Chapter 24: Creatures and Comfort

Easter at the Burrow had started off the same way for Harry. Mrs Weasley had him and Ron move the table outside, for there were far too many people present to have any sort of meal in the kitchen. Charlie and Ginny were put on casting warming charms. The twins and Sirius were supposed to be doing warding charms against the gnomes that resisted being tossed out of the garden earlier in the day. They grew far too distracted with each other, so Percy, Bill, and a haughty Fleur did the job instead.

They all sat around the table now, Harry quiet in his seat between Pansy and Sirius as he opted to listen in on all the conversations that happened around him. Ginny had told everyone at the beginning of the holiday that she was seeing someone, so Fred and George took to teasing Ron, Charlie, and each other for their sister bringing home a girl before any of them did.

Ginny's ears glowed red anew every time someone asked her anything about Sophie. Harry laughed when Fred said "Let's be real, the last thing Mum needed to deal with under this roof is one more boy."

"Come off it, Fred." George elbowed him with a grin. "Open mind, open options."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Fred jabbed him back before gesturing across the table at Harry and Sirius. "Mum's going to start losing count of all the strays we bring home."

"How dare you!" George stood up, drawing attention from everyone. "We all agreed we would never tell Harry he was adopted!"

Harry nearly choked on his ham from the force of his laughter. Sirius howled with it so loudly to his right that Harry figured a ring might set in on his ear. Even Mrs Weasley spluttered up by the end of the table, her face red and a hand on her chest. She'd been in the middle of taking a drink of water. It wasn't going so well for her now.

"Hey Harry," Fred said when everyone had calmed down. "Did Dad tell you the news?"

"Er, no." Harry didn't think he'd heard anything today that qualified as news.

"Still not official," Mr Weasley told Fred. "And I didn't tell you anything, you overheard it and cobbled something together all on your own."

"It's called investigative journalism," Fred replied. "Why won't you just tell everyone? You said you were going to talk to Madam Bones on Tuesday afternoon."

"Taking the job, then?" Harry put it together on his own as well.

"Well, this meeting is more to get an overview of the position—"

"Tell Harry the other thing." George grinned, then nudged Ron. "Ron's gonna love this. Guess who Dad's assistant is going to be."

Mr Weasley raised his eyebrows as he peered at George overtop his glasses. "He won't be an assistant. He'll be a consultant."

"A consultant that organizes your schedule. I mean, he does have prior experience. . ."

"George." Mrs Weasley sharply jumped in. "Stop being so rude. It's a prestigious position that anyone would want."

Undeterred, George leaned over toward Ron's ear. He mouthed the name Harry suspected, and Ron snorted so hard he was lucky lamb didn't come up out of his nose.

Sirius turned similarly to Harry. "What're we missing?"

"Lucius Malfoy," Harry whispered back.

Because he too was an employee of Magical Enforcement, Harry tried to remain professional like Mr Weasley about the whole thing. He needed to hide a little smile behind the rim of his water glass when an unsolicited mental image of a haughty Mr Malfoy following Mr Weasley with a pile of parchment in his arms rose in his mind.

Harry leaned back in his seat with an arm along the back of Pansy's chair, debating undoing his belt, when the Burrow's kitchen door opened. He didn't think much of it since people had been in and out for things like the toilet, but a myriad of second-glances followed by serious or bewildered expressions got Harry's attention. Ron said oh, fuck at the same time Harry's stomach dropped.

Draco approached the table, so pale that Harry couldn't see the line between his forehead and hair. Something splattered over his white shirt, which Harry doubted was as innocent as gravy or wine. Draco was winded, as if he'd run here all the way from Wiltshire.

"I am so sorry to barge in like this," he said to the stone-silent table before his gaze met Harry's. "You need to come."

Harry already stood. He looked Draco over in the dim light when he got closer. Sure enough, the droplets were dried blood. There was more on his hands.

"Side-along?" Harry suggested. "Where are we going, Malfoy Manor?"

Draco nodded and put a hand around the elbow Harry offered him. Harry braced himself as he focused completely on the portico. What did he expect to find? Was someone dead? Was Draco in too deep of shock to have really processed anything yet?

They slipped away from the Burrow and reappeared about seventy miles northeast a split-second later. The night didn't feel much different here, although the sky was darker. Draco's first inhale beside Harry shuddered.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort," Draco replied with a gravelly voice. "He just—come on."

