A/N: Howdy everyone! Random though but... Anyone have thoughts on the origins of the founders names? Like Gryffindor is scottish, Hufflepuff is Welsh, Slytherin is English and Ravenclaw has Goblin heritage? *shrugs*
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Old Tidings
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Sirius leant against the doorway to the kitchen, watching those within much like he did the previous year.
Only this Christmas had a much happier air about it, indeed, it felt much more like a BLACK christmas than the last time around. Andromeda sat at the head of the worn table like a queen, looking scarily like his mother. Her husband, Ted, was deep in conversation with Richard and Helen in the corner where the kettle sat. His chaotic niece, Nymphadora, was conversing with a gently smiling Remus.
His godson sat on Andromeda's right, arm casually slung around Hermione as she peppered his cousin with countless questions. He wasn't even paying attention to his girlfriend, instead gazing around the room bemusedly - or as bemusedly as his stoic godson ever got.
Sirius was finally starting to understand Harry's thoughts as of recent, most likely - he reasoned - because he was finally doing the things teenagers usually did. The key to that, of course, was Hermione. The instant he'd seen them exit the train, he could tell something was different between them. Both of them seemed... lighter. In general terms though; they never acted any differently to before.
He and Helen had shared a knowing look, thinking the exact same thing, while both agreeing they would not tell Richard of what they suspected. It was evidence of just how long they'd lived together, Sirius hadn't realised how much of a wizard he'd become as he watched the pair of Muggles cope just fine in the old-fashioned kitchen - complete with wood burning stove.
That was when Dobby could be convinced to rest at least.
Having a male muggle live with him was enlightening in itself, Sirius hadn't been able to fathom certain aspects of life for another viewpoint. He and Richard had had many late-night fireside conversations, the honesty between men was refreshing:
Sirius heaved a sigh and leant back. Old thoughts had kept him awake, despite the comforting embrace of the sofa in the remodelled Sitting Room warmed by the fire, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. So he drank. A bottle of Ogden's finest on the coffee table before him, a measure of it in a tumbler held in a restless grip. Old habits died hard it seemed.
He was aware of the look Richard Granger was giving him, and was just waiting for his guest to say something. He did eventually. "I hope Harry doesn't pick up the bottle."
Sirius gave a heavy sigh. "I know, I try not to do this around him."
Richard looked contemplatively over his own crystal tumbler, but had drunk far less than him. "Ah, a 'do as I say' not 'as I do' kind of thing?"
He shrugged. "Pretty much. He doesn't seem the type anyway."
"At sixteen, I hope not. Though I could see it… under certain circumstances." Richard said contemplatively.
Sirius turned his gaze upon the older man, interested yet slightly afraid of his reasoning.
Richard went on: "If he knew how comforting it could be, and if he felt alone, I'm sure it would be easy for him." Richard then pursed his lips, glancing at the amber liquid in his glass. "If he didn't have my daughter, or Helen and myself."
Sirius's alcohol laden brain slowly connected the dots, and he didn't like the answer. "You're suggesting that even with Remus and I-" He said heatedly, offended.
"Yes." Richard replied bluntly. "You don't see the three of you from the outside, there's this fatalistic air about you when all together. If we weren't here as well, I wouldn't approve of Hermione staying here honestly."
Sirius simply sat, nonplussed. It was a bitter pill to swallow. A part of him wanted to leap to his feet and defend his own and his friend's honour, they both would move the earth for Harry. To hear this was galling. He remained seated, instead of proving Richard's point further. "Both of us would die for Harry." He ground out.
Richard raised an eyebrow exactly as his daughter did. "That's my point, all three of you don't seem to care that you die. And my daughter doesn't need that in her life, the fact that those two are joined at the hip is the problem. If he dies, it'll break her. I, NEVER, want to see that." Richard placed his not-yet-empty glass back on the table and rose to his feet. "Both of you need to stand behind those two, keep them safe and thinking about the future. That boy knows enough about sacrifice."
Sirius watched the man leave in silence, no doubt to join his wife in bed. That thought alone brought up thoughts of Marlene into his head once more.
He'd been right, of course. All three of them just seemed to exist, not giving the future any thought. It was about time he started to connect with his godson on that level, the only issue was his own regrets. It was one of them that had kept him up in the first place:
He was in bed with a thoroughly naked and dishevelled Marlene McKinnon. They'd really known each other for six months now, and his opinion of her grew each time they met. They'd discussed her past in depth many times, and this was one of them. Each time he heard her story, it made him want to steal her away from the world, metaphorically wrapping himself around her, protecting her.
Meanwhile, they'd become casual lovers. Despite this, he was growing to love her with each thing he learnt about her. It had been an easy relationship to develop, far too easy.
"And that's why I'm not looking for someone." She finished, her gaze calm and towards the ceiling of her flat. Her hair, brown, wavy and throughout mussed fanned out over her pillow. "I've just been through a rough breakup, I just need some time on my own you know. See the world, experience it a bit more. "
Sirius swallowed hard. It was about right in his opinion. He'd finally found someone worthwhile, someone who actually liked him back for the right reason. He wasn't sure how they'd broached the topic of relationships, or if he'd given himself away. He'd asked anyway.
And she'd said no. He'd asked with subtlety, not brave enough to bring it up with certainty. Of course his question wasn't specific to himself, just a boyfriend in general.
From the moment they'd met, he felt the connection, the profound respect for her as a person and what she'd been through. He'd been smitten from the first meeting, and in love after four months, a notion so very different from his norm.
