Disclaimer: I do not own HP.

RDFCFSAF – Well, the "update soon" thing didn't really work well, but what can you do.

Squigglius – Of course! I always enjoy toying with people!

Brittney – Luna's an oddball, and I'm wondering what's going to go on with her in HBP.

LivingImpared – See top.

Emily – It's always nice to update soon, which is why it's such a pain that I got this one in so late.

RainDateChick – See top as well (oh well).

High Serpent King – Seriously, I'm going to review your story. Perhaps before this chapter's even finished.

Dancerrdw – And see the top again.

Sorry everybody. I know that irregular chapter updates is the best way to alienate the people who try to read this, but I haven't been able to grab a moment.

…UNTIL NOW and I'm sure you all will be happy to know that this is my biggest chapter ever, and also one of the most important, if you must know…

A final warning that this is probably the most PG-13 chapter yet, but I won't give away why. Lastly, this chapter is untitled and once you reach the end of it, you'll probably understand why.

Chapter 39

Part I

"Crap!" Harry started loudly as Ron grabbed him quickly. He wasn't allowed to say anymore, however, because Ron abruptly covered one of his hands over Harry's mouth.

"Will you shut up?" he hissed. "I don't want to wake up everyone that's sleeping." Harry nodded silently and Ron released him.

"You can't just say 'hello,' can you Ron?"

"Funny, Harry. If you wouldn't mind, though, I rather need to see Dumbledore."

"At this time?"

"Gee, Harry, now that I think about it…"

"Fine, fine!" Harry whispered. "Come with me." Harry beckoned and padded silently across the carpeted floor, nearly reaching the portrait hole when Ron suddenly stubbed his toe on the chess set.

"God-damn it Harry! Can't you ever clean up after yourself?"

"Coming from your lips, I'll have to consider that satirical."

Ron glared and started to make a threatening gesture when he abruptly stopped and cocked his head. He suddenly dived behind the couch just before Parvati arrived at the top of the girl's staircase.

"Harry? Are you still awake?"

"Uh…I was just picking up the chess game." Harry felt a blush rising up from his collar and tried desperately to quell it. It would be bad enough to blush in front of Parvati, but far worse to do it when Ron is mere feet away.

"Oh. Well do you need any help?"

"No, I've got it."

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight."

Harry stooped to the ground to act as if he was cleaning up the chess set until Parvati left.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"She's gone. Besides, I don't think that's a chess piece."

Harry glanced down and realized that he was not, in fact, holding a knight but was about to place a flimsy piece of paper into the box. He started up fast and, without looking at Ron, thrust open the portrait hole. Ron, however, didn't seem to be following him.

"Is she sleeping?"

Harry glanced at the Fat Lady. "Yes." Ron nodded and followed Harry out. Harry led him to the gargoyle (narrowly avoiding Mrs. Norris and Filch) and spoke the password ("Tatooine," bafflingly enough). The two stood on the spiraling staircase until they reached the grand doors. Harry knocked twice.

"Come in!" Dumbledore sounded, sounding weary and tired. Harry tentatively pushed the door open.

"I'm sorry if I woke you sir -"

"Nonsense, nonsense, I was already awake. I see you've brought Mr. Weasley with you."

Ron nodded formally and spoke. "Sir, I'd like to offer my services to the Order. I don't think that it would be good for me to return to school just yet and I also have some information."

Dumbledore's brow creased slowly. "Information? How so?"

"I don't know – I have – memories, for lack of a better word. It's as if I'm remembering another person's life. But they're not exactly memories – more like flashes, images, words, unconnected and discordant. I've been able to piece some things together though." Dumbledore nodded, telling him to continue. "Voldemort thinks that the best way to weaken Harry and you is to take away his best friends. I was the first target – that was what the kidnapping was about, that was the whole purpose of the attack on Hogwarts. Killing me. However, he knows that just killing me wouldn't be enough. So the next target (Ron faltered slightly) – it's Hermione. Also, he's got other plans too. The killings of all the best Aurors lately – they weren't random. He's got some idea about the Giants. And also – there are two people. Unidentified. I can't recall the names, but they seem to be Voldemort's top people, along with Lestrange and Malfoy. They did espionage work. That's all I know."

Dumbledore sat pensively for a long time, his face lined with worry and sadness. Finally he moved slowly.

"Very well. It is necessary, then that both you and Miss Granger will be relocated to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. You, so that your identity remains anonymous, and Miss Granger for her protection. Also -" Dumbledore interjected, seeing Ron start "- your family already knows that you are alive, and will visit you soon at the Headquarters." Ron nodded.

