Ron awoke from a shallow sleep, wondering if he had really fallen asleep at all until he peeked out from behind the curtains of his four-poster bed and saw that the room was quite dark and the only sounds to be heard were those from the other three boys' snores and even breathing.  He'd lived with this for over four years now.  It shouldn't have woken him, yet he was sure that he had been waked by some noise.  Attributing the noise to something of his dream, he laid his head again on his pillow and closed his eyes, when an alien sound reached his ears that had not come from within the room.  Quietly, he slipped from his bed, crossed the room without slippers or robe, and opened the door enough to be sure the sound was coming from the Common Room.

Padding down the stairs in his bare feet, Ron discovered what the sound was: someone was crying.  He turned to go back to bed, leaving whatever soul to the privacy of their own hell, when into his mind came an image of Hermione, hands on hips, telling him to act like a Prefect.  He leaned his back against the wall for a moment, angry at his own conscience for agreeing with her.  Everyone had issues.  Hell, he had issues enough without having to deal with someone else's.  But then, he was a Prefect, and that unfortunate knowledge, he knew, wouldn't allow him to go back to sleep so easily without at least checking up on the distressed creature downstairs.  Finally, with an annoyed shake of his head, he turned again toward the Common Room and his Prefect duties.

A young woman stood before the fireplace, staring at the flames as if they held the answers to all life's problems.  She neither turned nor made any movement of notice at his approach, except to pull her pink robe more tightly around herself before muffling a sob in the arm of her robe.  Convinced she still had not noticed him, Ron called out to her.

"Hermione?"

Hermione started, then turned her tear streaked face to her friend.  Her surprise at finding Ron, of all people, standing just a few feet from her, previously unnoticed, was evidenced by her wide eyes and slightly parted lips.  She pulled her sleeve over her eyes, drying them, and forced a weak smile.

"Hermione, are you all right?"

She nodded.

"You were crying."  He drew nearer, stopping directly opposite her.  "I haven't seen you cry since we got here a week ago.  Are you sure you're all right?"

Her smile tightened begrudgingly, and she nodded again.  Her eyes shone with a new wave of tears she seemed unwilling to let fall.  They did not escape Ron's notice.

"Hermione-."

She held her smile, but shook her head this time.

"Don't smile and nod at me.  Tell me what's wrong."  Alarm crept into his voice, but he managed to keep it low so as not to wake any others.  Hermione's mouth moved as if attempting to form words.  Finally, she found her voice.

"I just had a bad dream."  Her voice cracked as she pushed another wave of tears down.

"Is that all?" Ron asked, relieved that nothing else terrible had happened.  He had had enough of bad news for one lifetime.  "Come on then, let's hear it."

Another shake of the head.

"It'll make you feel better to get it off your chest."  When she made no answer, he took her wrist, directing her toward the couch, and sat her down in the middle, then positioned himself facing her, leaning sideways onto the cushioned back and propping his head on his hand.  "What brought you down here in the middle of the night?"  The look on Hermione's face was his answer, and he mentally kicked himself for even needing to ask the question.

She'd dreamt about Harry.

Damn.

He'd made a full four hours without thinking about the fate of their friend.  He'd been able to clear his mind since Quidditch practice when he'd found out he'd be the new Keeper for the team, and Angelina announced that they needed a Seeker as well.

"What do you mean we need a Seeker?" Katie cried.  "What's up with Harry?  Isn't he coming back?"

She turned toward Ron and the twins, seeking an answer to her question, but was met by downcast eyes and mute tongues.  "Ron, you're his best friend.  Where is he?"

Still, no answer.

"Look," Angelina interrupted.  "All I know is that Harry hasn't been here in the last week, and McGonagall pretty much told me to keep an eye out for a new Seeker.  Obviously, if Harry comes back, he can keep his position, but until then-."

"He's not coming back," Ron had murmured under his breath, not even realizing what he'd said until he felt his brothers' eyes boring into him.  He looked up to meet the eyes of the Chasers as well.

