Chapter 31: Break

Disclaimer: Considering I've written 31 other disclaimers to the effect that I don't own any of it, JKRowling does, I don't know why I keep doing them. People who haven't read them already are unlikely to begin doing so: people who've read them already are unlikely to think I've metamorphosed into the goddess JKR. I haven't, by the way.

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A/N: And life continues pretty much as normal. All the writing is settling into a nice kind of rhythm, albeit a rather scary one, because I tried to work out how long I should be spending writing per week and it comes to just over a full day's worth. Though that is counting a third co-written project I ought to be starting soon, so it probably won't be that bad all the time.

With regards to 'the whole "feelings" thing makes Draco seem handicapped or something': The politically correct phrase is 'emotionally challenged,' but of course I never bother with being PC and go for 'emotionally retarded'. It sounds more dramatic. (and slytherinpunk – try Macbeth: it sounds more like your kind of thing.)

And 'i got the sense that that whole part where Hermione was feeling actually close and connected with the attacks on Aberddewin, was somewhere related and had something to do with feelings towards the september 11th attacks? … i thought that maybe u wrote that whole part from ur experience or something...' Actually, nope. The first person to tell me about 9/11 was my friend on the bus who was, at the time, a chronic liar, so I thought he was lying. When I found out he wasn't lying, I'd already heard about it, so I never really had a proper shock-reaction to the attacks…

'Erebus Delaney, eh... Hm... Erebus... Y'know, Erebos, is the Greek word (or at least one of them) for Darkness. But I have a feeling you already knew that.' Yup! (Though I was going off the Latin Erebus, which is obviously a Latin-ization of the Greek word) Most of my OCs (apart from some of the throwaway ones who just appear once) have names with some kind of meaning to them. Course, with some of them I might be trying to mislead you…

Anyway, enough rambling in response to reviews. Onto the story! Enjoy!

Life is always at some turning point.

Irwin Edman

'That's what we need to think about,' Harry finished quietly. 'We've seen… we've seen what happens when the Death Eaters make a large-scale attack, we know what kinds of things they do. What things could be effective against them. So…' He paused; his mouth was dry and sticky, 'that's what we need to teach the DA.'

There was a pause while the others took in Harry's words. He glanced briefly at each of their faces, paler and tighter than usual. The common room was quieter than normal: any chatter of laughter that broke out faded away almost instantly.

'The thing is,' Hermione said thoughtfully, 'it's difficult to know exactly how we can change things from what we've already got planned. We can't teach them anything that will stop the Killing Curse: there isn't anything.'

'I know.' Harry sighed. 'But there has to be something we can do. What about communication? The Death Eaters cut off the Floo and Apparition, and Muggle electronics too. Is there any way the people in Aberddewin could have alerted the Aurors? Faster than an owl? If someone had, then maybe…'

He didn't finish the thought, but he could tell the others knew. Maybe some people would have been saved.

The others were quiet, again, as they tried to think. Harry hoped one of them could come up with something: he knew he couldn't. His mind was too full.

In a way, this helped. Doing something, planning something, trying to come up with answers. It made him feel calmer, as if there was actually something he could do. And it could help, if ever someone was in an attack; something he'd taught them could come in useful.

Hermione had said something a few weeks ago that stuck with him. 'I think it'll really help them, especially the younger ones,' she'd said. 'Help them feel more prepared, more confident, less afraid. Part of a team, as well, especially since there's people from every house.'

It was true, Harry thought, except it didn't only help the DA. It helped him too, and Hermione was always reassured when working with spells and books and knowledge. Ron and Ginny seemed more relaxed too: just doing something, just helping.

'Signals…' Hermione said slowly, frowning. 'It would depend how many people were around…'

'What?' Harry asked, instantly alert.

'I was thinking of fireworks,' Hermione said. 'Only it'd have to be a spell, of course, and it'd have to be more visible, and permanent, and it'd have to be something that obviously meant help…'

'That could work,' Ginny said thoughtfully after a slight pause. 'Only you'd probably have to do something to it so Muggles couldn't see the sign, otherwise they'd come running and get killed. Plus there probably wouldn't be any wizards around for miles, and doing some kind of Muggle Repellent Charm on it would make it more of a NEWT level spell. Not exactly the kind of thing we can teach the first years.'

