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The Seventh Year
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Chapter One, Part Two
A Muggle Hayride

It was a crystal-clear night. The air was velvety, slightly warm but with a pleasant breeze, and the sky was a subtle purple. A few stars twinkled through. A clump of deciduous trees stretched their black arms into the sky, reaching upwards in adoration. Below, a bonfire roared. A group of teenagers, mostly muggles, were gathered around it, warming their cheeks and hands.

A tall muggle girl with long thin brown hair was chatting comfortably with Ron. "My uncle Jack lets us have a hayride here every year, just to kick off the school year. It's loads of fun. I don't remember seeing you here before."

"No, I haven't been here before."

"Are you new to the area, then? " she prompted.

"No, I live an hour away," Ron answered. "I'm a friend of Hermione's."

"Oh, you go to St. Martins, too?"

Ron looked confused.

Hermione, who had been listening in, came up behind Ron. "Hey, Amber. I see you've met my schoolmate, Ron." She gave him a meaningful look.

Ron's face brightened. "Right! Hermione and I go to school together!" He looked triumphant, as though he had solved a particularly difficult puzzle. Hermione chuckled and shook her head.

"What's your favorite subject, Ron?" Amber asked curiously.

"I like Divination best, because-" Ron began. Hermione shot him a warning glance. He stopped mid-sentence.

Amber looked puzzled. "Divination? Is that some sort of advanced math class?"

"Yes," Hermione said quickly. "Amber, shouldn't your uncle be here with the wagon by now?"

"He should," she agreed seriously. "I'll go see what's keeping him. She smiled at Ron. "Nice meeting you, Ron." She winked. Hermione scowled after her.

Divination, Ron? You couldn't have saved the old joke for another time?"

Ron grinned, shrugging red-facedly. "Just slipped out, 'Mione, sorry. Forgot she was a muggle there for a minute. Besides, I'm pretty handy with Obliviate, now, I was all ready for her..."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. "Where's your sister? I've been trying to find her all night."

Ron shrugged. "She and Harry have gone missing again. Are you surprised?"

Hermione snorted. "Not particularly. Prob'ly off snogging Harry-"

"Stop!" Ron protested "That's my little sister you're talking about!"

"Sorry," Hermione laughed. "Hey, look, the wagon's coming." She shivered a little over-dramatically.

"You cold?"

She looked away. "A bit. Forgot my coat, and these muggle clothes are so chilly..."

"Blimey, Hermione. Here, take my jacket." It was a worn-out windbreaker with a hole in the elbow, but Hermione accepted it with the graciousness of a queen. She looked up and smiled at him. "Knew you were good for something," she said playfully.

Her words were lost in a general uproar as the group piled onto the wagon. It was a trailer, really, a flat vehicle made for hauling hay, pulled by an old pick up truck. Ron was fascinated. The trailer was piled with bales of hay, and a good amount liberally spread across the wagon. Harry and Ginny were already in, sitting next to each other with flushed cheeks. There was hay caught in Ginny's fiery curls.

"Looks as though Ginny forgot her coat, too," Ron commented casually. Her shoulders were draped with Harry's traveler's cloak – a gift from his godfather, Sirius Black.

"That's odd," said Hermione distantly.

"Girls," was all Ron could say.

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Worlds away, on the same night, two men were preparing for war, each in their own way. They had faced dark times before, and they were not afraid, but a sense of great heaviness loomed over them.

The one was an older, kindly looking wizard with a long white beard. He was wearing grey, wrinkled robes and a worried expression. The younger wore a more jaded expression. Premature age-line criss-crossed his face. His greasy black hair was tied back in an uncharacteristic pony-tail.

"Are you sure you don't want to take Fawkes with you?"

"I can hardly march into a deatheater's camp with your phoenix in tow, Albus. Inconscpicuous is our by-word this year."

"I think he already suspects you, my friend."

"I agree. I'm afraid this may be my last visit," he whispered.

"You say that everytime, Severus," the older wizard replied with a gentle chuckle.

Severus Snape smiled wryly at his mentor. "It gets truer everytime."

"I know. If you won't take Fawkes, at least take my ring-"

"Nothing. He must not suspect. I-"

Their eyes met, and they embraced warmly. Two friends - bound together by time and mutual respect. The younger felt that he owed the older an incomprehensible debt, and laid down his life willingly for him, more than for any unseen cause. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last.

"Go," Albus Dumbledore commanded. "I know you will return."

