Rating: R
Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.
Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.
Thanks To: K. Ashley, Blaze, Scratches (Pansy will die, but it won't be for a very long while yet, and certainly not as a result of anything she's done to this point. As for Draco putting Harry in Ron's bed—I considered that at one point, but thought it would be too cruel for Harry at this point.) , ola (Lestrange needed to be killed, and quickly, or Draco would have been taken as well. The only person still alive and close enough to stop him was Draco himself, so he had to be the one to do it—Snape was taking care of the wards and Sirius was still over ten minutes away. The guilt of the killing is something Draco will have to learn to cope with on his own, in time.), Jessica, Kearie, Evil Windstar, kristy, darklites, DancingRain, Canarde, Kim (I had to pull Ron out of the story because he refused to change enough to fit any more into the plot; I used the Azkaban ploy because he should at least have a heroic death. That said, I'm afraid he won't be coming back. Gone is gone. I'm sorry.), Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, V, valacirca, Wednesday, Penelope-Z,, Demeter, S. Maldiva (You're right, all the children are going to have to learn quickly to grow up and manage with death, although it won't always be at such close quarters as Ron's was. His death is going to have quite widespread effects. However, don't be so quick to leap for Pansy's throat. So far we only have Draco's assumption that she was the one responsible for leaking their true loyalties to Voldemort.), Kaylin, Cindelius, Fan, stolenlogic, BelleMalFoi, djiinx, Yanagi-sen, bwaybaby79 (Ron and Draco were put together so often because I wanted to try to get them to leave the old enmity behind. Unfortunately, stubborn souls that they are, it came too late.), MarsIsBRightTonight, Amy-la (Ron's death became inevitable and he won't be made better afterwards, I'm afraid.), Twilights Death, chriseee667, Maddie (I'm thrilled you're so enthusiastic about the story, and I'm sorry it's taken so long for the next chapter to get to you. Thank you for waiting.), Myr (I know. I'm sorry.), elwing (Yes, Ron's dead, and he won't be coming back to life. Hermione's reaction is in the earlier portion of this chapter.), silver glass (There were a few reasons I had to kill Ron. First and foremost, his refusal to make any move to accept Draco up to this point made him too rigid a character to remain in the story. Secondly, it's highly unlikely that all the main characters would survive a war against Voldemort should they become personally involved. Finally, Ron's death is going to have serious effects on events to come.), Josephine, Antinua, Kassie, bondagechic, (The lyrics are a habit I picked up from reading Rhysenn's Irresistible Poison. The lengthy chapters are my own habit. I couldn't be concise if I had a time bomb taped under my seat.), darklites, umi, saiko, ashedraven, Shukumei-of-another-world, and Arwena.
Thank you to everyone for being so patient with this chapter. It took a great deal longer than I had anticipated.
Also, Farseeker, Minna and I have begun a Yahoo Group, should anyone be interested in joining. We're right here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/voodoodollavengers.
All Torn Down: Hyena EmergesNow my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own;
Which is most faint: now tis true,
I must be here confin'd by you.
…
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
--Epiloge; The Tempest, William Shakespeare
A gentle, warm pressure on his cheek coaxed Harry from his dreams in the same way a whisper in the wind might prick one's ears to listen for more.
'Sweet dreams, Harry.'
His eyelids fluttered at the low thrum of Draco's voice, so very near him. There was a rustle of movement close by as he roused himself into wakefulness and when Harry's eyes opened fully, the curtains were swinging back into place around his bed. He pulled them a few inches aside and peered through, catching a glimpse of Draco's silhouette as he shut the dormitory door behind him. He settled back into bed and pulled the covers close around him.
'Sweet dreams, Draco.'
~~~*~~~
A heavy weight settled in Harry's chest when next he woke. Blinking sleep from his eyes, still only half-aware of the world, he opened the curtains. Stinging sunlight streamed through the dormitory window, making him wince.
It's late. Where's Ron?
It wasn't like his friend to let him lie in so long—Seamus or Dean might, and Neville was usually up too early to be bothered rousing him, but Ron was something like an alarm clock. He was always there, if only in the nick of time.
Harry staggered to the next bed and shoved the curtains around it aside. He froze. The bed was empty; the blankets still twisted from the night before when Harry, having worked himself into a state of panic over Draco's safety, had woken Ron and dragged him…
…To his death.
The weight in his chest doubled to the point of pain as memories of the night before slammed with full force back into his consciousness. He fought back nausea and prickling tears, but couldn't stop the dry sob that rattled from his throat. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any more.
—
— — Ron, red in the face with anger, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would go to Azkaban— —
— —The tense wait in Dumbledore's office for them to return, finally ended by Sirius's face appearing in the fireplace to tell them that they had got out...and Draco's voice dimly heard from behind, saying something about Lestrange, and then that Ron was...was...— —
— —The huddled group at the door, suddenly swamped by worried teachers; Ron's unmarked body being taken from Sirius's arms; Sirius dropping like a stone into Snape's hands and the sudden clench of fear that he, too, was dead— —
— —Flight through Hogwarts and a vision of Ron's face; the words 'Avada kedavra,' dripping poison on his heart— —
— —Draco, who didn't try to pour useless consolation over him; who was as stricken as Harry and who was the last person to see Ron alive. Who had held him close and simply grieved— —
— —
Need him.
Harry took an unsteady few steps back from the bed before he could convince his legs that a turn toward the dormitory door was possible. He staggered over, threw it open, and all but tumbled down the staircase, his blood surging with the sudden urgency to be near Draco—the only person who could possibly understand.
