Disclaimer: These characters and settings belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. Romilly MacAran is borrowed from Marion Zimmer Bradley's novel "Hawkmistress!" in name only. I claim no rights to them, and will make no profit from the writing of this story.

Author's Note: Apologies in advance for the horrid portrayal of Hagrid's accent. Try as I might, I can't get it quite perfect (or even relatively close).

Chapter Seven

Harry heard two sets of footsteps following him after he strode purposefully away from the group gathered at the stone gargoyle. One set of large, clomping steps that could be heard throughout the castle, and a set of small, quick feet in hard boots. Hagrid and Romilly. Harry paused and waited for them to catch up after he had rounded the first corner.

Hagrid was the first around the bend, breaking his long strides too late to avoid walking through Harry's spectral body. Romy appeared a second later.

"Hagrid," Harry began, resisting the instinct to extend his hand. That was a habit he would have to break himself of quickly. "I'm so sorry about Grawp." That sentence was grossly inadequate, but Harry couldn't find words strong enough to express his emotion at Hagrid's loss.

"Don' be," Hagrid argued immediately. "He went out like a hero, an' I'm proud o' him. Besides, this is war. We got no time teh go aroun' feelin' sorry every time someone dies. We miss 'em, but we keep goin', because tha's what we have teh do." A single tear rolled into the big man's beard, but he kept his composure. Romy patted his arm then turned her attention to Harry.

"What happened with Malfoy?" she demanded.

"I told you. Dumbledore's going to let him stay."

"But why?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons, and I'm equally certain that Malfoy will have his uses. I really can't say any more." Romy seemed to accept this. She addressed Hagrid next.

"Rubeus, would you excuse us for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to Harry alone." She had only met Hagrid a few months ago, but he was quite taken with her. She insisted on calling him by his first name, protesting that his surname sounded too crude for such a kind and gentle man. He blushed every time she spoke directly to him.

"Yeah, you two probably got a lot teh talk about." He nodded and walked away.

"Erm…" Harry felt strangely guilty around Romy, as if he'd forgotten their anniversary, or accidentally bought her lilacs (which she was allergic to). He wondered if ordinary blokes got in trouble with their girlfriends when they died. "Uh…fancy a walk?" he offered when he couldn't think of anything else.

She nodded and started off down the hall at a slow pace. Harry fell into step with her and neither one spoke for a moment.

"Romy," he said finally, at the same time that she said "Harry." They both grinned and he gestured for her to go first.

"I'm sorry for how I was last night," she began unsteadily. "It's not your fault that all this happened…"

"Yes it bloody is!" he argued darkly.

"No. It's not. You only did what you had to do, and you did everything you could do to make this work. If you couldn't do it, then there's no way it could've been done. I was wrong to be angry with you, and I'm not anymore. Now, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to say I was sorry that I messed everything up," Harry said quietly, feeling sheepish. "But I suppose that's a moot point now."

"Quite," was her only response.

Another long silence fell over them as they kept walking. Romy broke it when they passed a display case holding Godric Gryffindor's sword.

"I know you're still feeling guilty, Harry, but you've no cause to. Failing once out of a hundred times is not really failing at all. Ginny was telling me about the Chamber of Secrets this morning…"

"Poor girl," Harry broke in sadly. "To lose your mum and dad, two brothers, your boyfriend, and an ex-boyfriend all in one night…"

"Her boyfriend?" Romy looked surprised.

"Neville. They'd been together almost a year, though he'd fancied her since fourth year." Harry's heart went out to Neville's gran too. The poor old woman had no one now.

"Oh." That one syllable held an enormous amount of grief. "I didn't know about them. Who was the ex that she lost?"

"Me, of course. You didn't know that we had dated?" Harry hoped that the subject of old girlfriends wouldn't flare up Romy's temper again.

"I don't think I did. When was this?" She looked calm enough…

"At Hogwarts, my sixth year and part of seventh."