"I have one final question, Professor."

"Yes?"

"When do we go?"

Part II

Draco Malfoy rose at his weariest from his bed the next day after practice. It was Monday, but due to the amount of injured people school had been called off. Draco sat up wearily and put on his robes of black with the Slytherin Prefect badge. Normally, he would go to the Great Hall for breakfast, but he felt compelled to look for Dumbledore. Perhaps he's in the Infirmary. So Draco walked his way to the Hospital Wing, wondering why he was going there as it was almost certain that Dumbledore would be in his office, and tentatively stuck his head in the doorway. Dumbledore didn't appear to be anywhere, but perhaps he was at the other end. Draco stepped across the floor when he suddenly heard a voice.

"What time is it?" Draco stopped quickly and turned around to face his questioner.

It was Ginny Weasley.

"It's – 9:30 AM. Monday."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Thanks." There was a touch of disdain in her voice, but Draco couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be an expression of curiosity in her expression. Draco turned around, dismissing it and about to leave, but she spoke.

"Your hair – is it different today?"

Draco stopped dead, suddenly realizing that he had forgotten to apply the usually liberal amounts of gel in his hair that kept it slicked back.

"Why – yes, I must've forgotten to gel it."

"It looks better that way." The words came unbidden from her mouth and surprised even herself. She shied away slightly but faced him nonetheless, determined to act like she had just meant to say that. Draco seemed a little flustered, but she was too surprised herself to notice.

"Well – I'll keep that in mind." An awkward pause ensued, until Draco broke it again. "You should get your rest."

Ginny nodded. "Bye then."

"Bye." And Draco left the Hospital Wing at a quick pace, leaving both of them to wonder what had just happened.

Or at least he was, until he suddenly heard another voice call out to him, this one male.

"That was quite a display you showed there." Draco turned around to face none other than Crabbe and Goyle, his two sheep.

"What do you mean?" Draco said nastily, pretending to act confused.

"You like the little Weasel! The pauper!"

Draco felt a slight anger rising up in him when hearing Ginny called a "weasel" and a "pauper" but quickly stopped it.

"That's a filthy lie," Draco said venomously. It was clear, however, that no amount of insults would convince Crabbe and Goyle that it was. In fact, they seemed to be readying for some kind of fight. Slowly they approached him, rolling up their sleeves and clenching their fists menacingly.

Draco, however, was much taller than both of them, and while they might be strong, his Quidditch training had served him well. Most importantly, though – he was a better wizard.

Draco whipped out his wand quickly and pointed it at the two of them.

"Don't think I won't."

Crabbe and Goyle stopped suddenly, aware that they couldn't best him in this. They shot him a final nasty look before stomping off – towards the Common Room.

Draco saw them leave and had a final thought before they went out of sight.

I don't think I'll be able to sleep with the Slytherins anymore.

"Hey Gin!" Ginny started from her reverie in bed to see none other than her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, approaching her. Normally she would be quite happy to see him, but right now she felt somehow…guilty.

"Dean, how's everyone doing?"

"Everyone's doing fine, just fine. At least, everyone that's out. A good number of people, considering how many were injured."

"That's good, good…" Ginny nodded slowly, preoccupied with other thoughts.

"Gin? Are you alright? You seem kind of off."

"Oh no, I'm fine," Ginny reassured him. "Just tired."

"Well I'll leave you to rest then. See you later!" Dean said merrily and went off his way after a peck on the cheek, leaving an unsettled Ginny to rest sleeplessly in her bed.

Draco wolfed his breakfast ravenously down, abruptly hungry and exhausted from his previous encounter with Crabbe and Goyle. He was unsurprised to notice that there were very few people still here, those who ate early would likely eat around 8 and the rest would sleep in until 12 or so. Besides, a good number of people were still incapacitated in the Hospital Wing. Draco munched silently on some toast and jam when he saw Potter enter through the vast doors of the Hall and start to eat at the Gryffindor table. The two ignored each other – easily done, as they were a fair distance apart due to the spacing of the tables, until they finished their meals. At that point, Draco saw an opportunity – a way to get to Dumbledore.

"Potter!" Potter turned around slowly, facing the familiar voice with a veiled mask of emotions.

"Yes?"

"You're going to Dumbledore's, right? I need to see him."

Potter nodded curtly and Draco fell in step behind him (some distance behind him as well). The two went to the gargoyle a few steps apart, and reached the doors of the Headmaster's office. When they got to the door, however, Potter seemed to hesitate before knocking, as if there was something inside that he didn't want Draco to see. After a moment however, he knocked twice on the door and swiftly entered without a response. Draco followed, but was immediately stopped dead in his tracks.

