Chapter Thirty-Two

Black and Potter

~*~

A/N: Much thanks to the beta readers: Cap'n Kathy, Caroline, CoKerry, Firelocks, and Joe.

Special thanks to the Snow Margaritas.

~*~

Harry was ready. He'd been thinking about it for months, trying to decide what he really wanted to do with the opportunity, but he had thrown away idea after idea. He wanted to do something fun. Something funny. Something not too cruel, and not too illegal. He wanted to do something that he knew Sirius would appreciate, and it had to be something that they could do together. But most of all, he wanted to do something that he could imagine his father doing, and had dismissed most of his ideas as unworthy of Prongs. He hadn't known his dad, but the pictures, the Kinolia, the story about the Dursleys, and the Marauder's Map - not to mention the fact that he'd been an unregistered Animagus - had given Harry a very clear idea of what he had to live up to.

Harry landed Norbert, relieved that his shift was over. Sirius had said he'd go with Harry whenever he was ready, and so tonight was the night. It was a Friday, and Harry felt strangely energized - perhaps because his preoccupation with the evening's activities had kept him from sinking too far into the echoes of the past.

It wasn't until he saw Ginny, dismounting from Draco Malfoy's broom, that he felt a pang of real nausea. It just wasn't right that they had to ride the same broom, but, as Ginny had patiently explained to him at least ten times now, when she tried to fly her own broom, the dragons sensed her as a separate entity and tried to attack. When she was right beside Draco, on the other hand, she claimed that she was much safer. Harry almost hated that more, but he knew two things: the dragons really were getting better, and Ginny really didn't want to be on that broom with Draco Malfoy. As long as those things were true, Harry supposed he couldn't rightfully get as angry as he wanted to get - and he wanted to get furious.

Secretly, he was furious. But it wouldn't do to say as much to Ginny. The terse conversation they'd had after the last Ministry meeting had been enough to shut Harry's mouth for a while. He could still hear the hurt in Ginny's voice.

"After everything you've seen me do, can't you trust me just a little? I know you don't want me hurt, but Harry, come on. Think of all the dangerous things you've done - that you had to do - can't you see I have to do this? Not just for you, but for Charlie, and Dad, and - well, everyone. What if another Dementor gets off that island because the dragons aren't performing? What if I can make sure that doesn't happen? Don't you think I ought to try? I know Malfoy's a prat, but can you honestly tell me I should let him stop me from doing what's right?"

That had stumped him. She was right. Still, every day for the last four weeks, Malfoy had left his shift two hours early, to be replaced by Lisa. Every day, Harry had been forced to watch Malfoy leer at him before flying to work with Ginny. There was nothing to be done about it, and being around the Dementors only made Harry's imagination worse - he couldn't stop dwelling, and the sick visions that came into his head were relentless.

Quickly he unstrapped his harness, grabbed the Firebolt and flew to the ground. He strode over to Ginny and took her elbow. "Hey." He kissed her cheek, ignoring Malfoy's smirk.

"Possessive Potter. Well, that's always been the dream, hasn't it, Weasley?" Malfoy laughed.

Harry fought the urge to answer, and steered Ginny away, toward the equipment tent. She looked worn out. "How're you feeling?"

She shrugged, then cringed as Malfoy called after them: "Weasley, we'll be working on my dragon, on Monday, so mind you get a proper rest this weekend. Do try not to shag yourself sick."

"Right, that's it -" Harry turned on Malfoy.

"Don't." Ginny caught his arm. "Please. It's bad enough."

Harry let her drag him, still muttering, into the tent. "How can you stand it?" he demanded. "Is he like that all day? How can you keep on doing this?"

Ginny sighed and put her things into her locker. "I don't know," she said. She shut the locker and leaned her forehead against it. "He's horrible."

"What did he do to you?" Harry threw his things into his locker and slammed it.

"Nothing… not like that. Just… horrible." She straightened up. "I can feel his energy," she said dully. "I open up to the dragons and I can feel him too, because he's right there. And he's the worst thing I've ever felt."

Harry stared at her. It hadn't occurred to him that Ginny would be able to feel Malfoy in the same way that she could feel everyone else. Perhaps because he didn't seem human enough. "Worse than Sirius?" was all he could think of to say.

"Well, I don't open up around Sirius." Ginny laughed. "I'm not suicidal. Never mind, Harry, don't think about it. I'll find a way to sort it out. Let's just go home - can you come over tonight?"

"Only for a minute. I've got plans with Sirius."

Ginny looked surprised, but pleased. "Oh, have you? What?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell her, and then remembered that he couldn't. He wondered if his mum had ever caught his dad off guard like that. He closed his mouth and tugged on the bottom of Ginny's jumper.

"Harry?" She looked perplexed. "Can't you tell me?"

He laughed softly through his nose. Sirius had said to say nothing. Harry stepped closer and gave Ginny a quick kiss. "See you later, all right?" he mumbled, and stepped back.

"Harry -"

But he Disapparated. "Get my owl?" he asked, when he found himself in the front room of Lupin Lodge, looking at a grinning Sirius, who was dressed in jeans and a Muggle coat, and had his hair combed. Harry had never seen him look so regular. It was bizarre.

"Oh yes. Got out my old Invisibility Cloak, and I'm ready whenever you are."

"You've got an -"

"Well, once we were fully grown, we could hardly fit under the same one, could we? And we were hardly finished playing pranks. Go on, get your things. And remember - not a word, Harry. Not a word. I'll meet you at the Notch."

Harry nodded and Apparated again - into his own bedroom, this time. He tore off his work clothes and put on unobtrusive Muggle outfit, like the one Sirius was wearing. He couldn't stop grinning. This was how his dad had used to be. This was how they'd all used to be. Normal. He stuck his wand under his coat, into the belt of his jeans, and tried to think if he needed anything else in order to torment the Dursleys.

No, not torment, Harry reminded himself sternly. Not torment. Just annoy. He didn't want to do anything that smacked of Muggle torture - not even to the Dursleys. But they'd had it coming for quite some time, and Harry was going to give them a taste - just a little taste - of what it felt like to live in a house where they didn't belong. He'd lived seventeen years in that house and had often wished that he could talk back just a little, annoy them just once, play a really good trick on them and feel vindicated. Just his being there, of course, had been enough to annoy them, and every once in awhile, he had lost his temper and his magical control, and he supposed that those few incidents could count as his revenge. But he'd never really had a chance to get them back. And it had been a while since he'd seen Privet Drive. Harry wondered if even a shingle had changed in the entire neighborhood, and laughed; he knew it hadn't. He lifted the Invisibility Cloak from his school trunk, where all his best possessions were still kept, and went into the front room to wait for Sirius.