He wasn't worth it, worth the risk.
He rolled away and tears escaped his tightly closed eyes, he fought to control himself. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head in a further attempt to master himself. Being weak wasn't a desirable trait in anyone after all.
Yet of all those he'd been with. She made him feel this way. All the 'couple like' things they did together that gave him hope, had deceived his heart it seemed.
He'd learnt enough about her to know she was worth it. It was perhaps the hardest part about her demise.
The fact that he couldn't swap his life for her own, and how he wished he could.
Marlene would have been far better to Harry than he'd ever been.
He believed that still, even as he gazed out over the room. Harry caught his eye, a curious look in his own. Sirius hoisted a grin upon his face and rose his wine glass with a wink. He couldn't wait till his godson opened his present; the first of the first batch of 'Battlecloaks' the Twins had finished.
The Goblins had agreed, loaning the Ministry a great sum of gold to fund the purchase. The price of each was substantial, even with the savings from sourcing most of the hide from his own businesses and the Twins charging far less for their time than they would normally have. The magical regents, metals and other materials - not including the hides - that made up the finished product were expensive.
The time needed to make each one was just as substantial, as the Twins - in agreement with Amelia - felt that they couldn't risk the secret of their construction if they expanded their workforce, made each one themselves.
Wryly, he figured that he really should wear his own cloak more often. Harry's reaction to his being attacked in Knockturn Alley was more vitriolic and pronounced than Remus's, yet both sentiments were eerily similar.
The letter from Gringotts that arrived the day after was interesting in itself, though no one really cared too much about them. While he was now granted joint-access to the Lestrange Vault along with Bellatrix, the decades of following Dark Lords had drained most of the family's once considerable wealth.
At Dumbledore's insistence, he'd made sure Gringotts hadn't informed his cousin of this innocuous change. The situation hadn't happened in two hundred or so years, so what exactly Fletchwood was required to do was unclear, and that was enough. Somehow, he'd made a friend of Gringotts - as close as one could possibly be - during the last year.
Maybe it was the reactivation of such an old account that allowed the Gringotts to collect their fees once more, that did it.
He blinked away events of the past and entered the fray, sitting across from his godson.
…
Harry had been struggling to keep up with the conversation his girlfriend was having with Andromeda, when Sirius fell into the opposite chair and shot him a grin.
He couldn't help but grin back, this Christmas so far had been well… brilliant. Seeing more of Sirius's family was always welcome, and the Tonks's fit in so seamlessly. It was miles from the suffocating nature of the Weasley's, and while he loved them, they took over everything. Everyone here just felt more like family to him, although that could have been the knowledge that he was related to some - namely the Blacks.
The little Tonks family caught his interest ever since they'd arrived. He'd known Nymphadora longer, but her parents were as opposed to her as one could be. Ted was easy going but obviously smart, Andromeda 'Andi' possessed an air of regality that he'd never seen before. They all were so different, it clashed on occasion, yet even he could see how much 'Tonks' meant to them.
It hurt to compare Christmas's, and while he felt more comfortable here, it felt odd to not include any of the redheaded clan at this time of year. Ron had been there practically every year since he'd left the Dursley's, and he could feel the gaping hole he'd left with his absence.
The guilt ate at him slowly over the night, even with Hermione there, with Sirius and Remus, with Dobby's infectious enthusiasm as he'd cooked their Christmas eve feast with ferocity. Slowly, resolve filled him to see Ron's grave. Maybe he could seek the forgiveness he needed that would let him enjoy the holiday.
Eventually, the celebrations wound down. The Grangers - including Hermione - went upstairs to bed, and the Tonks's took the Floo home. The three of them the only ones left at the table, Sirius and Remus trading stories of Hogwarts, while he listened. While it was enjoyable to hear such stories - mostly prank related - he spent most of the time building up courage for what he was about to ask.
At ten to midnight, a silence fell over the three of them and he took his opportunity. "Sirius?"
"Yeah pup?"
"I need to see… Ron."
Sirius blinked, no doubt not expecting such a request, and looked to Remus who was observing Harry. "We can go tomorrow." He answered without conviction.
He shook his head. "I won't be able to sleep otherwise. It…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to full encapsulate how he felt.
Remus and Sirius shared a look, a moment later Sirius relented, his shoulders slumped. "Sure, it is about time you did see it."
Wordlessly, all three rose and donned their various cloaks and scarves, ready to face the snow they would encounter further north. They exited into the chilly night air of Grimmauld Square wordlessly, and apparated.
They appeared at the edge of a corpse of woodland he'd never visited before. They were at the end of a winding high street with grey cobbled buildings lining the road. The snow, heavier here, iced each roof and covered the tracks of the day's pedestrians and cars like they had never been there.
Sirius answered his questioning look. "Ottery St Catchpole, the town at least." He set off with Harry and Remus falling into step beside him, Remus's gaze darting left and right constantly. "We'll be heading to the other side of town."
Harry spared glanced towards the hills where he knew the Burrow resided, it felt incredibly odd to be this close, yet not visit. After a moment he gave up, no doubt the Wards were hiding it from Magical and Muggle alike. No more was said as they strode through the almost dead quiet muggle town, a solitary sedan passed them, driving towards where they'd just come from. The car caught Sirius's curious eye,, much to his amusement. "Ever driven a car, Sirius?"