Harry stopped in his tracks on reaching the common room. It wasn't empty. A bushy-haired figure hunched in one of the armchairs, staring blankly at the cold fireplace. Hermione didn't even look up at his entrance, noisy though it must have been.
'H-Hermione?'
Not a twitch. Harry went to the armchair and crouched down so that he was in full view of her. Hermione's eyelids dipped in a slow blink and she focused on him. She swallowed.
'Harry.' Her voice was low and tight, as though she was trying to keep it under control. 'Dumbledore told us all, this morning...'
Harry reached out to take her hand, but she flinched away and abruptly stood up, almost knocking him over. Her fists clenched.
'He's—he was—an idiot,' she said, her voice suddenly shaking. 'A stupid, stupid—'
'Hermione!'
'He was! He didn't have to go. Why did he go, Harry? He should have known better than to run off somewhere like that. Grown, powerful wizards have died in that place! Why did he go?'
Harry swallowed. 'My fault.'
'His choice!' Hermione's shoulders rolled through a terrible shudder, but she resisted Harry when he reached out to touch her. She swallowed and looked back at him, her eyes shadowed and gathering tears. 'Why did he have to make the choice that killed him? Why couldn't he have stayed with me?'
'Hermione, I don't—I can't...' Harry broke off and gave a hopeless sigh. 'I should have stopped him. I should have tried harder, and I didn't, and I didn't even think it was possible for...for something like this to happen. I'm sorry...'
Hermione's lower lip trembled and she lowered her head to Harry's shoulders as he stepped forward again to comfort her. He raised his hands around her as she sobbed, and he stroked her hair back wordlessly, not knowing how else to console her. He wanted desperately to cry with her, but found he was unable to shed a single tear.
'I want him back, Harry,' Hermione wept. 'Can't someone bring him back? Please? I wanted to see him. I know he's in the castle. I asked Dumbledore, but I wasn't allowed. Was he—was it that terrible?'
Harry began to sway slightly. It seemed to calm her a little, if only that. 'No,' he murmured. He recalled the limpness of Ron's body and the blank face. And yes.
'Then why wouldn't he let me?'
'Don't know.'
A creak at the common room's entrance made Harry lift his head a little. The Fat Lady's portrait had swung aside, and Draco was climbing through the portal. He paused when he met Harry's gaze, his eyes travelling over he and Hermione in uncertainty. The portrait slipped back into place behind him.
Harry mouthed, Help me, over Hermione's shoulder. Draco hesitated a moment more, then drew silently across the room, a brooding kind of fear that Harry couldn't quite understand rising in his eyes. When he was near to them, he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then, looking at Harry with soft reproach, he took a breath and wrapped his arms around them both.
Hermione tensed at being embraced from behind and turned her head to look at her other comforter, but what Harry registered most clearly was the way that Draco's hands rested against his back, trembling violently. Suddenly he understood the fear. He raised one hand from where it encircled Hermione and gave the nearest of Draco's arms a gentle squeeze.
Hermione, having identified Draco, was content to remain in the embrace—or, Harry thought, she just didn't care. She seemed to have slipped into a maudlin world of her own, filled with tears, regret, and memories of Ron.
Draco was trying to speak again. His mouth moved silently, and when he did begin to form sound, he stammered and spoke too quietly to be heard over Hermione. Harry moved his hand to touch Draco's shoulder, and they stared at each other. Draco's eyes didn't move from Harry's as he gathered himself and began to speak clearly.
'Hermione,' he said, 'Ron told me something, last night, before...it's, he...it's something you should know, I think. He would like you to know.'
Hermione shifted so that she could see Draco more clearly, and wiped at her eyes in an effort to pull herself together. 'W-what is it?'
Draco looked down at her. 'He told me he loved you.' Hermione gaped, tears rolling down her cheeks. 'He meant it. He'd drunk the truth serum.'
Hermione bit her lip; her hands twisted in the folds of her skirt. What began somewhere in her throat as a whimper rose to a despairing wail:
'He never finished Hogwarts!'
Draco stared at her in blank confusion; as it was, it took Harry a moment to decipher what it was that Hermione meant.
'The book,' he said. 'The history. He never finished reading it.'
Harry withdrew from Draco and Hermione, reluctantly and with a pang of guilt at the surge of panic he saw in Draco's eyes as he was left without any kind of support.
'I'll just be a second,' he promised, and darted back up the stairway and into the boys' dormitory.
Harry ran to Ron's trunk, threw it open and half-emptied it before he concluded that Hogwarts: A History wasn't there. He thought for a second, and checked under the bed. There was nothing there bar a few cobwebs that may well have caused Ron nightmares for a week, had he ever been aware of their presence.
Frowning, Harry lifted the mattress to see whether Ron had hidden it in the frame of the bed for some reason. As he did so, the pillow tipped and rolled to the floor. A familiar tome beneath it followed with a thud.
Harry bounded across Ron's bed to retrieve the book, picked his way out of the dishevelled room, and flew down the stairway.
Draco and Hermione had fallen back into the armchair. Hermione was curled up into a corner and Draco patted her head awkwardly, unnerved as he was by the closeness. He looked up as Harry came into view, and stood. Harry nodded thanks to him and sat beside Hermione, pushing Hogwarts: A History into her lap.
'What's so special about it, Hermione?' he asked softly.
With shaking hands, she grasped the volume and opened it to the back inside cover. A small, sealed envelope was attached to the cover. Hermione pulled it away and opened it, lifting out a square piece of parchment that was folded away inside. She handed it to Harry, who ran his eyes over the simple message inscribed on it:
'Dear Ron,
The past is done; all that is left to find is our hereafter. Meet me at nine o'clock in the Divination Tower tonight. I have something to tell you.