It was Weasley. Ron Weasley. Alive. And not just alive, but appearing to be in peak shape as well. Had he really died? What had happened? Neither Weasley nor Dumbledore, however, had seen either of them yet, as they were immersed in a game of chess.

Potter cleared his throat tersely. "Someone's come with me." Both Weasley and Dumbledore brought their heads up and faced Malfoy now. And it was then that Malfoy observed the only physical change perceptible in Ron Weasley. His eyes. Ronald Weasley's eyes were black as midnight, shifting and swirling like pools. Most of all, however, they seemed elusive – it was as if a shadow cast itself perpetually over them and refused to be removed. The effect, though, gave him an aura that was almost…dementor-like. Confusingly enough, Malfoy noted, he also seemed to be wearing gloves.

"Malfoy," Weasley snarled. "Why is he here? He's the reason it happened." Weasley started up, an expression of hatred in his voice and faced Malfoy, a good three or four inches taller than him, with a menacing expression. "You're the reason I died."

Draco couldn't say anything, so simply stared back stonily.

"Mr. Weasley, after the attack Mr. Malfoy offered to spy for the Order in stead of – of Professor Snape."

"And you accepted," Weasley said stonily. Weasley turned and shared a long look with Potter before turning around and seating himself for the chess game, which seemed to be going well for him. Weasley moved a bishop.

"Check," he murmured.

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid I never was the best at chess. Didn't have the strategic mind for it. Minerva's better." Dumbledore moved his queen and blocked.

"Checkmate," Weasley said, moving his rook across the board. "Good game, though."

"Timely, I suppose. Mr. Malfoy, you wished to speak to me?"

"Yes, Professor. I'd just like to know what's happening with the Order, or at least with the things that are happening pertaining to information I've provided. I asked Professor McGonagall, but she…"

"Ah. Well your inquiries are perfectly understandable, and I will oblige the best way I know how. Today, Mr. Malfoy, I shall take you to the Headquarters of the Order along with Harry and Ron here," Dumbledore said. "However," he continued, adjusting his glasses, "we must first locate Miss Granger."

Part III

Hermione Granger had woken up almost every day since she had come to Hogwarts at 6:45 AM sharp, and this particular Monday morning was no exception. Stretching and yawning quietly (she didn't want to wake her room-mates, which, although they were of completely different personality than her, she had grown rather fond of over the years), changed and went down to breakfast. However, to her chagrin, breakfast wasn't served yet. Muttering under her breath ("even if school's not on I don't see why they can't just serve breakfast at the normal time"), she retreated out, not sure where she was intending to go, before stopping upon hearing wings. Hedwig swooped down to her, bearing a thick letter that Hermione could see was from her parents. Harry had let her borrow Hedwig to send a letter to her parents about what had happened, although most of it had ended up about Ron. Of course, that was before she knew he was alive.

"Oh thanks, Hedwig." Hedwig nipped her finger before going off to the Owlery. Ow! Why does she always have to do that? How do Harry and Ron stand being nipped all the time? Hermione sighed and opened the letter, revealing an epic message of somewhat lengthy proportions, all written in familiar tiny handwriting. Hermione went up to the Gryffindor Common Room and read the letter, becoming quite teary at the end, what with all the mentions of Ron. While her parents had barely even met him, they both had intuited from her letters that she loved him very much, and had logically written a good deal about him (after a massive section solely on the matter of if she was alright or not, naturally, as they were just about as paranoid as her).

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up, startled that someone was up at a quarter to eight and that she hadn't noticed them come in. It was Lavender, looking concerned. Evidently, Hermione hadn't been fully aware that she was crying as much as she was.

Hermione nodded, wiping away the remaining tears. "Just thinking about him, that's all." Lavender's concern became yet more pronounced, but she didn't press.

"Come on, let's go to breakfast."

Hermione nodded in agreement, following Lavender out the door. Within a minute, she looked as normal, other than some slightly bloodshot eyes.

"So Lavender, is Seamus alright?"

Lavender's expression brightened considerably at the mention of her boyfriend, who had been injured during the attack and was currently in the Hospital Wing.

"He's doing great, actually. He said when I visited him yesterday that he should be getting out soon – today, he hopes." Lavender laughed, but her expression darkened soon. "So do I, though. I've missed him."

Hermione nodded silently, not sure of what to say and instead opting to say nothing. What could she say, really?

Hermione sat down and grabbed a muffin along with some toast, but both her and Lavender looked up when they noticed Hagrid come in.