Sirius continued to watch the car as it moved out of sight. "Nah, too bulky."
Remus snorted softly. "More like they didn't fit his 'badboy' image."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm surprised you don't wear more leather."
"Bloody scamp." Replied Sirius as he grabbed Harry in a loose headlock and ruffled his hair, making it stick up on end. The banter kept the trepidation at bay, something he relished but couldn't keep up in the face of what they were doing here.
Before long, they exited the other side of the village and caught sight of a cemetary in the distance. Each step closer weighed more and more as he debated whether he actually wanted to see where his friend had been laid to rest.
He hadn't even thought of what Wizards would do with their dead before. Such customs were lost on him, and suddenly he missed Hermione and the fact that he could have turned to her and she would have the answer. Usually at least.
It was probably better she wasn't there right now though, he was barely holding himself together without worrying about what she thought of him on top.
They stopped silently in front of an ordinary wooden post - one of the many that fenced the Cemetery - that was bent oddly outwards at a forty-five degree angle. Remus tapped the top with his wand and a simple kissing-gate appeared between it and the next post. He puzzled at the gate for a moment, it was broken, missing the left half of the kissing gate, the missing side coinciding with the bend post.
Beyond the broken gate was what one would expect from the simple graveyard, only innumerable vines weaved around the countless headstones. It was perhaps the best indication of the kind of small magical community that resided, hidden from the Muggles.
Remus led the way, and Harry's gaze darted left and right, taking in the names. First came the Diggory's, - of whom he paused at Cedric's grave for a moment before pressing on - then the Lovegood's, followed by countless last names he'd never heard of.
The graveyard was no bigger than half of a football pitch, so it didn't take long to reach the Weasley's. His gaze lingered on each name of those that had died before he was born, until they came to the end of a shorter row than the rest. Ron Weasley's tombstone still looked new, standing in stark contrast to the weathered ones that made up the rest.
He'd barely taken in the image of his friend's final resting place before Remus muttered a warning to the others and they all turned to find a petite figure moving towards them. After a very nervous minute, the figure turned into Luna Lovegood. One whose nose was pink from cold which added to the veritable rainbow of coloured layers she wore, she also wore her Spectrespecs.
All of them stood mutely in surprise at her unexpected appearance. She blatantly ignored Remus's drawn wand. "Hello Harry, Mr. Boardman, Professor Lupin."
He nearly chuckled at her use of Sirius's 'alter ego'. "Hi Luna, what are you doing out here at this time?"
"Normally the Nargles hang around daddy this time of year." She answered mildy. "When they all suddenly flocked from him, I thought I'd find out why."
"Did you find them?"
She tilted her head, inspecting him and the air around him. "Oh yes, you were always susceptible to them."
For some absurd reason, this knowledge relaxed him. Trust Luna to know how to cheer me up, I'm going to try those glasses one day.
"I miss him too." She said suddenly, moving to his side as their joint-gaze returned to Ron's grave.
"I didn't think you knew him too well, to be honest."
Her voice was soft. "We were friends when we were little, before I became friends with Ginevra."
He barely noticed Sirius and Remus moving away, giving them some privacy. "What happened?"
Silence filled the air for a moment, before she replied matter of factly: "I stood up for him when his brothers turned his pillow into a spider."
"But…" He couldn't fathom being angry with someone for standing up for him. The countless wishes he'd made as a boy to make the bullies go away, for his Uncle to stop hurting him, and for someone to take him away were all he could think of. But then he thought about Ron. The jealousy that ate into his character, his inadequacy-complex, his prideful nature.
He was brave, there was no question of that. The only problem was that he spent too long wishing he was someone else, rather than the person he was. He blinked in surprise at his own thoughts. That hits a little too close to home.
"He's never liked me since." Luna's voice wavered out as she hugged herself as though cold.
He knew better, placing an arm around her. "I'm sure he cared." Like he cared about Hermione? Come to think, if his… death affected Luna so much, how come it hasn't affected Hermione?
It was a fair question, even if he suspected he knew what the answer was. A part of him didn't want to know for sure, the idea that he'd ignored just what his and Hermione's friendship had devolved into over the years. Was he so desperate for friends that he hadn't called out their sniping and countless arguments, afraid he'd lose one or both?
Luna, eerily, seemed to read his thoughts. "Where's Hermione?"
His gaze returned to Ron's tombstone. "Asleep."
Luna simply caught his gaze as his flittered to her as she didn't reply..
He looked away. "She doesn't need to see this."
Her tone morphed into something familiar, her 'explaining parts of himself he didn't know himself' voice. "I'm sure she'd be honoured to be with you right now. You've both committed to being there for each other, to being vulnerable. At least that's what mum said."
He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't like being weak."
"You aren't, it just hurts."
He smiled in spite of himself. "They never did like it when I got myself hurt."
"Yes, you were their friend."
It felt like she was trying to tell him something, some nugget of explicit truth that no one else would dare to utter. After a few seconds he sank to the ground, the cold ground rapidly cooling his lower half as he sat in the snow. "But not each other's?"
Luna remained standing, but placed a hand on his shoulder. "You kept them together, you kept all of us together. There was no chance that we would let you go into the Ministry by yourself."
Shaking, he fought the tears that threatened to fall. Over and over he'd wondered if there had been a way to stop Ron, stop his friend's from following him that night. He didn't have it in him to stun them, and they would've retaliated before he could have gotten them all. What's done was done, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
Dumbledore may have called his friends his strength, but he simply saw them as his weakness. Was it too much to keep them all safe? To take on the danger himself? He had Sirius and Remus, that was enough surely? Ron was dead, Hermione was scarred for life, where would it end?
