are very close to here, so I had a headstart.'

'Damn,' Harry sighed, 'and I was so hoping to spend the party with her.'

'She's not so bad,' Katie defended a little guiltily, 'just a little unhappy about how things are. She was one of those girls who had a dream of being swept off her feet by someone heroic and famous.'

'Better than the other sort,' Harry grinned, 'the ones that have a copy of our article on the bedroom walls, beside the handcuffs…'

'Much better,' she agreed, giggling. 'Most people know about Fleur now, you've disappointed a lot of girls, Harry.' She waggled a finger at him in feigned remonstration and he grinned. This was the Katie he had missed this morning.

'I'm sure Romilda and the others will get over it eventually,' he replied carelessly, wincing inside when he remembered how Katie might interpret that.

'Of course they will,' she beamed, 'now they know there's no chance they'll get over you fast enough, even if sometimes it's hard not to be tempted when someone else has something you want. Romilda knows she'll never have it, though, that's why she's not causing trouble.'

'That's good to know,' Harry smiled carefully, distinctly aware of what she was really saying. 'I'm sure Romilda's friends will be grateful to know that she isn't going to be abandoning them to chase after me.'

'It seems like it,' she agreed, smiling sadly.

Other couples drifted past into the room, which, at some point between Harry leaving and looking back in, had suddenly filled with furniture and food.

'Shall we go in?' Katie suggested. 'I'm hungry.'

'Aren't you always,' Harry smirked, leading her to the table, and then catching her hands before she could steal food while everyone else was still sitting down.

'Spoilsport,' she sulked, leaving her hands in his, and biting her lip guiltily when he gave her a querying look. Her hands didn't move regardless, but Harry didn't mind so much now, not now he knew that she wasn't trying to force anything, just to enjoy as much of what she wanted as she could.

Across from them, ignoring a chattering Pansy, who was clearly judging their company with no small amount of spite, sat a tired, wary looking Malfoy, who, upon noticing Harry's gaze, raised his goblet in a mocking toast, inclining his head. He needed no other indication that Voldemort had decided he was responsible for Snape's apparent death than that.

AN: Please read and review! Thanks to everyone who does!