Draco opened the front door of the manor house. Harry strode in after him. The foyer looked different from any other time he'd visited. It was twice the size, and more portraits than just Abraxas Malfoy hung on the wall. The decor seemed—older wasn't the right word, but definitely more classic than modern. Harry's footsteps echoed off the marble floors as Draco led him under the stairs toward the great room.

Subdued voices came from ahead, although silenced as Harry and Draco approached. Williamson was already here, as was Kingsley. Draco wasn't the only one that looked in a state of shock. A man and woman around the same age as Mr and Mrs Malfoy sat on a couch with Mr Nott. The woman looked enough like Daphne and Astoria Greengrass that Harry immediately assumed these to be their parents. The girls were there too, pale on another couch with Theodore Nott. Andromeda and Ted were off on their own. Mr Malfoy talked to Kingsley and Tonks, the latter of whom remained dressed as if this party still went on.

Mr Malfoy had taken the brunt of the blood, by the looks of it. A solid line of it ran up his robes. He kept wiping at his neck with a handkerchief. It turned brown and coppery where the blood had smeared and dried.

The ones missing from the room that Harry expected to be present were Dagmar, Hildegard, and Narcissa.

"Go sit over there," Harry told Draco with a point toward Theodore, Daphne, and Astoria. He approached Kingsley, Tonks, and Mr Malfoy. "What happened?"

"Voldemort slashed Hildegard's throat at dinner," Kingsley quietly answered. "She's at St Mungo's."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Is she all right?"

"We haven't heard yet." Kingsley glanced at Mr Malfoy. "Go sit down, Lucius."

"Of course." Mr Malfoy had the same faraway look that Draco had. He kept on wiping at his neck as he floated away.

"Where are Narcissa and Dagmar?" Harry asked. "Voldemort?"

"Narcissa went to see about Hildegard." Tonks folded her arms. "Voldemort—well. I think he and Dagmar are still unconscious. Siegenthaler stunned him as soon as she realized what happened. He came out of nowhere. I didn't notice him either. Even the screams. . .everyone was having a good time, I thought it was just. . ."

She trailed off and shook her head. Lips pressed, Tonks looked over at her parents. She sighed.

"Voldemort and Dagmar are in the drawing room," Kingsley answered the question Tonks hadn't. "To be honest Harry, we don't really need you at the moment. Everything's under control. This was more to humour Draco. He wouldn't hear otherwise. If you want to go back to wherever he found you, I can come by and collect you once we're ready to talk to Voldemort—if he's even willing to chat. For now, we're just getting the story and waiting to hear about Hildegard. I want to say she'll be fine, since it was a non-magical attack with a non-magical weapon, but we can't say for certain right now."

Harry nodded slowly. He chewed on his bottom lip, already well-aware he wasn't going anywhere unless forced. He'd lost his appetite. It touched Harry strangely that he was the first person Draco thought of for help. At the same time, it made him anxious. What was he supposed to do? Harry couldn't go back in time to fix it. He couldn't force Voldemort to leave Dagmar. In fact, this attack might have some consequences that affected her.

"I'll stick around," Harry told Kingsley.

He approached where Draco and the other three had tucked themselves away. Harry wished he had something worth the hopeful look they all gave him. Maybe it was enough that they seemed to calm down. Clarity returned to their eyes.

Harry folded his arms. "Is there somewhere else in the house we could go? You know, get away from all of this? Get some breathing room?"

"Erm." Draco rubbed his forehead before running his fingers back through his hair. "I don't know. My dad's study. The eastern suite upstairs. My old room."

"It has a balcony, doesn't it?" Harry asked. "We could get some fresh air."

"Yeah."

Draco sounded distracted, but that was to be expected. Theodore, Daphne, and Astoria stood as well, although Theodore stopped Daphne with a hand on her elbow.

"Maybe you should go home," he suggested. "It's probably not good for you, all this stress."

Daphne placed a mindless hand on her stomach. "What about you?"

"I should stay with Draco."

"You can go," Draco said. "It's okay. I'll be okay."

He clearly wouldn't. Harry and Theodore realized that about the same time, given their gazes met.

"I'm staying," Harry told him. "You'll know where to find us if you come back."

Theodore bunched his lips off to the side as he studied Harry. Ultimately he nodded, placing a hand on the small of Daphne's back. He looked over at Astoria. "Did you want to come with us, or are you going with your parents?"

"Erm. . ." She shrugged. "It doesn't look like they're ready to move. Maybe I'll ask."