Something that WAS very slightly comforting was the fact apparently there was something about him that brought people together. For a moment, he thought about the D.A. Despite all of the uncomfortableness with the spotlight shone in his direction, they'd become a community of sorts. For those few hours a month, there was no house division, it had become as much of a social club as a defence club.
The happy thoughts soon fled in the face of what lay before him, the Horcruxes, the fact that Voldemort looked poised to take over the Ministry, and the fact that now all he would have of Ron would be memories.
At least those memories I won't have to imagine like my parents from Sirius and Remus's stories. I wish I could ask them what to do. There's still so much I don't know.
It may have been an odd thing to suddenly realise, as he gazed unseeingly at his friend's grave. But in that moment, he tried to imagine his parent's graves, then remembered they actually had graves of their own.
On impulse, he turned his head towards Sirius. Luna's hand dropped from his shoulder with the twisting movement. "Where are they buried?"
Sirius broke off from his murmured conversation with Remus, his face betraying his own sadness. "Where you used to live pup." He moved closer. "Do you want to see them?"
Voice failing him, he simply nodded and rose, patting some of the snow that clung to his clothing. He looked towards Luna who was gazing at Ron's Headstone once more, debating whether to ask to escort her home. The fact that she was out alone at this time was both incredible and worrying enough. A part of him couldn't help but wonder at his friend, she was perhaps the most centaur-like person he'd even met. Despite that, she was so very human on occasions that it was so easy to relate to her.
"I'll be fine." She said suddenly, as if noticing his gaze. "I wander at night quite a bit."
Not wanting to disturb her too much, he reached over and gave her shoulder a little shake. "Stay safe, yeah?"
She turned, gazing at himself, Sirius and Remus. For a moment he swore she nodded imperceptibly at Remus. "You too, all of you."
The threesome left the Graveyard as a group, Harry couldn't help but look back, all he saw was Luna transfiguring some of the vines into some type of blooming flower he was unfamiliar with.
Remus shared a look with Sirius. "I'll go first." Before Harry could say anything, Remus disapparated with a crack that shifted snow away from the point where he disappeared.
"What-"
Sirius cut him off. "Just taking precautions, pup. There's not many places they would expect you to visit, Remus has the best senses so we'll just give him a moment to check the place out before we go."
After a few moments of silence, Sirius held out his forearm to which he grasped and they disappeared into the crushing darkness once more.
…
They appeared in a dark, smelly alley. The snow that managed to find its way to the ground in the narrow confines was far from white. The smell of food waste and beer filled the alleyway and stained the few visible cobblestones.
Still not used to apparition, Harry took a moment to gather himself. The instant he leant against the wall, he regretted it as muck covered his sleeve and palm. Wiping it off on his trousers in disgust, he caught sight of Sirius's wistful face. "Familiar place?"
His godfather grinned at him. "We used to come here a lot while you were in hiding."
He couldn't help but give his godfather an odd look. "Wasn't that a bit dangerous?"
Sirius raised his hands in surrender. "Hey! It was your mother's idea. She argued that they couldn't just disappear from the muggle residents, she and James were even friendly with the couple that used to run this place." He jabbed a thumb at the wall with all the muck.
"Alright, alright. I was just curious!" With that, Sirius manoeuvred to his right and placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him out into the street. Harry took in the scene with a keen eye. It was as picturesque as Hogsmeade in his opinion, quaint, seemingly built around the Pub and Church. Godric's Hollow was one of those old English towns that did not feature a 'Main Street' as such, but more of a 'Main Square' of road. As far from the tidy order of Privet Drive as could be.
The buildings he could see - all double story - seemed to lean over the street in a comforting way, almost like softening gingerbread houses. Only Christmas could satisfyingly top each one with icing in the way it had.
"Here we are pup." The sudden words jolted him from his musings and he caught sight of Remus leaning against another kissing gate - this one more ornate and in far better repair than the one in Ottery St Catchpole.
The Cemetary was at least twice as large as the one he had visited earlier, yet had no obvious signs of magical influence. Perhaps another sign of Muggles and Magicals co-existing? Yet again, he lamented Hermione not being there to explain things to him. Even if just to hear her voice, as comforting as it had become. He wondered suddenly if she had attended Ron's funeral? He hadn't asked.
Looking up, he found Sirius and Remus had moved ahead of him - most likely to where his parents' graves were. Something inside restrained his original desire and he instead gazed about, curious as to who had lived where he had spent a part of his life. Would he have had neighbours? Friends before coming to Hogwarts? Both scenarios were intoxicating enough, letting his attention wander for a moment. So much so that he didn't notice the slight rise in the ground and he stumbled.
Dumbledore? Kendra, Ariana? He inspected the headstones he nearly stumbled onto. At least the old man seemed to tell the truth in that regard, it was good to finally find some evidence to corroborate anything his Headmaster had told him. At least he hoped so.
He stepped through the disorganisation and peered at each headstone he passed, recognising none. The only one of note, was a raised stone casket that looked like it had been there for longer than the graveyard it resided in. Its surface was pockmarked by dirt, age and wear from centuries of rainfall. Peverall?
Finally, stepped past the rest and reached the others, joining them as they gazed down at the rather simple white marble Headstones of his parents.