The room was dim and still; the kitchen clock ticked too loudly, and Harry had the immediate, uncomfortable awareness that he was not alone. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and, on instinct, he rested his hand on his wand. Slowly, he scanned the fireplace. The windows. The shadowy corners. His eyes lingered on the trick bookcase, which he and Ron had recently discovered led to a passage in the wall and an underground safety chamber - old Mr. Archibald had probably been suspicious of Martin Lewis, they'd decided, and rightfully so. But the bookcase didn't move, and there was not a sound in the room. Harry turned to look behind him.

"HAH!"

Not two inches from Harry's face, Sirius tore off his own Invisibility Cloak and appeared with such suddenness and noise that Harry yelped. He stumbled away and whirled to face Sirius, wand at the ready.

Sirius's eyes crinkled and he bellowed with laughter. "Your - face -" he gasped.

Harry breathed hard and his heart raced. "Psychopath!" he shot, shoving his wand back into his belt. He didn't know whether to laugh that he'd been tricked, or to punch Sirius for terrifying him.

"Many have said so," Sirius said, still laughing. He waggled his eyebrows. "Are you ready?"

"When I can breathe again, I will be."

"Ah, Harry." Sirius breathed a deep, satisfied sigh. "You're too much." He shook his cloak out, and prepared to swing it back over his shoulders. "Your woman says hello, by the way."

Harry grew very warm. "My what?"

Sirius grinned. "She said you left her quite rudely, and you're in a world of trouble."

Harry's heart gave a frantic knock. "I am?"

"Mmm. You've got yourself a demanding girl, wanted to know exactly what was going on." Sirius swirled the cloak over his head and disappeared again. "I told her," said his disembodied and rather dramatic voice, "that there are some mysteries too awesome to comprehend."

Harry snorted.

"That's exactly what she said, Harry, and then she went banging round the room with her silver ladle, splashing Wolfsbane Potion all about…" Sirius's head appeared in midair and his expression grew earnest. "It's wonderful, what she does for Remus. I don't think she really comprehends - you know it's a blue moon, on Sunday? A double month. And Moony's completely at ease, I've never seen…" Sirius smiled a bit, keeping his eyes on Harry. "Ginny's great."

Harry grew hotter and had an urge to pull his own cloak over his face. "Well don't tell me," he mumbled. "Tell her."

"I often do." Sirius smiled wider, and his eyes glinted. "Going to work must be a bit nicer lately, eh, Harry?"

Harry wasn't sure that he could stand much more teasing; he unfolded the cloak in his hands and, this time, he got under it. "Yeah, right," he said, sarcasm getting the better of him now that he knew he was invisible. "I'm so glad she's up there getting fire shot in her face. It's fantastic. The best part's seeing Malfoy put his filthy hands all over her." Harry's chest burned with irrational jealousy. "That's a real treat, let me tell you."

Sirius studied the area where Harry stood. "Come out from under there, if you want to talk about it."

"No thanks," Harry muttered. "I don't even want to think about it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Well… we could always mess with Malfoy tonight… I know I said we shouldn't, and it would be dangerous, but under the circumstances -"

"No," Harry said flatly. "If I go near him, I'll kill him."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Between you and Ron, it's a wonder Malfoy made it through school alive."

"I could say the same about you and Snape," Harry returned.

Sirius looked pleased. "Why, yes you could, Harry." He pulled his cloak up over his head and disappeared. "Yes you could. And if he were alive, by Merlin, our next Black and Potter mission would be to his house." Sirius paused. "He turned out all right in the end, the greasy git," said his bodiless voice, almost fondly. "Right - shall we go?"

Harry hesitated as guilt crept into the back of his mind. "Are you sure we should do this?" he asked for the hundredth time. "It's against wizard law. We're not supposed to enter Muggle homes using magic, it's -"

"Harry, believe me. This is nothing."

"Nothing?" Harry frowned, paranoid. "This isn't a good enough operation, is it?"

"It's good," Sirius assured him. "But it's nothing to worry about."

Harry wasn't sure he believed Sirius on either count, but it was time to go and he wanted to see it through. "You know how to get there?" he asked.

"Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey - know it like the back of my hand, Harry. I've been there before, not that you'd remember. I was rather shorter and much shaggier, whenever I went."

The Grim. Third year. Harry laughed out loud. "You visited me at the Dursleys'!" he said, delighted. He had completely forgotten.

"More times than was safe," said Sirius, and something in his voice made Harry's chest swell. This was good. This was… cool. He had a godfather.

"All right then," said Harry, and concentrated hard on a house that he couldn't believe he was going to visit on purpose. "See you there."

~*~

"Hello?" Hermione stood in the front room at the Notch, hoping that Ron would be there. Ron and Harry, really. She needed both of them. "Hello," she called, "are you two home? Are you decent?"

But the house was silent except for a muffled hoot from Hedwig and the manic flutterings of Pig, who zoomed into the room to greet her. He perched on her shoulder and rubbed his head against her temple.

"Hi," Hermione said softly, and stroked his fluffy wing. "Where's your dad?"

Pig hooted.

"Unfortunately, I don't speak Owlish. But I'll work on it." Hermione walked back to Harry's room and knocked. "Harry?" She pushed the door open a little, but the room was dark. Pig left her shoulder and flew in to hassle Hedwig, and Hermione went to Ron's room and peeked in. The room was spotless, the bed made and the lamp low - she had to smile. He'd been keeping things tidy and ready, ever since the first night. He seemed to think it made her visits more likely. She supposed she ought to keep letting him think that; it wouldn't do to have him know that she'd sleep here with him even if it were a horrendous wreck.

She went in, closed the door behind her, and lay down on Ron's bed to wait for him. He should have been finished with work an hour ago, and she needed him to come home now and tell her that everything would sort itself out. He was so good at convincing her that things would be all right, even at moments like this when she knew they really wouldn't.

Hermione stretched out on her stomach and shut her eyes. She was tired. Frustrated. In four weeks, she had made next to no progress on the Imprisonment Enchantment. She'd been more of a help to Penny as an organizer of notes and recorder of new plans than as a Thinker, and she could tell, though Penny was terribly nice, that she was also a bit disappointed. Thinkers were supposed to take painstaking research like Penelope's and to distill it so that it could be channeled for magical use. But Hermione's only bright idea so far had been to look for a professional Charmer, and though they expected the Charmer on Monday, Hermione feared there wouldn't be anything to Charm. All the sitting cross-legged in the world hadn't brought her any closer to a solution.

She hadn't even tried to meditate about her parents, though she visited them nearly every day, in an effort to finally accept their condition. Acceptance of the truth, Delia had told her, will lead to clarity of thought. Hermione didn't know what stopped her from accepting the truth. It didn't make sense not to accept it - it wasn't as if her parents had responded at all, in two years. It wasn't as if she couldn't see them lying there, getting thinner and grayer and less human all the time. She tried to quell the irrational bit of her mind that expected them to wake, but it reared its head on every visit. Even after all this time, that hope hadn't died.

A soft knock at the door relieved Hermione's thoughts. Ron was home. Ron would make it all seem a little further away. "I'm in here," she said.

