Perfect Memory

By The Fallen Caryatid

PG-13

Ron/Hermione and other relationships yet to be decided.

Chapter Four: "And they thought we'd fall; not at all"

They found him in the West tower, in a room that Dumbledore had unofficially given Harry as a private study. The Trio, last year, had often used the room to hatch plans and put together clues as they sorted information brought in by Order members about the Dark Lord's activities.

Many a long night they had spent buried in ancient tomes, casting and recasting spells, hunched over foul-smelling cauldrons. It was during these times that Ron had realized how much he loved Hermione. Not just as a friend, but as a partner—a lover. And Hermione herself had begun to realize that Ron was maturing, that his impulsive temper had cooled somewhat, replacing it with solid determination and steady passion for getting the job done.

But it had been Harry who had changed the most. While Ron and Hermione's changes could be attributed to them growing into adults, Harry had simply become jaded. His humor had become warped, his thoughts more twisted, his actions prone to violence. More than once the happy couple had rushed into Harry's safe room with the latest news about Tonks or Lupin only find the place drenched in the aura of sinister magic and Harry slumped in his favorite chair, exhausted from performing spells of dark protection and practicing curses that would be undoubtedly outlawed had the Ministry known they existed.

Today, when Ron pulled back the tapestry to reveal the passageway to the highest room of the West tower, it was not without the apprehension that they would find him in that condition.

As Ron whispered the countless passwords that had to be provided to enter the study, Hermione did her best to reassure herself that Harry would be fine, that she had only left him in the library a little while ago, that her time with Ron had only been…she pulled out a timepiece she kept in her pocket. Three hours? I couldn't have been that long, could I of? Three hours. What sort of trouble could he have possibly caused? It's only three hours.

But she knew she was only lying to herself. Three hours was indeed a very long time, time enough for Harry to finish his research in the library and decide to try some practical application. Time enough for her entire future to have changed. Please be safe, Harry. Please have waited. Please, Harry…

It took a bit to finally get to the private study. The passage beyond the tapestry was only accessible to who Harry chose to let in. Anyone else would simply find a solid wall behind the wall hanging. The passage way then twisted upwards, stairs upon stairs, with passwords that had to be given every ten meters. When Ron had first learned to access the West Tower room, it took a memory charm for him to be able to keep track of all the spells required to unlock the passageway. Now the words fell from his lips without his even giving thought to them.

When they finally reached the top of the slow winding staircase, a solid wall blocked their passage. The two exchange looks, preparing themselves for the inevitable. They stepped straight through the wall, which felt like passing through old bread. Hermione resisted the urge to check her cloak for crumbs and instead checked around for Harry.

He was slumped in his favorite chair, looking quite dead. His skin was pale, the dark circles under his eyes more evident with his glasses missing. Hermione hurried to his side and checked his pulse. As soon as she touched him, though, Harry jerked awake and drew his wand, leveling it at her head. A curse was already half-formed on his lips when he realized where he was.

He lowered his wand. "Sorry," he muttered.

"What the hell, Harry?" asked Ron, but he fell silent under the Gryffindor heir's glare.

"I said I was sorry," he growled defensively, putting on his glasses. "But you know better than to surprise me." He stretched and began pacing about the room, reminding Hermione of a caged lion she had once seen at the London Zoo. She caught sight of the books they had removed from the library earlier that day and picked them up from his desk one by one; re-reading the titles and gauging the knowledge she stood to gain from reading them. Ron busied himself in alcove of the room making a strong tea for them all.

They were all falling into habit, with each member of the Trio doing as they were supposed to. Harry paced anxiously as he ran a hundred blood-drenched scenarios over and over in his head in preparation for his next mission; Hermione read spell-book after spell-book in hopes of saving Harry from his sanguine thoughts; and Ron, the only one of them who could make a decent cup of tea, brought calm and held the drowsiness that accompanies despair at bay.

Hermione paused from her book sorting and carefully lifted a slim black book from the pile. Its soft leather cover felt like silk under her fingertips; the edges of its pages were gilt with silver and smelt of vanilla and spice. She knew better than to open a magic book that she didn't recognize, so instead she held it aloft and called to Harry with a quizzical look.

"Harry, is this yours? I found it the pile. Did you pick it up by mistake?"

Harry stared at the book with wide eyes, recognition burning there, but no words came out of his mouth.

She stared back down at the book, stroking its cover once more. A tingle went down her spine and she could feel her curiosity get the best of her as she reached to turn to open the cover.

