Chapter 13

Harry didn't know what time it was anymore. All he knew was that the Room seemed to be getting a bit tired of coming up with new dummies for him to destroy in one giant flash of fireballs. He prowled a bit as he waited, wandering to the window to stare out at the dark night.

He flexed his fingers before leaning against the frame. He wasn't even tired, magically, that is. He had the feeling that if he sat still too long, he'd fall asleep, but otherwise, he felt like he could fling spells all night long.

He almost heard the spell before it came, and without turning around pointed a finger. "Flamatus!" It was rapidly becoming his favorite. There was just something about fireballs, he mused. He heard the thud of the spell hitting and the crackle of the dummy starting to burn, and then it stopped.

Harry turned around, and to his surprise saw someone else standing in the room, over by the door. He blinked. "Sir?" he said, unable to put any enthusiasm in his voice.

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward out of the shadows. "Hello, Harry," he said. "You're about rather late, aren't you?"

Harry bit back the retort he wanted to snap, and instead just shrugged and turned back to the window. He was pretty sure Dumbledore hadn't just wandered into the Room, which meant that he had a reason to be there. And Harry didn't feel like making small talk while waiting for that reason.

He heard the soft shuffling of the Headmaster's robes over the floor, heard him stepping over the charred remains of the dummy, but still didn't look as the old man came to stand right next to him.

There was a soft sigh. "No matter how dark the world, no matter how fearsome the events of the day, there has always been a certain something that can be found at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said softly. "It is why the castle has been the target of dark wizards before, and will be again. It is why it has never fallen, and never will." Harry could see the silver beard out of the corner of his eye tilt slightly. "Hogwarts protects its own," he said.

Harry wasn't quite sure where Dumbledore was going with all that, but he did have a question. "How did you know I was here?" he asked, rather abruptly. If someone else had tipped off the Headmaster, that meant he would have to find another secret spot to practice in. The very last thing he needed was to loose his element of surprise.

Dumbledore was quiet a moment. "Hogwarts protects its own," he finally said again, in a slow, thoughtful voice. "The castle led me to you."

Harry restrained a snort of disbelief, but decided to interpret the remarks as meaning that no student had found him out. He supposed that was a relief.

There was another quiet sigh. "Harry," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid we must speak about what is troubling you."

THAT got Harry to give a twisted grin. "What's troubling me? I don't know what you're talking about, Professor. I come down here for the fun of it," he said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"You can't hide your abilities much longer, Harry," came the Headmaster's voice. "Your professors have noticed. It won't be long until your fellow students do so as well."

"Why do you think I'm in this bloody room in the middle of the night?" Harry demanded, and immediately regretted the slip. But since he'd started… "I'll be as ready as possible, don't you worry. I'll do my best to kill your old friend Tom."

The bitterness in Harry's voice hung in the air after the words had faded away into the shadows. "I should never have kept the prophecy from you," the old man finally said, sounding as old as he probably was. "I should never have tried to shield you as I did. I should have kept my affections from blinding me from the fact that you were strong enough to handle it." The sadness was deep and nearly swamping the room in its dense waves. "But I am old, Harry. I have seen students come and go for more than a century. I have battled dark wizards, and have watched my friends fall while I lived on. And whoever has come after have looked to me for answers, for guidance. And I have become far too used to my decisions being the only ones."

Harry's stomach was rolling, churning. "I deserved to know, especially after the Tri-Wizard Tournament," he said through his teeth.

"You did," came the soft response.

"You abandoned me the next year. I lived through hell with Umbridge. I still have the scars from her damned quill," he said lifting the hand in question and then dropping it again, still staring out the window. The words were coming fast and rather furious now. "I spent the first eleven years of my life being told I was nothing, only to have you, who'd gone to such great pains to assure me I was something, disappear like it didn't mean a thing."

"I am sorry," came that same soft voice.

"Yeah, you're sorry," Harry muttered, finally dropping his gaze to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry, too. Sorry that so many people have gotten dragged into my mess over the years. But sorry doesn't save spilled milk."

They were quiet again. This time the quiet wasn't quite so dense and heavy. Harry had avoided talking to the Headmaster since the end of fifth year, when he'd destroyed the old man's office. Something that now, he felt vaguely embarrassed about. He hadn't learnt the control he had today, he thought.

"We cannot go back," said Dumbledore softly. "Only forward." There was the lightest touch of a hand on Harry's arm, and he stiffened. "Will you go forward with me, Harry? I ask you to."

"I don't know if I trust you," Harry blurted. "Not like I don't trust a Death Eater, you're not out to kill me." He paused. Well, he did have a rather dark sense of humor these days. "As far as I can tell, anyway." There was a chuckle beside him, and something that had been tight for years eased just the slightest touch. "I don't know if I trust you to tell me everything, to not use me as a tool to end Voldemort."

He saw the white beard nod in the edge of his vision. "I know this," Dumbledore said. "I ask for a great deal, when perhaps I do not have the right."

Harry stared out at the night again and felt like the darkness sat heavy on his shoulders. Images rolled through his mind, all from the last six years. The times he'd charged in without thinking, the times he'd tried to do the right thing. All the times he'd tried, dammit.

"I'll give you what I can," he finally said, weariness creeping up on him. "I don't know how much I've got left, but I'll give you what I can." He at last turned and faced the Headmaster, realizing with a start that he was a few inches taller. "But the moment you break my trust again," he paused. He didn't know if he could handle that.