"Oh!" said a voice that wasn't Ron's at all. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt -"

"Ginny!" Hermione rolled over and sat up. "No, I'm in here by myself, come in."

Ginny pushed the door open, looking rather sheepish. "Sorry, I just assumed." She looked at the door. "Harry let the charm wear off," she said, and tutted her tongue. "I shouldn't've been able to hear you. I told him he'd have to refresh it every two weeks. Serves him right if he starts having nightmares."

Hermione flushed. "Ginny!"

"Well?" She laughed. "Where is Harry, anyway? Do you know what he's up to?"

"Up to? No." Hermione got off the bed, feeling rather strange about lounging around in Ron's room, in front of his sister, even if it was just Ginny. "Is he up to something?"

"Yes, with Sirius. But they won't tell me what, so I came over to spy. Did he say where he was going?"

"He was gone before I got here - do you know where Ron is?"

"He's not back from work?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Then perhaps he's in on it, whatever it is." Ginny pursed her lips. "Let's just make tea here, and wait for them."

"All right," said Hermione, liking the idea of hanging about the boys' house while they were away. Together, she and Ginny went into the little kitchen. By the time Hermione had got the water going, Ginny had started soup in the cauldron that sat in the cramped fireplace; it stirred itself while she poured broth onto it, straight from her wand. Hermione stared. "That's elaborate," she said, wishing again that she knew how to cook.

Ginny shrugged. "It's just soup - here, do you want to learn it? I'll show you."

Hermione made several attempts before the broth was edible, but eventually she got the hang of it, and stirred away as Ginny got the vegetables sorted. She glanced over when Ginny made a sound of disgust, and saw her throw an onion into the bin.

"What?" Hermione leaned over the bin and looked at it. It looked fine to her.

"It's gone rotten on the inside, it must be months old."

"It doesn't look rotten."

Ginny shrugged again. "I can just tell, with plants," she said.

Hermione glanced at Ginny and wondered if it was fair to bring up what she'd been wondering about for four weeks, ever since she had discovered that her friend was a Healer. She knew that Ginny was occupied with school, and doubly busy with the dragons, and that she'd been brewing the Wolfsbane Potion all week for the second time in a month. She looked a bit tired, really - perhaps it would be best to put things off until the summer. Although, by the summer, her parents' condition would be so horrible that Hermione didn't even want to think about it. She had to say something now.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, and Hermione jumped, making broth splash into the fire.

"Wh - what?"

"Do you want to ask me something?"

"Well - yes - but don't do that!" Hermione had to catch her breath. "It's very startling."

Ginny smiled wanly. "Sorry." She dumped the rest of the vegetables into the kettle. "Put about two more cups of broth in that, if you don't mind," she said, and peered into a small brown sack. "You know, I'm shocked that they buy vegetables," she muttered, and dumped potatoes into the sink.

Hermione watched her scrub them. "But erm… since you asked," she began hesitantly. "I don't want to put any pressure on you, but…"

Ginny glanced at her, and went back to the potatoes. "Just ask me," she said quietly, and Hermione got the feeling that Ginny already knew what was coming.

"It's my parents."

Ginny nodded. "Did you visit them today?"

"Yes." Hermione stopped the broth and put her wand back in her belt. She watched the soup churn itself. "I'm not going to be able to help them in time," she said. "I don't mean to be a pessimist, but they look worse every day, and I can't do anything - and I don't know if you can, but…"

Ginny set the potatoes on the worktop and waved her wand over them; they fell into perfect slices. She dumped them into a big pan with a good bit of oil, then sent the whole thing to hover in the fire beside the cauldron. "I don't know either," she said, and met Hermione's eyes. "I can't promise anything, but I want to try - I've always wanted to try. I just wasn't ready."

Hermione's heart beat painfully. "But you… are now?"

"I don't know." Ginny rubbed her head. "The dragons are really giving me a workout."

"I'm sure." Hermione tried to think about something other than her parents. "I think it's fascinating, what you're discovering."

And it was. Ginny had suggested, after several days working over the dragons' backs, that it was the riders themselves who were having an effect on the beasts' behavior. The riders, when affected by the Dementors, seemed capable of affecting their dragons by proxy, and the worse the riders were affected, the harder they were on their dragons. The theory certainly accounted for Norbert's terrible behavior, though it didn't quite explain why Mick O'Malley, who seemed such an optimist, would have caused his dragon to throw him off. Perhaps he had dark secrets in his soul. Hermione said as much to Ginny.

She laughed a little. "Somehow I doubt it. But it really is interesting. Their eyes are easy enough to explain -"

"That's a dragon's weakest point."

"Right, and the exposure to so much defensive magic, not to mention the Dementors and the weather conditions, just takes a natural toll. The emotional side of it is what's so strange. They're so impressionable, dragons - fragile, really - and yet they're so big. I love their energy, I wish you could feel it. It's like sea. A big sea of warm tingles or something, when it's all good and healthy. I don't know, I can't explain it." Ginny flicked her wand, and the fire lowered slightly. "But it's great practice, and I'm lucky to be getting it so soon. I can't help but get stronger when I work on them every day. And I've got Malfoy sitting right behind me, so I've got all his emotion to manage - and all his comments - he's such a nasty bastard, honestly, I should have let Harry break him in half, don't know why I stopped him." Ginny blew out an angry breath and leaned against the worktop.

"Malfoy?" It chilled Hermione to realize what Ginny must have to endure when she was near him. She hadn't even thought about it. "You can feel him?"

"Can I." Ginny flicked her wand at the fireplace. The potatoes rose into the air, rotated, and fell back into the pan with a sizzle. "It's fine, though," she said mechanically. "It's good for me."

"How?"

"Well, I'm building up a tolerance. It's all good practice, even if it feels like someone's got my insides in a vise and -" She stopped and shook her head. "Never mind - can't complain, can I?" She sighed impatiently. "Harry's with Dementors every day and he never does. I wish he would. Then I could feel like less of a whinger when I want to do it."

Hermione had to laugh. "Complain all you like," she said. "Harry's not here."

"No, he's off being secretive." Ginny flicked her wand again and the fire lowered to a simmering flame. "And do you want to know something really stupid? He's jealous of Malfoy."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Why?"

"Because he's an idiot." But Ginny looked guilty at once. "I didn't mean that." She put down her wand, put her hands over her face, and rubbed her eyes. "I'm just tired. I'm really glad he's out with Sirius, I think it's good if they have secrets, I just wanted to be around Harry tonight." She sighed. "Not that it's been easy lately. I've been so open, after working with the dragons, and he's always so…"

Hermione didn't need an explanation. "He never did well with Dementors."

"No. That's the whole problem. I know he doesn't think anything of me and Malfoy - it's just those Dementors, they get to his mind, and he can't help that. But he refuses to say what's on his mind, and I can't help him." Ginny kept her hands over her face. "Why couldn't he have played Quidditch?" she said morosely, through her fingers.