"Hagrid!"

"Oh 'ello Hermione, Lavender. Guess I'll just sit next to you two…haven't seen you two in a while," Hagrid commented while sliding his massive frame into the (somewhat creaky) bench beside them. "How have you been doing?"

"Alright, I guess," Hermione said. Lavender nodded in concurrence with her statement.

"Well, you've just got to remember that things always get bett -" Hagrid stopped suddenly, aware of a low vibrating hum. Hermione suddenly noticed with great surprise that the vibration seemed to be emanating from Hagrid's umbrella. Hagrid sighed, then grabbed the umbrella and tapped it against the floor.

"Guess I'll be seeing you two later," Hagrid said with a melancholy air, and quietly rose without getting the chance to eat anything. Lavender and Hermione sent each other confused glances.

"What was all that about?"

Part IV

Draco trotted along with Harry as the two left Dumbledore's office in search of Hermione. Draco abruptly thought of a way that they could leave each other with a good conscience – the tension between the two of them was getting a little awkward, especially after the meeting with Ron.

"Why don't we split up in search of her? We could probably find her faster that way." Harry nodded thoughtfully, concurring.

"Alright. I'll go to the Gryffindor House, since you can't go there anyway, and you can check out the Hospital Wing, as she's probably in there visiting Ginny if she's not in the Common Room."

"What, you don't think she'll be eating?"

For a second, Draco saw a fleeting smile on Harry's face.

"Hermione? She was probably up at 6:45."

Draco nodded. "Alright then, let's meet up at the Great Hall in ten minutes."

The two split up their respective ways, navigating the massive halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Draco had been walking for roughly two minutes and had almost reached the Hospital Wing when an all-too familiar voice called out at him.

"Where you going Draco? Going to see your girlfriend?" Goyle's voice menaced out mockingly, leeringly. Draco stood stock-still and turned around, clenching his fists in readiness. As Draco had suspected, Crabbe and Goyle had stuck with the age-old philosophy – there's strength in numbers. And indeed, Draco felt inclined to believe the saying upon looking at the nine or ten bulky strong Slytherins that were prepping to beat him up.

Draco didn't waste any time with formalities. If he was going to be in a fight, might as well start the best position he could be in. Of course, in this particular fight the best position would be running away, but at the moment that wasn't an option, as the gang had circled him. So he, utilising his Quidditch-honed speed, flung out his arm at a rapid speed and knocked Goyle to the ground, aiming for the nose and likely breaking it. Blood started to come out as Goyle screamed on the ground but Draco didn't have time to think about that. The remaining nine members were started to close in. Crabbe came first, aiming a solid punch at Draco's ribs. Draco dodged it easily before kicking him in the stomach, winding him. He grabbed Crabbe and flung him into the rest of the gang, stalling. Quick as lightning, he drew his wand and yelled the first curse he could think of.

"Tarantellegra!" Crabbe started dancing around like a maniac, knocking over several of his gang while at it. With his arms flailing around like crazy, the gang fanned out, dodging the kicking legs. Draco made sure not to be idle.

"Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!" Three down, seven to go. Draco mentally adjusted the count to two and eight as, to his dismay, he saw Goyle start to rise back up again. He aimed a kick at the chins and another punch, and Goyle went down again. Another gang member had revived the stunned one, and Draco was fighting a losing battle. Draco felt an iron-hard fist collide into the small of his back, he was sent reeling blindly, and tripped over the motionless body that he had petrified on the floor. Draco fell hard on the stone floor but turned back over, and aimed a kick at an oncoming person where it would most hurt. The next person – Crabbe, as it turned out, eyes squinted in rage – Draco tripped, shifting his legs and spinning them around so Crabbe fell sideways into the floor. Draco rolled and narrowly avoided a foot that would have smashed his face in, grabbing the foot, he pulled it outwards and the attacker smashed to the floor. Draco felt again and found himself against the wall. Fighting to get up, he flailed his arms around sufficiently to create some space and stood up. Back at square one, cornered and against a wall with ten angry gang members with me. Where are you, Potter?

Harry set out after his decision with Draco towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Entering the portrait hole, he met Parvati, who didn't know where Hermione was but said that she thought that Hermione and Lavender had left a long time ago. Harry nodded his thanks before rushing off to the Great Hall, barely making it in time for the appointed meeting. However, Malfoy wasn't there, and after ten more minutes of waiting, Harry set off towards the Hospital Wing.

