Summary: After a secret summer, Harry and the DA members return to Hogwarts where Harry dances between anger and torment, mixing the two emotions interchangeably. Fifth year has changed the Trio in ways that no one else could imagine, and has thrown Harry deeper than he's ever been before. Sixth year, then, is the unthinkable, unpreventable result. The Order only finds out when it's too late.

Walk the Edge of Panic

By March Madness

Chapter One: Motivator

Imminent death is a motivator.

The Mourning Dove, Larry Barkdull

"Did you hear the news?"

Harry tiredly turned to face the girl who had asked the question so excitedly. Hermione and Ron, sitting on either side of him, were both asleep and the only other persons in the apartment were Ginny and Neville. Luna had gone off a minute before with some vague explanation that Harry didn't really hear, and the other two were close enough to falling asleep as it was...

Sighing, Harry shook his head. "No," he answered softly, afraid that if he tried to be too loud, the hoarseness in his voice would be obvious even to some ditzy gossip, "what news?" At his right, Hermione stirred, just enough to remind Harry that she was there (as if he'd forget) and that she wouldn't like to be woken (as if he'd not known).

The girl, oblivious to the four sleeping persons, made some squealing noise deep in her throat and clapped her hands together. Neither noise was loud enough to wake anyone up, but Harry felt his eyes narrow and his hands clench into fists. Forcibly, he relaxed. He calmed down. He kept from thinking bad thoughts about the idiot girl.

"Draco Malfoy," she began, pausing to look around as if the boy would appear, summoned by his name. She finally started again, eyes twinkling brightly. "Draco Malfy... has been pulled from Hogwarts!"

"Oh." Harry managed to put some sort of bemused smile on his face. "That's..." Fantastic? Wonderful? A dream come true? "...odd." He bit his tongue to keep back a yawn, and even then it felt like his chest was bloating up with air. His eyes filled with sleepy tears as if his body were honestly crying out for the sleep he was denied and his body itself felt filled with mythical sand.

The girl was still standing there, obviously waiting for some better reply, so Harry drudged through his mind for a bit of thought, ending up with a simple, "I'll pass the word along. I'm sure that everyone will be... surprised..." He had to stop to bit back another yawn.

As if he hadn't said anything, she said, "Be sure they all know, all right? This is some very important news-"

Hermione, of course, would have been very, very upset to know that he lost his temper ever after all the work they three had gone through during the summer, but she was asleep and he wasn't so terribly angry, so Harry supposed that she could let it slide this one time.

Eyes narrowed again to green, uncomprehending slits, Harry leaned forward a little (enough to emphasize his words without disturbing his friends' sleep) and glared at the twitless girl. She took an unconscious step back. "Why is it so bloody important?" Harry whispered/yelled. "All it is... is Malfoy. Who cares if he comes to school or not. Who cares if he eats, or drinks, or washes his hands after using the lavatory-"

Ron mumbled something in his sleep, instantly cutting Harry off mid-rant and saving the girl's hide. Lips quivering, more frightened from the look Harry had given her and the tone he'd used rather than the words he'd said, she hardly waited a second before turning off and rushing away. Harry would have forgiven her, if she hadn't allowed the door to slam loudly in her wake.

Ginny, who had ended up falling asleep, jerked up and Harry looked back at her sympathetically, guilty at having her wake up. She fumbled around for a moment, trying to sit up straight without disturbing Neville, who'd half leaned on her in his sleep, then yawned giantly. "Harry?" she murmured, and the sound of her voice made Harry flush happily; she was still mostly asleep, and would probably just as soon close her eyes than straighten up more. "Harry... what's... what was that-"

"Shh." Harry carefully wiggled his hand out from under Hermione's head, just enough to give him the room for a locking spell on the apartment door. He sent a silencing charm around after that, feeling vulnerable at being so cut off from the world outside but better for assuring his exhausted friends that much more of needed sleep. "Shh. It's nothing."

Ginny let out a low moan, body slowly settling back into sleep. But her eyes blinked open, and even though they were mostly clouded with weariness, there was still a sharp quality to them. "Aren't you tired, Harry? One of us can stand guard until we get to Hogwarts-"

"No, I'm fine," Harry lied, feeling the words slip easily through his lips. Lies were so easy now. He gave her a soft smile. "You've stood guard all summer. I can handle a few hours on my own."

She didn't look completely persuaded, but her weariness allowed her no opportunity to say more. Between the blinking of her eyes, she was back in a deep sleep born of dead tiredness.

Vaguely, Harry hoped that the other DA members had been rightly taken care of. They'd be at Hogwarts by now if nothing went wrong, with just him and his five friends on the train, the only ones who'd been allowed to travel in such a shaky way. Shackelbolt, Tonks, and Moody were all somewhere up on the train, but the summer training they'd given wouldn't let Harry rest until he knew that everyone was safe at Hogwarts, knew for his own eyes and not by someone else's word.