Hermione smiled. "Well… he's Harry."

"I know." Ginny took her hands down. "He always takes the high road, and I really do love that, but sometimes I wish…" She trailed off. "How can I love the same things that drive me mad?"

"You're asking the wrong person," Hermione replied. She and Ginny studied each other for a moment, and then they laughed.

"I'm being an idiot," Ginny said, and reached out. "Tell me to shut up."

Hermione hugged her, spoon in hand. "No."

"I'll visit your parents tomorrow," soothed Ginny, hugging Hermione tighter. "All right?"

Hermione shut her eyes and nodded. She couldn't allow herself to hope - not yet. She knew that. But hope had already crept in, unbidden, and it was so strong that her whole body ached with it.

"Aw - would you look at that, Pig?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she looked over Ginny's shoulder at Ron, who stood in the doorway with Pig on his head, regarding the two of them.

"My two favorite girls, cooking me dinner. Just what a bloke wants to see after a long day at work."

"Oh, shut your face," said Hermione, but she had already let go of Ginny to get a hug from Ron. He looked stupid and cute, with Pig on his head, and he smelled wonderful and warm. She buried herself in his arms for a long moment. "Where were you?"

"Working late."

"No you weren't," Ginny said briskly. "Sirius was home an hour and a half ago, and he said you'd both called it an early night. You're up to something, just like Harry."

Hermione pulled back and looked up at Ron's face. Pig's round eyes blinked down at her from atop his head, making it hard to think serious thoughts, but if Ron had lied... "Is that true?" she asked slowly.

Ron gave Ginny a dirty look. He swiped Pig off his head, then caught Hermione's eyes and shifted a little. "I was just…" He stalled. "I was… working. No, I really was. I swear."

"On what, then?"

But he wouldn't answer. He kissed the top of her head. "Just trust me."

"Oooh, don't fall for it, Hermione," Ginny warned, whipping up a bowl of chocolate cake mixture. "In the Witch Weekly serial stories, whenever the man says trust me, it always means he's having an affair."

"Now look here, you little brat," Ron began, but stopped and grinned at something behind Hermione. "That looks good - here, let me help you test it." He kissed Hermione's head again, let her go, and moved past her to the worktop, where he tried to eat cake mixture with his fingers.

"Don't you dare stick your fingers in it - " Ginny slapped his hand. "That's disgusting! You haven't washed!"

"I'm clean," Ron protested, but Ginny slapped his hand again. "Just let me lick the spoon then," he whined.

"Apologize for calling me a little brat."

Ron put a hand over his heart. "I'm so sorry, Ginny. It was rude of me. I'll never do it again."

She sniffed, and handed him the spoon.

"Thanks, brat," said Ron, and stuck it in his mouth, jumping back to avoid being elbowed by Ginny. "So," he said, when he'd licked it clean and tossed it into the sink. "What were you two lovely ladies hugging about?"

Hermione watched him carefully. He still hadn't answered her question… but she did trust him. If he said he'd been working, then he probably had, even if he was acting dodgy. "We were just sorting something out," she said. "I've asked Ginny to have a look at my parents, on Saturday."

Ron's expression went serious at once. "That's great," he said. "What, do you think you can do anything for them, Ginny?"

"I don't know yet - look, would you stop crowding the kitchen and do something useful? Set the table."

"Hermione's not doing anything useful," Ron pointed out. "Why doesn't she have to set the table?"

"Hermione helped cook."

Ron glanced at the soup, and then at Hermione's spoon. "You cooked?"

Hermione put a hand on her hip. "Well just don't eat it then!"

"No no, I didn't say that." Ron gave her shoulder a pat. "I'm sure it's great…"

Hermione pushed him through the kitchen door and handed him napkins and silverware. "Go away." She turned back to Ginny. "Can I help with anything else?"

Ginny shook her head. She poured the mixture into pans, stopping halfway through to rub her temples. She really did look tired.

"You know," Hermione said, "You don't have to go to St. Mungo's this weekend, if you're not feeling well."

Ginny dropped her fingers from her head. "No, I want to."

"Well… but you have school, and the dragons, and the N.E.W.T.s to think about, so perhaps when you're less busy it would be better."

"That's true, Ginny," called Ron, from the next room. "You'll never balance two jobs with school. You'll have to stop working with the dragons."

Ginny breathed hard through her nose, and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I'm sure I'll be fine," she called back, too lightly.

"You'll tire yourself out." Ron stuck his head into the kitchen. "And you're killing Harry. Hand me that ladle, would you, Hermione?"

Hermione did so, glancing at Ginny. She looked furious.

"I'm doing," Ginny said through gritted teeth, "the opposite of killing Harry, if you please. The dragons are -"

"Look, I'm just telling you what I see." Ron took the ladle and disappeared again. "You shouldn't be up there with Malfoy like that, getting all friendly. It's sick."

Ginny gripped the edge of the worktop. "Is that what Harry says?" she called sharply.

"He doesn't have to say it. Accio, placemats!" They flew from the cupboard and past Hermione's face, nearly hitting her nose. "It's just the truth."

"That I'm getting friendly with Malfoy?" Ginny asked in a strangled voice.

"On the same broom, aren't you?" Ron's voice grew more heated as he spoke. "Holds you round the middle, doesn't he?"

"Do you see?" Ginny hissed, turning to Hermione. "Harry must have told him that - this is what he really thinks -" Ginny sent the cake pans flying into the brick oven with such a clatter that Hermione knew half the mixture must have spilled.

"What're you muttering in there?" Ron called.

"Nothing. And I don't want to talk about this."

"Well no one wants to see you on Malfoy's broom, but we don't get a choice, do we?" Ron appeared in the doorway, red in the face. "Someone's got to tell you. Dad doesn't want you up there either, but he has to be impartial and you know Harry can't stand to watch it, and I can't believe you're trusting Malfoy not to push you to your death -"

"Despite what you and Harry might think," Ginny said savagely, rounding on Ron, "Malfoy's doing everyone a favor by helping me."

"Malfoy probably got the dragons ill in the first place!" Ron said. "Just so he could do this!"

"Please," Ginny scoffed. "Would you think? He's been pretty generous about the P.A.P., if you'd give it an objective look -"

"So it's true!" Ron pointed a finger at her. "Listen to you, standing up for him!"

"So what's true?" Ginny advanced on Ron, and Hermione backed out of her way, too shocked by the sudden ferocity of their fight to do anything about it.

Ron stood his ground, arms crossed. "You, getting friendly with Malfoy."

"Oh for God's -" Ginny raised her hands as if to shove Ron, but only clenched her fingers in the air. She turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry, but I'm not hungry anymore," she said. "I'm going home." She glared at Ron. "And you can tell Harry that if he has a problem he can come to me instead of talking behind my back."

"Harry never said anything!" Ron said. "It was -"

Ginny Disapparated.