Yours always,
Hermione.'
Harry passed the note to Draco, who read it over quickly. Hermione rested her head in her hands, her weeping having quietened.
'I was going to tell him that I love him.' She shook her head, fingers raking through her hair. 'I'd have said it in an instant if he'd ever told me how he felt.' Hermione looked to Draco. 'What happened in there?'
Draco's eyes darkened. 'The prisoners began a riot when they saw us, and that's how Lestrange got out of his cell. We'd already got away, but a group of Dementors ambushed us. Ron and I got separated from Professor Snape and Sirius while we were fighting them—the two of us couldn't cope alone, so we ran back. Lestrange found us. He seemed to know us both, somehow.
'We hid in an old cell and Ron told me that his family had already lost a child to Lestrange. We waited until we heard someone coming toward the cell, and—' Draco sighed. 'We thought it was Snape and Sirius looking for us, but when we opened the door, Lestrange was there. He went for Ron first, then cast Cruciatus over me when he realised that I was trying to find a weapon to stop him. Once I was knocked down, he killed Ron.'
'What kept Lestrange from going after you too?' Harry whispered.
Draco's mouth tightened. 'I killed him.'
Hermione gasped. 'How? Did you use Avada—?'
'No,' Draco said, then added quietly; 'I never mastered that spell. I tried to punch his head in, but that wouldn't work. So I poisoned him.'
There was a long silence, which lent a confessional aura to their close huddle about the armchair. Neither Harry nor Hermione questioned where Draco had come by so potent a poison, and he seemed grateful for that. Eventually Hermione ran a hand through her hair and stood up, clasping Hogwarts to her chest.
'I'm glad you killed him,' she said, not looking directly at Draco. 'It sounds awful, I know—but I'm glad that monster's gone. Thank you.'
Draco stared at her as though he didn't believe what he was hearing. Then he blinked and gave a short nod.
'I'm going upstairs. I need to rest and...and think about things. I probably won't be down again for a while.'
Draco nodded again. 'They still haven't found anyone,' he told her as she moved toward the doorway to the girls' dormitories. She paused.
'Is that why you came in here? Why the Fat Lady let you in?'
'Mainly.' Draco didn't even look at Harry. He didn't need to, to be understood. Harry could almost feel the direction of his emotions. Hermione simply nodded.
'Who hasn't found who?' Harry said.
'This morning, every one of the Death Eaters in the school had gone except for one, and after breakfast, he vanished somewhere too. The teachers have been searching the castle and the grounds all day, but I don't think they'll find anyone.' Draco stared at the floor. 'Seems as though our detour into Azkaban was just meant to be a monumental diversion.'
'Seems ridiculous,' Hermione muttered. 'A cruel joke.'
'I know.'
'Who was the one still here at breakfast?' Harry asked, frowning.
'The seventh year Gryffindor who stayed at school over the Christmas break. His name's Kieran Harper.'
'Why would he still be here when the rest of them were gone?'
'I don't know.'
'I hope they do find him,' Hermione said suddenly, harshly. 'I hope someone drags him out of his hiding hole and teaches him exactly why the Death Eaters lost last time.'
Hermione broke off, looking aghast at her own words. She shook herself, and turned back, crossing the room in a few quick steps to hug Harry, and then Draco, who gave a soft, strangled cry but didn't actually push her away. Hermione drew back.
'Sorry,' she said. 'And thank you.' And she retreated to her dormitory, leaving Harry alone with a shocked and trembling Draco.
'Are you all right?'
'No.' Draco turned and strode to the portrait, tapping the back of the painting softly with his knuckles. 'Let me out.'
Harry got up and followed as the Fat Lady swung aside and Draco moved out into the corridor. 'Thank you for helping me,' he said quietly.
Draco sagged against the wall as the portal closed beside him. He folded his arms around him as if to hide the shaking of his hands, then gave up and allowed them to drop at his sides. 'Please don't ask it of me again.'
'I didn't mean just with Hermione.' Harry leaned against the wall by him. 'Thank you for last night, as well.'
'I needed it as much as you did, Harry.'
'I know.' Harry bit his lip. 'You didn't have to carry me back to bed, though.'
'I couldn't have just sat in the corridor with you in my arms all night.'
Harry allowed himself a small smile. 'I think you could have.' Draco didn't respond to his words, but his head bobbed a little when Harry placed one hand over his and left it there. The Fat Lady was staring at them strangely from her portrait, but he didn't really care. 'You kissed me again, didn't you? On the cheek, when you put me to bed.'
Draco gasped. He stared, mortified, at Harry, a pink flush gracing his features, but looked away quickly. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I promise, I swear I won't do it again.'
Harry's fingers closed gently around Draco's, and he whispered, 'Please?'
Draco made a pained noise, somewhere between a disbelieving snort and a sob. 'Don't torment me.'
Harry stepped around in front of him, and raised his free hand to trace the lines of Draco's downcast face and tangle his fingers in the edges of his silver hair. He didn't look up. 'I'm perfectly serious, Draco.'
Draco raised his head slowly. The look in his eyes when Harry saw them was desperately pained and pleading. It was as staggering a blow as outright rejection would have been.
My God, he's as afraid to touch me as he was to be near Hermione. What have I done to him?
Swallowing, Harry moved closer, so that their faces were bare inches apart. He placed Draco's hand on his waist and cupped his face in both hands. Draco's eyes fell half-closed.
'Harry...'