Rushing in, his cloak billowing out slightly behind him, he was surprised to find Hermione right in the Hospital Wing, quietly conversing with Ginny.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned around. "Harry! Is there something wrong?"

"Hello, Harry."

"Hello Ginny, how are you? And Hermione, there's nothing wrong, but come on, we need to go see Dumbledore."

Hermione nodded, catching Harry's tone.

"I'm fine thanks, Harry. Guess I'll see you guys later."

"Yep, bye Gin."

"See you later Ginny." Harry spoke quickly as he rushed out of the doorway. Where was Malfoy? Oh well. I suppose he'll go to Dumbledore's eventually. It was his fault he was late.

Hermione walked a few feet or so behind him, privately wondering what the problem was. Perhaps it's about Ron.

As they passed the Great Hall, Hermione noticed that Harry seemed to cast a lingering glance in that direction, as if checking if someone was there. The Great Hall was largely vacant though, other than the odd person eating breakfast. Harry sighed and shook his head before going up a moving staircase to the gargoyle, before stopping half-way, hearing sounds of fighting somewhere.

"D'you hear that?" Hermione nodded, tentatively taking steps behind Harry. Harry looked around the corner and abruptly cursed (eliciting an automatic reprimand from Hermione, naturally), pulling out his wand rapidly, then looking straight at Hermione.

"Get Dumbledore. The password's 'Tatooine.'" Harry rushed out past the corner, brandishing his fist in a menacing manner. Hermione rushed out as well, barely perceptible, hugging the edge of the wall and escaping the attention of the Slytherins, averting her eyes from the fight, and utterly and completely confused. Why were the Slytherins beating Malfoy up?

Harry ran and thought of all of Park's lessons in NEWT Defense Against of the Dark Arts, channeling his magic all towards one point. None of the Slytherins had noticed him yet, barring Malfoy, who was holding more than his own out there. Harry had to be impressed – Malfoy was basically fighting a 1 on 10 and although he was severely bruised and obviously quite hurt, had given as well as he had taken. Harry wished desperately that Hermione could've stayed but two would have as good a chance as three, in the long run.

Harry leapt, skying up a great height, and then with terrific force crashed his fist into the small of Goyle's back, sending him flailing into two of his fellow Slytherins, clambering for a hold, before finally falling hard on the stone floor. Harry channeled the magic quickly again and then kicked another Slytherin hard in the stomach, sending him straight into the wall. Harry looked around quickly scanning for some kind of escape route, but to his dismay didn't find any. The Slytherins, in reaction to a new combatant, had quickly fanned out in the corridor and Harry found himself against the wall with a Malfoy grimacing in pain, sitting on the floor. Harry offered a hand up and Malfoy took it, pulling himself up. The Slytherins started to close in slowly, wary of any curses or fists that would come out in their direction. Malfoy and Harry didn't waste any time though.

"Impedimenta!" Harry yelled, sending a Slytherin flying back. The rest closed in, compensating for the newly found gap. "Petrificus Totalus!" Another one froze, his face held in a mask of fury. All of a sudden, Malfoy made a grand gesture with his wand and finished with a flourish, making a sweep towards four of the Slytherins. The Slytherins abruptly slipped, as if tripped, and flipped in the air, landing hard against their backs. A Slytherin came from the side though, and Malfoy wasn't able to shield before he crumpled to the ground, Stunned. Harry raised his wand, ready to attack the now triumphant Slytherins and extremely apprehensive.

"Stop!"

All the Slytherins, suddenly looking extremely dismayed, turned around to see a furious Dumbledore.

"All of you must go to your House room immediately. You are to report to Professor McGonagall at 5 PM sharp today; who I am sure will devise a suitable punishment for you." Dumbledore's blue eyes stared at the Slytherins, who quavered and retreated. Dumbledore then turned his glance to the inert Malfoy.

"Are you alright, Harry?" he asked while inspecting Malfoy's medical condition.

"Yes."

"Good. Locomotor Mortis." Malfoy's body rose with Dumbledore's wand. Dumbledore proceeded to move fairly fast through the Hogwarts halls, making it to the Hospital Wing quickly. Harry abruptly noticed that Hermione wasn't with them, she must've stayed to talk to Ron. Dumbledore quickly summoned Madame Pomfrey, who looked aghast at the scope of Draco's injuries.

"How long do you think until he'll be ready to go?"

Madame Pomfrey shook her head, stunned by the amount of pain that Draco must have endured. "Well, I think he'll be fine in just about a week, since none of the injuries seem to be major. But that's a very rough estimation, very rough…" Madame Pomfrey shook her head again and sighed, clearing the bed and then gesturing to Dumbledore to put Draco on the bed.