"NO!" cried Harry, flinging out his hand. The book instantly tugged free from Hermione's grasp and thudded neatly into Harry's palm. At his touch, silver script began to etch across the spine of the book, but before Hermione could read the inscription, Harry had hurried muttered an odd Latin phrase and they disappeared. The whole sequence of events happened amazingly fast; Ron and Hermione didn't even have the time to see Harry pull out his wand before it was hidden in his robes again.

Ron stood a few paces behind Harry, holding two teacups in hand and a surprised expression fitting ill on his normally serious face. His fiancé sighed and looked towards their best friend. "Harry, should I even ask you what that book was, or why it responds to your touch?"

Harry merely shook his head, a ghost of smile passing across his wane features. She remember how when she first came into the room, she had taken him for dead. "Harry, will you at least promise me that it won't hurt you? I can't stand to watch you wade through evil like you have—"

"If you can't stand to watch, then look away. But don't pretend I have a choice in the matter, not when you prepare the very rituals that Albus uses to steal my soul." Hermione ducked her head down, tears picking her eyes at his cold words. When did he begin to call the headmaster by his first name?

"As for the book, I can promise that it won't harm me, but I can't promise that it won't hurt me. All things come at a price these days, 'Mione."

She nodded and dumbly took the tea from Ron's hand. His arm was around her waist, supporting her. Harry looked from Ron's arm to Hermione's face and gave a cynical grin before returning to his pacing.

Ron hurriedly removed his arm and walked over to Harry, offering him a cup of tea, which Harry accepted before returning to his favorite chair. Ron fetched his own cup of tea and hurried back to stand by Hermione, who had stationed herself in front of Harry. They were going to have to tell him sooner or later, she reasoned, and the sooner the better.

Harry, for his part, looked from one to the other with an immensely amused expression on his face, as if the entire universe had played some cosmic joke on him. His expression never changed as his friends related the whole of their story to him, save maybe that the shadows in his eyes grew darker.

For all the trouble he received for dabbling in black magic, Harry was still human. If his behavior was erratic and his temper uncontrolled, it was only because everyday he felt the strain of his world's future laid upon his shoulders.

So to his credit, he was perfectly composed for roughly five seconds after listening to what they had to say. Then he burst into hysterical laughter.

That was not what his friends were expecting. Hermione clasped and unclasped her hands with a worried expression pinching her normally soft features. "Harry? Harry, are you all right? I know that this is a lot to take in—"

Harry slowly gained control of himself, but his smirk remained. "No, 'Mione, when Hagrid announced that I was part of a secret world of wizards, that was a lot to take in. When Albus told me that I was to save the wizarding world from the greatest dark lord ever, that was a lot to take in. When he explained what I what the cost of this war would be to me, that was a lot to take in." Ron was beginning to get a bad feeling about this, and he nervously glanced over to his girlfriend, who steadfastly gazed at Harry, who continued his diatribe. "Telling me that the two of you are dating—I'm afraid that is just not going to merit a big shock quotient in my life. I knew something was going on. I'm just surprised you bothered to talk to me about it."

Ron gave a small sigh of relief. "So you're okay with us getting married?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure, get married. I'm not going to stand in your way. It really doesn't seem appropriate for me to dictate who you can fall in love with, considering my own luck with relationships. But don't think this means—"

Of course, moaned Ron in his mind, of course there's always a catch.

"Don't think this means that I'm going to support you when The Order objects. And let me assure you, they will object." He plucked his wand from his sleeve and waved two plush chairs over. The couple sank into the chairs gratefully as the realization of their defiance of The Order could lead to.

Hermione pulled her thoughts together. "But they wouldn't try to keep us apart, would they? Mrs. Weasely mentioned just the other day that she would like to see some grandchildren…" she trailed off under Harry's smug look.

"I believe, Mione, that she was referring to the fact that she would like to live to see her grandchildren. Look, this is how it is," he said, "Once the Order decides they need you, they aren't going to let you go. Ron, you have managed somehow to make yourself useful as a field agent. And Hermione, your mind is entirely too sharp for it's own good. Albus would never stand for you to be distracted by something as silly as a romantic fling."

"This isn't a fling, Harry, I've asked Hermione to marry me. As in 'til death do us part'."

Harry learned forward with a malicious grin. "That's exactly the problem, Ron. With Order business, parting often comes sooner than expected. And then what use will you be, if you're debilitated with grief?"

Ron had no answer to that, but slumped back into his chair, his hand reaching out blindly for Hermione's.