'So scratch that,' Ron said, 'Sorry, Hermione, it was a good idea…'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, it's impractical,' she agreed. 'It's probably not that important, the Ministry said they were going to try and come up with something…'

'But who trusts the Ministry?' Harry cut in. 'And it's better to be prepared, so if we can come up with any ideas, it'd be-'

Ginny gave a yelp, and all their heads turned sharply in her direction. The cause was quickly apparent: Dean had crept up behind her and grabbed her shoulders suddenly, and was even now grinning mischievously down at her.

'Dean,' Ginny greeted him with a slight glare and an exaggerated pout. 'You scared the life out of me!'

He laughed. 'You look pretty alive to me,' he assured her, claiming a kiss from her cheek. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron twitch. 'What are you doing? Can we go for a walk?'

'DA meeting…' Ginny said, squirming in her seat slightly and glancing round at her friends for support. They all knew Dean had a problem with Ginny spending too much time with her friends. He was frowning.

'You've had plenty of meetings before,' he said shortly. 'It can't be all that important.'

Ginny gave Harry such a desperate glance that he felt compelled to speak up. 'It is quite important, actually,' he said, looking at the floor. He forced himself to meet Dean's gaze: it was dark and rather surly. 'After… after Aberddewin.'

'You can go if you want, Ginny,' Hermione said quickly. 'I'm sure we can manage.'

Dean cheered up at that. 'Great,' he said, 'Thanks, Hermione.' He caught Ginny's hand to help her out of he sofa, but she didn't make a move to get up. She stayed seated, biting her lip as she looked up at him.

'I'd… I think I'd prefer to stay,' she said quietly. 'I do want to spend time with you. I really, do, but… but this is about helping people. About doing something against the Death Eaters, and it's important to me that I'm actually-'

'Ginny,' Dean said, and it was a flat statement, cutting her off in mid-speech. 'This isn't your battle; it's nothing to do with you. Nothing.'

She paused for a moment, then raised her chin in an expression of defiance. 'Yes, it is,' she said firmly. 'My parents and four of my brothers are directly involved in this war, and my three best friends are going to join the Order the instant they come of age. Harry's already faced Voldemort five times. That makes it my war. And I want to do something to help, however small and insignificant it may turn out to be.'

'And that takes priority over spending time with your boyfriend?' Dean asked harshly.

Ginny answered plainly and unequivocally. 'Yes.'

In the ensuing silence, Harry tried to look anywhere other than Dean's face, which bore an expression that could only be called murderous. Beside him, Hermione coughed quietly.

'Dean,' Ginny carried on, quietly, 'I do like spending time with you. And I do want to spend time with you, and I know you don't like it when I spend too much time with my friends. But it's not like we ever see each other, we've been together at least…'

'I don't care.' Dean said, and his voice was far too low and far too soft; it reminded Harry of a shadow, right before your nightmares crawled out of it. 'I don't care. I want to talk to you now, I need to talk to you now, and you…'

'I'm spending time with my friends,' Ginny said, and Harry wondered how she was keeping calm, 'who also need me.' She sighed, shifting slightly in her chair as though Dean's expression was making her uncomfortable, then looked up again. 'I'll come and find you after the DA meeting, alright?'

'No.' Dean said, folding his arms sharply. 'Now. They said you can come, so come.'

'But I want to stay,' Ginny said, her annoyance finally beginning to show in her voice. 'I want to help my friends decide what to do, I want to help my brother to cheer up, I want to help Harry-'

'Harry,' Dean spat as though his name was a foul word, and Harry glanced upwards, unsure as to why his roommate sounded so angry. 'Harry's DA, Harry's planning session, Harry's bloody battle. The best thing you could do is stop hanging around Harry.' Dean leant closer to Ginny, whose face was white; she was biting her lip. 'He just gets everyone into danger.'

Hermione actually gasped: Ginny's eyes widened then narrowed with a sudden fire. Harry, for his part, felt what had to be described as a dull, rather distant pain, as though everything that was happening was something he was watching in a Pensieve or on TV. He just gets everyone into danger…

And then it hit: like someone pouring a bucket of freezing water over his head, and he flinched as the thought of Sirius came to his mind with a full and vivid force. No, no, Dean didn't mean that, he doesn't know about Sirius and anyway he's angry, he doesn't know what he's saying…

There was a short, sharp noise, and Harry opened his eyes – had he closed them? – to see Ginny, on her feet and practically radiating anger, and Dean with a rapidly growing red patch on his cheek where she'd just slapped him. If anything, he looked surprised.