Dumbledore was studying him, a light behind those uncanny eyes of his. "In so many ways, you remind me of your parents," he said softly. "Your father's determination. Your mother's will. And then, you will do something that reminds me that you are your own person, and quite a remarkable one at that." Professor Dumbledore held out his hand. "I give you my word, as someone who has missed you, Harry, that I will not keep secrets from you. Not about matters that you are involved in."

Harry gave his headmaster a long look, almost tempted to see if he could open the door to his mind and check for himself. But he'd said he'd try. He stretched his own hand out and shook the old man's.

The room seemed to lighten, the air get less heavy. Dumbledore smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dark. "I am going to seek my bed now," he said. "Tomorrow, I may ask to see you, to discuss other matters that do not need to be settled this evening." He tilted his head, eyes twinkling at Harry. "I suggest you do the same," he said. "You seem to have run out of practice dummies to destroy."

Harry looked down at the charred remains of the last one, and snorted. "Yeah, the Room's getting a bit peeved at me, I'd say," he sighed. And he was tired. He followed Professor Dumbledore to the door and out into the dark, still hall. He could almost hear the sigh of relief that the Room of Requirement gave as he left. But that was probably just his imagination.

"One more thing, Harry," the Headmaster said, turning to go the other way down the hall. Harry glanced at him. "Lucius Malfoy was a bastard." And then the old man was gone with a swish of robes.

Harry stared blankly down the now empty hall. He finally snorted. Bloody old wizard, he thought. And then he sighed and turned for Gryffindor Tower.

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Ginny had been sitting, curled into a corner of the couch facing the portrait hole for hours, she thought. She'd dozed off and on, having dragged a blanket downstairs when it had become clear that Harry was going to take his time coming back. She was so sleepy… she wouldn't sit up for just anyone. Nope, just for Mr. Green Eyes himself. Everyone else could go hang, and wait until she'd gotten a full night's sleep.

Finally, the portrait opened and the tall shape of the very person she was waiting for stepped through. He straightened as it swung shut, every line of his body speaking of his fatigue. Yet he seemed more… relaxed than she'd expected.

Harry didn't see her as he started for the dorm stairs, so she was forced to say softly, "Harry."

He swung around, eyes scanning the dimly lit room, picking her out in her corner of the couch. He frowned. "Ginny?" he said, taking a couple of steps toward her. "What are you doing up?"

In response, Ginny raised an eyebrow. "It's been a hell of a day, hasn't it?" she asked, without expecting an answer.

He snorted. "You could say that," Harry muttered.

"You're really tired," she said, studying him some more. She lifted a corner of her blanket in invitation. "Come sit with me, just for a minute."

He held back, not surprisingly. "Gin, I meant what I said this afternoon…" he started. She'd known he'd say that, but hadn't really realized how it would hurt. She plowed on anyway.

"Harry, shut up and sit, ok? I'm your friend, first and foremost, and as a friend, I can damn well see that you're tired and depressed and could really use someone to just sit with," Ginny snapped at him. Hey, she was tired. She was allowed. He didn't move, but stood there as if his feet were stuck. She resorted to her mother's tried and true look. "MOVE, Potter."

She thought he grumbled something under his breath, but couldn't be certain. Sure enough, though, he came over to her couch on silent feet and accepted her offer of the blanket. He settled back into the sofa with a sigh of profound weariness.

Ginny let him sit and soak in the firelight a few minutes, feeling the tenseness in the body next to hers slowly start to ease away. Of course, her body had other ideas, but she made a valiant effort to push them away.

"Hermione told me what was in Malfoy's package," she finally said. Harry grunted. "I guess it's a good thing he's already dead."

"Why?" Harry's voice was a bit flat, but a bit curious.

"Because otherwise she and Ron would have already gone after him," Ginny said simply. It was truth, as well.

Harry lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "But I would have been there first." Ginny hadn't heard such hate from him before, not even at the worst moments, talking of Voldemort.

She reached over and caught his hand, squeezing it. "We all would have gone, you know," she told him. "Because it would have been the right thing to do."

He was still a few moments, and then nodded, squeezing her hand back. Ginny felt a thrill, a tingle of unexpected hope when he didn't immediately pull away. Cautiously, she let herself relax, savoring the feel of his strong hand wrapped around hers. "Can I see the rings sometime?" she said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said gruffly. He rather absently threaded his fingers through hers, and slumped lower, legs sticking out in front of him. Ginny felt the warmth of it all wrap around her, and she hugged it close.

"Gin," he finally said, turning his head and looking at her in the firelight. "About this afternoon…"

Ginny shook her head and cut him off. "Not now, Harry," she said quietly. "It can wait until morning."

He studied her a long moment, those green eyes gilded eerily gold by the fire, and then nodded. "Ok," he said and to her surprise bent and pressed a very gentle kiss on her surprised lips. "Thanks," he said, easing back.

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. "You're welcome," she said quietly. His fingers wound about hers, she shifted closer and laid her head on his shoulder, in a spot that seemed like it was made for her. He in turn shifted a bit, until his arm was around her, holding her close. Ginny didn't dare think about it, not tonight. Tomorrow, she told herself. There was plenty of time for it all tomorrow.

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AN: I know it's been a bit since my last chapter, so I wanted to just get this up… I'll give individual review responses next chapter.

Thanks to everyone, and keep the encouragement coming!