While they sorted out their own logistics, Harry gave Draco a gentle tug at the elbow. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

Draco definitely needed instruction right now to sort himself out. Harry felt weird leading him through his own house. He remembered where Draco's room was, although had never been in there before. Harry ignored the feeling of being an invader when he opened the door. Draco brushed past him in the doorway and kept on for the balcony door. Harry followed.

There were a couple chairs out there, and a small table. The evening had cooled considerably with Harry's waning adrenaline. A lack of warming charms didn't help. He set about fixing that while Draco lingered toward the balcony's centre. Draco had settled into a shiver that reached his teeth. Harry doubted it was solely due to the cold. His gaze had gone too long.

"Sit down," Harry told Draco.

He decided to wing how to act when comforting a victim. Right now, too much was better than too little. It wasn't only important to Harry that he get this right because of his profession. Draco was—well, his friend, Harry supposed. He pulled the comforter off the bed inside and returned to the balcony. Harry regretted telling Draco to sit then, because he needed to stand again to get the blanket fully around him.

It was a good decision. Draco burrowed deeper into it, the blanket coming up far enough to touch his ears. His shivering lessened. His stare remained a bit long, but some sort of life returned to it. He looked over at Harry when he sat down beside him.

Draco exhaled through his nose and briefly closed his eyes. "Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. Kingsley was right. He and Tonks had it all under control."

"It's fine." Harry paused. "It's my job. I told you to let me know if Voldemort came about."

Draco nodded, slow and mindless. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. His chin still trembled a bit from his shivering. When he spoke, his voice had gone raspy. "She'll be all right, won't she? Hildegard?"

"I couldn't tell you. I didn't see what happened, and I didn't look in on the dining room."

"There was so much blood."

"I bet."

Harry didn't know what else to say. He'd never seen an injury like that before, unless when Peter cut his hand off in Little Hangleton counted. Still, it took seconds more so than minutes to bleed out from a major artery like the carotid.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Draco asked again.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Did she go to St Mungo's right away?"

Draco nodded. "She was already. . ."

"Unconscious?"

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I shouldn't be up here," Draco said. "I should be down there. What if Dagmar wakes up? She'll need me."

"They're probably keeping her unconscious. It would be easier than trying to either console her or deal with Voldemort. If I was running the whole thing, I'd want them to stay under until we found out what's going on with Hildegard."

"She can't die." Draco's eyes gleamed in the minimal light coming out from his bedroom. "Dagmar would be devastated. She already blames herself for her dad being dead. She'd never be the same if she killed her mum with her own hand."

"It wasn't her."

"You really think she'll care, Potter?"

Harry stayed quiet. Of course it wouldn't matter to Dagmar.

They sat there in relative silence for a while. Draco sniffled and pressed his face into his blanket, using it to clean up any moisture that escaped his eyes. Every once in a while he'd say something, usually about how good things had been going or what a great day today had been until this happened. Harry just nodded, letting Draco say what he needed to. It seemed to help more than anything Harry could possibly say.

Draco's chin snapped up what felt like hours later, his eye having caught something through his bedroom window. Harry leaned to see past the space of wall between the window and balcony door. Narcissa poked her head into the room. Her gaze met Harry's, and she let herself in. Draco was already nearly to the door, his blanket forgotten. Harry followed inside.

"Mum." Draco's voice cracked. "Is she all right?"

"She will be."

Narcissa rubbed her eyes with one hand. She looked as tired as Draco, although had a dreamy quality about her. The slightly monotone note in her voice made Harry suspect she might have been given a Calming Draught at the hospital.

"Is she here?" Harry asked.

"She's going to stay the night at St Mungo's," Narcissa replied. "They had to repair her windpipe and arteries. She was unconscious for a while, but they think that was more to do with shock than blood loss. Lydia had sealed everything with a spell before she apparated Hildegard to the hospital. I think it stopped the worst of it."

"That's good," Harry found it in himself to say.

"She was conscious when I left." Narcissa sat down beside Draco. "Out of it, though. Calming Draught, and they're going to give her a Potion for Dreamless Sleep for the night. Blood-Replenishing Potion, something called Oxyvitality. . ."

Harry studied her, paying particular attention to her long gaze. "Are you all right, Narcissa?"

"They gave me something at the hospital to calm me down." (As Harry had figured.) "I'm just tired. Shocked, I suppose. It was such a good night until then. I thought these sorts of things were behind us now. Perhaps we shouldn't have gotten so comfortable with him still around."