He gazed at Ginny a moment longer, making sure that she was truly asleep. All of them were asleep now, except for Luna who wouldn't accept Harry's worry. She was probably traipsing along the carts, trying to spread news of her trip with her father, searching for unheard of beasts through unheard of cities. She was one of the few DA members who hadn't been brought to the Black house over the summer. She was one of the few DA members who could still have a life.

'I'm getting bitter again.'

The thought came unbidden, but it was true enough that Harry sighed at it before letting himself sink back against the wall. His whole body ached. It had been aching since midway through summer, when the Order Aurors made Harry wish like he'd never been born, like he'd never had any adventures or started up any defense group or had responsibility beyond his own life. They made him regret ever putting anyone else's life in danger... and he could only hope the lessons had sunk in deep enough.

...

Hermione dreamed that she was flying, which made her realize it was a dream. She had only flown once in her life, the night she had gone with Harry to the Department of Mysteries, and before that time she'd never really had interest in brooms or Quidditch. It was such a silly sport, and so dangerous! Needlessly so--they, if they really wanted to play, should have tried out of football or some other such landed game.

Her dream was a rerun of that night on the thestrals' backs, flying on invisible wings and hoping that her instincts were wrong about Harry's vision. It had sounded... too convenient. And even if Sirius had been caught, what could a bunch of schoolchildren do-

She shook her head awake, trying to get rid of such thoughts and, in doing so, realizing that the dream had passed away with the opening of her eyes.

She blinked in the darkness, only to realize that her head was buried in someone's side.

"Harry..." Hermione sighed, taking in the scent of her best friend, of grass and soap and the cleanliness of the world. The body beneath her stirred, and then pulled away despite her unstoppable grunt of disappointment.

When she blinked again, a pair of emerald eyes blinked back at her, set in a pale, pale face. Bloodless. 'He hasn't slept,' Hermione noted, a little worried. His eyes were dark, circles spotting the skin around those green orbs. 'I told him to try and sleep. If he was so worried, he should have woken someone up. The rest of us all slept yesterday...'

"Hermione," her boy/chair greeted, a soft smile on his face. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione sighed again then reluctantly sat up. Harry scooted over for her, which made her realize that Ron was still snoring off a little. He was curled up against Harry in much the same way she had been. It was, she reflected with a wry little smile, a very comfortable position.

"Of course I slept well," she answered after a moment of simply examining Harry's face, seeing all the signs of exhaustion that had been building up over their summer together. The same signs were in everyone's faces, she supposed, but just so much deeper in Harry's. He'd pushed himself too hard--even Moody had said something about it.

'Well, it's not like he doesn't have a reason... even if it's one no one else agrees with...'

"The real question is," she continued, pushing away those thoughts to analyze and deal with later, "why didn't you get any sleep?"

Harry's smile became sheepish, and he half-turned so that instead of directly facing her he was looking toward the other side of the compartment. Hermione followed his eyes; it looked like Ginny was also still asleep. "Who says I didn't?" replied Harry, still not looking at her.

Hermione stared into the side of his face until he reluctantly looked back at her. Her expression was severe; excuses were definitely not going to work this time, she promised to herself, stiffening up her resolve. No matter what Harry said, he wasn't going to slip away while doing this to himself.

His own expression turned slightly defensive, lips tightening and eyes cooling as if she were making a personal attack. 'He could think of it that way,' she admitted silently, hating that Harry would feel such a thing against her.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Harry went on, voice chilly in the same way. "We're almost at Hogwarts. I was too busy thinking to really get any sleep--it wouldn't have done any good for me to wake someone up, just to stay awake anyway. This way, anyone who wanted to get some sleep got it."

She could feel herself swaying under his eyes, under his expression that made her feel like a villain for confronting him over such a petty matter. There were much more important things going on in the world, Harry's eyes wanted her to believe, things much more important than some silly boy's sleeping patterns.

She swallowed and looked away, but even as her eyes left his, she slid back into her sleeping position, tight against his side and close enough to feel his heart beating under his skin. Sighing one more time, Hermione buried her face in his arm, silently asking him to forgive her for wanting the best. She was close enough to feel him relax into her, which was as much a sign of that desired forgiveness as anything.

"We're almost at Hogwarts?" she asked into his shirt, changing the subject to something less... less tense.

Harry nodded and the movement carried down through her bones. On his other side, Ron mumbled something and leaned heavily onto his friend, which also carried through Harry's body into hers. It felt like they were connected in a way that couldn't be broken, and Ron wasn't even awake.