"It was Charlie," Ron finished peevishly. "Well she's in a foul mood tonight. I can't believe Dad let her get her license early - that's not fair, we should have got ours early - here, let's get the food off the fire before it burns."

But Hermione left him alone to salvage dinner. She went to the table, sat down, and tried to organize her thoughts. She knew why Ron was angry; if she was perfectly honest, then she had to admit that she too was disgusted by the thought of Malfoy so close to Ginny. But Ron's insinuations had been unfair. Hermione knew it wasn't her argument, but when Ron joined her at the table and heaped potatoes onto her plate she couldn't help saying what she felt.

"You shouldn't have accused her like that."

Ron glanced at her and ladled out the soup. "Harry's miserable," he said shortly, as if that explained everything.

"Did he say that?"

"Hermione." Ron thudded into his seat and gave her an impatient look. "When does he ever say anything? He's just miserable and I don't blame him - if I had to watch you climb in front of Malfoy every day -"

"You'd think we were having it off?"

"No!" Ron looked repulsed.

"Well that's what you suggested Ginny's doing."

"No, it was Charlie." Ron speared a potato with his fork. "Look. It's not like we think she'd ever. But I don't put anything past him, and he'd do anything to piss us off, that lying sack of -"

"Ginny's just trying to do her job," Hermione said. "She's doing an amazing job. No one else can do her job."

"Then someone else ought to do Malfoy's!" Ron's mouth was grim. "Charlie says he hangs all over Ginny on that broom."

"He's only doing it to annoy Harry, Ron."

"I don't care why he's doing it, that's my sister!" Ron snarled. "He'd better just stop it before I -"

"Punch him out and break his head on a rock?" Hermione leveled him with a gaze. "If you hurt him twice, you'll never be able to pass it off as self defense. You'll look like the antagonist. You know that."

Ron sat in stony silence.

"Ginny's job is none of your business. Harry's feelings are none of your business."

Ron snorted. "That's rich, coming from you."

Hermione drew back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You wrote a letter of complaint to the Secretary Privy about the dragon schedules - don't deny it, Charlie told me. You're as worried about Harry as I am."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but found she couldn't. Ron was right. "That's true…" she said slowly, as an idea occurred to her. "You know, perhaps… perhaps we should both stay out of this."

Ron stared. "What, not help Harry?" he asked, as if she'd just suggested they stop breathing.

"Not exactly…" She bit her lip. "But if he's determined to keep on riding dragons, and if Ginny really wants to work up there…" She shrugged. "That's their choice."

"But - Dementors!" Ron waved his fork in frustration. "And Malfoy!"

"I know. And you work with Death Eaters, and I'm trying to lock up prisoners." She laughed. "We're none of us in the most uplifting professions, are we?"

"Seriously." Ron looked keenly at her. "You really think we should just butt out?"

"I really do," said Hermione, surprised to find that she meant it. "Of course, I'm used to worrying my head off about Harry, and I'm sure it'll be hard not to, but he and Ginny were great about Cortona, and they're so proud of you -" She nudged Ron's foot, under the table. "Let's just… I don't know. Try to support them."

Ron gazed at her, looking torn between dismay and admiration. "What did that Thinker do to you?"

"Nothing." Hermione smiled a little. "But Harry and Ginny are going to have to take care of themselves for a while, because I have enough to think about." Her eyes drifted down to her plate. She knew she'd much rather worry about Harry than deal with what was on her mind.

"To think about or to Think about?" Ron teased.

"Very funny." Hermione had a bite of soup and was unsurprised to find it excellent. She and Ron ate in silence for a while and then - "Actually, I do want to meditate tonight. I think I'll go."

"No, ftay 'ere," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. "P'ease."

Hermione hesitated. The truth was that she didn't want to leave just yet. "I suppose I could try to do it here…"

Ron laid down his spoon. "Won't I distract you?" he asked, grinning cheekily. "With my irresistible charms?"

"I don't know, will you?"

"I'll try." He ate another bite of soup. "Did you really make this?" he asked, pointing to the bowl with his spoon.

"Just the broth."

"It's great."

"Oh." Hermione felt a bit better. "Thank you." She stood and began to clear up the plates.

"No no, I'll do that. You go and get your meditating over with so I can… distract you." He raked his eyes over her and looked back down, red-eared, at his soup.

Hermione flushed. She would have protested, but she couldn't deny that being distracted by Ron was high on her list of priorities. "I'll try to be quick about it," she said, trying and failing to be brisk and businesslike as she got up from the table. "But I really do have to concentrate for a little while. I've been perfectly worthless to Penny."

Ron looked up sharply. "Don't say that about yourself."

Hermione shrugged. "It's true," she said, and went away to Ron's room before he could protest further. She had barely settled, cross-legged, in the middle of the bed, when she heard the sound of running water, followed by the thud of footsteps.

"You're not meditating just yet."

Hermione opened her eyes. Ron stood in the doorway. "I'm not?"

"You're being too hard on yourself." He shut the door and came to sit beside her. "You can't think like that."

Hermione shrugged. "Actually, the Thinking helps."

"Sure, if you've got your head on straight. Which you don't."

"Ron, I'm not trying to be hard on myself, I'm just telling the truth. I haven't been able to -"

"You're a brilliant woman," Ron said quietly, and Hermione fell silent. Woman. She liked that. "There's nothing you can't do."

Hermione looked up at him and searched his eyes for reassurance. "Then what's wrong with me? Why does everything seem so hard lately? Why can't I help Penny?"

"Because your heart's not in it." He kissed her cheek. "Your heart's with your mum and dad, Hermione."

It was the truth. Hermione's eyes stung. She let Ron pull her with him onto the pillows, and huddled against him with her head on his chest.

"Let's think, shall we?" he asked.

She breathed in the scent of his robes. He was solid and safe. "All right."

"What did you tell me the other night? Penelope's enhanced some kind of development diagrams for the spells on the walls? Indestructible Charms or something?"

"Mmhmm."

"Right…" Ron rubbed his fingertips into the muscles of her back, and Hermione gave into the sensation of it. There was no unfinished enchantment hanging over her head; there were no parents lying cold and silent. There was only Ron.

"I love you," she mumbled.

He patted her back. "You can't combine a couple of charms, can you?"

"Yes we can." Hermione slumped completely into his chest as he continued to rub her back. He had the most wonderful hands. She remembered when they'd been too big for the rest of him, all oversized and awkward. They were still a bit clumsy, but she liked it. "But the… problem remains because… no existing containment charm, no matter how powerful is… completely foolproof."

"Containment charms that you've been casting on walls and doors, right?"

"Mmm."

"What if it wasn't a containment charm? You've been focusing on walls and locks - what about a whole border?"

Hermione lifted her head. "Border?" She frowned. "You mean like a ward? Like what's around the Ministry? Those are breakable, we know that - even the curse wards round the vaults in Gringotts are breakable."