Snape bowed crisply, took up his wand and bundle, and left.

Dumbledore sighed softly.

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Harry and Ginny Had not been 'snogging'. It was, for the time being, the farthest thing from their minds. They were friends - great friends - but did not think of themselves as lovers yet. The word love simply had not entered their conversation yet. They preferred each others company, and regarded each other as precious without having to ask why.

Being among Hermione's muggle friends was stimulating, but wore them out. Ginny was a terrible liar, and she stumbled over explanations of how she knew Hermione or what she did for fun. She hid behind Harry in the most literal sense, holding his hand or leaning her cheek on his back. She played shy. Harry played along, smiling fondly as she tripped over her words, or exchanging meaningful glances with the envious muggle males who understood their body language quite well.

Finally Harry drew Ginny aside and asked if she was alright. Ginny nodded shyly. "Want to go find the wagon?" he asked her. "We can try to get the best seats.

"Sure," she replied eagerly, smiling warmly at her friend. "Sorry I've been so bloody stupid, I-"

Harry grinned. "Hush," he admonished.

They crept around to where the tall maroon barn stood in the moonlight. "It's colder here, without the fire," Ginny said with a shiver.

"Girls never think to bring a coat," Harry said with a fond chuckle. He removed his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around hers. He kissed her cheek.

Even in the darkness, he could see her face flush with pleasure. "Sorry," he said softly.

Ginny smiled and took his hand. "Don't be..."

Suddenly, Harry reached up and grabbed his temple. "Ow," he said under his breath.

Ginny frowned concernedly. "Your scar, Harry?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "Don't worry about it, though. Now that You-Know-Who is on the loose, it happens all the time. Come on."

He led her in through the gaping barn door. Sure enough, the wagon stood ready. Harry grinned and swung Ginny up into the wagon. She landed with a laugh into the sweet-smelling hay. "What are you doing, you loon?" she asked, laughing.

"Helping a lady up into her seat!" he responded innocently. He hopped into the wagon beside her.

She grinned and threw a clump of hay at him. "That's for your impertinence!"

"Is that right?" he demanded.

She nodded in the affirmative.

He laughed and pounced at her suddenly, pinning her down into the hay. She shivered and not from the cold.

Suddenly, light flooded the barn and a merry laugh echoed in their ears. "Starting early tonight, are we kids?"

Harry sat bolt upright. "Sorry, sir, we just-"

"No need to explain," the voice replied. A muggle farmer stepped up to them. "I was in love once, myself. But the other kids are waiting for the hayride, so you'd better make yourself presentable." he winked at Ginny, who was blushing furiously. "Got some hay in your hair, there, love."

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Ron found it easy enough to sit next to Hermione - she seemed to have no objections, although a muggle boy Ron recognized as Hermione's next-door neighbor didn't seem overly thrilled.

It was cold, but Ron didn't regret the loss of his jacket. Hermione's eyes were almost as bright as the stars twinkling overhead, and her cheeks were flushed with the chilly night air. Ron wondered fleetingly what Hermione would think if he kissed her cheek once - she often did so to him, usually when he was being stubborn and she decided to let him win. For some reason he had never reciprocated, thinking she might be offended.

"What?" she asked suddenly.

"Huh?" he replied gracelessly.

"Have I got something on my nose?"

"Oh. Er, yeah. Just there," he said, indicating the side of his nose.

"Where?"

"Er-" he reached over to wipe an imaginary smudge off her nose. "There," he said.

-Now's your chance Weasley, kiss her cheek! Kiss her cheek!- Somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, there was a cheering squad that sounded suspiciously like Fred and George.

He suddenly found the courage. "It's gone," he whispered hoarsely, then bent in to her face again and-

And the world went to hell.

There was a hideous green explosion, and a loud, crunching sound. The wagon careened madly, then stopped in its tracks so suddenly that it spilled to one side. Everyone scrambled out, most of them screaming and crying. Ron and Harry looked at each other, met eyes knowingly, each face pale and afraid.

The muggle girl Ron had spoken to earlier ran up to the truck in front of them. "Uncle Jack!" she screamed.

Hermione ran up to her. "What's wrong, Amber?"

The girl only had to point. Her uncle was slouched over the steering wheel of his truck. He was dead.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny were close on Hermione's heels. Ron squeezed Hermione's elbow. "Mione," he whispered. "Look."

He pointed upwards. The dark mark was blazoned across the night sky.