"Well Poppy, I suppose I'll be off." Madame Pomfrey nodded, pre-occupied, while fetching a potion. Dumbledore left, and Harry, with a final glance at a silent Malfoy, started to as well, until he heard a gasp from the bed right next to Malfoy's.

It was Ginny, and she had woken up from her rest. Seeing the bruised and somewhat bloodied Malfoy had been an immediate shock to her.

"Harry…what happened to him?"

"A Slytherin gang beat him up."

At this, Ginny looked infinitely more confused. "Why?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know."

Part V

"Wait…so a Slytherin gang was fighting with Malfoy. And this gang was headed by Crabbe and Goyle?" Ron repeated for about the fiftieth time. Or at least, that's what it felt like to Hermione. After a short "reunion" with each other Hermione had told him in detail about the fight that was occurring that had brought her up. Hermione couldn't blame Ron though, the thought of Crabbe and Goyle going at Malfoy was somewhat disconcerting.

"But why?"

"For the last time Ronald, I don't know."

"Very well, I'll stop, but it is confusing."

Hermione nodded in agreement, absentmindedly playing with Ron's long hair as she sat with him on the couch Dumbledore had conjured, apparently last night when Harry and Ron had burst into his room at 3 AM or some ungodly time. Ron had told her many times that they hadn't woken Dumbledore up, but Hermione remained skeptical.

Dumbledore burst in through the doors abruptly, interrupting her reverie, followed by a nervous Harry.

"Ah – Miss Granger. I feel it is a good time now to tell you the original reason Mr. Malfoy and Harry were sent out to retrieve you. Information that has surfaced from Ron has indicated that Voldemort believes that the easiest way to defeat Harry is to – eliminate his friends, and you are the next target, as they believe Ron to be dead. As such, I believe it is prudent that you be placed at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, for your own protection, along with Mr. Weasley, so that Voldemort does not find out that he is alive."

Conflicting emotions rapidly showed on Hermione's face – joy for having the opportunity to spend plenty of time with Ron, but of course, there was school.

"But Professor," Hermione protested. "My schoolwork…"

"Will of course be sent to you daily, Miss Granger. I'm well aware that you wouldn't want to miss any of school, but I'm afraid this is necessary."

Hermione appeared pensive for a moment, before heaving a big sigh and shrugging.

"Well, I suppose if it's necessary, then it must be done…"

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "After you put up such a big fuss about just being accompanied by two people?"

Hermione was, as is rarely the case, unable to find any words, and so simply smiled and huddled in a little bit closer to Ron, who smiled happily, smart enough to pick up the obvious implications of what was going on.

"Well then…shall we leave?"

Hermione Granger surveyed her new bedroom with some apprehension. Although it was perhaps a little dusty – the Order hadn't, in fact, found any use of the room before learning the information that she would be living here for a while – it was sufficiently spacious and colorful to satisfy Hermione.

"Hermione? Can I come in?"

Hermione grinned. "Please do."

Ron entered as usual, towering far above Hermione – she barely even reached his shoulders.

"What're you doing?"

"Just unpacking," Hermione replied, waving her wand to reveal a bulging and impeccably packed suitcase, with neatly folded clothes and a heap of stacked textbooks (the suitcase had had to be enlarged for everything to fit). Ron raised his eyebrows at the neatness of all of it but declined from commenting.

"So, how do you like your new room?"

"Could do with a little cleaning, don't you think? I'll have to ask them where a mop is," Hermione replied, surveying with her new territory. Hearing suppressed laughter, she turned around to see Ron in hysterics. "Is there something quite wrong?" she said with a playful edge to her voice.

"Well Hermione," Ron replied, sniggering. "You never were very good at remembering you were a witch, right?"

Hermione reddened slightly as soon as she figured it out, and embarrassed, whipped out her wand. "Scourgify!" she said, and although the job wasn't near as good as say, Mrs. Weasley could've done, it was certainly passable. She turned around to see a calmer Ron looking at her job, shaking his head.

"And what is it now?"

"Hermione, you obviously haven't done many cleaning spells, have you?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Ron sighed but didn't respond, taking out his wand (which had been saved from the attack) and saying "Scourgify!" like Hermione. Unlike Hermione, however, the room was glistening and polished, and even the critical Hermione would've been hard-put to find a speck of dust. She turned around to find a satisfied Ron admiring his handiwork.

"And just where did you learn that?"

Ron looked surprised at the inquiry. "Mum, of course."