Tears flowed suddenly and unbidden, into his eyes.
He read the dates inscribed on reflex. Twenty one… Will I even last that long? His dreams of Hermione on that couch in front of a roaring fire dimmed further the longer he thought about things. "How old were my grandparents when they died?" He asked out loud though a surprisingly phlegmy throat.
"In their eighties roughly." Sirius replied, his own voice constricted. "Why?"
"Oh… So we're not all cursed to die young?" The joke died as soon as it left his lips.
"No." Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. "In a year, I'll show you your ancestral home. You'll see that most of them lived long lives, the rest of your family was buried there."
Harry nodded, feeling slightly reassured. Despite that, he knew what lay ahead. Maybe Voldemort hadn't placed a curse upon his family, maybe HE was the curse itself. The bringer of death and destruction. At that moment he read the inscription at the bottom: The last enemy that shall be defeated is death.
He looked to his side at the last of the Marauders distracted by their own ponderings, the two men that had sworn to give up life to protect his own. One could never defeat death, what mattered was what you achieved before you were reunited with those you cared about the most. And what did he want to achieve?
He immediately thought of a family, of a girl that had always been there, and would always continue to be. It was the least he could do, Remus had asked it of him, Sirius just seemed to want to be there. Maybe they had made promises to his parents when they were alive?
Suddenly, a voice he'd come to hate called out loudly in the silent air. "Wrong graveyard dear cousin!" Bellatrix Lestrange sang with childish glee.
The three of them whirled around to find at least ten Deatheaters surrounding them, He felt the slight constriction of an Anti-Apparition ward go up just as Peter Pettigrew transformed back into human form. He thought furiously as the combatants traded barbs opening barbs.
"Peter!" Remus snapped in fury, his irises glowing with the faintest gold sheen. "I thought I just smelt an ordinary rat."
Bellatrix cackled as Peter said nothing. "Such instincts!" She twirled a lock of her wild hair with her curved wand and eyed Remus. "I could use such a beast, with my husband gone… Did you kill 'im?"
"I did." Sirius snarled.
Her gaze flitted back to him, revulsion in her eyes. "I knew I should have killed you in the Ministry... cousin!" Bellatrix snarled in kind before she launched a sickly looking blood red curse at him.
Hasty plan ready, Harry gestured towards the ground around him, Sirius and Remus and concentrated hard. Grunting with the effort, he directed his wand and other hand upwards. The snow around them quickly coalesced into a dome of ice, even as he could hear the crashing of spells against his transfigured shield, he twirled his wand counter-clockwise, forming layer upon layer. "Dobby!" He called, praying.
Immediately, the elf popped into existence and he broke off, leaving Sirius and Remus to harden their shelter. Both of them were already muttering countless incantations that he hadn't heard before upon the ice. A part of him was thankful he'd improved over the year, he'd first found the spell while bed-ridden half a year previous.
"Take us all back to Grimmauld Place." He yelled over the sounds of spellfire and cracking ice.
Dobby nodded tightly and grasped both Sirius and Remus's off-hands as Harry grasped his shoulders. Even as they Did, the ice began to crack further as Sirius and Remus broke off their spellwork. Just as the magic coalesced around the group that would take them away, their rudimentary shield shattered under the multiple spells. During the crushing weight of apparition he felt Dobby stiffen, despite this they appeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to find Hermione sitting at the table tea in front of her.
He simply stared at her in surprise, until she gasped and looked down at Dobby in front of him. As he followed her eyes down, he heard something he thought he'd never hear. "Harry Potter." Dobby wheezed.
What his eyes found was his friend, covered in blood, a chunk of ice the size of his own arm sticking out of his chest.
The elf wavered upon his feet before sinking to the floor, desperately he tried to break his friend's fall, skinning his hands on the stone floor. Instinctively, he made to pull the ice out of the elf's chest only for Hermione to stop him. "Don't Harry! He'll bleed out that way!"
"Then what!" He yelled back.
He received silence in response.
He didn't know what to do, his mind was a jumbled mess. The adrenaline coursing through his body didnt help matters either. "Mione! Help me!" Dobby's blood was starting to soak through his jeans, it was an indicator of just how little they could do for the elf to the others present.
Of course, being the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, there were a small amount of potions stored away. Even if they could work upon an elf and didn't cause a horrible reaction with a different physiognomy than they were intended for. All of the potions in the house were along the lines of the Pepper Up Potion and sleeping draughts. With most members working full-time jobs, usually they needed that little bit extra to get through the day. Late night meetings, guard duty and spying - on top of their regular jobs was taxing.
Her face betrayed her heartbreak. "Harry, I can't help him. Even… Even Pomfrey would have difficulty, and… and she wont get here in time."
He knew she spoke the truth, she would never lie to him. But a part of him couldn't accept it. His blood soaked hands shook with anger and sadness. I called him, it's my fault… again.
Dobby's voice was barely above a whisper now, gasping for breath. "Dobby is… Very happy… to be... Harry Potter's... Friend."
Tears began to mix with his friend's blood as he held Dobby close. Time slowed to a crawl. There was just one thing he had to know. "Was I... good to you?" The question was whispered to the elf, unheard by anyone else in the room.
Dobby's mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles. "The *gasp* best… Harry Potter." With that, the elf's head suddenly lolled heavily upon his arm in a way that betrayed the end of his life.