"Don't blame yourselves," Harry said. "Tonks said she missed it too. And Siegenthaler must have, if Voldemort got as far as he did before being stunned."

"I had my hand on her." Draco's voice turned hollow. "I was touching her. I should've known. Stupid Quidditch. Astoria and I shouldn't have been talking about that."

"It's not your fault, Draco."

His first name seemed to jar Draco out of his thoughts. He looked up at Harry, but didn't say anything. His gaze darted back and forth in search for authenticity. Maybe when he found it, Draco broke eye contact in favour of staring at his hands in his lap. Harry realized then that he'd completely forgotten about cleaning Draco up. With a point of his wand and whispered incantation, the dried, red blotches on Draco's hands vanished. They disappeared from his clothes too, as Harry tended to those next.

Narcissa put an arm around Draco. "I think you should stay here tonight."

"What?" Draco's head lifted again. "No. What about Dagmar?"

"Draco." Narcissa spoke softly, but Harry could hear her reticence. "You two really shouldn't be sharing a bed."

"That's bollocks," Draco snapped, spine straightening. "I'm not leaving her alone with him, especially now. What do you think she's going to go through once she wakes up? Even if her mum's okay, that was a close call."

Narcissa looked up at Harry, then so did Draco. While they waited for him to settle the score, Harry cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair.

"We don't know what happened yet," he said. "Something might have even changed in the time since we came upstairs. We don't know if Dagmar was awake when it happened, or how long it was actually Voldemort sitting there. If Voldemort's going to pose a danger, you might not be allowed around him. He nearly killed someone tonight. He could've just as easily attacked you."

"I don't care." Draco stood up. "He didn't, and Hildegard is fine anyway. It happened at dinner. There aren't any knives hidden in our bed. You or anyone else can check."

"We'll figure out what's going on, but you should prepare yourself for that to be a no-go," Harry replied. "It's not my call. It'll be up to Kingsley and maybe even Madam Bones. Dagmar and Voldemort are allowed to stay here and at Ramstad Manor because of extenuating circumstances. If Voldemort is going to act like this, he's going to lose certain freedoms."

"But that's not fair to Dagmar."

"No, it's not. But after this with her mum, she might rather be safe than sorry."

Draco's face fell. He took a few steps away from Harry, running his hands up over his cheeks. While he absorbed that, Harry sighed.

"There are too many possibilities to sort it out by just standing here," he said. "I'm going back downstairs to see what Kingsley has to say. You and I both know, Draco, Dagmar's not going to let you put yourself in a vulnerable position after this."

"You're not going to make her go to Azkaban, are you?"

"Not my call." Privately, Harry thought that if anything could expedite this process of getting Voldemort out of Dagmar, it would be that. "Just wait up here."

Harry headed downstairs. The great room had emptied out for the most part, replacing the Greengrass family and Theodore with more Aurors. Madam Bones had arrived too. She stood with Kingsley over toward the drawing room, and nodded at Harry in greeting when he approached.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Has anything changed?"

"I just came from St Mungo's," Madam Bones replied. "Hildegard was asleep."

"That's probably for the best." Harry sighed. "What about Voldemort? What're we doing with him now? Draco asked if this means he and Dagmar are going to Azkaban."

"Well, something needs to be done." Madam Bones folded her arms and looked toward the drawing room door. "He's getting off completely easy. Yes, we have him essentially incarcerated. He's able to sleep through everything, and then just spring up whenever he feels like assaulting somebody. This is so complicated with Dagmar. No doubt if we put them in Azkaban to try and pressure Voldemort to move along, he would just leave her as the one to suffer."

"Yeah."

"I think it's time to wake them up," Madam Bones said. "We can see where Dagmar's mind is on all of this. She should know that her mum is going to be all right, if she's even aware anything happened. Who knows, she might just volunteer for a higher security option if she's properly spooked by tonight's events."

Harry followed Madam Bones and Kingsley into the drawing room. Williamson and Gawain had arrived at some point, and Siegenthaler had returned from St Mungo's. Someone had transfigured one of the room's chairs into a couch, upon which Dagmar laid. She was far too well-dressed for this situation, like everyone else. Some of her hair had come loose from the braided bun thing she had it pulled back in. She'd evidently been spelled clean, although the blood would've probably hidden well on her dress anyway. Dagmar's expression was smooth, her lips slightly parted. Her chest gently rose and fell, as if she only slept.

Madam Bones pointed her wand at her. "Surgosio."