The two stood comfortably with each other until Hermione initiated conversation again. "So what do you think of this Minister of Magic Candidate that Dumbledore's chosen – Mr. Woodbury?"

Ron looked a little troubled. "Honestly? I was somewhat surprised. These elections tend to go towards older, more well-known candidates, and in a war they often gravitate towards high-ranking Law Enforcement officials. Still, though, his pedigree's impressive and he's fairly likeable. He's got a good chance."

Hermione looked taken aback. "Since when were you so interested in politics?"

Ron laughed. "Well, between fifth and sixth year, I was beginning to think that an Auror career just wasn't the right thing for me. And besides, just between me and you," – Ron's voice dropped down in volume, talking low now – "I reckon I'll have fought a little too much of darkness to want to be an Auror anyway."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, sympathetic to Ron's thoughts.

"Still though," Ron continued, startling Hermione. "I'm not really sure about politics either. I can't stand paperwork." Hermione looked at her boyfriend and intuited that Ron was obviously nervous about what kind of life he would live after the war was done. Hermione herself didn't know what the feeling was like – modest though she may be, she was smart enough to know that her grades were in the top percentile, and suspected that she would have enough career options to figure out what she wanted to do.

"Don't worry Ron; I'm sure the right career will present itself to you. Just look at your O.W.L.s!"

Ron grinned with only a trace of his former melancholy thoughts remaining, and embraced his girlfriend. Suddenly Hermione's thoughts flashed back to a period a long time ago, last summer when she was staying at the Burrow…

"Hey Ron."
"Yeah, hey Hermione." Hermione was surprised at the weariness in Ron's tone, and suddenly didn't blame Ginny so much for threating Hermione to tell him.

"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing, just tired..." Hermione nodded in agreement and decided that Ginny was right for once - the sooner, the better.
"I broke up with Viktor."
"Really? That's good, but why? He seemed to be really nice..."

"Oh, he was, I just like another guy." Ron glanced up and Hermione saw that he seemed to be having some sort of inner battle. He realized that he should probably respond, though.

"I'm sure he'll be very happy..." Hermione detected a definite note of bitterness in his voice. He thinks that it's someone else, she thought. Hermione was a little bit consoled by the fact that he definitely seemed to like her, though. Usually she would have been elated, but she was too filled with butterflies about what she was going to do...

"Ron?" she burst out, not sure how to introduce this. Besides, even though she strongly suspected that he liked, her, better safe than sorry, she supposed. "Why do we always fight?"

Ron looked extremely surprised, his deep blue eyes slightly hurt. "Well, we don't really fight that much, I mean…do we?"

"Don't we?"

Ron looked thoughtful. "I suppose."

"Is it because we like fighting with each other? Because Ron, I don't."

Ron shook his head. "No, I don't either."

"So, why then?"

"I suppose we just…do."

Hermione bit her lip, finally feeling ready to take that big step forward. "Well Ron…I'd really like it if we didn't fight anymore." She took a tentative step closer, feeling suddenly shorter when realizing that the top of her head barely reached his chin. Am I really that short? She supposed she had never realized because to be honest, she rarely ever got quite this close to Ron.

"Yeah…I'd like that too…" Ron said quietly as he leaned in a little closer. And the two started to lean closer, and closer…

Part VI

Hermione and Ron had now spent six weeks of the school year at Godric's Hollow, helping the Order. Or more correctly, Hermione irritably thought, Ron was helping the Order. Ron, as evidenced by his considerable chess skills, had quite a sharp strategic mind, and also had a considerable knowledge of politics, and was therefore able to help both with the politics of the Minister of Magic campaign and with battle strategies. In fact (despite Mrs. Weasley's great apprehension), Ron had now become one of the prominent figures in the Order, quite remarkable for a young man of nearly seventeen (he was actually just a week away from his birthday, March 1st) years old.

Hermione looked on as Ron discussed political tactics with the eminent Mr. Woodbury, whom Ron had become fast friends with. Although Hermione was actually a half-year older than Ron, Ron had been acting mature far beyond his years since the accident. Hermione grinned as she walked up to her boyfriend and sat next to him. She and Ron had become even closer lately, since they were the only two people each other's age that they had the opportunity to spend time with, other than the occasional drop-in by Harry or Ginny when Dumbledore allowed them. This wasn't really a bad thing, however, since the two of them could not imagine anyone better to spend all their waking hours with. Hermione tuned out the politics talk – she was quite unable to grasp the finer points of any of it, she had learned fairly fast – and flipped open her Charms book, reading up on the lesson that her class were on schedule to do next month. Ron, after about five more minutes, took note of this.