The room watched as Harry gently lay the body upon the floor, staring into space. Hermione had tears in her eyes but didn't move closer to lend some comfort. Both Sirius and Remus stood stock still, seemingly not knowing what to do.
Dobby - since joining them full-time - had become a part of life at Grimmauld Place as much as the elder Grangers had. Usually unseen, but always welcome. Hearing the other side of the story of the Platform entrance sealing itself, the bludger, and blasting Malfoy Senior had led to the elf becoming a 'partner in crime' to Sirius. Remus and Hermione were always kind to Dobby, perhaps recognising another that cared about Harry as much as they did.
Harry, blind and deaf to his surroundings, couldn't get a hold of how he felt. A part of him wanted to run, another couldn't, another felt that wearing Dobby's blood for the rest of his life would be an acceptable penance for his role.
He'd visited Death, and in turn, Death had vistied in turn.
...
Voldemort paced with more vigor than he would have usually. His expensive, and light, black acromantula silk robes floating after him. Fierce elation warred with a frustration of the same caliber. His plan had worked! The boy was… odd, but still had the same old failing. Love had drawn him to Godric's Hollow, and into his trap.
Yet they had failed! What use did he have of his followers if they could not do as he bid! Such a blunt collection of tools! Ten against three!
He paced further, drawing close to Bellatrix. Only the old guard reamined suitably cowed these days, unlike the foreigners that filled every orifice of Malfoy Manor. He'd yet to have seen her memory of the event. Pettrigrew's had shown a flawlessly executed plan, which was almost surprising in itself. Fear, it seemed, was still a powerful motivator for the rat.
He locked eyes with her and saw the graveyard, he saw the werewolf and dog step forward as expected. What he didn't expect was the sheer audacity of transfiguration from the boy that took everyone by surprise. Yet, he knew such a barrier was desperate and unable to aid their actual escape as it took too much concentration to maintain the construction.
And yet, once it shattered into a million pieces. They were gone.
With a growl, he exited Bellatrix's mind. Unwilling to linger in her madness tinged mind.
Again, inaction filled him with anger enough to spit Cruciatus Curses in all directions. Yet, he had to restrain himself. His foreign recruits would look poorly upon such a things, Grindelwald had been a different sort of leader than he. Which is where most of these visitors had come from, various cells of the group that followed the man that lost to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore… that name made his blood boil on its own. He needed a distraction, his plans for the Ministry would do for the time being. The boy was growing in power, yet he had yet to come even close to himself. He blinked at his own haphazard thoughts - a problem only discovered of late - and centered his focus once more.
A Hundred miles or so away in London, Harry woke with a gasp.
He hadn't had a 'Voldemort induced dream' in a long time, and this one had been more disconcerting than most others. Tom's anger at having to restrain himself settled like a bitter taste upon his tongue, the legilimency within legilimency had been dizzying enough that he felt slightly sick.
He spared a glance towards the curtains, spying the dark blue early morning light beyond. He tried not to throw up from his disorientation and wake his bed companion. That last part failed as he heard a familiar rustling of sheets in the darkness.
In the faint light, he saw the fuzzy, bushy shape beside him. Immediately he waved a hand, igniting his bedside lamp and found his glasses, bringing Hermione into focus.
She was already gazing at him in concern. "You alright?"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, forcibly slowing his breathing. "Yeah, just dreaming of Tom."
She placed the palm of her hand over his heart, the act so intimate it made him smile. "A real one?"
"Yeah." His jaw hardened. "He was mad over what happened tonight, he knew I'd go there at some point." He replied sullenly.
"There was nothing wrong with you wanting to visit them, Harry." Hermione said, her head resting upon her bent arm. "I just would like to be there next time."
He blinked. "Really? But they're my parents."
"That's why I want to see them, they were special people. I mean, I'm quite fond of their son."
Embarrassedly, he scratched at his head. "After the war then?"
She smiled brilliantly. "After the war."
He had a feeling he would be saying that a lot in the coming months. Their lives put on hold for a war he wasn't even sure he would emerge alive from, let alone victorious. They knew each other well already, yet he could sense how much more he had to learn about her. That future sounded great to him, it sparked a curiosity in him he thought was lost years ago. There was still so much to learn, about himself, and her.
He drew himself closer to her and fell back into a hopefully dreamless slumber.
…
The rest of the Christmas break passed in a blur.
At Hermione's suggestion, he'd passed on the little detail of his vision to Amelia Bones that he could remember. Unsurprisingly, she held little stock in the veracity of his information.
"Dumbledore believes what I see is real." He replied, countering her initial question looking away. The Minister's office he saw was as ornate as he expected from the foremost office in the British Ministry, with a huge window that looked out onto the Atrium.
"Dumbledore knows a lot more about magic than I do." She deflected, her tone still friendly. "But what action can I take from this information Harry?"
Her mother-like tone stumped him for a moment before he formulated an answer. "They're at Malfoy Manor? and there's a lot more of them?"
She rose and settled herself upon the edge of her enormous desk - no doubt left over from Fudge's era. "We've suspected that for a while, yet whenever Arthur's department makes a raid, there's no one else there. His department is the only one that has the cause and power to conduct a raid, I cannot even send my own Auror's in without a reason."
"But… Voldemort is there!" He protested. "Can't you stake out the place or something?"
Amelia's smile lit up her full, beautiful yet mature face. "If only things were that black and white. I might be the Minister, but I still answer to the Wizengamot. Whatever action I take against a family such as the Malfoy's, will be seen as hostile to the families that our society is built upon. They will see just how their own families could be threatened by an 'over zealous Minister' and kick me out in weeks."