'Get out.' Ginny ordered. 'Just get out.'

'You slapped me.'

'Yes, and you deserved it. Now,' she drew her wand, 'get out.'

Dean focused on the tip of Ginny's wand, less than an inch from his face. 'You wouldn't,' he said, quite soft, almost a plea. 'I'm your boyfriend…'

'Not any more.' Ginny said, a surprising coldness in her voice. There were gasps and whispers throughout the common room: Harry dimly realised that everyone was watching them. 'Not any more. Now get out before I hex you, and don't think I won't.'

Dean bit his lip, his expression desperate, pleading. 'Ginny…'

'Now.'

It was a harsh command, unforgiving and cold, and Dean's face fell. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned and walked away. The portrait slammed behind him, echoing in the sudden still silence.

Ginny sat down, pale and shaking suddenly. 'Where were we?'

'Ginny,' Hermione said, frowning and reaching out a hand, 'are you okay? He didn't know – about Snuffles - he didn't mean to be…'

'I know.' Ginny said quietly, waving Hermione's comfort away. 'I was sick of him anyway. It was just the final straw.' She looked up at Harry, then, and her brown eyes softened slightly. 'Are you alright?'

He nodded. 'You didn't have to… I mean, you shouldn't…'

He hadn't been entirely sure how he was going to end that sentence, but Ginny cut him off anyway. 'I know, but I wanted to.'

Ron was shaking his head. 'I'll kill him,' he said. 'That absolute-'

'You're not killing anyone,' Ginny said firmly. 'Leave him alone. As far as I'm concerned it's all over. End of story.'

'Do you want to talk?' Hermione asked. 'I mean… you know you can always talk to us?'

'I know. Thanks. But really, right now, I want to plan for the DA,' Ginny replied firmly. 'We were talking about communication?'

'There's a lot of people here.' Harry said.

Hermione had been keeping an eye on him, surreptitiously, ever since Dean made his disastrously misjudged comment. She'd been watching Ginny as well, but she seemed to be either okay or very good at faking it. Probably a bit of both.

Harry was the one she was worried about; he'd been oddly silent ever since the fight, just like he had been over the summer holiday. It was just such a sharp, sudden reminder: she was confident that tomorrow, or the day after, he'd be normal again. As normal as Harry Potter could be, anyway.

'It's probably because of… because of Aberddewin,' she replied. 'People will be coming just for reassurance.' She paused. 'Have you decided what you're going to say?'

They'd talked about the prejudice, in the common room, and they'd come up with the idea that Harry should make a brief opening speech of some kind. He usually spoke to the DA at the beginning – not a speech, but a brief hello, welcome, today we're doing such-a-thing, this is how you do it.

He was going to say something about Aberddewin, and something about prejudice. They'd gone over the general scope of what he was going to say, but there hadn't been time to actually write any kind of formal speech, so it was left to Harry to ad lib.

'I pretty much know, yeah,' Harry replied. 'And I should go say it, I suppose… do you think anyone else is going to come?'

Hermione glanced at her watch, then shook her head. 'Not now. Better go talk to them.'

He made a face; rather half-heartedly. 'I hate speaking to people,' he muttered, before making his way to the front of the room. Everyone fell silent.

'You all know what happened last night in Wales,' Harry began, going straight to the point. Hermione thought he looked almost vulnerable, standing alone at the front of a room full of people with his face still pale. But then he shifted, or the light changed, and he looked like a leader, albeit a weary one. 'Some of you are here because of it, because you saw what happened and you wanted to join. Thanks for coming; everyone's welcome.'

He paused, took a breath. 'Aberddewin was a massacre. It happened because a group of people thought they were better than another group of people.' He said that with some bitterness. 'They aren't. Purebloods are human, half-bloods are human, Muggleborns are human. Whoever your parents are, we're all the same. We're all witches and wizards, and that's what matters. The only way we're going to win, the only way to defeat Voldemort, is by working together.'