"Hermione? Isn't that reading ahead a bit?"

"Nonsense, they'll be doing this next week," Hermione replied, trying to focus on the book and avoiding the glance of the obviously amused Mr. Woodbury.

"Rubbish, Hermione, I'm in Charms remember. They're not scheduled to do that for another month."

"Well, all the same – give that back! Ron!" Hermione protested as Ron swiftly grabbed the book, shrunk it, and pocketed it.

"Don't worry, I saved your page," Ron reassured her.

"Yes, but I'd really prefer to read it now."

Hermione was about to reply when they suddenly heard a vibrating sound from somewhere.

"What's that?" Hermione said, looking around. It sounded awfully familiar…

The vibrating sound stopped. Hermione didn't notice, but Ron saw Mr. Woodbury stealthily withdraw his hand from something in his cloak.

"Oh dear!" Mark said. "I've forgotten an appointment with Dumbledore – really must be off." Mark made his way off swiftly, obviously nervous, ignoring Ron's piercing stares on his way out. Ron turned to look at Hermione

"What do you think he was covering up?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know – perhaps that's just a way to call Order members together – if they're late or something." It wasn't true though, and the two of them knew it, so Ron chose not to respond. They sat quietly together for another five minutes or so before Ron had an idea.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

Hermione and Ron found themselves outside in the lonely streets of Godric's Hollow, the stars shining atmospherically out, a clear midnight-blue sky casting a lovely glow on the streets. To Ron, it all seemed rather surreal – the beautiful night contrasted with the village, which was seemingly in limbo – time ceased to exist in Godric's Hollow. There was a lack of both life and death here – no flowers ever grew nor died, no trees fell or grew from saplings on the ground, and not a single squirrel scuttled about the grass looking for nuts, or a single bird fly above the great expanses of the sky here. The place was perpetually set in that midsummer day in July, the night that Peter Pettigrew betrayed two of his dearest friends – the night Voldemort killed Harry's points.

Hermione shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No – well a little, but it's not that – it's just that nothing seems to live here. The only passing of time is the journey from day to night, and even that goes in a loop – from the same day to the same night. And there's an overpowering magic, as if all the spells ever said here are still here – as if Voldemort's Killing Curse still lingered on here sixteen years after it's time, as if the Potters love for their son never left this one place."

Both Hermione and Ron were compelled to glance at the place where they knew the actual house where Lily and James Potter had died was, though neither of them could see it – while Dumbledore had let them in on the Fidelius Charm on the Headquarters, he had not done this with that house – as a matter of fact, he had offered, but both Hermione and Ron had refused. They felt that it would somehow seem right if Harry was the first to visit that place, if any of the three of them ever did. They both knew, however, that if Voldemort's Curse and the Potters' love survived outside of the house and seeped into the village itself, that the sense would be all the more potent in the ruins where it all happened – where the world was changed.

Hermione shivered again, this time more violently. "I think I'm going in. Are you coming?"

"No thanks, I'll stay a while longer. I'll be in soon, though," he reassured her. Hermione looked up at him before going in and quickly pecked him on the cheek, before rushing in, escaping from all the magic and the cold.

Ron remained, looking around, feeling, and sensing the magic that was vibrant in this place – in his fingertips, in his veins. Ron knew, however, that there was something about this place that he certainly could relate to better than Hermione – death. He knew what death felt like, and could feel its traces here, surrounding him and taunting him. Ron stayed, oblivious to the cold of the night, stretching his arms, immersed in the world.

Crunch.

Ron's eyes shot open to see another person on the abandoned gravel road of Godric's Hollow. He looked to be a tall teenager with dark hair. He had a cruel smile plastered on his face, and he looked ever-so-familiar….

"Who are you?" Ron asked belligerently. Typically he wouldn't be so discourteous, but no one was supposed to know where this place was, not unless they were friends of Dumbledore.

"We all thought you were dead, Weasley. Obviously not. That fool Dumbledore that he could keep you hidden from us, thought that he could keep this place hidden from us."

"Who are you?" Ron repeated, his fingertips straying to his wand, his left hand beginning to gather magic from the air. A terrible feeling of foreboding pervading the air. And then – seconds before the teenager himself said it – he realized he knew this person. He had met him before the previous summer, albeit an older version. Those eyes…that face…and of course, that voice…

"My name? Tom Riddle."

I do not know how people produce chapters like this at a regular rate. Also, if there is any chapter that seems to be taking a particularly long time, look on my profile and there should be information about it. If there's no information on the profile, it's probably safe to assume that the chapter will arrive at the regular time.