'Please,' he said again. Harry leaned forward and brushed their lips together, ignoring the Fat Lady's soft gasp somewhere nearby.
The hand on his waist tightened its grip convulsively, and Draco's mouth quivered against his. There was a brief but suspended moment in which Draco made no movement at all and Harry feared that he had done the wrong thing; that he should just pull away, apologise, and run. Then Draco's arms wrapped tight around him, pulling them as close together as was humanly possible, and his doubts exploded like so many dandelion clocks blown in the wind.
Harry's eyes fell closed, and his fingers roamed over Draco's face in a bid to learn the shape of him by heart. A soft moan rippled from Draco's throat at his touch. As his lips parted, Harry's tongue sought its way out and ran over the soft curve of Draco's lower lip. The rush of warm air banished from Draco's lungs into Harry's and the wet, secret sensation of his tongue coaxing Harry's further into his mouth were blissful intoxication.
For a time that slipped away far too quickly, Harry's world was comprised solely of Draco and the kiss they shared. Nothing else mattered.
Certainly not the footsteps that sounded down the corridor, heading towards them with a measured pace, as Draco cradled his head in one hand and whispered tenderness into his mouth.
Nor the squeak the Fat Lady made when the footsteps paused. The sound of a throat being cleared somewhere behind him barely existed to Harry.
'The pair of you have no idea how much I am loathe to separate you at the moment...'
The voice, unfortunately, was one with which Harry had too often had to contend with to be discounted as insignificant. He withdrew from Draco with wholehearted reluctance, taking a few seconds to catch his breath and to absorb the shimmering, precious emotion in Draco's eyes. Then he turned to face Snape, a trace of resentful defiance flaring in his eyes.
The man stood a few feet away, watching them closely, a weariness and additional layer of darkness etched into his features that had not been there a day ago. Nevertheless, a small and unnervingly genuine smile had somehow found its way into his expression.
'...However, the Headmaster wishes to see you, Potter. I suggest you follow me.'
Harry nodded. He glanced back at Draco, and was answered before he spoke with a brief kiss to his lips and a shy smile. Harry smiled back at him and stepped forward to meet Professor Snape, who turned and began to lead him briskly back up the passage. As Harry caught up, he caught a whiff of a familiar but unidentifiable smell from Snape.
'I suppose the traditional 'I told you so' comes now.'
'Of course not. I never actually said you should be with Draco.' The Potions Master's eyes flicked sideways at him. 'I did have my suspicions, however.'
Harry flared. 'It was that easy to tell, was it?'
'There are only so many reasons for a person to blush whenever a kiss is mentioned—especially when the mentioning is several months after the event.'
Harry could feel his face descending to shades of red he'd never thought possible. Snape's eyebrows arched.
'There really is no need to be so coy, Potter.'
'Can't help it,' Harry muttered.
'He's your first, isn't he?'
My first boyfriend? Obviously! Harry knew what Snape meant though, and simply nodded.
'You're his first, as well. Ever.' Harry looked up, startled, but Snape was staring straight ahead of him. 'I think I ought to let you know that if you ever hurt him, I will make it my personal mission to see that your life is as miserable as possible.'
'I don't intend to do any such thing,' Harry said, indignant.
'Remember it.'
Harry gaped. 'You can't—I mean—you—' He clenched his teeth. 'Why do you care about him so much? You!'
'That is not for you to know.' Snape looked sidelong at him, and shook his head sadly. 'I fear that Minerva will be terribly disappointed with you, Potter.'
'W-What? Why?'
'She was so very certain that you were,' Snape snarled suddenly, 'Normal. In that, of course, she meant heterosexual. Perhaps this loss will finally open her mind.'
Harry frowned. 'Loss?'
'She was so sure of you she was willing to put money on it.'
'What?' Harry stopped in his tracks. 'You bet on whether or not Draco and I would—' His jaw dropped and hung slack suddenly as realisation hit. 'Oh. O-oh. That's why you were in Hogsmeade together in the first term...'
Snape glanced at him, startled. 'Was it really such a momentous occasion?'
Harry reddened. 'Ron—and I—thought that you were there together because you were, you know—'
'Together?' Some of the menace Harry was used to slipped back into Snape's voice.
'Um, yes.'
Snape gave him a long, slow look. He drew himself up to his full and rather impressive height. 'Mr Potter, let me make it very clear that I would never do such a singularly foolish nor embarrassing thing. However...out of respect for Ronald Weasley's memory...' his mouth twitched at the edges. '...I can pretend.'
Harry's eyes narrowed. 'That will probably give her the shock of her life. You really don't like Professor McGonagall, do you?'
'It's a private war, Potter, and nothing you should worry yourself about.'
Harry scowled. 'Of course not.'
They continued in silence. Harry began to look around, at the tapestries and pictures on the walls, into the classrooms, down a set of stairs Peeves was trying unsuccessfully to coax into moving—anywhere and anything to take his mind off of what Dumbledore would want to talk to him about. He noticed that some of the classrooms weren't empty.
'School's still running?'
Snape sighed. 'Hogwarts is in mourning, Harry. You need not worry about that. The school term continues, however, and what you're learning at the moment—especially in your year and the seventh—is extremely important for certain upcoming exams. Officially, no one is allowed out of class.'
'And unofficially?'
'Unofficially, it's accepted that Miss Granger, the Weasleys, yourself and Draco are excused at least for today, for fairly obvious reasons. I know that Professor McGonagall wants you back into the rhythm of things as soon as possible, though.'
Harry nodded. 'I think I'd rather that,' he said, half to himself.