"I know, Ron.  I know he's not coming back," Hermione told him.  "It's not like I've been deluding myself with some fantasy that Harry will just appear and everything will be normal.  But- don't you ever just have one of those dreams that's so real, you have to wonder if it really happened?  No matter how improbable?" 

"That's what freaked you out," Ron answered.  "How real it was."

"Yeah, but it was so, I don't know, random."

"What was it?"

"Well, I was walking through the Forbidden Forest.  It was very cold, even though I had on my cloak, but then, the ground started sloping upward, like I was climbing a mountain, and all the trees turned into evergreens.  And I got to this clearing, and there was Harry writing on a blackboard.  It was the queerest thing.  I saw him writing, and I could hear the sound of the chalk, but the board was blank. Naturally, I tried to get his attention- called his name, touched his shoulder, stood in front of him- but it was like he couldn't see me, like I didn't exist.  Even when I screamed in his ear.  And then the sun started rising, and the sky turned deep red, an suddenly, I was awake."

Hermione fell silent and looked down at her hands, while Ron merely stared after her, a bewildered look in his eyes.

"Wow," he said after a few seconds of silence.  "That was really random."

"I told you it was," Hermione exclaimed, tears rising again in her eyes.  "It's just- is it horrible of me to wish the dreams would stop?  I mean, I hardly sleep, and I can't concentrate properly on anything.  But at the same time, the only way I can see him ever again is in my dreams.  I'm terrified that some time down the road, I won't be able to really remember him at all, except as he is in pictures, but I can't go on breaking down every time someone asks me where he is or if I know what happened to him.  Why couldn't Dumbledore have just told everyone so they would leave us alone?  Why- why can't they just let him rest?"

This last question was muffled as Ron had pulled her to him and was cradling her to his chest as she broke down again, tears stinging his own eyes.  He had had the same thoughts as well over the past few days.  Why hadn't anyone at the school been informed?  When would the dreams stop?  When would the hurt stop?  Unfortunately, he had no answers to give, so had to soothe her only with a long embrace and soft whispers until finally she stilled and her whimpers became softer, evaporating into the even breathing of sleep.  Ron laid his head atop hers, unwilling to let go of her, unwilling to let the dreams return, until his own eyes became to heavy to keep open, and he too was fast asleep.

¤¤¤¤

"Severus?  Do you have a moment to speak in private?"

Snape looked at the Headmaster, wanting to say no, that he was extremely tired and was facing a very long day with his classes in the morning, but when Albus Dumbledore asks for a moment, it is not a question.  He's telling you that he would like to speak with you.  The Potions Master nodded and followed the Headmaster up to his office, seating himself in his customary chair across the large desk.

"Severus, you more than any in the order are responsible for bringing Harry back to us.  For that I thank you."

Snape groaned inwardly.  He would not have been brought all the way up into Dumbledore's tower for a mere thank you.  Gods preserve, he was going to ask a favor.

"I understand his importance in our cause," he answered warily.

"Yes, Harry is very important to our cause, as he is important to myself, personally."

"And I am sure I have done more than my share in keeping Potter safe over the years, considering my position."

"Indeed, you have."

"And yet, I foresee you're asking me for more, despite the constant protection he has from Black and Lupin, not to mention the school itself."

"You are as perceptive as ever."

"Why, exactly, are you asking me when there are so many others who want to babysit Potter?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said, leaning his elbows on the desk and sitting forward in his seat, a sure sign that he was either going to share a very wonderful secret or very ominous news.  His serious tenor denoted the latter.  "You were in the room during Harry's- hysterics.  What did you perceive?"

"Possession," Snape answered, casually crossing his legs.  "Or Potter really is deranged.  I hope we have not yet ruled out that possibility."

"Possession.  Yes, that is what I believe as well."  He was quiet for a moment, then furrowed his brow as if in thought, before focusing a serious gaze on the Potions Master.  "Harry had a similar fit the very evening he returned to us, a little more than an hour before you yourself returned.  It was that same voice, Severus."  Snape shifted slightly, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore's.  "I believe his exact words were, 'You know the price of failure,' followed by the Cruciatus Curse."

