As stays in the Hospital Wing went, this one was unusually short for Harry. He didn't even have to get undressed for bed, simply being allowed to sit on one of the gurneys as the Matron looked him over. She diagnosed him with a bump on the head and a sprained wrist from where he had tried to cushion his fall to the floor. A quick potion to treat Harry's headache, a spell to seal up the cut at the base of his skull and he was deemed right as rain and told he was free to go.

Harry found Hermione's reaction quite amusing. She'd been pale in her concern for him, but colour flooded back to her cheeks quicker than a changing set of traffic lights when Madame Pomfrey declared that there was no serious damage. By the time they were heading back towards Gryffindor Tower she was even cheery enough to playfully ask why she hadn't heard the echo from when Harry's hollow skull collided with the flagstones.

Harry allowed her this teasing as she seemed in a much better mood than earlier. He thought it best not to burst her bubble by telling her that Sally-Anne had asked him to be her boyfriend at the end of the Halloween dance. He hadn't had chance to answer on account of hurrying after Hermione, but he had already decided he was going to say yes to Sally when they next saw each other.

That came quicker than Harry could have guessed, however, and didn't go at all as he had expected. For when he and Hermione arrived at the Common Room they were met by one of the Fifth Year prefects, who told them that they were to go to the Great Hall with the rest of the school. Confused, Harry and Hermione span on their heels and headed back down the spiral staircase.

They entered the Hall to a surprising sight. Dumbledore had ordered all the students to leave their dorms and spend the night camped out here. The house tables had been removed and a thousand squashy purple sleeping bags were conjured by the Headmaster. Students were queueing up to collect them and Harry spotted Sally near the front of the line. He hurried up to speak to her, but when he got there Sally-Anne did something very unexpected.

She squeaked in fright and turned away from Harry without saying a word, before hurrying off towards a far corner of the Hall.

"What ... what was that about?" Harry asked, honestly hurt by the rebuff.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure she's just frightened like everyone else," Hermione consoled, though there was a sort of smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Come on, Harry, let's join the line."

So they did, waiting patiently until they collected their purple sleeping bags. Then they moved off to find the comfiest bit of floor that they could. Harry was careful to lay his bag a respectful distance from Hermione's, but upon seeing this she simply moved hers nearer in.

"I'm scared, Harry, and I'll feel a lot safer if I'm as close to you as possible," Hermione explained to Harry's puzzled look. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Do you want to share a sleeping bag instead?"

Hermione blushed scarlet. "Well, yes, I do ... but I really don't think that would be allowed, do you?"

"Oh ... um ... no, I see what you mean," Harry replied awkwardly.

"It was a nice gesture, though," Hermione whispered, stepping in conspiratorily close and looking like she was trying not to giggle. "But I don't think either the teachers or your girlfriend would approve!"

"Sally isn't my girlfriend," Harry protested with hurt in his voice. Hermione seemed to notice and her expression softened. "I don't think she's even my friend, if what just happened is anything to go by."

"Then that's her loss, isn't it?" Hermione smiled back. "She's a stupid coward if she backs away from you just because danger happens to find you every now and then."

"I suppose I am a bit dangerous to know, aren't I?" Harry conceded glumly. "It's amazing that anyone can stand to be around me."

"I've never minded it," Hermione quipped. "It makes life with you interesting, Harry. Who wants boring old normal? It's overrated, if you ask me."

Harry felt buoyed by that and grinned widely. He felt something else lift, too, as though an invisible obstacle had suddenly been removed from in front of him. He couldn't have guessed what the obstacle was blocking his path to, but he felt better having it removed in any case.

So he and Hermione settled down next to each other and tried to get comfortable. Harry didn't think there was much chance of sleeping on this floor, but he soon came to agree with what Hermione meant about being close to one another. She was turned away from him but he could see her shoulders rise and fall as she tried to drift off. Her breathing even moved Harry's own sleeping bag where she was so near to him and the visceral feeling of her being safe and under his care relaxed him far more then he might have expected it to.