"We'll be there in less than an hour by now. It's getting dark outside--look, the sun's just setting." Harry let out a long breath that might have been a sigh, then quietly added, "I remember, at the beginning of the summer... I thought I'd never see anything worth seeing again." The way he said it made the view sound like the only beautiful thing in the world.

Hermione dragged herself up to look out the window as he said, eyes focusing again just when her body had felt ready to fall back asleep. It was beautiful out there, and she wondered dreamily if that was because her mind was just walking the edge between reality and sleep, or because her two best friends were there to share it with her, connected with her in some unbreakable way. Maybe it was because Harry had said it was beautiful, so it had to be so.

"Too bad Ron's not moving," she said, eyes taking in the view of a dying sun and a born moon. It was twilight, the time just between the day and night when the world feels ready to tip over. Everything was quiet except for the sound of breathing and the occasional rustling of robes, and it felt more like she was in a disconnected world than in a train with hundreds of other bodies. "He'd like to see this."

She caught Harry's mouth settling into a gentle smirk, his eyes going down to look at the redhead on his other side. There was an affectionate twist to his lips, looking at the one person in the world close enough to be a brother to Harry Potter, a twist that lasted when he looked at her, the one person in the world close enough to be a sister.

"He'd ruin it for sure," came the amused reply. "Ron would laugh at us for being sentimental, then he'd challenge me to chess when we reach the castle." He rolled his eyes. "Course, I know he's going to do that anyway, so it doesn't matter if he wakes up now to ask me or if he doesn't wake up until we're sitting in the common room."

Hermione smiled, her eyes drifting close as she settled back into Harry's side as if she were born there. 'If I ever get a title for being Harry's best friend, I hope it's 'sister.' Nothing else would mean as much.'

She felt Ron through the tangles of flesh that was her and Harry, felt him slowly roll his shoulders until he was sitting up. He had been awake, and she'd known. And Harry had known.

The redhead groaned a little, the sound echoing in a startling manner through the quiet area. "I knew it," the boy was saying darkly, as if he were angry. "I knew you two would talk about me. As soon as I close my eyes." He sat up, and Hermione did the same in time to catch Ron's brown eyes boring into Harry's in a mock-predator way. "Just for that, we're playing chess until I feel I've beaten my revenge into you."

Harry laughed.

Hermione closed her eyes again, slid back into him again, and let her whole body shake with his deep, good laughter. It was like a cleansing ritual of some sort, letting those laughing sounds roll over her ears and through her soul. She sighed again, and this time smiled with it.

Harry kept on laughing, and Ron joked enough for him and her both, with each joke bringing out more smiles and more relaxation. It had been so long since Harry had laughed. If his laughter really were some cleansing ritual for her, then this would be her soul's first bath in so long a time that she felt weighed down by grubby matters.

Her eyes still closed, Hermione couldn't tell when she slipped back into the dream world because even there, Harry's laughter still followed. And it didn't end.

...

By the time Prefects started going around, reminding those lazy students that it was time to change into school robes, Ron had accomplished the impossible. He felt rather proud about it, too.

Looking down at his sleeping friend, Ron smirked to himself. "I ought to get an award for this," he said quietly, needing to hear some noise. Harry had mumbled something about a silencing charm, which Ron didn't bother with, and a locking spell, which Ron had bothered with. It wouldn't do to have a prefect pounding on the door, with everyone else inside and unable to hear. Harry... Harry was an idiot sometimes, but it was always for the best.

"That's right. You're always an idiot for a good reason. Suppose that a compliment." He ruffled Harry's hair, knowing that the other boy was too tired to wake up, had someone been pinching his nose off. But, in the quiet room, Ron's own words came back to haunt him, and he almost slapped himself for idiocy.

He mock-glared down at Harry. "It's a good thing you're asleep," he lectured severely, trying his best to conjure up a McGonagall-like tone of voice. "You'd have probably taken that the wrong way." He glanced around the compartment anxiously. "It's a good thing the rest of you lot are asleep, too. If Harry's going to kill me, I wouldn't want any witnesses."

"Ron, you're the idiot..."

Ron rolled his eyes and glared, but it was just his luck that Ginny was still asleep. If he'd been able to stand up without waking Harry, though, she wouldn't have been sleeping much longer. He thought about conjuring up some bucket of water, then decided against it; Ginny's screams might be enough to wake up Harry, which was something that Ron didn't want to chance.

"Only you," he settled for calling across the room at his sleeping sister, "would call me an idiot in your sleep. You and Hermione. Women. Probably got that 'Ron, you're an idiot' speech memorized and pat down as reflex."

He added a Snape-like scowl, but Ginny's sleeping face didn't react in the least.

