Disclaimer: Still not mine…

Constant Vigilance

The days passed swiftly. The teens studied and trained in Defense, Charms, Occlumency, Legilimency, Potions and Transfiguration. They searched much of the house, hoping to find the Horcrux locket, or any clues about Regulus. They occasionally spent evenings with the twins at Mrs. Figg's, watching films. They watched Star Wars, James Bond, Star Trek and other science fiction shows, looking for ideas. The twins worked feverishly in their workshop every spare moment, developing new inventions, hoping to find something to give them an advantage in the upcoming battles. They discussed communication devices, self-defense and protective shielding options, rescue Portkeys, first aid, and even potions.

"Wonder what'd happen if we slipped a little 'Love Potion Number 9' in Voldy's tea," Fred pondered. "Since love is supposed to be our 'edge' here."

"Who would he love?" George queried.

"Harry, of course," Fred scoffed.

"Too bad we can't test it on Snape first."

"No telling what kind of effect that would have on gits with the emotional range of a teaspoon," Ron grinned, winking at Hermione.

"Nothing can create real love," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's just a type of obsession. And Voldemort is already obsessed with Harry. It would probably just make his desire to kill him even stronger."

"Too bad we couldn't put a little essence of Bellatrix in it," Ron mused. "They'd be too busy with each other to care what else is going on. We could sneak up on them and they'd never know what hit 'em."

"Isn't it odd," Ginny said, looking repulsed, "that Riddle never tried to father his own race of super evil offspring? Aren't children a way of achieving immortality? Knowing your genetic material lives on?"

"Except now his genetic material contains my blood, Wormtail's hand and his father's bones." Harry shook his head. "Those would be some severely messed up kids. Eeerghh."

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "So of Voldemort's genetic makeup, he has your blood--which he wanted for your mother's sacrificial protection, a hand from a known traitor who owes you a life debt, old Muggle bones, and his own rudimentary body with a remnant of a soul. Hermione, let's plan to research the magical properties of those components. There have got to be some weaknesses. Bodies are not made to be reincarnated. We also need to look through Lily's things to see if we can find the exact charm she used on Harry as a baby."

"You know," Harry said, "the things Dumbledore said when he was drinking the Horcrux potion in the cave are along the same lines as what I hear in my mind when dementors get close. I hear my mum's voice, offering her life instead of mine. That's what Dumbledore said, too. He said, 'Don't hurt them, take me instead,' or something like that. Did you see that in the Pensieve, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione said, confused. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"Maybe it wasn't a charm," Harry said. "She was a dab hand at potions, too, according to Slughorn, right?"

At Lupin's thoughtful nod, Harry continued, pacing. "Maybe she and Dumbledore knew of a potion that allowed sacrificial protection. I don't know, it's just been bugging me. I hear her, and I hear Dumbledore, saying the same words, and then the flash of green light. I don't know, I'm suspicious of coincidences. I wish we knew what that Horcrux potion was. I could have Dobby get my Potions book from the Room of Requirement…" Harry jerked to a stop. "Oh, I really am stupid," he moaned. "That bloody Vanishing Cabinet was in there when I went to hide my book." He shook his head. "Why didn't I notice it had been fixed? Hindsight is 20/20, isn't it," he said irritably.

He paused for a moment and added thoughtfully, "You wouldn't believe the amount of stuff in that room when it's a hiding place, though. It'd be interesting to wander about in there and see what else I overlooked. There might be something useful in there."

"Next meeting, let's talk McGonagall into letting us into Hogwarts for a bit," Ron said. "Hermione can talk her into it, begging for the library."

Ginny just stared at them. "Have you forgotten where the other cabinet is? It's here, remember? We can go any old time we feel like it."

Harry could have kissed her. And very well might have, if they hadn't been in a room full of people. "Actually," he thought as his gaze wandered over her. "I wonder what snogging in the Vanishing Cabinet would lead to…" As his guilty eyes met Ginny's, he felt the feather-light touch of her mind touching his. Occlumency had not been working for him. He simply could not repel a Legilimancy invasion without years of bad memories surfacing for the "attacker" to see. Hermione usually ended up in tears after witnessing the worst of them. The girls had been launching sneak attacks to try to get him to throw up his mental defenses accidentally, as he'd done with Snape, hoping that would help him learn to block them intentionally. Ron adamantly refused, saying there was no way he wanted to see what was inside Harry's head these days with Ginny around.