"What about the ones that went round Hogwarts? You couldn't Apparate in or out, right? Well, what would have happened if you'd tried?"

Hermione stared at him, the wheels in her head beginning to turn for the first time in weeks. "You'd… well, it was quite complicated. Usually, if you smash into an Apparition border then you splinch, but the way Hogwarts was set up, that magic was completely defunct. You couldn't even have got far enough to splinch. You could have concentrated all you liked and you would have stayed standing right where you were."

"Couldn't you use something like that?"

"It doesn't solve the problem of being able to walk up to the wards and break them down…"

Ron chewed his lip for a moment, and then his eyebrows shot up. "So stick an Apparition border in there. You try to go through one of those and you're splinched, right? Pretty hard to escape after that. You could line it up with one of your Indestructible Charms or whatever it is you're using, layer them or something - is that possible? Wrap it all up in an Impenetrable Curse and…" Ron laughed; the vibration rumbled through Hermione's chest. "Hell, I don't know, I'm probably way off the mark."

But Hermione's heart was racing. An Apparition border. Combined with the strength of the rest of Penelope's charm diagrams and research… Hermione rolled off of Ron and sat up. "Oh my goodness," she whispered, pressing her hands to her face. "Oh yes. How could I not have thought - so simple -" She looked down at Ron, flat on his back and looking bemused.

"Don't tell me I just got it right?" he asked.

Hermione wanted to kiss him. And slap him. "How is that I spend five months working on stream of consciousness thought and you're the one who - oh, Ron!" She shook his arm, giddy with relief. "You're a genius!"

He lit up. "Yeah?" He propped himself up on his elbow. "That'll really work?"

"Not the whole idea, but the concept of an Apparition border - forced splinching - this is exactly - oh, Ron -" She dropped his arm and smacked it. "It's not fair!" she wailed, but she was too thrilled, at the moment, to be jealous that the idea was not her own.

"Hey!" Ron sat up and grabbed her hands. "Don't hit the genius."

Hermione couldn't think straight. "You should have been the Thinker, not me - you've got the proper - your mind's just -"

"Perfect?" he suggested.

"Perfectly random and oh - Ron -" she flew at him and kissed him. "You've done it again, this is just like Voldemort, you're brilliant, I love you, I love you…"

Ron fell back onto the pillows under Hermione's sudden flurry of passionate kisses, and he wrapped his arms around her, laughing. "Well damn!" He rolled her onto her back and grinned down at her. "Need any other answers? I've got loads. Secrets of the universe are right in here." He gently bumped his forehead against hers and Hermione laughed.

"You idiot."

"Hey now. The smartest girl I know says I'm a genius."

"She must have ulterior motives."

Ron snickered softly. "Yeah, she's always buttering me up, trying to get into my robes…"

But Hermione didn't bother to retort. Her mouth was suddenly busy doing something altogether better.

~*~

Privet Drive was not aware that two wizards had just Apparated onto its manicured lawns. If it had been aware, it would have been quite offended. But Harry didn't care about what Privet Drive and its occupants thought anymore – gone were the days when he'd been treated like an abnormality for being a wizard. This wasn't his world, and it never had been. Standing on the walk in front of number four, he looked up at the front of the house in which he'd used to live, and grimaced.

The Dursleys' house was terminally predictable in all its appearances. The automatic porch bulb lighted the brass number four on the outside wall. The flowerbeds Harry had used to weed, though out of use in January, were still pruned mercilessly into tortured shapes. The standard curtains hung motionless in the lighted square windows. The sight of it all made him feel physically ill.

"God, I hate this place," he muttered.

Sirius elbowed him. "Ah, there you are, Harry. All right - how do you want to do this?"

"Apparate in, just to the other side of the door. You take the left side and I'll take the right, so we don't splinch together."

"That would be awkward," Sirius agreed. "Don't know that Arthur himself can get us out of trouble if we're caught doing this."

Harry shrugged. "Mr. Weasley blew up the fireplace here, once," he said, watching through the curtains for shadows, and hoping very much that they wouldn't hit anyone. "All the same, I'd rather not splinch."

"I'll go left. See you inside."

They Apparated to the other side of the door, and Harry immediately backed against it, shocked by the noise and the overpowering odor.

Dogs. Nasty ones. They ran in from the kitchen, raced through the front hallway and bounded away up the stairs. But the Dursleys had never had pets; Aunt Petunia hated animals. "They never had dogs," Harry whispered to Sirius, whom he knew was right beside him. "I wonder if they still live here!"

"Vernon!" came a high-pitched and very whiny voice, from the direction of the kitchen.

"Never mind, they live here," whispered Harry. "That's Aunt Petunia."

The whiny voice went on: "I will not stand these beasts in my house for another day! They're destroying my carpets! My kitchen!"

Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and Harry elbowed Sirius as a walrusy man with no neck and a purple face appeared before them. "Uncle Vernon," he whispered, and flattened himself against the front door as Uncle Vernon came much too close - was he headed outside? Harry's heart pounded; he tried to push Sirius to the left, but there was nowhere to go.

To Harry's immense relief, Uncle Vernon veered left at the last second and stomped into the kitchen. "Your ruddy sister blows up," he roared, "and we keep your blasted freak of a nephew for seventeen years, and now you won't keep Marge's dogs in the house for two weeks? I won't have it!"

From Harry's left there came a growling noise - too high from the ground to be a dog. "Blasted freak of a - and ruddy what?" Sirius hissed. "Do they mean -"

"My mum," Harry said matter-of-factly. "That's how they always talk about her."

"Can't we just kill them?"

Harry laughed. "Wait till you hear how they talk about my dad. Good-for-nothing, wastrel, scoundrel, that ridiculous Potter fellow…"

Sirius's fury was palpable; Harry felt his arm tense. "Somehow our plan just doesn't seem harsh enough," he muttered.

"Don't worry, it is. A little magic'll mess them up for months."

The plan was to go round number four, Privet Dive, and cast a Computational Hex on a few household items. It would make it impossible for the Dursleys to measure simple things, like how much milk was poured into a glass, how much toothpaste was squeezed onto a toothbrush, or just how much moustache was trimmed into the sink. Harry had entertained himself all day with visions of Aunt Petunia pulling massive, overblown cakes out of the oven, Uncle Vernon overswinging on his indoor golf-putting practice mat, and Dudley putting more food into his mouth than would fit. Although, thought Harry, that wouldn't be so different from usual. Perhaps it wasn't the nasty revenge they deserved – Sirius had seemed a bit disappointed that Harry hadn't wanted to be more brutal – but Harry knew the Dursleys. And this would drive them mad.

"All right," Sirius whispered. "Let's get started."

Harry saw the door to the front room swing open, and he followed an invisible Sirius inside.

"There's not much in here," Harry said, looking around the pristine room. Several photographs of Dudley with more chins than ever stared back at him from the mantelpiece.

"Well, there's this," Sirius said. Harry saw a jet of red sparks fly towards the fireplace.