Snape's eyes closed slowly as his face sunk into his hand.

"You know the price of failure.  Crucio!"

Those very words had been uttered in a low voice that sent involuntary shudders down his spine.  He'd expected to hear those words since he had been sent on this mission, as Snape knew Potter could not fall into the Dark Lord's hands.  Luckily, the bulk of the Dark Lord's wrath had fallen on his favorite, Lucius Malfoy.  That's not to say Snape had gone unpunished, but he had been able to walk away, though painfully, at the end of the night.

"How?" was all he asked, knowing Dumbledore would understand his question perfectly. 

"I have suspected for some time that Voldemort would realize the link between himself and Harry, that with his newly regained power, that link would broaden and they would be able to enter each other's minds, see what the other is seeing, and feel what the other is feeling.  We both know he is a very powerful Legilimist, and I believe that Harry's weakness after leaving his family's care allowed Voldemort's mind to seep into Harry's.  After he discovered Harry was alive, he began trying to fully enter it voluntarily.  We have witnessed the result."

"I presume I do not need to ask what you require of me?"

"There are few who are so practiced at shielding their minds against one so powerful.  Certainly Remus and Sirius, though I know they would volunteer were I to ask them, would not benefit Harry so much as yourself."

"There is another who would benefit him much more than me, Albus, and would be much more patient than I could ever be."

"Do not think I have not considered all options, Severus.  I will help you.  However, as I mentioned before, Harry is very important to me, for more than simply being Harry Potter.  If Voldemort can take Harry's mind and see how much I care for him, it could be disastrous.  I cannot place him in greater danger than he is already in."

"And if he realizes I am helping Potter?"  Snape snapped angrily.  All this Potter business had placed his own position into more and more peril.  How many more nights of torture was he to endure before he was finally discovered to be a traitor?  Was it to be his lot to die for this boy whom he couldn't stand in the first place?

"Do what you must, Severus.  I realize what danger this places you in, but Harry's safety is tantamount to the safety of all of us."

Snape rose and strode about the room, saying nothing, though anger broiled within him.  So this was to be the overreaching theme of this war: save Potter at all costs.  And it would fall to him to be sure it was carried through.  All other lives were inconsequential; most certainly the life of a Death Eater spy.  He spun angrily toward Dumbledore and found himself looking at a very old man who sat with his eyes closed, as if deep in some disturbing thought.  Then those blue eyes revealed themselves slowly, sweeping up Snape's long black-robed body before settling on his cheerless face. 

Those eyes that had seen so many die who had followed him into battle. 

Those eyes that were now seeing every one of those faces as they stared up at the Potions Master.

Those eyes that were not only the window to a happy, generous soul, but one that battled every decision in this war against his love for those he commanded.

Those sad, apologetic eyes that begged forgiveness for a task he must ask.

Those damned eyes.

"As you wish, Albus.  I will tutor Potter in Occlumency."

¤¤¤¤

"How will you treat his amnesia?" Remus asked Madame Pomfrey as they stood together in her office, speaking in low voices as the Healer kept a close eye on the large black dog nuzzling the hand of her sleeping charge.

"Were it anyone else" she answered, "I would say we send them to St. Mungo's and hope for the best."

"As it's not anyone else?"

"Familiar surroundings.  People, things he might recognize.  Places that may trigger memories."

"He must be treated at Hogwarts then?"

"Oh yes.  He cannot return to his Muggle family, and even if he could, I would not allow it.  He has spent four years at our school, and I would assume he has plenty of memories here.  Did you have another idea?"

"No," he answered slowly.  "I agree with you, but Sirius, I think, hopes to take Harry home with him."

"Mr. Black?  No, I cannot condone such an idea.  Not while he is on the run.  Has Mr. Potter ever even been to wherever Mr. Black stays?"

"No."

"Then Mr. Black taking Mr. Potter, regardless of his guardianship, would do nothing to heal the boy.  I will have to keep him here."