Another pause. 'If you start fighting each other, or excluding each other, or refusing to be around someone because they're a Muggleborn and you think being friends with them will make you a target, then we might as well give up and stop fighting now. Because if we start being prejudiced, if we start drawing divisions between Pureblood and Muggleborn, we're just going to grow up the same way. Thinking that Purebloods are better and Muggleborns are worse, and then in a decade or two we'll just have another Voldemort, and another, and another, and so on until we learn that who our parents are doesn't matter.'

He seemed to have finished: people glanced at each other, a few whispers broke out. Harry caught Hermione's eyes: she smiled back at him, and he nodded. It had been, for a mostly invented-on-the-spot speech, rather good.

Eight-forty. Exactly.

They had arranged to meet at eight-thirty, and Hermione wasn't here ten minutes later, which made Draco feel… too many things at once, and none of them pleasant. He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to identify the emotions – mainly for something to do – but he couldn't put a name to them, except that they were hot and sharp and made him uncomfortable.

It wasn't like her to be late; both she and Draco were punctual by nature. Usually they were both there five minutes before the agreed time. Ten minutes before wasn't uncommon. And now it was eight forty-one, and Hermione wasn't here yet.

He knew she'd had a DA session before, but that was meant to have finished in plenty of time for her to get down to the library. She could have been kept behind helping or discussing or just talking, but equally something could have gone wrong. After all, they were learning hexes – he assumed they were learning hexes – and with first years and Gryffindors around, things could have gone wrong…

Worry. One of the emotions could be worry. Worry fitted: or it could be interest, that seemed to fit as well. And weren't people supposed to feel annoyed when others were late?

He was distracted from his thoughts by the voice of the very person he was thinking about. 'Draco?'

He glanced up to see Hermione standing at the entrance to their alcove, her face flushed from hurrying down and her eyebrows furrowed, a look of apology on her face. 'I'm sorry I'm late, I've had…' She sighed. 'An absolutely terrible day.'

'Aberddewin?' Draco asked after a moment, and she glanced down at the floor, eyes closing briefly, a fraction of a second too long for a blink.

'Partly that, yes. Partly other things too…' She looked up. 'Are you mad at me for being late?'

'I was just trying to figure that out, actually,' he said in all seriousness, not realising how potentially amusing it was until she laughed: a little laugh, before her anxious face returned and she sat down beside him. 'What else, other than… the massacre?' he asked.

She didn't look at him for a minute, instead bending down to look through her schoolbag. 'Just… well, normal things. Everyday things. Well, I suppose Harry doesn't count as normal, but…'

'What kinds of things?' he asked. His emotions were prompting him to ask, though he couldn't have said why. There was a bit of curiosity, and a bit of what he knew as compassion; the rest of it was meaningless.

'Well…' she began, looked undecided for a moment, and then carried on. 'Considering this will probably be all over the school by ten o'clock, I might as well tell you. Ginny and Dean split up.'

'I'd forgotten they were going out,' Draco confessed. He had never followed the love affairs of the Gryffindors, not because he thought anything particularly negative about Gryffindors – Hermione was one, after all – but because it neither interested him nor had any relevance for him. Now, however, when it was Hermione's friends and Hermione being affected by it… 'Why?' he asked.

'He was over-possessive,' Hermione explained. 'He got upset whenever he wanted to spend time with her and she wanted to spend time with us. As in Ron and Harry and me. And this afternoon we were having a planning session about the DA – things in light of the attack – and he came up and wanted to sneak off to a broom closet with her or whatever they do. I said she could go, she said she didn't want to go, they fought, Dean said something really bad and Ginny slapped him, said it was over and told him to get out. She's been trying to act like it hasn't affected her, I think, but I think it has…'

'What did Dean say?' Draco asked.

Hermione paused. 'I can't say: it was something about Harry and it'd mean explaining… well, a lot of Harry's personal problems.' She sighed. 'Basically he said something that really hurt him, except he didn't know it'd hurt him. It's a bit difficult…'

'It's okay, forget it,' Draco said, waving a hand. While he did, of course, want to know, he found that he didn't want Hermione to tell him. If she told him Potter's secrets, what was to keep her from telling Potter his secrets? He'd rather she kept both sets of secrets to herself. 'So you're also worried about Potter?'