Once an hour a teacher would come around to inspect the sleeping students, so Harry got used to scrunching his eyes shut whenever footsteps sounded nearby. Then, at around three in the morning, Professor Dumbledore returned with Professor Snape. They moved to meet Percy Weasley, who was revelling in his Head Boy duties as he snapped at students for talking and threatening to deduct House Points across the school.

"Any sign of her, Professors?" Percy asked as Dumbledore and Snape came to a halt near him.

"No, nothing. All calm in here?"

"The usual class clowns playing up every now and then ... and by that I mean my own twin brothers," Percy said in a sniffy voice. "A bit of random chattering but otherwise all quiet. I'm keeping an eye on Harry Potter and Hermione Granger though. They are practically in each other's sleeping bags, so I'm making sure that they keep their hands firmly to themselves."

Harry froze, mortified, as several hisses of snickering broke out nearby from eager eavesdroppers. Harry wasn't certain, but it sounded like Hermione's trademark giggle might have been amongst them. Harry could almost feel Snape's sneer burning a hole in his head.

"I trust Harry and Hermione completely," Dumbledore told them genially. "It is natural to seek solace and comfort in ones closest loved ones at such a time as this. Having someone to hug you and tell you everything will be alright is no bad thing, you know."

The twitters of restrained laughter broke out again and this time Harry was sure Hermione was one of them. Indeed, her shoulders seemed to be rocking from where she was trying to repress yet stronger giggles from escaping her throat.

"So has the whole castle been searched?" Percy went on, changing the subject.

"It has," Dumbledore replied. "From the Owlery and the Astronomy Tower right down to the dungeons. There is no sign of Bellatrix Lestrange anywhere."

"Do you have any theory about how she might have gotten in?" Snape asked.

"Several, Severus, and each more ludicrous than the last."

"You may remember, Headmaster, my concerns raised at the beginning of the year," Snape began.

But Dumbledore cut him off at a stroke, with a tone so serious as to leave him in no doubt that the matter was closed.

"I do, Severus, and I an unmoved with your suspicions. No-one from within Hogwarts helped Bellatrix Lestrange to enter it."

"But the full moon is close ... and you know how strong the pull of pack mentality is ..."

"Enough of this, Severus. I will hear no more," Dumbledore told him sternly.

"Very well," Snape conceded. "But it seems inconceivable that Lestrange did not enter this castle without help from someone."

"I am open to that possibility, but we first need to establish her motives," Dumbledore mused. "What was she here for? And why did she think she'd find it in Gryffindor Tower? All the students were attending the Ball, so what else might she have been seeking?"

Percy and Snape seemed too stumped to answer and their worried breathing was the only sound to be heard for a few moments until Dumbledore spoke again, his voice grave and resigned.

"I am afraid this incident will bring about a change I have been striving to resist," he told them.

"Sir?" Percy asked. "What do you mean?"

"The Ministry have been putting pressure on me to allow the Dementors of Azkaban to guard the gates to Hogwarts. It is almost as if they expected something like this, expected the school to be targeted.I cannot begin to think why, but as it has happened I feel I will be powerless to stop it happening now."

"D-Dementors? At Hogwarts?" Percy stuttered lowly. "They wont be allowed in, will they?"

Harry felt an icy cold creep like freezing tendrils through his veins as he listened. Percy sounded utterly terrified and this seemed to make Harry's own terror ratchet up several notches. As though sensing the turn in his anxiety, Hermione seemed to shift back slightly as if to offer comfort. Harry had a wild notion to throw his arms around her as she did, but he held himself still as Dumbledore spoke on.

"No Dementor will cross the threshold of this school while I am Headmaster," Dumbledore stated in a steely voice. "But I may have to permit them to guard the entrances to the grounds. If you will excuse me, I must go and prepare to consult with the school Governors and the Ministry. Do not let any student leave without my express permission to do so."

Three sets of footsteps then moved away, and a dozen hushed conversations broke out as soon as they were out of earshot. One voice came from Hermione who said, without turning, "Are you still awake, Harry?"