"'What are you doing?"

"They light fires, don't they?"

"Sometimes, but that's... that's dangerous," Harry said. "You don't want them to burn down the house."

"I don't?"

Harry shook his head violently, forgetting that Sirius couldn't see it. "You're supposed to be the godfather. You go to the back room – past the stairs, I'll show you – and hex Uncle Vernon's golf mat. If I can trust you alone."

Sirius laughed. "It's all right. I won't kill anyone."

"Shush. Good. You know what a golf mat looks like, don't you? It's the green thing on the floor. I'll go do the upstairs toilets and I'll meet you right back here, all right?"

"Yes."

"Good. All right, let's go – I want to get out of here."

Sirius gave a snort. "Harry, the whole point is to stick around and watch the fruits of your labor." But Harry heard Sirius's footsteps come closer, and together they went back into the hallway and toward the stairs.

Just as Harry put his hand on the banister, there was a muffled, rumbling noise, rather like the sound of thunder from a long way off. "Dudley," Harry hissed. "He's coming down the stairs. Back up, give him -"

"A wide berth?" Sirius snickered.

"Shush!"

"You know, your dad used to try and shush me during these things," Sirius said, not bothering to whisper. "It only made me louder."

The rumbling noise grew louder. Dudley had come into view on the stairs, and Harry gaped at him. He looked like Uncle Vernon without the moustache. What little recognizable neck he had ever had was gone; it had been replaced by one thick chin that stretched from his ripe red face to his wobbling chest, and his eyes had shrunk to the size of pinholes. He wore a dark suit, and Harry thought he looked like a sumo wrestler about to be married.

The rumbling noise stopped. Dudley paused on the bottom step and looked around, confused. "Dad?"

"Yes, son?" Sirius said, in a very bad imitation of Uncle Vernon's voice. It didn't help that the voice was coming from two feet in front of Dudley's face, instead of from the kitchen.

Dudley stood silent for a moment longer, and then shook his head and continued towards the kitchen. Harry kicked in Sirius's general direction.

"Ow!"

"Serves you right," Harry said.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said, "I thought I brought Harry Potter with me on this mission. But it seems that he sent Hermione Granger instead."

Harry made a noise of annoyance. "All right, now go in that room there and –"

"Stop bossing me about, or I'll bring Ron next time."

"Oh, nice threat - some godfather you are!"

"…heard a funny voice, right back here."

Both Harry and Sirius went silent. Dudley was back, with Uncle Vernon right behind him.

"Are you telling me you didn't say anything to me, just a minute ago? You didn't say, 'Yes son'?"

Uncle Vernon stared at Dudley as though he'd sprouted another head, and Dudley stared back at him in much the same way. Harry could tell from the looks on their faces – looks he'd endured many times – that they were thinking of him and that they were wondering if magic had something to do with all of this. It had, after all, been responsible for every interesting thing that had ever happened in this house.

"First date jitters?" Uncle Vernon answered, ignoring Dudley's question, and patting him on the back. "No need to be nervous, son. Janice is a lovely girl – her father's the best drill salesman at Grunnings, besides me, of course."

Harry's jaw dropped. Dudley. Dating? He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be sick.

"I'm telling you I heard something!" Dudley said, stomping his foot and shaking the hallway.

"Never mind, son," Uncle Vernon said nervously. "It was probably just one of Marge's dogs. We're all getting used to them and your mother's right, they are a bit noisy."

Dudley didn't look convinced, but he straightened his bowtie and reached up to smooth a hand over his hair. "Mum said I should take her to see Shakespeare in Love. Wish The Matrix was out. I don't want to go see some stupid sissy film."

"Yes, well you'll want to have a snack before you go," Uncle Vernon said. "And don't worry about petrol, I filled the car up this morning." He headed back towards the kitchen, and Dudley followed, casting a last, dark look over his shoulder.

"A film?" Sirius said, when the kitchen door had closed. "I've been to a film. Your mum took us to see Star Wars – it was bloody brilliant. Like Muggles with wands!"

Harry tried again to shush Sirius, but it didn't work.

"I loved that great big hairy creature – " Sirius made a terrible, groaning noise. "And everyone could understand him!"

The Dursleys all laughed very loudly in the kitchen. Harry could tell that they were only trying to ignore the supernatural noises that were ruining their supper.

"We should follow Dudley to the cinema," Sirius continued. "I want to see another one."

Following Dudley to the cinema wasn't a bad idea at all, thought Harry. He hadn't been to a film in ages – even if it did sound like a stupid one. And Dudley on a date sounded too good to miss.

"Wonder what his bird looks like," Sirius whispered. "Think she's at home having a snack, too?"

"Look, if we hurry we can finish here and jump in the car – meet me back here as fast as you can," said Harry, and sprinted up the stairs. He cast the Computational Hex on the toothbrushes, moustache scissors and bathtubs in record time – Hermione would have been proud of him – and raced back down again, slamming into Sirius at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oi, look where you're going!"

"I was!" Harry panted. "You're invisible!"

Sirius snickered. "Right then, let's get in the car."

The two of them sneaked back out of the house, and got into the back seat of Uncle Vernon's car. It still smelled like old shoes and plastic, and yesterday's doughnuts. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off of his head for a minute and tried to breathe. "It stinks in here," he complained.

Sirius's head appeared beside him. "Get used to it, it's about to stink worse –"

And they both covered up at the sound of keys jingling in the driveway.

Dudley was wearing half a bottle of cologne, or at least that was how it smelled to Harry, who buried his face in his knees. Sirius gave an audible sniff, but the car door slammed at the same moment, and there was no need to elbow him. Dudley started the car, and Harry and Sirius waited in the back seat in silence all the way to Janice's house. Harry wasn't sure why he wanted to shriek with laughter the whole way there, but he kept his face buried in his knees just in case he should lose control of himself.

Janice's house looked just like the Dursleys' house, except that it was located on Hedge Path and faced west and had a green door. When Janice climbed into the car, Harry had to shake his head to make sure he wasn't imagining things. She was… thin. Very thin. With a very long neck that looked like it had been made for spying over neighbors' fences.

"I just can't wait to see the film!" she said, in a voice that was eerily familiar. "Mum says it's really romantic."

"Er," said Dudley. The back of his neck was the color of a Blast-Ended Skrewt's bum.

The cinema was crowded and there was no way to sit beside Dudley and Janice, but Harry thought it was probably best if they stayed standing.

"Let's sit here," Sirius whispered.

Harry looked down to his right; there were two empty seats but he didn't want to risk it. "No!" he hissed. "What if someone else tries to sit there?" Almost as if to prove his point, a woman came in and sat in the seat moments later.

"Well, we could take these cloaks off," Sirius whispered. "It's not as if he's going to see us now."

"But if we take them off, we won't be able to use our wands," said Harry, who had been thinking, in the car.