'Yes,' she said. 'He's trying to act normal as well, because he knows I worry, but you can tell he's… messed up, and I can't just make it better.' She sighed. 'There should be a spell for times like this. Just wave your wand and the whole thing goes away.'

'Sadly we have nothing, short of an Obliviate spell,' Draco said absently. 'And you usually just have to find out again anyway… Oh, and Cheering Charms. But they wouldn't help the real problem.'

Hermione nodded. 'They should have invented one that does by now,' she said, sighing and leaning her head on the desk, closing her eyes. 'It'd make things so much simpler…'

She was quiet, after that, resting with her head pillowed in her arms, her bushy hair spread messily all over the place and her eyes closed. Draco watched for what must have been almost a minute: she began to make him feel sleepy too.

He wondered if he was envious of her, and how he'd realise if he was. It all seemed so easy for her. She knew what she was feeling, after all, she could put a name and a definition to each one. When you defined something, you learnt how to control it, how to defeat it. True, sometimes you couldn't do anything about a situation – as Hermione couldn't do anything about the younger Weasley's break up or whatever was wrong with Potter or the Aberddewin massacre. And when you couldn't do something about an emotion, it kept hurting. But when you could, and you cured it and it went away…

Envy would make sense: it would be logical. Whether he felt it or not he didn't know.

But of course, emotions weren't logical. Logically, he'd feel something – grief or sadness or feat – about Aberddewin, and he didn't. Which reminded him: he had to ask Hermione.

After a second's pause, deciding whether he should rouse her from her rest, he said, 'Hermione?'

'Mmm?'

'I think… I don't know. I don't feel – or I don't think I feel – anything about…' He paused. 'About Aberddewin. I don't feel anything about it.'

He glanced over at her; she was sitting with her head raised up, resting on her elbow, regarding him with interest. 'What do you mean by 'nothing'?'

'Nothing. Everyone else feels upset, or afraid or something, apart from some of the Slytherins. And I don't feel anything about it. Well, apart from little flashes, and I never know what it is I feel in them.'

He watched her while she thought; head tilted to one side, a strand of hair lying across her cheek. He had to fight down an urge to brush it back: things that were out of place, he'd found, could be annoying. Annoyance he could recognise and deal with, as long as it was on its own and not mixed with any other emotion.

'I was afraid there might be something… something wrong with me,' he admitted when she didn't speak for a while. Hermione looked up in surprise.

'Wrong with you? Why?'

'Because I don't feel-'

'I think quite a few people wouldn't feel anything,' she said thoughtfully. 'I've just been thinking… sometimes you know something is horrible and cruel and wrong, but you can't stir up any emotion for it. It happens, I think, especially when you don't really have any connection to what happened.' She smiled at him. 'Either that, or you're just too new to emotion. You just might not be registering it as an emotional thing.'

He frowned. 'It's possible, I suppose.' He mimicked her pose, then, feeling tired himself from watching her sleepiness. He leant forwards, arms folded on the table and head resting in the bend of his elbow. 'So you don't think there's anything wrong?'

'No,' she replied, closing her eyes. 'We know you feel compassion; you felt it for Ellen… so I think you're okay.'

'Good,' Draco replied, giving her a little smile and closing his own eyes too.

They stayed that way for a little while, each silent with eyes closed, until Draco spoke.

'Hermione?'

'Yes?' was the drowsy reply.

'We shouldn't be resting: we'll end up falling asleep in the middle of the library.'

'Nothing wrong with that.'

He forced himself to open his eyes and straighten up. 'Yes, there is, it's bad for your neck.' Reaching over, he shook her shoulder gently. 'Up, or I pour a bucket of cold water over your head.'

'In the library?' she asked, giving him such a reproachful look that he couldn't help but laugh.

'Yes, in the library,' he replied. 'Now sit up and stay awake.'

A/N: Right in the middle of that chapter I realised I'd started to really, really dislike my current version of Dean. Which is odd, because I didn't set out to make him quite that dislikeable. Characters can sometimes just run off on you, and generally when I write I like to let them run - as long as they don't start doing things that could really screw up the plot.

Now then, who's going to review? Those who don't… hmm, what shall I do to you this week? I'll put your names in a hat and pick three of you to go on Blind Date with Dean. Hehehe… to avoid this fate, review!