"Yeah," he whispered back. "Did you hear that?"

"I did. What was it all about?"

"I dunno, but I don't know what's worse ... Lestrange or the Dementors. Either way, I'm really glad you're back, Hermione, so I don't have to face this alone."

"Me too, Harry, me too," Hermione purred, moving back until they were practically snuggled together. Harry didn't know how to tell her, or even if he was supposed to, but this felt far more comfortable than being close to another human being ever ought to. He decided not to sleep, just so he could enjoy it in silence.

November rolled in on the back of wild talk about Bellatrix Lestrange, where she was, why she'd slashed the Fat Lady's portrait and her plans to attack Hogwarts again in the future. A roaring Black Market erupted around the corridors, with students stocking up on talismans and protection amulets, though how any of these were supposed to be effective against a lunatic like Lestrange was anyone's guess.

Though Harry was more sure about this that he was about what had happened with Sally-Anne. For she now point blank refused to speak to him and, though she didn't seem cross with him, the very sight of him caused her to come over very faint and keen to put as much distance between them as possible. Harry was left unexpectedly miserable by this but then, as Neville helpfully pointed out, he was a very scary boyfriend to have and it was no surprise, really, that Sally had done a runner at the first sign of trouble.

That did nothing to lift Harry's spirits, but Hermione was left perfectly jolly by the whole thing, and seeing her good moods always cheered him up. This was especially important after Quidditch practice, as Wood was pushing the team particularly hard in all the worst kinds of weather. Harry would come in sopping wet and flop down by the fire to evaporate while Hermione told him about all the remedial classes she was taking in the Pensieve.

"Arithmancy has been great, but that was an odd class of Defence when Professor Snape had to step in, wasn't it?" Hermione commented as she flitted between two different homework tasks in her efforts to get up to speed. "I wonder what happened to Professor Lupin for that one?"

"I was more interested in why Snape gave him such a hard time," Harry replied. "His classes have been really good, and I know he's been giving Neville extra tuition to try and learn how to cast a Patronus."

"Ooh, has he? How's he been getting on?"

"He can produce a puff of smoke, but it's a hard spell to learn," Harry told her. "It took Sirius ages to show me how to do it."

"Oh, of course, I forgot you can do one," Hermione cried. "You have to show me how, Harry, in case I run into one of the Dementor guards by accident or something. What's the incantation?"

"Expecto Patronum."

"Expecto Patronum, Expecto Patronum," Hermione tried out. "Is that it? Any specific wand movement?"

"No, but you have to think of a good memory, the best you have, then hold it in your mind while you cast the spell," Harry explained. "It sounds easy, but try doing it when all the happiness is being sucked out of you by those things."

"You managed it, you said, when you went to High Brasil," Hermione pointed out.

"Yes, well, I was trying to rescue you, wasn't I?" Harry reminded her. "I was very motivated."

Hermione smiled prettily and turned her eyes down with a blush. Then she looked back up.

"So ... what memory did you use?"

Now it was Harry's turn to adopt a shade of scarlet in his bashfulness.

"I cant tell you that."

"Why not?"

"It's private," Harry replied avoidantly. "Besides, it doesn't always have to be the same one. It just has to be positive enough to repel the negative force of the Dementors."

"I think I know which one I'd use," Hermione pondered thoughtfully.

"Go on then, what is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

"It's private," Hermione grinned teasingly. Harry just rolled his eyes at her.

Harry's eyes weren't the only things rolling that evening. For as Harry dried out and Hermione buried her head in half a dozen textbooks, Papageno was busy playing with a stuffed ball that Hermione had produced from her bag. Harry could feel Marici just itching to get out of his pocket and join him, but he thought he'd had quite enough of the dæmons and their indecent frolicking, which was getting worse all the time. It was enough to render both Harry and Hermione mute now and Harry had even felt the need to take cold showers when alone just to cool off.