"How did you ever manage to let her go? She's such a wonderful girl," Romy said with a hint of a smile. Harry felt like he was taking an exam as he formulated an answer.

"Well, things weren't really meant to be between us, I suppose. I put her entire family in danger simply by being close to them, so after Mr. Weasley was attacked, I left Hogwarts and cut contact with all of the Weasleys for a few months. When everything was over, and Voldemort was gone, Ginny and I didn't get back together. It wasn't that we didn't want to, it just…didn't seem right," he finished lamely. Romy smiled, apparently satisfied with the answer he gave. Harry wondered briefly if she had been expecting to hear some awful story about him cheating on Ginny or something like that.

"We'd better get back," she suggested. "Dumbledore will be wanting to take us to the safe house."

They retraced their steps back to the headmaster's office and found that the crowd had dispersed and Dumbledore was waiting for them. Hermione, Ginny, George, and Malfoy were waiting with him.

"Potter," Malfoy sputtered upon catching sight of his old school enemy. "Had a spot of bother, did you?" A ghost of his once-constant sneer flickered through his features, but Dumbledore chose that moment to clear his throat. Malfoy looked over his shoulder at the old professor and seemed to remember that his situation was precarious at best. He averted his eyes to the floor and didn't say another word. Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"Good of you two to join us. We were just off to the new safe house. Mr. Malfoy, you will be blindfolded during the journey, until we are safely inside the premises. I will emphasize the fact that none of you will know the location of the safe house. It is Unplottable, and the surrounding area is enchanted to disguise itself. We will take a Portkey there, as we cannot Apparate. Are you all ready? Do you have everything you brought with you?" Six heads nodded and Dumbledore opened the door into his office. He presented them with a tattered old scarf and they each grabbed hold of it.

"Professor, will this…" Harry had been about to say 'Will this work for ghosts?' when he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel and the office melted away. I guess it does work for ghosts. He wondered how that was, considering that he couldn't even really touch the Portkey, but that wasn't really important. By the time he had finished that thought, they were plunking down onto the floor of the safe house. It was the easiest Portkey landing Harry had ever had. He just glided halfway through the floor and floated back out. No painful thud, no bruises, no collisions. Maybe being dead did have its advantages.

After everyone had picked themselves up, Dumbledore took them on a tour of the house. It was quite ordinary in every way, except for the fact that the scenery outside was different from every window. Harry wondered what it would look like if they went outside. The house was large, with two floors and a dodgy looking attic. It had a library and what looked like a laboratory in the basement. The rooms were comfortably furnished but everything gave the impression of disuse. Harry suspected that Ginny would spend the first week of their stay cleaning.

When they had finished their tour, Dumbledore led them back into a small study on the first floor and closed the doors behind them. There, he gestured for the six of them to gather around the desk and pulled something out of his pocket, whispering a few words. The tiny items grew until they were recognizable as the stolen ledger and Pensieve. He placed them on the desk and pulled his wand out. Whatever he was about to do, it was interrupted when Malfoy let out a yelp and squirmed away from the desk.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked evenly.

"That…that book! How did you get that?" Draco sounded panicky and breathless. He was staring at the ledger as if it would jump off the table and devour him where he stood.

"That's irrelevant. Can you tell us about it?" Dumbledore started at the young Death Eater with detached interest. Malfoy shuddered involuntarily as his eyes flicked back and forth between the book and Professor Dumbledore's face.

"It's a ledger," he said in the same high, frightened voice. Dumbledore nodded and twirled a finger to keep Malfoy going. "It's a complete list of all the active, loyal Death Eaters in Great Britain. We…we had to sign our names in the book before we would be trusted. In blood, ours and…his. It knows what's in your heart. Your name fades away if you betray him. That's how he always…knows." Malfoy was steadily backing farther and farther away from the book as he spoke, a look of intense fear growing on his face. Everyone else stepped back too, as if sensing Malfoy's panic and not wanting to get caught in the crossfire if that book ended up being dangerous.