He flounded for a while, desperately trying to think of another way. Eventually, he relented. sighing. "What can I do?"
She smiled fondly at him. "You've already done your part, you helped give my Aurors the power to defend themselves properly. That has already saved many lives. I just need you to stay alive, live through this war. Can you do that?"
The image of a fire-side Hermione filled his mind again. "I'll try."
The Prophet of course, had a field day with his little appearance in the Ministry. Sirius had observed that it was the most positive thing they'd printed in months, even if it was mostly lies.
He'd said that while whisking eggs with his wand. The little changes everyone had to get used to now Dobby was gone was taking longer than any of them had thought. Richard and Helen adapted the best, morphing back into old habits. Remus bore the extra work without complaint. Sirius, the long-time bachelor and wizard, had the hardest time adjusting. Cooking for himself, and others was as foriegn as France to the ex-convict.
Takeaway, of course, was an option. The issue with it was that they had to visit shops that were in different parts of London in order to draw attention away from where Harry hid. An inconvenience that they bore only once a week.
As a result, Harry had become the de facto chef of the household - though usually with help from the elder Grangers. Those encounters had become a part of his day that he'd come to cherish, although the first few times, the conversation had not been what he'd been expecting:
There were only a couple of days left of the holidays left, He and Helen were whipping up a large tray of Shepherd's Pie. The Kitchen was deserted as the rest of the house's occupants were caught up in their own activities.
"So Harry." Helen began as she stirred the onion through the starting mix in a large saucepan. "How many times have you had sex with my Hermione?"
The potato he'd been mashing at the time found itself stuck to the wall, so violent was his twitch of shock. "Err… What?"
Helen smirked. "I know you have, it's alright, we were young once too. I just wanted to make sure you were being safe."
He shakily vanished the wall-mounted mash with his wand. "We were... I mean-she did the spell." He was mightily uncomfortable.
"Oh so there's a spell is there?" She replied interestedly. "It's probably more effective than what we have."
"Uh, Hermione would know more than I would." He replied, trying to focus on his mashing. The mash that formed the top of the pie that night was extra smooth.
Christmas day itself had been the highlight of the year for him, a much more subdued affair. The first line of Battle-Cloaks Sirius had gotten him and Hermione were brilliant. Yet searching for presents for the others had been difficult, Dobby's help had been instrumental when he finally decided on something. That fact made him miss the energetic elf even more.
Each night since Dobby had died, Hermione had snuck into his room to spend the night. Strictly platonically of course, both too nervous about getting up to anything with Sirius and her parents under the same roof. Her presence had been an incredible balm to the pain of the holidays. He still suffered nightmares of course, but being able to reassure himself of the fact that she was alive helped greatly.
Despite the happiness that was Christmas, another event marred what was left of his holidays:
He, Hermione, Sirius and Remus were seated in the Sitting Room simply spending time together. Remus reading the Prophet, Sirius looking over some kind of House-related paperwork, and he and Hermione looking for new spells for the D.A.
"Hmmm." Hermione's involuntary noise drew his attention. He knew that noise, it usually meant that she'd found something interesting or amusing in whatever she was currently reading.
"What?" Harry asked, giving his eyes a break from the tome he had upon his lap. He'd discovered that, in the wake of Ron's death, she kept things to herself. Usually because she felt that no one really cared about things she found interesting. It was a grim realisation, and a stark indicator of the state of their friendship at the time. From then on, he made sure to pay more attention.
"Hufflepuffs Cup forced those that drank from it, into a loyalty contract."
"Doesn't sound very Hufflepuff to me." He observed. "And I thought you were looking for spells?"
She shrugged. "I was, but Horcruxes are more important in the scheme of things."
"I mean, I suppose so. Where did you get that book? I didn't think the Black library had anything that wasn't at least slightly dark in it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I borrowed it from Hogwarts."
"Isn't that against the rules?"
She waved a hand. "It'll be fine."
His mouth opened and closed uselessly for a moment before he found his voice. "Anyone else notice the thief we have in our midst!?" He asked the room at large. "Remus! Professor Lupin! Give her detention!"
Remus snorted, observing the pair over his paper for a moment. "You live in a Marauder household Harry, you almost sound like McLaggen a few years above us. Doesn't he Sirius?"
Sirius made a noise of agreement, seemingly absorbed in the papers in his hands.
"You had a McLaggen in your time as well?" Harry asked, a note of derision in his voice. Cormac McLaggen had overtly expressed interest in Hermione more than once during the year. Each time, he wanted to punch the git for even daring to look at his girlfriend like that. He'd taken the high road though, the glares Hermione would send his way after each comment allowed him that freedom.
Remus nodded. "He was rather set upon catching us red-handed, said it every time we pulled a prank."
"What happened to him?"
"James turned his hands red for a few days each time he said it. He never learnt either, each time he would threaten us, James would enact something along the lines of what he'd said during his scolding."
Harry snorted with laughter, it sounded rather stupid to him. It sounded rather normal though, something closer to what his time at Hogwarts SHOULD have been like.
Sirius finally looked up. "The best one was when said he would 'catch us in the act.'"
"What did you do?"
"We got McGonagall to catch him in the act." Remus replied. "I always felt sorry for the girl he was with."
"I didn't, why she would ever want to snog that oaf is beyond me." Snarked Sirius.
