A/N: Hi!! Just back from celebrating a birthday, (thanks Lbj5411, hehe) and now I'm back to work. First I have to do the ever-important thanking of my best reviewers, you already know who you are. Thank you for the insightful reviews and feedback. Throughout the chapters, I have used some ideas that I have gotten just by reading my reviews, so they're incredibly invaluable. Feel free to tell me any parts that particularly stick with you, and even those you don't like. I was also delighted at getting some reviews from new people; thanks again, to angel, and thank you to kuipo and DanRadcliffesChick18 for reviewing. I'm elated to see how much you like this story.

Just a few of my thoughts:  in the books you only get Harry's point of view on things, what he sees, and so on. So I just think it's nice to delve deep into what some of the other character's thoughts and emotions, if you guys haven't already noticed. The most complicated and best struggles are internal. *smiles*

Chapter Twenty: Sunset

            Draco entered his room, slamming the door behind him. He wanted to get away as soon as possible, but Dumbledore had sent him on a stupid errand. And then he had to go through the rest of his classes, fighting and driving down the terror he felt. As soon as he sat on his bed, lowered his head, and buried his face in his hands, strands of his hair flowing across his fingers. He finally let everything that happened that morning sink in—Ron drinking his poison, Eve saving his life, and that moment when he thought Eve was dead, when he felt that his heart had would have stopped.  He always knew that the life he had been thrust into would lead to nothing more—poison. But for the first time he was glad he had been raised to show little, if any emotion. He vaguely remembered being little, having to sit through endless hours of dinner parties with his father's colleagues, right after having to drink a potion that would cause him agonizing internal pain, which would get worse if he moved, so he had to be very still and quiet. If he complained or groaned, he would be severely punished—so he never did. Everyone would remark at what amazing manners he had. And that was how he had kept his terror to himself; but Granger, who was always so much more smarter than anyone was allowed to be, had somehow guessed the truth. However, if she had told Dumbledore, they didn't have any proof: he didn't have any mark (not yet at least, he thought grimly). Yet he couldn't somehow get that scene out of his head—Granger accusing him scornfully, her eyes wet, wide, and suffering, her big curls all over her face, which was hardened with an uncharacteristic hatred, everything about her looking wild—and furiously beautiful.

            That instantaneous thought mentally hit him as hard as Hermione had physically slapped him four years ago. It was strangely shocking to him (and he had been desensitized to a lot of shocking things, growing up). Again, in a quick flash, she had looked dangerous and wildly alluring, but this time the sting of shame he had felt surprisingly accompanied a sharp pain on his cheek. He never thought she would have the nerve to hit him like that; Hermione was always logical and reserved --signs of intelligence. Moreover, she had been fighting with Harry and Ron at that time, he would tease her because of that. But that moment she had hated him so much that it went farther than her friends or her usual personality. Only Draco could arise feelings like that in her. And that hatred had remained, and shown itself again that morning. Unlike his father, Draco was always secretly unnerved by the fact of people hating him so passionately.

            Then he turned his thoughts to something that made him feel even worse—what his father, or what Voldemort would think when they found out. He failed utterly and completely; failed worse than he could have imagined. Eve was unconscious, had shown that she had feelings for a bloody Gryffindor, and Snape was still alive. He was slightly grateful for that, but it translated into nothing good for him. Strangely enough, he didn't feel any fear, or fear of anything he could put his finger on, anyway. He had been beaten and tortured many times, according to his father, it would make him stronger and make sure he absolutely never disobeyed or made mistakes. He wasn't even afraid of them killing him—at that point he would welcome anything that would end this hell, even if it meant him entering into a different one. He was afraid of accepting that perhaps he would fail at everything—at being a Slytherin, a Death-Eater, even failing at being himself, if he even knew who that was.

            He looked out the window, the sunset turning the whole sky violet and rose, tinged blood red at the edges. It was beautiful, but he didn't care; he was dreading the next message that would come flying into the window. He wanted to forget everything at the moment; he reached down into his desk and pulled out a bottle of ancient Archenland liquor, about ten times as powerful as Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, one bottle costing as much as a new Firebolt. He had snuck it out of his father's room, but he had never drunken any until now. He just used it show off to other Slytherins. But now he uncorked it, the mere smell of it opening his sinuses, and poured some into a glass, downing it all (even though it was supposed to be drunk diluted with some other liquid). Immediately he realized why his father liked it so much as the world became a swirl of color and he collapsed into a sweet unconsciousness.

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            "Hermione?" came Ron's tentative voice as he opened the door. Hermione gulped and turned around. Usually hearing his voice while they were alone made her flutter inside with joy. But now she looked at him desolately.

            He sat next to her on her bed. "You said we should meet here—to talk." She nodded silently. Ron looked at her, but she couldn't look back. Staring into those blue eyes was unbearable. After another silence, he finally said, unable to repress himself, "Listen, if it's about what happened today, you know the truth. I swear-"

            Hermione held her hand up to his lips to stop him. As she spoke, her voice and expression were very heavy. "I know. You told me you had no idea. But now you do. And all I want to ask you is….what you're going to do about it."