So he just watched Papageno instead, rolling around and clutching the ball between his paws. Neville had strategically sat with his back to the space in front of the couch, where Hermione was studying, as he played wizard's chess with Fay and told her all about how he was now going out with Daphne Greengrass. She didn't seem too happy to hear all the details, but Neville's position meant no thoughtless hands could reach past to try and pet Papageno, which just wouldn't have gone down well at all.

And then, quite suddenly, Papageno abandoned the ball and went shooting off after something else instead ... a very alive, very frightened little thing.

"Pap ... I mean ... Crookshanks!" Hermione yelped. "What are you doing!"

But Papageno didn't stop. He hurtled across the room, coming to a skidding halt at the foot of the stairs to the Boy's Dormitory where he bristled on all fours and hissed angrily. Hermione looked over to see Ron Weasley there, scooping up his pet rat from the floor.

"Shoo! Shoo! Get out of it, will you?"

Papageno hissed again and then Ron did the unthinkable ... he reached down and pushed Papageno away with his hand! He kept it pressed to Papageno's head as the dæmon went weak from the forbidden contact.

Harry watched it all as if in slow motion. His anger surged as he watched Ron touch Papageno's fur, feeling the violation as if he'd touched Marici instead. Harry looked over at Hermione, whose eyes had rolled back into her head and her body slumped as the intrusion abused her.

"Harry ... please ..." Hermione whimpered weakly. "Stop ... must stop ..."

Harry reacted in a second, leaping up and vaulting the couch. He was at the staircase in two strides, where he scooped up the practically limp Papageno from the floor. Ron looked white with shock.

"I ... I don't know what happened," he mumbled. "I don't know what I did."

"I told you never to touch him ... never!" Harry hissed. "What did I tell you? Answer me!"

The Common Room fell silent, but Harry's searing rage almost had a volume of its own. All eyes snapped to them to watch.

"I ... I'm sorry, Harry," Ron begged. "I didn't know."

"Why did you touch him! He wasn't hurting you!"

"He was after Scabbers, my rat," Ron explained, holding the animal up. "Look at him ... he's old, he was terrified. The fright might have finished him off!"

"I'll finish you off if you ever put a finger on Crookshanks again, got it?" Harry growled.

"Mate, he didn't know," Neville offered as peacemaker. He looked Harry meaningfully in the eye. "He didn't know. But now he does, and he wont do it again, will you, Ron? Will you?"

"No, never," Ron nodded vigorously as Harry visibly calmed. Neville's knowing prompting helped, but Harry could feel Papageno come to life in his arms and rub his head against the underside of Harry's chin. He had a wild vision of Hermione doing that to him, with the smooth hair of her bushy crown nestling in the crook of his neck ... and it was just the most lovely thought Harry could remember having. Now where in the hell had that come from? Harry didn't know, but it soothed him immeasurably.

"Alright, Ron, I accept your apology," Harry breathed. "Please don't touch Crookshanks again though, yeah? I've warned you twice now. A third time and I cant promise that you wont end up in the Hospital Wing."

"Threats are quite enough, Harry," said a soft voice at his ear. Hermione had recovered sufficiently and crept up to his side. Her eyes were bright and alive with a sort of fire. "Come on. Let's take a walk, cool off."

Harry nodded, allowing Hermione to take Papageno from his arms, somewhat reluctantly, as they made their way to the Portrait Hole.

The Lake was pretty by the moonlight. The silvery reflection of the moon shivered in the ripples of the water, driven by the gutsy wind blowing all around the grounds. Harry thought the mere presence of the Dementors nearby had caused the temperature to drop by several degrees.

"I ... I didn't know," Harry muttered through chattering teeth. "I didn't know that's what happened when someone touched your dæmon. I was so angry, and scared for you. Are you alright?"

Hermione smiled back. "I'll be okay. Just a bit shaky, that's all. How are you? Is it too cold to stay out here?"

"No, I need the fresh air," Harry confessed. Then her turned to face his best friend. "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why ... why doesn't that happen to you, you know, when I touch Pap?" Harry asked in utter caution. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer, but at the same time he was dying to know. "You never seem to go all faint like that?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something on reflex, but seemed to lose courage and closed her lips to think her answer through a bit more.