"He wasn't the best Prefect ever." Remus agreed with a touch of amusement.
As the adults returned their attention to their own tasks, he turned to Hermione who had tuned out at the mention of pranks. "It doesn't mention where it is, does it?" He asked her, returning to the previous topic. The question was a long-shot by anyone's estimation.
"Of course not." Hermione scolded. "It's not like the locket, basically falling into our laps to destroy."
At that moment, Kreacher popped into the room. Looking as serious as he'd ever seen the elf, glaring at Hermione. "Miss destroyed Master Regulus's Locket?"
He answered for his girlfriend, as her shock at the wizened elf addressing her so politely - for Kreacher - rendered the normally witty girl mute. "I did, why?"
The elf studied him closely silently, he had no clue if elves could perform legilimency, but if they could… He barely held back a shiver under such a penetrating gaze. "It was Master Regulus's last wish." The elf stated after finishing his inspection, wavering upon his feet, eyes watering.
Sirius sat up sharply at that, papers forgotten. Yet, before any of them could ask any clarifying questions, Kreacher collapsed suddenly where he stood upon the carpet. All of them simply watched in shock at just how suddenly things had happened. Finally Hermione moved to the elf and struggled to find a pulse for a while.
She looked up at them all. "He's still-" She then looked down suddenly, shock evident.
Harry dropped to her side after noticing the sudden stillness of the elf, pulling her close. Hermione was a strong girl, but the shock had gotten to her as she sniffled into his neck.
Yet again, he cursed his decision to keep her around. Oh he knew there was no way he could live without her. Yet he hated it each time something like this happened, yet more tragedy she bore witness to, suffered through. A part of him wished to hide her away, to keep her safe and ignorant. He was scared it would change her, that she would become as cold as he had. He NEVER wanted her to change.
The only problem with that was, the fact that she WAS Hermione Jean Granger. She would not take being hidden away, she thrived on knowledge, on learning. She would not stand by while he brought danger upon himself, she would help. She would do her utmost to see him survive whatever foolhardy encounter he'd gotten himself tangled up in.
And that was why he loved her.
He could say that now, having slightly more of an idea of what it meant now, than he had in the past. He'd seen it in her parents, in the mornings over coffee, and how they interacted with their daughter. They were everything to each other, and Hermione was everything to the both of them. That was an idea he could get behind.
He felt the same way after all.
The rest of the holiday saw them drawing comfort from each other each night, they didn't bother to hide it anymore after Kreacher's sudden passing. Just as they were now upon the Hogwarts express, gone were the times of taking up the whole compartment with three people. Harry and Hermione barely used a quarter of the space themselves, given the way they rested upon each other pressed in the corner against the outside wall.
Neville had again joined them for the journey back to Hogwarts, as had Luna, even Ginny with her Pygmy Puff darting from shoulder to shoulder. Crookshanks had settled in the space his owner and her partner had left on their bench, taking up far more space than a cat typically should with attitude alone, his yellow eyes tracking every move of the Pygmy Puff.
"What's the plan for the D.A. this term?" Neville asked the intertwined pair, he'd long discarded his paving slab of a Herbology text. Favoring instead, to ask each occupant of their holidays.
Harry looked up from the book Hermione was reading in his lap, glad for the distraction from his erratic thoughts. "We'll be continuing with the specialisation work that we started before christmas."
"Brilliant!" Neville grinned.
Ginny glanced sidelong at Neville with mock disdain. "You know Longbottom, for someone that worships plants, you have an addiction to blasting whatever is in front of you."
"I'll have you know Weasley, that I have far more subtlety than Seamus." Neville retorted.
The whole compartment, save Luna, snorted at that.
"I hate to break it to you Neville." Began Hermione, her eyes never leaving her book. "That you have about as much subtelty as Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes at that as chuckles filled the compartment.
Neville sure had come a long way since getting a new wand, it had eventually become an example for the rest of the D.A. Dividing the group up also had become one of his better ideas, something he'd realised as the year went on. Not all of the attendees had an abundance of raw power, teaching some of the weaker students how to best apply what they had, had given them confidence.
Reinforcing the fact that they all had different strengths and had to work together had been somewhat revolutionary according to Remus. Auror's were a perfect example; those without the power to hold a shield against multiple spells didn't go too well facing off against Wizarding criminality. At least in the way they did things, with how wide-ranging their duties were and what was required of them every day. Even the few Auror's he'd seen fight, did so one-on-one, relying upon skill and ingenuity to win the day. Coordination and teamwork eschewed for reasons he was not aware of.
There was also the fact that they were all still in school, none - save a few - could take it to adult combatants.
There was little chance the majority would ever put what they learnt to use outside of school, but Luna, of course, had a different view: She'd said it was like having friends, that it was like knowing that others can help if needed. With the public becoming more and more suspicious of each other by the week, it was nice to know you weren't alone.
Yet again, he'd affirmed his decision to protect Luna with all he had. A girl so pure deserved it.
He glanced back at Neville, who was currently trying to magic Luna's wand from behind her ear as subtly as possible, and failing. Maybe that wouldn't be up to him, maybe he could leave it all to Neville. The other boy of prophecy that hadn't been tainted with knowledge of Voldemort's horcruxes.
I'll have to bring it up to Hermione some time.
Instead, he settled in to savour the next hour or so of quiet simplicity, the comfort of friends, and the warmth of a girl that cared about him in ways he couldn't fathom.
…