             "What—what do you mean?"

            Hermione finally summed up the courage to look at him, but this time he wouldn't look back. "Don't ask me a question to which you know the answer," she whispered. She fought back the tears welling up in her eyes and the lump in her throat.

            Ron  exasperatedly ran his fingers through his hair. He finally looked at her and put his hand one hers. His fingers, usually warm and strong, were now moist and nervous. But his eyes were resolute. "You know I love you."

            Hermione once again gave in to the tears, but she didn't go any closer to Ron. "And what about what will happen if you tell Eve that?"

            Ron spoke, but it was more of a denial than anything else. "We don't know for sure-"

            "But what if she does?" Hermione interjected immediately, grabbing his shoulders and stretching her neck, concentrating deeper into his eyes.

            Ron tore his gaze away from hers, and began trembling. This time he was the one who broke down and leaned his head against her shoulder for comfort, his voice slightly muffled. "I don't know. God, I don't know. I'm not as good at this sacrificial hero stuff as Harry."

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            After the rest of the day's classes, Harry went back to the hospital wing.  Not to see Eve, he knew she'd be alright, but to see someone else. The room was closed to student's at that time, at Dumbledore's orders, but the door opened, and Harry saw a pair of kind dark eyes and smile across an unshaven, tired, yet wonderfully familiar face.

            "Sirius!" he cried, and embraced his godfather. Sirius looked at Harry and with a pang, noticed he was about as tall as he was. He looked more and more like James every time he saw him, and couldn't accept the fact that the James he last knew was only a few years older than Harry was now.

            "Where's Ron and Hermione?"

            "Well I can't find Ron anywhere, and I suppose Hermione's in her room, and any girl's dorm room is off limits, you know."

            "I know, but that never stopped me before," Sirius said with a wink. For that moment, Harry recognized him as the happy young man in his father's pictures. Harry chuckled. The truth was, Hermione had said she wanted to have some privacy, so Harry hadn't brought her.

            "Well I've never been that lucky with girls as you were, Sirius."

            "Oh they're sure lining up for me right now. I have to beat them off with a stick." He grinned.

Harry was glad to see him happy, despite all that was happening around the castle. "Did they manage to get rid of the dementors?"

"Yes. The last of them went away this afternoon. They gave us a lot less trouble than they should have, actually."

Something else tugged at Harry. " Why did you come precisely here, Sirius? What if someone saw you?"

            "I just wanted to check up on, you know….her. Dumbledore said she'll be fine, but I wanted to see for myself."

Harry smiled. "Weren't you the one who was warning me against her in bundles of letters a few weeks ago?"

"Life's full of little surprises. She saved mine twice."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Twice?" 

            Sirius looked at Eve, sleeping, and continued, "I think perhaps you'll be luckier with love than you think," he said.

Harry eyed him warily. "Why do you say that? Is there something you know you're not telling me?"

"Not really. Your own father and mother pretty much hated each other until their last year at Hogwarts. So all I meant was, with love, you never really know."

But Sirius still looked evasive. Harry asked, "Why did you call me here? Is there anything specific you were going to tell me, Sirius?"

            "Ah, yes. Not to tell you anything, but to give you something." He walked over and picked up something from next to Eve's bed. As he handed it to Harry, the sunset washed it in red light, making the rubies gleam even brighter.

            "Godric Gryffindor's sword?" Harry gasped. Sirius nodded. Harry felt the sword, still as heavy in his hand as it was five years ago. Beautiful intricate carvings and decorations ran from the hilt all the way to the tip. All Harry could mutter was, "Why?"

            "Dumbledore reckons that it belongs to you."

            "Why?" Harry was beginning to sound like a parrot.

            "I don't know. He says you should talk to him about it. But in the mean time, he says you should have it with you at all times. You can shrink it and keep it in your pocket, you know."

            Harry looked at the sword. 'It belongs to you,' echoing in his head. What did that mean, and did it have any connection with his past? Then he suddenly remembered something else. "Sirius, I need to ask you something. And I wonder why nobody ever told me this before."

            "What is it, Harry?"

            "Where are my parents buried?"

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            Ron slowly rose his head, leaving Hermione's shoulder extremely warm. She ran her fingers through his soft, ginger hair. Ron ran his long nose against her cheek and twisted one of her brown curls with his fingers. Then his lips lightly touched her chin, and he trailed them gently along her jawline and then his mouth found hers. Hermione remained motionless, but Ron cupped his hand across her face and started kissing her in earnest. Hermione gave in, but an immense feeling of guilt didn't leave her. Ron was kissing her more and more fervently, and she felt his fingers slide from her thigh up to her waist and crawling underneath her sweater. He drew her closer to him and he was almost having trouble breathing, he was kissing her so wildly. Hermione's heart was racing so rapidly and her face and hands felt like they were in fire. She felt Ron's trembling and equally burning body and his mouth, lips, tongue, exploring places they had never gone before.