With a triumphant grin, Ron added (in a quieter voice), "Maybe it's better you're asleep. I've got some things to say to you, Virginia. Your shielding spells are horrible! Worse than mine! Worse than Neville's! I bet you don't-"

Across the way, Ginny shifted in her sleep, cuddling up on her bench, perilously close to the sleeping Neville. Ron immediately shut up, not wanting Ginny to hear anything he'd said--it was all very well and fun to tease people while they were asleep, he reasoned, but he'd rather not have Ginny yelling back at him.

He looked down at Harry with a little frown. "What happened to you, huh? You were supposed to be the only one who could get her to shut up. Then what happened? It's like you're broken."

Harry's only response was to... to do nothing. He really was out.

"Serves you right," Ron continued, this time letting his voice drop to a real whisper. "Honestly, Harry, all summer... you were really trying to hurt yourself, weren't you? But it's not your fault, you blind idiot. None of it was your fault, and since you won't listen to me when you're awake, you're going to have to listen to me now."

He shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. There was only about fifteen or so minutes before the train got to Hogwarts, so if he wanted to get this off his chest, he'd have to talk fast. Talk fast and hope that no one interrupted.

"You keep blaming yourself for Sirius, but, Harry, you weren't the one that killed him. And come on, what if you hadn't gone? Do you honestly think that Sirius was going to wait in that bloody house forever? I bet that he'd already gone out, that if was just waiting for the chance to get out of the there. He wasn't thinking straight, anyway. Who could, with that stupid painting and that stupid house-elf."

On reflex, he leaned forward a bit to see whether Hermione had reacted to that last thing. She hadn't, of course, still being asleep. A little relieved, Ron settled back down and continued

"We're only teenagers, besides that. Teenagers who don't get told a single thing. If you hadn't gone out to the Department of Mysteries, how do you think you would have felt afterwords? I know you. If you hadn't gone, it would go against everything that you are, Harry. I mean, ever since first-year, you've always been the one who went out and got things done. Even if it's some sort of hero-addiction, like Hermione says, then they all should have known better than to have just left you alone without anything to do. They should have given you some sort of, I don't know, practice victim to save, just to get it out of your system.

"And don't get me started about Snape!" Maybe it was just him, but he thought Harry smiled a little at that. It was a good sign if anything. He was about to go on about their Potion Master, but another image filled his head so violently that Ron almost spat.

He glared at the window, feeling an angry pit open up in the bottom of his stomach. It wasn't Snape he was thinking about, though the wizard might have been upset to know that someone else had replaced him at the top of Ron's personal hate-list. Personal, being people that had hurt his family or friends (Harry and Hermione were two people that fit in either list), people that Ron planned to really do something about one of these days.

Ron swallowed, his eyes dragging down to Harry's exposed right hand. It was near Hermione's knee, hanging limply, but in the light Ron could see words engraved onto it that shouldn't have been there.

"I hate Umbridge, you know," he started out, the words just flowing off his tongue mindlessly. "Not because of anything she did to me, you know. She didn't really bother me that much, aside from destroying Defense class and putting up all those bloody posters everywhere. Nothing that she did to me, personally, physically or anything, you know.

"It's because of what she did to you, Harry. I think I could curse her skin right off her bones because of what she did to you."

He looked back to the window, to where night had fallen and stars had climbed. It felt so wrong to be talking about hate when it was so peaceful outside. But he couldn't help it, and after a moment, he was talking again, low enough that only Harry and Hermione would have heard, had they been awake.

"I'm going to let you deal with the Death Eaters and all that, all right? I'm even going to be so nice as to let you have Malfoy all to yourself--only, when you do get him back for everything, let me be there to watch? But... but I'm going to deal with Umbridge for you. I don't think I could handle even letting that witch look at you."

He glanced down at Harry, seeing the eyes closed in sleep and mouth slightly open, making a small hole. Harry looked like he was dead, and for a moment Ron panicked. He could just hear what Hermione would say--but, no, there he was going, breathing so softly you couldn't hear it over Neville on the other side of the compartment. Ron let his head fall back, feeling his body drain from so little a time of panic.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, then remembered his 'idiot' speech from before and smiled a little. He looked back down at Harry again--there, see, he doesn't really look dead, not from this angle, and besides he has a reason to just keel over if anyone does--and smiled more.

"You remember," he ordered softly, "remember what I said about Umbridge. And I don't think you have to worry about Snape, either. Hermione will want her share of the blood-fest, you know."

He could feel through Harry's body that Hermione agreed with him, and he knew she'd woken up, just missing the part where she would agree with everything he said.

Then he realized that the train had stopped because the world outside had stopped racing alongside his window, and he could see horseless carriages. Except this year, there were black horses pulling at them.