'It isn't always good just to bury painful memories, Potter.'
He looked up, not sure whether to scream at the Potions Master or burst into tears. 'I don't want to forget him. He was my best friend, and that's something that I'll never bury. I just don't want to be miserable forever.'
The sympathetic look Snape gave him as they began to climb a final staircase, least expected as it was of an array of possible expressions, nearly floored Harry. He recalled that Snape, too, had lost some very close friends to Voldemort. Perhaps the professor wasn't so inaccessible as he'd always believed.
It was then that Harry caught the scent emanating from Snape again, a little stronger and a great deal more incriminating this time.
'Do you always drink when someone you know dies?'
Snape's eyes immediately shuttered. 'We all have ways of coping, Potter. You go back to classes...I toast the loss.'
'Why does Professor Dumbledore let you do it?'
Snape sighed. 'Dumbledore allows it because he knows it's how I cope with situations like this. He also knows that I would never take the practice outside of my own quarters and my own time.'
'You never go to the Three Broomsticks, though...'
Snape didn't quite manage to stifle a shudder. 'Too many people to see. It's a private ritual.'
'Ritual? That's a nice way of putting it. I mean, to the outside world, it'd just look as though you were getting drunk.'
Snape was beginning to walk stiffly and his jaw tightened. 'I am rarely drunk, Potter.'
'You passed out when Draco—'
'For God's sake, don't you ever stop?' Snape glared at him. Harry stared.
'Sorry.'
'I should hope so.'
'But it can't be good for you...'
Snape's fingers were suddenly digging into Harry's shoulders as he leaned down until they were eye-to-eye. 'Enough. It is my business, not yours. I have been living far longer than you and through far more dangerous times than you have yet seen, so I am sure I have the hang of it by now. Leave me alone.'
Harry stared at him with wide, stunned eyes. The wall of emotion he'd seen in Snape's eyes last time they'd really spoken had returned, and it shocked him as much now as it had before. 'Yes, sir.'
Snape let go of him and swept on ahead. The rest of the journey to Dumbledore's office was made in stiff-necked silence. Occasionally Harry raised a hand to massage his shoulders; he would probably have bruises there in a few days.
On reaching the gargoyle, Snape snapped, 'Fudge!' and immediately turned to leave as the statue jumped aside.
'Sir,' Harry called at his retreating back. Snape paused, but didn't bother to turn around. 'Um. Sorry for being such a pest. And...and thanks.'
Snape's voice was rough. 'For what, Potter?'
'I don't know.' Snape snorted. 'No, I mean...for bringing Draco back all right. And for not teasing me just now.'
'I never tease, Potter. Taunt, hassle and harangue, yes, but I don't tease.'
With that, Snape walked away, leaving Harry wondering what the difference was. He shook his head in bewilderment and made his way up the stairway to Dumbledore's office. The oak door, when he reached it, was ajar, and Harry stepped lightly through. The room was crowded with the sudden hush of generations of Headmasters past pausing mid-sentence at his intrusion, leaving the crackling of flames in the fireplace the only sound in the room.
'Hello, sir.' He couldn't meet Dumbledore's gaze properly. The man looked as though he bore the weight of worlds upon his shoulders.
'Harry,' the Headmaster raised a sad smile and motioned him to a seat. 'How are you?'
Harry flushed, suddenly feeling guilty for the few moments of pleasure he'd shared with Draco. 'I'm...all right.'
'It's good to know that you and Draco have come to an agreement,' Dumbledore said gently after a moment. Harry looked up, goggling at him for a second, before turning red and glancing away again. He stole a glance at one of the portraits on the wall, and reddened further. The Headmaster in the picture winked knowingly at him. 'The Fat Lady informed me of events while you were making your way here. She was most flustered.'
'Oh.'
'There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Harry.'
Harry fidgeted. 'Ron wouldn't like it.'
'As good a friend as he was to you, Harry, you mustn't allow his ghost to shadow your life.'
'I'm not going to,' he said, a little too sharply. Dumbledore blinked, and Harry gave a deep sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. 'Sorry. I just wish...' he shrugged. 'Just wish I'd been able to tell him what it's like. Why.'
'I understand.'
'I'm glad you do, sir. I just wish he had.'
Dumbledore nodded.
'Professor, do you know whether Sirius is awake yet?'
'No, Harry. He's still in the Hospital Wing, if you want to see him. Madam Pomfrey is to send word as soon as he comes to, and you'll be the first to know.'
'Thank you.'
'I owled Mr Weasley last night, and he has made arrangements to take Ron home today. He should be here in a few moments. Do you want to see Ron with him, before he's taken away?'
Harry nodded. 'I think I would. What about Hermione?'
'Professor Snape should be taking her now. I thought she would want a few moments alone with Ron.'
'Oh. Why wouldn't you let her go this morning?'
'I felt that Ginny, Fred and George should have the right to see Ron first. Also...Hermione was extremely distraught in the morning and seeing him straight away might have been too much of a shock. Hopefully she has calmed herself a little since.'
'I see.'
Dumbledore rose from his chair and circled his desk until he stood directly in front of Harry, looking down at him with gentle eyes. 'Are you all right, Harry?'
Harry's throat tightened. 'If you expect me to just fall apart right now—'
'I don't expect any such thing from you. I just want to know how you are.'
'I'm tired, angry at everything and nothing. Lost. Confused.' Harry sucked in a painful breath, closing his eyes. 'There are parts of me that don't understand that he's not there any more. I woke up today and actually went to his bed to wake him up before I remembered.'
'That's understandable.'