Then a horrible thought crossed her head: what if he merely wanted the same thing he received from Eve that same morning, and was striving to recreate that? This was not like Ron at all, who was always gentle. He had never kissed her so violently, as if he furiously craved something and even if she surrendered all, it still wouldn't have been enough. As if it was because he thought it would be the last kiss he ever gave her. Hermione started to become frightened. It was like a vast, blue ocean which at the moment, was too deep for her to swim in. She pushed him away. They were both breathing heavily and had brilliant pink patches on their faces.

"What's wrong?" he gasped in her ear. Hermione broke away.

"No, Ron. I don't know what happened today, but we can't do this anymore. We can't." She choked, battling fresh tears, and turned her head away from him.

"Hermione, please don't go. Please," he pleaded and stretched out his arm to grab her hand, but she was already out the door with a sickening slam.

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            "Why do you want to know where your parents are buried? Who put that thought in your head?"

            Harry paused and recollected faintly last night, while he staggered into his room, his mind buzzing with everything he had seen, with the image of Eve drenched in blood still imprinted in his head. On his bed lay a single note on a small piece of parchment. On it lay a single question, and nothing else:

            Do you know where your parents are at this moment?

            Harry picked up the note, blinked, and thought for a second. Well, his parents were probably buried in a cemetery of some sort right now. Then it hit him that he didn't know exactly WHERE it was they were. He cursed his idiocy for never asking before, and he thought that the fact that nobody had ever told him that detail meant it mustn't have been something good. He had thought that perhaps someone had left it there as a sort of trick or trap, and that he should forget about it; only thing was, he couldn't. The question had been gnawing at him consistently since, and he felt that if he didn't find out soon, he would explode. So he decided to ask Sirius.

            "Harry?"

            Sirius's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Oh, well, I just thought of it out of nowhere, I guess. I wondered why nobody ever told me before." Harry knew that if he told Sirius he had received a mysterious note that he would never tell him.

            "Well, why do you want to know, Harry?"

            Harry felt a ripple of annoyance. "Why do I want to know? Don't I have a right to know? During my whole existence I've been denied vital information, getting one life-altering surprise after another. I'm tired of people treating me like a helpless child, keeping things from me just because they think it's for my own good!"

            "But why, Harry? Do you need some sort of closure?"

            "I don't know! What if someone asks me, and I stand there gaping like an idiot with no response? What if I want to visit there, put some flowers, is that too outrageous to expect? Everything I know about my parents is in my imagination. I need something concrete, so that maybe I can finally put it all behind me. Maybe I do need closure. I don't know Sirius, and I never will until I know where they're buried and visit their graves."

            Sirius sighed. "I understand, Harry, and I know how important it is. But I'm afraid I should tell you only after you graduate from Hogwarts."

            Harry gaped. He felt the blood rushing to his head and the anger pounding with his heartbeat.

'What?? Why not?"

            "Well, Harry I know you only too well. If I tell you, the first thing you're going to do is go to visit the site, and the last thing we want for you is to be away from the castle, away from me and Dumbledore and….safety."

            Harry stomped his foot so hard it made the entire hospital wing shake, the curtains around the bed and the different potions on the shelves rattling. "God damn it, Sirius!! Stop protecting me. I'm not that child with the broken glasses anymore!  Don't you see? Every time you and Dumbledore try protecting me, it never works. I always end up in danger again, and I always manage to take care of myself. I always get out of it alive."

            Sirius was quivering, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely choked and hoarse. " And what if this time you don't?"

            "Everything happens for a reason, Sirius. No matter what we do, some things will always happen. Call it fate or destiny or whatever the hell you like. The truth is, you were never able to protect my parents…and now you can't protect me."

            Sirius's eyes hardened and in that instant he looked like the dangerous criminals in his wanted posters. Harry had hit a sensitive nerve and for the first time in his life, he was seeing Sirius angry—at him. Harry, who had never before had any father figure that he truly cared about be angry at him, for an instant felt confused at what to do. Sirius's anger translated into his voice being  firm and threateningly low. "For as long as I live, I will keep my promise to James. I will protect you until the day I die, Harry, and I don't give a shit whether you like it or not, because I will not see your parents die for no good reason because of your foolishness!"

            Harry gulped, took in deep breaths, and straightened himself up to his full height, looking at Sirius straight in his eyes. In that moment, standing straight and tall, with his eyes flashing and defiant, Sirius thought he was almost unmistakable from James. A vein near his Adam's apple in his neck was thumping. Harry's rage only let him whisper, " Sirius, if you don't tell me where my parents are right now, I swear to God I will never speak to you again. I swear."

            Sirius looked away and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again and muttered, "Doom's Hill. They're buried on Doom's Hill."

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A/N: how'd you like that?? Ah yes, don't we all enjoy drama and angst, hehe. Just to be fair, the place Sirius just mentioned is a slight variation (not the exact same name) of the cemetery in Cassandra Claire's story. Next chapter: What will Hermione do next? Has she broken up with Ron?? Will Eve wake up soon? What will happen to Draco? What will Harry do with this new piece of information? And much, much more. Keep the reviews coming and tell me what you think!!!