Remus pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, exhaustion from the long week finally catching up with him.

"He can't return to classes in this condition."

"No, most certainly not.  If Professor Dumbledore wants him to continue his lessons, his professors will have to meet with him outside the regular class times.  Pushing him straight into a class would only confuse him more."  She paused thoughtfully for a few seconds, then continued.  "Mr. Potter has two friends who, I'm sure, will be more than willing to help him."

"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Madame Pomfrey appeared startled for a moment that Remus knew who she was referring to, but a small smile spread across her lips.

"I forget sometimes that the Headmaster asked you to teach here, Remus."  She touched his arm affectionately, quite proud of the young man before her who had spent so much time in her care as a child.  "I only wish it could have lasted.  Yes, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be willing.  I'm sure they themselves might help Mr. Potter's memory."

"I'm sure Albus will tell them soon."  Remus' eyes fell back on his friend who had still not left Harry's side.  Soon, he would have to tell him that they would be returning to Grimmauld Place alone.  Harry would remain at the school.  Yes, he would have to tell him soon, but not yet.

¤¤¤¤

When Ron opened his eyes, he felt serenely comfortable leaning against the back of the couch, the slight weight of Hemrione's head against his chest.  It was only after sitting for a few moments in silent thought that he realized his arm, which was pinned between Hermione's body and the back of the couch, was numb.  Frowning, he shifted slightly to the left, trying to pull his arm free without waking her, but without luck.  Now leaned forward, cradling her so she would slip off the couch, and pulled at his arm again.  Unfortunately having no blood flow, and consequently, no feeling, he didn't realize how hard he had pulled until Hermione's head jerked up suddenly and collided with his jaw.

"Ow!"

"Huh?  Wha' hap'en'd?" she asked, her bleary eyes darting about the Common Room.

"Nothing," he whispered, a slight smile on his lips as she squinted up at him.  One curl was pressed against the side of her cheek where it had been smashed against her skin while they slept.  She closed her eyes, curling up against him once more.  Ron was tempted to close his eyes once more and remain on the couch until morning, but the sight of two Prefects sleeping together on the couch would probably not go over well when the rest of the House came down for breakfast.  At the very least, the gossip would be intolerable.  "Hermione?" 

"Hmm?"

"Come on.  You should climb into bed."

"Mmm-hmm."  She made no movement.

"Seriously, come on."  He stood and began pulling her from the cushion.

"Ron," she groaned.  "I was sleeping."

"I know," he told her, holding her up so she couldn't lie down on the couch again.  "But everyone else will be up soon."

"So?"

"What do you think they'll think when they find us lying down here like this?"

"Oh."  Her eyes opened a sliver and she allowed herself to be steered toward the staircase, but she pulled hard on Ron's sleeve as he moved to help her up the stairs.  "No," she whispered.  "That'll wake everyone up."

"What?"  What did she think he was planning?

"Stairs… slide… bad."

"I never thought I'd sound more intelligent than you."

"Trust me," she answered with a tired grin.  "It's better if you don't help me up."  She leaned against the wall heavily and sighed.  "Thank you for tonight," she told him, taking his hand in hers.  "It really meant a lot."

"No problem," he answered, finally unsticking the rogue curl from her face.  "You and me have to stick together, don't we?"

"You and I, Ron.  And yes.  But thank you."

"Hey, it's not like you've never done the same for me."

Another overly-tired lopsided smile.  She leaned up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, but couldn't go high enough and ended up kissing the crease of his mouth.

"Oh, sorry," she told him, moving to wipe the kiss away, but he reached up and caught her hand.

"It's okay," he told her, smiling wryly.

"Okay.  Um, I guess I should go to bed."

"Yeah.  We have classes tomorrow.  How will I learn anything if you don't take notes?"

She tried to look at him reprovingly, but ended up smiling.

"Good night, Ron."

"Good night, 'Mione."