Harry shook his head. 'I shouldn't forget—'
He was cut off by the sudden roar of the fire flaring up as it turned green. The figure of Mr Weasley appeared amongst the flames, standing rigid. He stepped out of the fireplace as the flames died back down and nodded at them both. His eyes were bleary, as though he hadn't slept at all during the night, or had been crying, or both. Harry stood, feeling awkward and out of place, as Dumbledore clasped Mr Weasley's hand in welcome.
'Arthur,' he said. 'I'm so very sorry that you have to go through this again.'
Mr Weasley wasted no time. 'How did it happen?'
'Lestrange.'
Mr Weasley's expression flickered. 'The one who attacked Alastor when he was caught.'
'Yes. He got out of his cell in the midst of a riot, and found Ron and Draco Malfoy alone in an abandoned cell.'
'Malfoy was involved?'
'He tried to stop Lestrange,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'And when he could not, he avenged Ron.'
'I see.'
'He believes that Lestrange was responsible for Maggie as well.'
The muscles in Mr Weasley's throat clenched and he hung his head. 'At least we know for certain now,' he whispered. 'Where is he?'
'In the Astronomy Tower. Follow me.'
Harry fell into step beside Mr Weasley as Dumbledore led them both from the room. The older man looked down at him sadly.
'Voldemort is back,' he said, 'And don't we know it.'
Harry nodded, not sure what to say to the statement. Mr Weasley raised his voice to speak to Dumbledore, though he still looked at Harry.
'Molly and I had a lengthy discussion last night. We...we decided that it's perhaps not the best course of action for me to remain a candidate for the Ministry. I'm sorry.'
Dumbledore shook his head, but didn't stop or turn around. 'I understand, Arthur. It's your choice.'
'I've already spoken to some of the others in the Ministry, and they're willing to put in for the job. Some of them will certainly give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money; Kenneth Melchior seemed especially eager.'
Dumbledore's shoulders shook with a brief, subdued chuckle. 'I cannot say that I am surprised.'
Harry looked between them, confused. 'Why can't you still try for Minister of Magic? You'd be brilliant at it. You'd be able to fight the Death Eaters, right there.'
'That's part of the problem, Harry,' Mr Weasley said. 'Any of the Dark Lord's followers will know full well how fiercely loyal our family is to the resistance. If we make ourselves even more visible targets than we already are...'
The end of the sentence hung, unspoken and foreboding, in the air as they began to climb a flight of spiralling stairs that Harry hadn't seen before, and which were longer by far than the flights he usually took to get to classes. The flight climbed for several storeys before spilling into a darkened corridor. Dumbledore worked the illumination spell to shed light on the passage as they passed through it in concentrated silence.
There was a door towards the end of the passage under which shone a sliver of soft light. Dumbledore opened it with a wave of his wand and allowed the others to step into the next room ahead of him. Mr Weasley gave a stifled sob as the door closed.
The light that Harry had seen under the door emanated apparently from the floor and walls of the room itself, since there were no windows, and with it rose a chilliness that settled and clung to Harry's bones. In the centre of the space, Ron's body was laid out on a massive stone block. Hermione stood by the block, and looked up as they entered. Snape stood at the back of the room, enveloped in a thin air of detachment.
Mr Weasley strode forward and bent over the corpse, his face haggard. 'Oh, my boy...' he whispered, 'My poor boy...'
Harry edged forward slowly. It still felt far too strange to see this, to look at Ron and see only the body. It didn't help that Mr Weasley looked on the brink of tears and Hermione was murmuring her sympathy. A lump rose in his throat as he moved close enough to see Ron's face, looking for all the world as though he were only in a deep, calm slumber. It broke a few seconds later.
Harry didn't bother to blink back the tears trickling from his eyelids; he didn't much care that Snape was staring at him. His heart and mind were burdened with everything that he wanted to impart to his friend, and now couldn't. The knowledge that this was probably the last time he would see Ron scorched him somewhere deep inside.
The most he managed to mutter was, 'Bye Ron,' before any attempt at speech failed him.
Mr Weasley took his wand from his robes and pointed it at his dead son.
'Mobilicorpus.' Ron rose from the block and drifted forward at the direction of his father's wand. Dumbledore raised his hands toward the body.
'Caecus esse.' Dumbledore's hands brushed over Ron's face as he spoke the spell, and the corpse vanished. Hermione started.
'W-what did you...'
'Be calm, Hermione. He's only invisible.'
Dumbledore opened the door and they crowded into the passage; Mr Weasley in the lead this time while Professor Dumbledore and Snape brought up the rear. They made a sombre procession.
Harry glanced back at the staircase as they left it to head back to the Headmaster's office, and blinked. It had gone. He looked to Dumbledore, whose eyes sparkled with secret knowledge. He could swear that the Headmaster had not spoken a word or made a movement to invoke a spell.
They paused on reaching the gargoyle, and Mr Weasley turned to face Harry and Hermione. 'I can't tell you how grateful I am to the both of you for being Ron's friends. I don't believe that he could have found a greater pair of companions given a hundred years.'
Dumbledore gave the password and Mr Weasley headed up the stairs ahead of everyone else.
'Harry, you can go now if you wish, but I want to have a word with Hermione.'
'Yes sir.'
The Headmaster turned to Snape. 'Thank you for your help today, Severus. I won't make any more demands on your time. I suggest you try to relax.'
Snape shook his head. 'There still might be a Death Eater in the school grounds somewhere. As long as Minerva and Hagrid keep looking for him, so will I. I wanted to speak with Minerva anyway.'