"It's ... complicated, Harry."

"Can you try to explain it?"

Hermione sighed patiently. "Not really, it's something you just have to know. It's something only your dæmon can show you. It wont be the same if you're just told. But when you know, you'll understand."

"That doesn't make much sense," Harry frowned.

"No, it really doesn't," Hermione agreed wearily, though Harry got the feeling she wasn't only talking about human on dæmon contact. "How do you think you'd feel if someone touched Marici, for example?"

"Probably as though someone had sliced me open with a searing hot knife and stuck their lemon-juice covered fingers into the open wound," Harry mused.

"Yes, that's pretty much what it felt like when Ron touched Pap."

"But it isn't when I touch him?"

Hermione blinked expressionlessly at him. "No, Harry, it isn't."

"It's different?"

"Yes."

"But good different? It's pleasant. You don't mind it, you said."

"That's right."

"But why?"

Hermione actually cried out in her exasperation. She couldn't tell him this, she just couldn't. Harry could see that, but at the same time he was positive that she knew and was just avoiding it for some reason. This was so confusing and not at all like her.

"So why cant you tell me?" Harry pushed. "What are you keeping from me?"

Hermione turned fully to look into his eyes. Harry felt his breath do something funny as she did so. For a crazy second, he thought Hermione was going to lean in and kiss him ... and for an even crazier second, he really, really wanted her to. But then she eased herself back.

"This is something you have to learn for yourself," Hermione told him. "It's like when you are happy or find something funny. No-one can tell you why you are laughing, you just are. You know why from eyeballs to bones, but you would never be able to describe it. You just know ... and this is the same."

"And you know why it happens? Why I can touch Pap and no-one else can?" Harry asked.

"I do ... I've known for a while," Hermione replied in a quiet, shy voice. "And I really hope that one day you'll know it, too. But I cant tell you it, you have to learn it for yourself. But no-one can tell you how to do that, either."

"Great," Harry groaned. "I hate riddles, Hermione, I thought we'd established that."

"But you still have to solve them," Hermione pointed out. "And I'm sure you will ... one day."

"And you cant help me?" Harry double-checked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, especially not tonight."

"Why not? Is there somewhere you have to be?"

"Actually, yes," Hermione replied bashfully. "The Music Society are meeting for a recital at 9pm. Um ... Michael Corner asked me to do a duet with him. Our voices harmonise quite well, surprisingly. I actually need to get going."

"You're doing a duet with Corner?" Harry spat angrily. "Why?"

"He asked me to," Hermione replied simply. "Why are you so angry? It's only singing."

"Only singing?" Harry scoffed. "That's how it starts, isn't it? One minute you're singing together, next minute he's using his mouth to do something far different! Namely swapping saliva with your tonsils!"

Hermione laughed at that, which only stoked Harry's fury more. He felt a rabid force rise in his chest. What the hell was happening? How was Hermione suddenly going out with Michael Corner and kissing him all over Hogwarts, and why did Harry hurt so much as his furious imagination ran amok in his skull?

"I think you're jumping the gun a bit there, Harry!" Hermione giggled. "It's just a Music Society thing."

"Oh, really?" Harry huffed.

"Yes, really," Hermione nodded. "What sort of girl do you take me for, anyway?"

"It's not you I'm worried about, it's him!"

"I'd have a say in it if that's what he wanted," Hermione pointed out fairly. "And I'm not that keen on him. But perhaps, Harry, you might want to think about why you are so angry about this. It's quite sweet, really, but maybe you should have a better think about it, maybe ask Marici what she thinks.

"Look, I have to go. But take my advice ... it might clear some things up for you. Put it this way, whatever Michael's interest in me might be, there's no way I'd let him touch Papageno. Only one person is allowed to do that ... if you can work out why, then finally you might understand. I'll be waiting to talk to you about it when you do. See you later, Harry."

And then she left him alone, dazed, confused and wondering just when his life had become so annoyingly complicated.