"Our wands?" Sirius sounded excited. "What are we using them for?"

"There are a few charms we use, on the dragons – for communication." Harry pulled his wand. "You probably know Deferus."

Sirius made a sound of approval. "So we can listen in –"

"And talk to him. Right in his ear." Harry laughed. "I know it's not nice, but he did used to beat me up."

"Let's torture him."

"Not torture," Harry said quickly. "Not torture. Just annoy." He concentrated on Dudley. "Deferus."

"Deferus," Sirius repeated.

The cinema fell into darkness and everyone hushed. Harry and Sirius backed against the wall to let an usher walk down the center aisle with a flashlight. They were all the way at the back, and Dudley and Janice were up near the front, but it wasn't hard to tell which dark pair of silhouettes they were. It was all normal people and then a cotton swab next to an elephant.

Harry waited, not sure exactly what he wanted to say to Dudley, and half afraid of what Sirius would say. He found himself watching the film with a bit of interest – everyone was wearing clothes just like Nearly Headless Nick's, and he wondered if Sir Nicholas had ever been involved in the theater. He lost himself in the story for a bit, until a high-pitched voice brought him back to reality, such as it was.

"Oh, oh, oh, Duuuuudddley."

Harry looked over to Dudley and Janice; Dudley's arm was draped around the back of Janice's seat, but Janice wasn't speaking. As a matter of fact, "Janice" sounded incredibly like Sirius Black in falsetto.

Dudley didn't seem to notice. He took Sirius's dialogue as encouragement, and lowered his hand to rest on Janice's bony shoulders. His other hand rested in an enormous bucket of popcorn.

Sirius giggled so effectively that Harry almost believed, for a minute, that his godfather was Dudley's date.

Janice didn't look very comfortable, in Harry's opinion. She looked sideways at Dudley's hand on her shoulder, and seemed resigned.

"Sometimes I like to dress up like a man," Sirius said, in the same high voice. Harry couldn't believe that anyone would believe that he was an actual woman. Then again, he hadn't heard Janice speak often enough, and neither had Dudley.

"What?" Dudley looked concerned. His hand slid back up to rest on the seat.

"I didn't say anything," whispered Janice. "Shhhh! I'm trying to listen."

Harry didn't see how there was anything to listen to. All that was happening on the screen was that a woman was getting all of her clothes unraveled. In truth, it was kind of interesting, and for a moment Harry forgot that Dudley existed.

"Oh," said the false, high voice at his side. "I… I wish someone would do that to me."

Harry clapped both hands over his mouth to stop himself from shouting. Sirius was getting out of hand - but it was funny. And Dudley's hand had slid down to rest on Janice's shoulders again.

"Lower," said Sirius, in a breathy, high-pitched whisper.

Dudley's hand moved lower and Harry had to look away. That was just wrong. Suddenly, Sirius burst into a fit of laughter.

Harry repealed the communication spell. "What?" he whispered.

"Didn't you see that? She jumped three feet in the air – Harry, mate, keep your eye on the Snitch!"

But Harry felt rather sorry for Janice. The point of being here was to unsettle Dudley, but Sirius's pranks were just encouraging him. Harry thought he knew what would do the trick. He recast the communication spell.

"Hey, Dudley," he said, in his own voice. "That's an interesting spot to put your hand."

Both of Dudley's hands flew into the air as if he'd been arrested, and popcorn scattered all over the people to the left of him. "H-Harry?" he whispered frantically. "Is that y-you?"

"What?" Janice asked, turning to look at Dudley for the first time since the film had begun. "Did you just call me Harry?"

"I, er…" Dudley seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Answer the young lady politely," Harry said. "Tell her, 'Yes, Janice, and I'm very sorry, I'll never do it again.'"

'Yes, Janice, I'm very sorry and I'll never do it again," said Dudley, who was too afraid to remember the question.

Harry heard something fall to the floor beside him, sniggering, and he was fairly certain it was Sirius.

Janice was now ignoring Dudley, and trying very hard to watch the film. She'd shifted away from Dudley in her seat. Dudley looked from side to side, his breathing labored, his hands still in the air on either side of his head.

"Put your hands down!" said a man behind him. "And both of you, shut up!"

"It's not my fault!" Dudley began in an obvious panic, struggling to turn round in his seat. Janice cringed.

"He told you to shut up," Harry said, enjoying the spectacle. For once, it wasn't him.

"You shut up, Harry!" Dudley shouted into the dark theatre.

"SHHHHHH!" Several people hissed at once. Janice shrank down into her seat.

But Dudley was still looking wildly around. "Where are you? I know you're there! I knew you'd be back! I knew we weren't rid of you!"

"That's right," Harry said, keeping his voice low. The whole crowd was beginning to complain. "I'm back."

Dudley lumbered to his feet and started pushing his way towards the aisle. The people in his way made various noises of pain.

"Get away from me!" Dudley screeched. "Wherever you are, just go back to your world full of freaks! I've had enough of you and your magic!" He stumbled into the aisle and made for the exit door at the front of the cinema, just below the screen.

"I'll never leave!" said Sirius, who had regained his composure enough to gasp out a few words. "I'll be back, Dudley - I'll be back!"

Dudley pushed his way out of the cinema, blubbering like a baby, and Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "You can't run fast enough," he muttered, knowing that Dudley could still hear him, and from beyond the exit door he heard a howl of dismay. It was enough. He repealed the charm and put his wand in his belt, incredibly satisfied. He wouldn't be back. But Dudley would always wonder.

The audience settled down again, and Janice looked relieved. Harry wondered vaguely how she was going to get home.

"C'mon," Sirius whispered, and somehow managed to grab his elbow. They sneaked out of the cinema and into the car park in time to see Uncle Vernon's car screeching off into the street.

At the same time, they pulled off their invisibility cloaks and looked at each other. Sirius was ruddy, his hair a mess, his eyes alight.

"Wasn't that brilliant?" he demanded. "When are we doing it again?"

Harry fixed his glasses and crumpled his cloak in his hand. "It was fun," he admitted, still grinning. "I feel sort of sorry for Janice –"

"We did her a favor, Harry," Sirius cut in. "Poor girl. That beast was trying to molest her on the first date –"

"That was your fault!" Harry said, but Sirius was laughing and he had to join in. "You - you really thought it was brilliant?" he asked.

"For the first Black and Potter in nearly two decades?" Sirius asked. "Not bad at all, Harry. Not bad at all." He grinned. "My turn next," he said, and rubbed his hands together. "What do you say to asking Trelawney for a bit of advice on your future?"

"Er - no."

"Really? Not even for the joy of seeing the Grim appear in her classroom while you're having your tea leaves read? Come on, Harry, she'll faint dead away, it'll be great."

Harry burst out laughing. Sirius was crazy. Really insane. Possibly not the best role model in the world. But his mum and dad must've known that there was something about him more important than sanity.

He stood in the car park next to his godfather and laughed for a long, long time.

~*~