This time, Harry tried to project an image of the Vanishing Cabinet with himself and Ginny in it. She grinned at him, but then frowned in confusion. Harry could feel prickling as she attempted stronger intrusion, but he concentrated on the cabinet, and the feelings he wanted to express to her.

"Harry!" she said delightedly. "You're blocking me! Let me try... Legilimens!"

Startled at first, Harry provided no resistance. Then he consciously tried to picture the cabinet again. He could feel her sneaking around the edges, trying to burrow further into his mind. He used a technique that he used to conjure a Patronus, concentrating on the love he felt for her. "Awesome!" Ginny squealed. "You're doing it! You're projecting a single image and not letting me see anything else. Weird, though, the way you Shield. It feels like getting hit by a Patronus."

Hermione smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, of course! That makes sense! While the rest of us are able to build a mental wall to keep people out, Harry needs a container to keep his thoughts and memories in."

Harry eyed her warily. "What's the difference?"

"Well, it's really just a different technique," Hermione explained. "This is psychology, it's how the human brain works. Everyone is different, obviously. Now, for most people, negative things stand out in our memories more than positive, simply because our lives are mostly at an even keel and fairly positive."

Hermione took her wand and drew what looked like a large capital 'L' in the air and proceeded to create a line graph, adding hash marks and numbers.

"Okay, let's take Ginny for an example." Hermione started a line on the number two. "We'll just start here at medium happy, because we you were a happy baby who got lots of attention. Now we coast along, mainly still at a two, dipping slightly for disappointments here and there, bobbing up for happy occasions like birthdays and Christmases. Now at age eleven, we'll make a considerable dip, but since then, a gradual rise back up to the two, again, back to pretty much even keel. It's Newton's first law of motion, really. A body in motion tends to stay on the same path unless acted on by an outside force. Now, as homeostatic machines, we automatically apply the counter force which eventually brings us back to the path we were on, more or less."

Hermione swished her wand and drew a new graph. "Now Harry's life may have initially started out as a two, like Ginny's, but it took this sharp downward turn early on. His life got stuck down here in the negative numbers until he was eleven. By then, his path had been permanently altered."

"So while the rest of us can block with the few strong negative feelings, Harry has to do the opposite. He needs to use some strong positive emotions to contain all the negative. It's obviously a technique he's accustomed to using, or he'd have turned out like Snape."

"What?" Tonks looked at Hermione like some bizarre exhibit at the zoo. "What on earth does Harry have to do with Snape?"

Hermione sighed. "Alright. Hypothetically, let's take three little boys. Just for fun, we'll give them all dark hair and pale skin. Oh, and they're all half-bloods. Now, the first one is raised without parents at all, in an orphanage. He learns to appreciate power and glory and hates all things common. The second one is raised with an abusive alcoholic father who beat his mother and taught him only fear and intimidation. The third one is a combination. He is raised without parents, and neglected, if not downright abused. Tell me how three similar boys with similarly sad beginnings ended up so different? Why didn't Harry end up bitter and twisted like Voldemort or Snape?"

Harry felt weird, analyzing his life as though it was someone else's.

"Dumbledore said disinterest and neglect often do more damage than outright dislike," he said slowly. "So, er, boy number three was lucky to be so disliked? Nah, I don't think so...

"Dumbledore also said 'to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever'. Perhaps boy number three's only advantage was the first year of his life?"

"All the more reason to find that spell your mum used," Tonks said. "Maybe she found a way to leave you a part of herself, to help you make good choices. Like giving you her conscience or something. It'd only be fair, since you got your dad as a Patronus." She grinned. "We know there's something of them in you besides their DNA.

"Yeah, yeah, Mum's eyes," Harry said dully.

"Eyes are windows to the soul, Harry," Lupin said gently, pointedly meeting Harry's gaze.

Harry lay wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Eyes are windows to the soul… and I have my mum's eyes… What does that mean? If Mum found a spell to give me part of her soul, am I her Horcrux?