Dagmar's next breath pulled in long. Harry stiffened, braced for sudden screaming or whatever else Dagmar's most extreme reaction might be as everything came down on her at once. Her eyelids fluttered. Harry had to school his reaction to see that the iris colour matched the dress. Voldemort blinked, then looked around. He paused when his gaze fell on the three of them.

"Hello, Minister," he greeted Madam Bones with a hint of humour. "Kingsley. Potter."

"I don't suppose there's much point asking what that was about?" Madam Bones replied.

"I take it Hildegard survived. You'd be much more upset if she hadn't."

"She's fine, yes. Is Dagmar around?"

Voldemort studied the three of them again. Harry held his gaze when it landed on him. Even though the stymy in Voldemort's arm meant he couldn't actually use Legilimency on anyone, Harry habitually calmed his emotions. He couldn't tell if that was why Voldemort smiled, although his amusement seemed to grow. Voldemort rolled onto his side, head propped up on his elbow.

"Maybe she is," he said. "Maybe she isn't."

"Could we rely on you to explain why she's in Azkaban when she comes about, then?" Madam Bones asked. "Your only hope of not going there tonight is for her to talk me out of it. She doesn't deserve to go, no matter what you've done, and we all know how much you love hiding behind that."

Voldemort's gaze dulled in time with his straightening expression. He eyed Madam Bones like a predator from beneath his brow ridge. Harry could see his internal debate play out in the stretching silence. Eventually, he rolled his eyes with a long exhale. He closed them. Something in his expression flickered before it softened.

Dagmar paled, stiffened, and looked them all over. She pushed herself to sit upright, eyes already brimming.

"She's dead, isn't she?" she hoarsely asked.

"No," Madam Bones told her. "Your mum will be fine. She's at St Mungo's for the night, but they patched her up."

It didn't seem to matter, as far as Dagmar being upset went. Her shoulders trembled with the tired force of it. Harry wished he could sit down next to her, but he sincerely doubted Voldemort had made himself completely scarce. It would be just like him to come back around if Harry put himself within strangling distance. Azkaban was already on the table (so he thought, anyway; Harry figured that Madam Bones strategically bluffed), so he didn't really have much else to lose.

"I'm sorry," Dagmar managed. "It's all my fault. I felt him wake up, and I hesitated. He took over before I could say anything to anyone."

"It's all right." Madam Bones softened. "No one blames you. Voldemort already took credit for it anyway. Did he tell you why he did that?"

Dagmar shook her head. Black lines ran down her cheeks. Her expression had quickly gone the same way everyone else's did, long with shock. "I thought he was going to hurt Draco because his hand was on my thigh. He said he didn't like being touched like that."

The right side of Harry's face pinched as he parsed that out. He couldn't see how something like that would create the leap from hurting Draco to Hildegard. Perhaps Voldemort had just seen the opportunity to hurt someone, and he deemed Hildegard his personal choice between the two.

"I know you're upset right now, but we need to discuss how to move forward from this," Madam Bones said. "Obviously, our current security measures to keep Voldemort in check are not stringent enough. He was still able to nearly murder someone tonight. We can no longer take for granted that you'll have enough of a heads up to warn somebody he's around."

Dagmar's face crumpled again. New streaks of tears further lengthened the mascara and eyeliner running down her cheeks. They reached her jaw now. "I'm sorry."

"Under normal circumstances, Azkaban would be a no-brainer. I'm open to a middle-ground, but there need to be more restrictions. Do you understand?"

Dagmar nodded, sniffling. "Do you think it'll help to send me to Azkaban?"

Madam Bones hesitated, during which Harry pulled his bottom lip back in between his teeth. His heart rate picked up as dread settled in his stomach. He didn't want to see Dagmar out there for something she couldn't control. Harry certainly didn't want to break that sort of news to Draco if Dagmar volunteered.

"You could send me." Dagmar's tone fell flat with fatigue borne of defeat. "I can't do this anymore. He's just going to keep taking from me until I have nothing left. These half-measures aren't working. If it'll get him out of me, I'll do it. I'll go."

Kingsley cleared his throat. "It doesn't need to be a decision made in haste. Everyone's upset right now. Why don't we leave it for tonight? We have a scheduled ferry running to Azkaban on Tuesday, with Bellatrix. There's room for Voldemort on there if it comes to that. We might come up with something better in the meantime once we're all thinking a bit more clearly."