Harry fought back the urge to kick Snape in the ankle.
'I fear we've lost them, Severus.'
Snape grunted. 'There's still a chance. For once I regret the absence of Black; if he were awake, we could have got a scent by now and found the wastrel. Good day, Headmaster.'
Harry waved to Hermione and raised a grateful half-smile at Dumbledore before following in the direction that Snape had gone. He had no doubt that the Potions Master was aware of his presence as he drew close, but no words passed between them, even at the point where their paths separated. Snape made his way back down to the dungeons, and Harry went on to Gryffindor Tower.
Draco had gone. Harry felt a twinge of disappointment. The Fat Lady greeted him with a bright blush, although it was Harry's ears that went red at her muttered remark as he made his way into the common room:
'Jolly good show, Harry. It's been years since I've been able to see a proper snog...'
Classes had ended for the moment, so Harry faced a crowd of Gryffindors, all involved in an active discussion. There were no Weasleys in sight, but Neville seemed to be mouthing urgent things at him from the middle of the crowd. The trouble was that Harry was an appalling lip-reader.
A few people caught sight of him, whispers were made and elbows shoved, and the room fell silent.
'Hello,' he said, then added, 'Er...Did anyone see Draco here a little while ago? And before anyone asks, I'm all right. I mean—not all right all right, but...'
'What's it like?' Seamus said. A horde of ears cocked to hear his answer.
'Er...sorry? What's it like to what?'
'To be in on it all!'
Harry glanced at Neville, who shrugged helplessly, and the penny dropped. Dumbledore must have had to tell everyone about the Order when he told them about Ron...
'It's...well, what do you want to know?'
'Why it's been hidden from us for so long, for a start,' a scowling, dark-haired girl from Ginny's year said.
'What do you do?'
'Who else is in it?'
'How do you put up with Malfoy?'
Harry froze at the last question, called out by an unseen speaker, but he forced himself to answer the rest before he dealt with that one.
'We meet and try to counter Voldemort's movements while the Ministry still won't officially do anything about him. It's difficult because we have to try to make sure Voldemort doesn't know who's behind it—and the same with the Ministry, at least as long as Fudge was in charge.'
The dark-haired girl tossed her head, sniffing. 'I think it's terrible of them to do something like that under all of our noses. Inside the school! What if You-Know-Who did find out? Oh, but wait: he has, and one of us is dead now because of it.'
There was a murmur of discontented agreement.
Harry's fists clenched. 'Ron isn't dead because of anything the Order of the Phoenix did wrong. He went to Azkaban to help two spies who were sent there by Voldemort—' There was a collective wince around the room— 'And he was killed by a crazed criminal who didn't have a clue what was going on outside the prison walls. He knew it was dangerous when he went.'
'Voldemort still knows now, though, doesn't he? What if he attacks us all here?'
'Pardon?' Harry's voice was deadly quiet, just loud enough to be heard across the room. 'I'm sorry, did you just say what I think you said? You're standing here, quivering in your boots in case some big bad wizard comes to school, when we're in a place that's supposed to be the safest in the magical world, and one of the world's greatest wizards is here to protect us?'
The girl began to look edgy and defiant. 'Dumbledore's been lying to us!'
'No, he hasn't! He didn't say anything about the Order because at the time, it was important to keep everything secret—to protect you all, as much as anything else. Until today, there were Death Eaters everywhere in the school—what sort of information do you think they could have passed on to Voldemort then? Last year, the Ministry told Dumbledore to lie about Cedric Diggory's death to keep Voldemort's reappearance under wraps, but he told everyone the truth instead. That could have cost him his job, but he did it anyway because he wanted us to be prepared!'
Quiet was all that met Harry's words. Everyone was staring at him very strangely, and he realised that he'd raised his hands sometime during the rant and had been shaking his fists around. He lowered them gingerly.
They must think I'm barking mad.
Neville wormed his way between bodies to get to Harry and patted him on the shoulder. 'It's all right. I know what you mean. I kept trying to tell them, but it just wouldn't get through—especially with some of the younger ones; they're all scared—'
'So...who else is in the Order?' Dean said. Neville turned around.
'Why do you want to know?'
Dean and Seamus shared a glance. 'Well, if we're going to join, we'd better know who we'll be working with.'
Harry blinked. 'Join?'
'Well, yes...'
'Dumbledore didn't say anything about letting anyone else join the Order,' Neville said in a low voice as murmurs and nudgings sprung up.
'At a guess, I'd say he wasn't too pointed about people not joining, either, was he?'
'No.'
They looked at each other and silently concurred: Safest first.
'Most of the Hogwarts staff are a part of it. There are a few from the Ministry, too—Mr and Mrs Weasley—'
Colin Creevey snapped his fingers. 'I wondered why Ginny didn't seem very surprised when Dumbledore told us!'
'Right, and there's someone called Kenneth Melchior...'
'He's from the Department of Trade Regulations,' Neville said.
'Is he?'
'I'm fairly sure.'
'No wonder Snape doesn't like him. He's probably got to pay all sorts of taxes and things to get potions supplies...'
Someone groaned. 'Snape's in the group?'
'Look,' Neville snapped with surprising acidity. 'This isn't a game. The Order of the Phoenix was central to the fight against V-V...damn...You-Know-Who last time, and it will be now as well. People get hurt; people will probably get killed. It's dangerous. If you can't learn to bury a few enmities then it's not worth becoming a part of it.'
'All right, all right...'
'Well said,' Harry murmured, 'Although I think you've scared the little ones even more now...'
'It's not something they should be involved in yet, anyway.'