"How do we access this information? Every time we've opened it, it was blank," Dumbledore explained, as if to a child. Malfoy's eyes darted back to the headmaster's face and he seemed to snap out of his hysteria.

"You can't. It takes a loyal Death Eater to look in that book. I can't even touch it. If I touch it, he'll find me and this place won't be safe anymore. Please, can you put it away?" The high, agitated voice was back and he looked on the verge of fainting. Dumbledore nodded once and shrank the book again so it would fit back in his pocket. The tension visibly reduced in Malfoy's face.

"Harry, I want you to concentrate on reviewing the memories in this Pensieve," Dumbledore said after a long pause. "Write down anything that might be useful. Romilly, you're to assist Harry with that task. Hermione and Ginny, I have an important task for you that I will explain after you're all settled in. George, I want you to keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore led them out of the study and the dispersed to different rooms, carrying their meager belongings up the stairs.

Harry and Romy settled into a small bedroom towards the back of the house. It had one double bed, a chest of drawers, and a tiny student's desk. The floor was bare and dusty, but Romy made quick work of cleaning up with a powerful Scourgify spell. The room looked much cozier without all the menacing dust bunnies on the floor and bed.

Harry didn't look at the bed. It was too much a reminder of how much he missed his physical body. He couldn't even hold his fianceé as they were falling asleep. Romy seemed to be thinking the same thing. They both hurried out of the room without a word to each other.

Soon, everyone had gathered back into the small kitchen downstairs. Ginny and George were huddled together again, and Hermione was sitting next to Malfoy, both of them looking very uncomfortable. Harry almost smiled at the way Malfoy was so obviously trying not to look at anyone. Romy sat between Hermione and Ginny. They were all still sitting quietly when the door opened and Dumbledore came through with someone else behind him. Harry caught a flash of red hair as Dumbledore's companion stepped into the light.

Percy Weasley. The world's number one git.

Harry's eyes flew to where George and Ginny were sitting. They both had blank looks on their faces, as if they were reserving welcome for their older brother until he had proven himself again.

"There you two are," he said by way of a greeting. "I've been trying to get a hold of someone all morning. I Flooed to the Burrow, but no one was there. I suppose Dad's at the Ministry, trying to help out, as if he could do anything in his position. Is Fred taking care of that ridiculous joke shop? It must've sustained some…" he was cut off by a collective gasp from everyone in the room, besides Malfoy. "What? What's wrong?"

"Didn't you look at the clock?" Ginny choked out.

"The clock? You mean the clock at the Burrow? No, I didn't think to…"

"They're dead, you fucking idiot! Do you hear me? They're fucking dead!" Ginny shrieked, springing from her chair and pounding a fist on the table. Percy looked stricken.

"Who's dead?" he asked in a very small voice.

"Mum. Dad. Ron. Fred," George said hollowly. He wasn't looking at his brother and his face showed no emotion at all. Ginny, however, flew at Percy and began beating him across the chest with tiny fists.

"They died, and you couldn't be bothered to find out where they were! You coward, you fucking coward, hiding in your flat until it all blew over and then it was too late! Too late for Mum and Dad and two of your brothers! What kind of person are you? You unbelievable bastard! Why did you come here now? You don't give a shit about us! Why don't you go back to your flat and your fucking important job at the Ministry and leave us alone?" At this, she collapsed on the floor and sobbed into the tiles. Hermione rushed to her and Ginny buried her face in Hermione's lap. Harry could barely watch as they cried together.

Percy just stared at her with unbelieving eyes. Ginny's sobs quieted and he looked up and realized that his brother was standing in front of him with a murderous look on his face.

George's fist connected with Percy's chin at lightning speed, and Percy crashed to the floor. George gave one disgusted look to his unconscious brother and stalked from the room, leaving everyone else gaping at his back.

Another Author's Note: After this chapter, I'm going to be skipping a lot of time. This story is probably going to span a good 20 years, so there's not going to be a lot of detail in the times that I skip. Thanks to all who reviewed it, and I promise to be a bit better about posting from now on. scout's honor