Harry half-expected Voldemort to manifest intent on goading them, but he seemed to have derived all enjoyment he could out of this evening.

When Kingsley told Harry to go home, Harry hesitated toward it. He didn't really want to be here when Draco learned Azkaban was on the table, but he also didn't want him to be alone. Harry left the drawing room torn, although slowed when he stepped out into the great room. Luca and Zabini were there.

"Hey," Harry greeted them as they converged. "I'd ask if you're all right, but. . ."

Zabini sighed. "Theo wrote me about what happened. Hildegard's all right, though?"

Harry nodded. He spared them the details, for he wasn't sure how invested Luca was in the news. As far as Harry knew, they had yet to speak or see each other.

"What about Draco and Dagmar?"

"Messes, but otherwise all right." Harry pointed a thumb back at the drawing room. "Dagmar's going to be sequestered for the night, so I don't know if you'll get to see her or not. She's doing it voluntarily so things can get sorted. Draco was up in his room, last I saw him."

"Yeah, that's where we're going. I think Theo and Daphne were ahead of us. We just flooed in from Romania."

Both looked like they'd dressed in a hurry, now Zabini mentioned it. Harry just assumed their rumpled clothing and Luca's slightly-wild hair had been due to their travel. Luca rubbed some sleep from the corner of his eye. It coming up on ten o'clock here meant midnight further east.

"It's good you came," Harry said. "I've been told I'm done here for the night, but Draco needs company. Tell him I'll be back in the morning, would you?"

Zabini nodded. "We'll see you too then, if we're allowed to stick around."

Harry exchanged a strained smile then with Luca before heading for the fireplace. He hopped out briefly in Diagon Alley before jumping next for Grimmauld Place. The parlour was populated, and fell into a hush when Harry stepped out onto the hearth rug. Pansy, Sirius, and Ron had made their way home, and had picked up Hermione somewhere along the way. Hermione stood from the love seat, her teacup rattling against the saucer.

"Well?" She broke the silence as the four of them studied Harry. "What was that all about? Ron said Malfoy showed up covered in blood."

"No one's dead." Harry figured he'd put that worry out of their minds. "Hildegard's in St Mungo's for the night. Voldemort cut her throat at dinner."

Hermione, Ron, and Pansy paled. Sirius' eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, so." Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It's a bit of a mess. Everyone's upset. Dagmar's volunteering to go to Azkaban, but the situation's on ice for the weekend. Nobody wants to put her there, although it definitely seems to be what Voldemort dreads happening."

"So then why'd he do it?" Ron asked. "What was the point?"

"He didn't say. I doubt there was one, other than he saw his opportunity and took it."

Away from it all, that didn't sit well with Harry as a reason. Voldemort always had one, and it was all the more necessary when he would risk facing time in the middle of the North Sea. Everyone else furrowed their brows in thought too. They all knew Voldemort well enough at this point to say he wasn't someone that acted on whim alone.

"I'm not worrying about it tonight," Harry said. "I'm going back in the morning. I need sleep."

"I'll come up with you," Pansy replied.

Harry bid everyone else good night. A heavy feeling settled in his chest as he and Pansy climbed the stairs to the second floor. When they were alone behind Harry's bedroom door, he pulled Pansy into an embrace. With his cheek rested against the top of her head, he closed his eyes and sighed.

Pansy rubbed his back. "Was it a gruesome scene?"

"I didn't look."

"It's not that I'm curious. You just have such a long look to you. If you need to talk about it, you can."

"It was more the people than the blood or anything." Harry thought about Mr Malfoy absently trying to clean himself up, unable to do so magically. "Could you imagine slitting your own mother's throat? And if she had died?"

Pansy stiffened briefly as she shuddered.

"I just wish there was something I could do for Dagmar. She's so worn down from this. And Draco's a mess, which I'm sure you could've guessed. He's already had her taken away from him once. I don't know how he's going to react if that happens again, even if she's alive this time."

"Yeah."

Harry chewed his bottom lip briefly before letting Pansy go. He started undoing his belt to change. "Times like this, I really appreciate that you're as far away from everything as you are. I can't imagine always being on the verge of losing you, or that having already happened."

Familiar with loss as he was, Harry hated to see anyone else go through it. He almost felt bad for how easy his life had been lately. Hell, rather than lose for once, he'd actually gained because of Sirius. Harry had grown tentatively comfortable with him being back. His heart froze preemptively at the thought of regaining a loved one just to lose them again. It would be the ultimate slap in the face.