'But what about Malfoy?' The dark-haired girl seemed to be grasping at straws.
'What about him?' Harry said, in a very dangerous voice. She looked taken aback.
'He's...he's a Malfoy. We all know what sort of things that family got up to last time. How can you trust him? How do you know he's not a spy for the other side as well?'
'Draco wouldn't do that.'
'How do you know?'
Harry took a step forward. 'What makes you think he would spy for the other side? Is there any reason apart from an accident of birth?'
'Dumbledore told us he was a spy. That means he has the Dark Mark—he must have been loyal to the Dark Lord sometime.'
Harry laughed, cynically. 'A few years ago, maybe. But he has that Mark on his wrist because he wasn't strong enough to fight off all of his father's men. He hated what he'd been forced to become, and he wouldn't betray us. I know that.' Harry looked around. 'And I don't want to hear anyone whispering about it behind his back, either. Draco told me that in strict confidence, and I've probably made a huge mistake even mentioning it...' Everyone had fallen silent again, including—thank goodness—the dark-haired girl, who seemed at least a little ashamed of all her doubting. 'I need to see him. He was here a while ago—does anyone know where he went?'
'Yeah,' Seamus said. 'He was hanging around near the Fat Lady when we were let out of class, but he turned tail when he saw us coming. Said something about helping Snape find the last Death Eater.'
'Thanks.' Harry looked around. 'If you want to fight against Voldemort, the best thing you can do at the moment is help the Order of the Phoenix. For now at least, the Ministry isn't doing anything. But it's not something to be done lightly, on a whim. Think about it carefully.'
He stepped back and knocked on the back of the portrait; the Fat Lady swung aside without even seeking a password. As he backtracked into the corridor, Neville leaned out of the portal.
'Harry! What do you need to see Malfoy about? Is it Order business?'
'Ah...' Harry flushed. 'No. Personal. Bye.'
He scurried from the tower and out of the castle, pausing only when he reached the top of the entrance steps. Draco stood on a lower step, gazing out on the grounds. He turned at the sound of Harry's approach. His eyes lit up and his mouth curved in a small smile. 'Hello.'
'Hello.'
'What did Dumbledore want?'
'Just to make sure I'm going to survive, I think. Mr Weasley came—he's taken Ron back to the Burrow.' Harry's breath hitched at the memory of Mr Weasley's haggard face. Draco's eyes softened and he moved close, taking Harry's hand in his own. 'He's not going to try for Minister of Magic any more. Says it's too dangerous.'
'He's probably right.'
Harry nodded. 'Dumbledore...sort of gave us his blessing, too. The Fat Lady...'
'I know. She disappeared as soon as you and Professor Snape were gone. It's good of him to be so accepting of us.'
Harry glanced sidelong at Draco. 'Seamus said you'd come out here to help the professors look for Harper.'
'I did, but they've started to go through the Forbidden Forest, and Snape didn't want me to go in there for some reason.' He shrugged. 'So I'm waiting here.'
'Wouldn't the Forest be the most obvious place to look?'
'Yes, but Hagrid was out at the time when Kieran disappeared, and he swore he hadn't seen anyone nearby. Fang couldn't pick up any scent around the edges either, so we looked elsewhere first.' Draco leaned closer to him. 'Harry…Ron told me something in Azkaban and he asked me to pass it on to you.'
'Yes?'
Draco bit his lip and faced Harry with a vaguely puzzled expression. 'He said to tell you that it was all right. Do you know what he meant? He wouldn't say.'
Harry's mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 'He said...? In Azkaban?'
'Yes...' A faint light of worry rose in Draco's eyes. 'What did he mean?'
Harry covered his mouth with one hand. 'That—he—' He closed his eyes. 'Why couldn't he have told me before? We wouldn't have had to fight...'
'Harry,' Draco murmured. 'What's this about?'
'Us. It's about Ron finally giving in and saying he'd be my friend whether I was with you or not. And the bastard waited until he was in Azkaban to decide—!'
'Harry...'
'I'm never going to be able to thank him!'
'You wanted Ron's permission?'
'I just wanted to know that I wouldn't lose him if I went ahead and told you.' Harry sighed. 'Sounds like a sick joke now, doesn't it?'
'And he said...'
Harry looked up, registering the note of quiet amazement in Draco's voice. 'It's all right. Yeah.'
Draco's face broke out into the most radiant smile Harry had ever seen and he swept them together in a tight embrace. Draco feathered kisses across Harry's face, whispering, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you...'
Harry smiled and leaned into him, sending a silent thanks skyward with Draco's and feeling his heart swell with a turbulent cohesion of bereavement and lightness. His hands rose to run through Draco's hair as he began to return the soft kisses.
They paused, but did not relinquish their hold on one another, at a shout from across the grounds. McGonagall and Snape were pelting towards the castle from the Forbidden Forest in a wholly undignified fashion.
McGonagall was the first to reach the steps, and as she raced up them she curtly muttered, 'Do disentangle yourselves,' before disappearing through the entrance doors.
Snape, following behind, raised a wry brow at them that, to Harry, held a definite hint of 'Told you so.' Rather than follow Professor McGonagall into the castle, he stopped alongside Harry and Draco, obviously fighting the urge to double over in an effort to catch his breath.
'What's going on?' Draco wanted to know.
Snape pointed back at the Forest. 'They want to see Dumbledore.'
Harry squinted at the Forest. Emerging from the shelter and darkness of the trees, all manner of creatures were surging across the grounds towards the castle. In the lead, beside a palomino centaur, strode the seventh-year Death Eater, Kieran Harper.