Gryffindor's golden boy continued, indifferent to the casual cruelty of his own words. "Of course, I have heard of the advantages of using a husband/wife team as field agents. Supposedly they're more in tune with each other than other partnerships, and so are more efficient." He shrugged. "All of the other husband/wife teams are getting on in years—a young couple might be just what Albus wants."

The couple shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It's now or never. Ron cleared his throat.

"Er, Harry, we—we won't be field agents after we graduate. Not like you."

"What?"

"I'm going to become an Auror, Harry. It pays well, and it's what I've always wanted to be. Hermione will work here at Hogwarts doing research to help pay for the wedding while I finish my Auror training. Moody said he'd be my sponsor. The Order could use people with Auror training, he said."

"So. You'll become one of the very bureaucrats who have always tried to manipulate me. Why am I not surprised?"

"Harry, it's not like that, and you know it."

"Traitor," He hissed, green eyes glittering.

"No," Ron maintained, "I am loyal to The Order to the very end. You know that, Harry. When the time comes for you to lead us into the final battle, I will be by your side. Hermione and I both will be there, no matter the cost."

Harry looked away, staring vacantly at some spot on the wall. "You don't know what you're saying. I will be alone the final battle. Those that do not forsake me will die; those that do not die, I will betray."

Hermione looked heart-broken. "Harry, how can you say that after everything we've been through together? After everything we've done?"

"It won't be your fault, 'Mione. That's just the way it has to be. Albus knows this."

 "Why do you keep calling the Headmaster by his first name? It's sort of disrespectful." Asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "I guess I think I've earned it. You know, one of the benefits that comes with being the sacrificial offering."

"Sometimes I just don't understand a word you say. Dumbledore would never knowingly let you die, and neither would we. I don't know why you keep accusing us of all these awful things. We're you're friends, Harry!"

"You're going to become an Auror, Ron, and you say you're my friend? The Ministry has been trying to lock me up in Azkaban for years and now you're joining them!"

"The Order thinks it'd be a good idea to have one of us with them to keep an eye on what's going on in the Ministry. Dumbledore said—"

"TO HELL WITH THE ORDER AND DUMBLEDORE!!!" Harry roared, jumping up from his seat. His green eyes blazed and magic swirled around him so thickly that it could have almost been touched. Sparks of lightning danced across Harry's robes and through his hair. Only once before had Ron and Hermione seen Harry like this, with his amazing power radiating off of him like the wizards of legend.

Harry and Malfoy had been arguing and it had escalated from a fistfight into a duel. The two boys that started the fight had managed to escape it un-cursed with only minor cuts and bruises, a little worse for the wear. The Slytherins and Gryffindors that had joined the fray to fight alongside their idols had not been so lucky though, and the hospital wing had been full for the next week.

Ron eyed Harry carefully, having also stood up. Ever so slightly he shifted in front of Hermione and slowly reached for his wand. Hermione herself stood up and peeked around Ron's protective stance. "Harry, we don't understand. Aren't you in The Order of the Phoenix with us? Didn't you create 'Dumbledore's Army'? So why then do you hate it all so much?"

"If you need to ask, then you are too blind to ever see," he sneered coldly. Where did he learn to sneer like that? It's an exact copy of the way Malfoy used to look at us. It's almost as if Harry hates us as much as he did, worried Ron. His wand was in his hand now, but if Harry went berserk, nothing would be able to stop him. He's just too damn powerful.

But the soft words of Hermione's questions calmed the Gryffindor heir and the magic that had clung to Harry a few moments before dissipated just as if Harry had tossed it aside like a cloak. He picked up his tea and resumed his pacing of the room. His two friends stared after him, not daring to move lest they accidentally trigger another of his mood swings. Harry had been on edge, constantly loosing control for at least a month. The only thing Ron was grateful for was that it seemed to keep that pure-blood prat and his goons at bay. Harry hadn't had a single altercation with them since the duel.

Harry spoke softly as he paced, but his words were clear. "My friends, my friends," he said, bitter sarcasm and deep affection in the words. "If only you knew what this war is going to cost."

"Damn it, Harry, maybe we would know if you would tell us! But you don't say anything of importance to us; you just keep muttering omens of a future we can't make sense out of! If you know something, just tell us!"

Harry hung his head, looking sulky. "If I could, don't you think I would?"

"I don't know," gritted out Ron, who was beginning to loose patience with his addled friend. "These days I just can't figure out whose side you're on anymore. Merlin, Harry, half the time you walk around school drenched in black magic! What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe you could just trust me, considering how much I've sacrificed and how many times I've put my life on the line for this stupid war to save your stupid world. Maybe, just maybe, you might realize that I'm practicing forbidden rituals because it's the only fucking way to save your ass." He shrugged and resumed pacing. "Of course, hey, whatever, I'm sure I just keep showing up at Voldemort's place because I like the kick I get off of Crutius, not because I'm destined to murder him."