And without hesitation or embarrassment, their lips met in a goodnight kiss.  It was not a kiss that would rank on the list of great passionate kisses.  Nor was it a kiss of long love finally requited.  It was a kiss of inclination, much like the sweet kisses of couples long married, when affection does not need to be proven, but merely shown.  It was a goodbye kiss, a see-you-soon kiss, a comfortable we've-kissed-before kiss between virgin lips.

And neither seemed to realize that it was not a usual way for them to say goodnight until they were both tucked into their own beds on opposite sides of the dormitory, out of the sight of the other.  And when sleep came to them, not a thought had been wasted on such a natural act.

¤¤¤¤

I'm so sorry Harry.  I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you.  I- That seems to be my curse in life.  Always at arm's length from those who need me… and those I need.  I've tried.  I've tried so damned hard to keep you safe, just like I promised your dad. 

Gods, James, I've failed you too.  Twice now, I've failed you more miserably than I can ever atone for.  You're gone forever, and your own son doesn't even know who you are.  He doesn't even know who he is!  And why?  Because I was rash!  I trusted where I should not have trusted!  I trusted Peter, and I trusted my own judgment.  I thought I could outsmart Voldemort, and for that you were killed and I tossed into a cell, unable to protect your son.  It's my own fault.  My own damned fault that Harry was sent to live with that family.  My fault.  Mine.

I won't fail you again.  I swear to you by the blood in my veins, I will not fail you again.  I won't fail you Harry. 

I promise. 

I promise.

I will never fail you again.

I swear it on my life.

¤¤¤¤

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office.  Snape had left nearly an hour ago, and the elderly headmaster had not moved since.  He sat, staring in deep thought at his ceiling while the portraits of past headmasters flitted between paintings, discussing quietly all which had been seen and heard in the past seventy-two hours.  A few words could be discerned amid their whispers: 'essence divided, yet entwined.'  Those were the words Dumbledore had spoken, and their meaning was lost on none of the painted figures.  

In an instant, all eyes fell on the only living man in the room.  He rose from the chair, his eyes sweeping the faces that watched him expectantly.

"I won't fail Harry," he said, addressing them all at once.  "Not this time.  Not again."  He strode from the room, head held confidently high, closing the door behind him.

The room retained its silence for a long moment, before one painting ventured:

"He won't fail Harry?  Is that what he said?"

"Of course he did, Armando.  You were sitting right there!" a gimlet-eyed witch spat back.

"Yes, I was.  I just-."  The old wizard looked around at the other paintings, all of whom were watching him.  "Do you think he'll be able to let go of the boy when the time comes?"

"When the time comes, Armando?"  Dilys Derwent leaned down into the corner of his frame to see Dippet more clearly.  "What do you mean?"

Armando Dippet looked up at the sallow-faced wizard with short, black bangs.

"When the time comes, Dilys, for him to fight."  He looked around at the others.  "Will he be able to let go of the boy to save the world?"

A few of the paintings pshawed and answered immediately that he would, but most were quiet, staring at the frail-looking old wizard, and wondering. 

Would he?

*  *  *

Thundering Lights  It's rare that I reply to individual reviews, but you sounded so confused, I had to.  The notes in Ch. 11 were an explanation on why my chapters would be coming more slowly.  I am a teacher and my students will be returning to school soon.  The characters in the fic are already at school. ~ Dumbledore had a feeling that Harry was not dead, hence the trunk in the dormitory, which sparked Snape, who disagreed because there was no evidence at the time that Harry was alive. ~ Harry was rescued just after school began.  As for Snape being surprised that Harry was in the Hospital Wing, he wasn't looking for Harry.  He was looking for Dumbledore and Pomfrey and found them where he expected to find them: in the room where he had sent Harry.  I believe my exact words were:

Snape appeared nearly an hour later, looking gravely composed as he sought out both Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey, finding them both where he had expected: the small room where Potter lay.

He was very aware of Harry's presence, but pulled those two from the room because Sirius, Remus, and Arthur Weasley were in the room.  I wanted to get the information out without emotional outbursts from Sirius.  Plus, from Snape's POV, it keeps the information confined until it can be confirmed.

Does this make sense now?