What if I'm one of Voldemort's Horcruxes? Obviously he was preparing to make one that night he gave me this scar. What if he did his preparations, went to kill me, the curse rebounded and hit him, which ripped his soul from his body. His soul must have sizzled through my brain to leave stuff behind like that, what if it stayed? Would I know? Harry tormented himself, tossing and turning restlessly. He felt guilty when Ron sat up.

"Sorry, I don't mean to keep you awake," Harry apologized.

"S'alright." Ron yawned groggily. "Anything I can help with? Or should I get Ginny for you?"

Harry was surprised. "Who are you and what have you done with the overprotective brotherly Ron?"

Ron suddenly grinned conspiratorially. "I don't know, but this Ron wouldn't mind visiting his girlfriend so you could talk to yours."

Harry smiled. "You think they're still up?"

"Only one way to find out!" Ron said. He slipped out of the room and padded down the hall. A few minutes later, a different tousled redhead slipped back in and silently shut the door.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Ginny sounded sleepily concerned.

"Sorry to wake you, it's nothing, my brain just keeps spinning," Harry sat up. "I was keeping Ron up with my tossing and turning, and he volunteered to fetch you so you could babysit me."

"You want to talk about it?" Ginny moved to sit next to him.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. When it stops spinning long enough to make sense, I'll let you know." He smiled and reached for her. "It might help me to concentrate on something else for awhile," he suggested.

"Really?" Ginny queried facetiously, "You want to study or something?"

"Only if I can study you," Harry quipped.

"Ah, but that would take years and years," she returned.

"If I have them, they're yours," Harry whispered, nuzzling her neck. "I love you, Gin."

Ginny squirmed, giggling when he reached a ticklish spot, "I love you, too."

Harry pulled her over to straddle his lap. Ginny's arms slid up around his bare shoulders as their lips met. His fingers found the hem of her shirt and then the band of silk where her shorts met skin. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own, traveling upwards, stroking the warm, bare skin of her waist and ribs. His thumbs automatically stopped when they reached the point where he should have encountered a familiar elastic barrier. He froze. She wasn't wearing a bra. He hesitated, then allowed his thumbs to trace under the soft curves. Emboldened, his thumbs crept up in their exploration, causing Ginny to suck in her breath. Her nails had dug into the skin of his back, and she moaned softly as he caressed these new, intriguingly sensitive areas. He hardly noticed when Ginny's trembling fingers shifted and quickly unbuttoned her pajama top, but as his lips and tongue teased along her neck and collarbone, he couldn't resist the opportunity the open top provided.

Ginny gasped. Somehow they'd shifted and were now lying on the bed. Her body arched and responded of its own accord as his lips created a path of fire down to her navel and back up, boldly exploring, encouraged by her responses.

Harry lay down next to her, gently kissing her lips again when she turned to him. Her pupils were dilated with desire. He ran his fingers through her long, silky hair until their breathing had returned to normal. "Well, that's one way of shutting off my brain," he murmured, lightly tracing her jawline with his fingers.

"Why did you stop?" Ginny asked. She respected him for it, really, but couldn't help feeling a bit frustrated as well.

"Ginny, you're fifteen," Harry said. "It isn't even legal." She huffed irritably and rolled her eyes, but Harry continued. "Gin, c'mon... I haven't a clue what I'm doing. I don't want to rush either of us into anything. We already have so much to handle... I don't know that I could concentrate on much else if I was constantly picturing you naked! You can be very distracting," he said seriously.

Ginny sighed. "I'm only fifteen for another month, you know. Hmm..."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Shall we see how much torment I can inflict on you in a month to try changing your mind?" she asked mischievously, her fingers tracing meandering circles around his chest and stomach.

"Hey wait, now shouldn't we both want to be responsible and, and... honorable here?" Harry caught her wandering fingers.

"Oh no," Ginny purred. "As you pointed out, I'm only fifteen. Therefore, I still have a month to be immature, irresponsible, and just plain naughty!" She grinned triumphantly.

He pushed her to her side and tucked himself around her. "Stay there," he ordered, exasperated. "And keep your hands to yourself!"

"Spoilsport," she whispered.

"Jailbait," he retorted.

Laughing softly, they whispered each other to sleep.