"That's not what I meant and you know it; you keep twisting my words. I appreciate what you've done—"

"Sometimes I wonder. Look, the point of you coming up here was to tell me that you're going to become an Auror and marry Hermione, right? Well, I really don't bloody care. As I said before, I'm really too busy to worry about who's fucking who and quite frankly, I thought you both had enough on your plates to have the time to juggle a romance as well. All in all, I don't care. Go, get married, become the Minister of Magic if you want. You have my blessing and undoubtedly The Order's curse. I've just got too much on my mind for this crap."

"Well, then, we'll just get out of your way." Ron's voice was flat with pent-up anger. He stood up and pulled Hermione up with him. Harry said nothing in reply. Hermione walked to the desk and picked up several of the ancient books. "Harry, I'm going to take these with me to Snape's office. You'll remember to go down there tonight, won't you?"

Harry just nodded, still silent.

"Okay then, we'll just go then." The couple walked out the door, shoulders tense, as if they expected Harry to throw a curse at their backs. But they left without trouble, hurrying down the passageway and pushing aside the tapestry to escape into the vacant hallway.

Harry set down his tea once more and collapsed again into his favorite chair. He ran his hand through his limp hair, mussing it up even more. "It's safe to come out now," he muttered.

A boy materialized from the corner of the room, an invisibility cloak sliding in silver folds from his shoulders. His school robes were elegant and custom-tailored; his movements were controlled. Mercury eyes darted around the room before finally falling on the sprawled figure of the Gryffindor seeker. He tossed his colorless hair and crossed his arms, every inch of him looking like the aristocratic pure-blood prince that he was. "They think you're crazy, Potter."

Harry laughed weakly. "It doesn't matter. Despite what they say, they think I'm loyal to Dumbledore."

"Optimistic Gryffindors." He staid it like an elegant curse, and then froze for a moment in the fading afternoon sun, his pale countenance painted amber. After a lengthy silence, he finally turned back toward Harry. "My Lord grows impatient, Potter."

"Yes, I know. I can feel it. And at night," His viridian eyes closed and his calloused fingers ghosted over his scar. "At night I can see it. What does he want to know?"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "Everything. Really, sometimes you're an idiot, Potter."

Harry smiled. No one else these days spoke to him that way. It was refreshing. "Okay, let me try a different question. What is the minimum I can give him?"

"Nothing. You're still being an idiot, Potter."

"Damn it, Draco, you know what I mean! What's the minimum I can give him without him killing you for being useless an informant?"

"Oh, that's different. He would need the name of a spy."

Harry frowned. "No, I can't do that."

Draco Malfoy shrugged and walked to the windowsill, summoning his broom from the ground. "It's been lovely doing business with you, then. But as you know, I'm late for my own execution."

"Austria," Harry mumbled, staring at his cold tea that sat un-tasted on the side table.

"What?"

"Austria. In two months, one of our members will be infiltrating Voldemort's base in Austria. It's supposed to be a crippling blow against your side. I'll give you the details as I soon as I know them, so you can intercept our agent." He sighed heavily. "Is that enough? Can you go to him with that?"

Draco nodded.

"Good. What have you to give me in exchange?"

The Slytherin prince picked up the book that Harry had been so protective of. "Turn to page 73. The password is raptus regaliter. You'll find what you need there."

Gryffindor's golden boy raised his eyebrows at the incantation. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Draco raised one eyebrow in response. "I'm rather surprised that you even know what those words mean, considering your marks in school. But no, it's not supposed to be funny. It's supposed to be a promise." He climbed onto his broom and flew away then, intent on heading into the Forbidden Forest and apparating to the Death Eater meeting from there.

Harry sipped his tea, thinking over the day's events. Hermione and him researching an ancient ritualistic spell, his discovery of what it would do to him if he used it, the realization that he would use it anyway, the news of his two best friends' engagement to each other and Ron's decision to become an Auror, and now—and now he betrayed the Order yet again, in order to save his childhood rival. By the same measure, his beloved enemy risked everything to give him the final key to the puzzle to destroy himself. Raptus regaliter. Royally screwed.

A/N:

This story is PG-13 now, but I'm thinking of changing it to R, you know, for the hell of it. How freaked out would you guys be if I included a slash couple? Of course, I'd keep Ron/Hermione the main focus of the story. The more reviews I get, the faster I post.