"The scariest part of being loved by someone is the uncertainty that they may stop at any time."

~ Unknown


Chapter 40 ~ Uncertainty


ECOTS


The hospital wing fired into existence, the entire thing a frenzy of activity.

Madame Pomfrey's nurse's hat was on sideways, the woman frantically casting spells and shouting orders at Professor Gai, he and Regulus doing something to Amarante's head that she couldn't quite see.

What she saw was the drill.

She stumbled back as Regulus shoved it against the top of Amarante's skull, the magical whirring loud as something began to crunch.

Kally stumbled back. They were drilling into his head. The rubber duck portkey that Remus had created slipped out of her hand, her back striking the cold stone wall as she stared in increasing horror.

Thick blood was matting the hair of the man who had protected them in Hogsmeade. Seeing him now…it was a far cry from when he'd been lively and cursing Death Eaters from the roof of the Three Broomsticks, or shouting jovial jests from a train's open door at high speeds.

Now he lay there, ghostly gray, blood beginning to drip onto the floor with a nauseating splatter.

"You have to relieve the pressure," Madame Pomfrey was demanding, the woman tightening something around Amarante's arm.

Regulus yanked the drill out of the wizard's head with a squelch, and immediately began drilling a second hole. "And here I was thinking of just carving my initials and not drilling a burr hole," he drawled, an expression of the utmost concentration upon his angered face, the vibrations causing Amarante's pale cheeks to wiggle violently.

Professor Gai made a choking sound, his grip slipping from where he'd been holding his brother's head still and stumbling back, turning a violent shade of green.

Black stopped drilling instantly. "Weak stomached pansy! I could have just speared brain tissue!" Regulus snarled furiously. "Do you want your brother to live or not?"

"For god's sake I'll do it!" Malana snapped, stomping forward and grabbing a hold of Amarante's head, holding it still for Regulus' drill, whilst Tres looked like he would pass out at any moment.

Leaning against the wall, Kalliandra stared. Off to the side Fred was swearing massive profanities, Neville joining him, Ginny shouting at both of them to shut it while Neville clutched her hand.

It looked like the Gryffindor was trying to break it, judging from the contorted expression of unadulterated pain on his face.

It only occurred to Kally then that she couldn't feel part of her left leg, the sheer pain in it having crescendo-ed and then died.

Looking down, her golden gaze blinked in shock as she saw the blood soaking the bottom half of her jeans, coating her sock, her shoe completely gone.

Portkeying had disrupted a piece of previously stable metal in her calf.

Now it bled freely.

She hadn't even noticed it before.

It hadn't exactly been bleeding before.

Alongside her Dean Thomas swore, Kally still trying to comprehend that she was looking at her own blood and a hunk of metal in her leg.

Seconds ago she had been standing in Remus Lupin's backyard. He'd thrown her and Dean a portkey, neither he nor Potter able to touch or come too close to them due to the exposure risk. The look on Potter's face had been gut wrenching, the way he'd looked at her when she'd recoiled away from his hand…

He was now nowhere in sight, the hospital wing looking closed off. Remus was gone. Potter was gone. And Dean-

Dean was a Death Eater.

Regulus yanked the drill out of Amarante's skull, something splattering against his shoes.

It was all too much.

She started to slide to the floor, thinking sitting was a good idea, when two arms snared her, hauling her up and against him, Dean moving and dragging her towards the healer's small office before she could even comprehend what had happened.

In that motion she heard George shouting at them, "Yo, Kaylens! Thomas! You survived that carriage's attempt to squash ya!"

Ginny's head darted around so fast that her fiery ponytail smacked herself in the face, the younger Gryffindor's face growing slack, eyes wide. The Gryffindor Chaser made a relieved sound, taking a sudden step towards them-

Neville groaned, the girl's attention jerking immediately back to him.

"Oh thank Merlin," Fred groaned, "we thought you two were dead. Ginny and Harry tried to kill people."

Ginny hissed something suitably foul, George looking up from his brother's side and managing an insanely out-of-place grin. "What little sis? You did try to hex Regulus right in the behin-"

A kick to the shin sent George shutting up quick.

Fred, in the meantime, was weakly chugging a large bottle labeled 'blood type O' while simultaneously trying to smack away Tonks' ministrations.

For some reason the Auror was clad head-to-toe in some type of plastic suit and trying to immobilize Fred's leg.

It was covered in thick, thick blood.

It wasn't until the Weasley twin attempted to actually kick her that Tonks cast a spell, sending duct tape slamming over Fred's mouth, the witch hissing at him to hold still.

The room was a frenzy, all of it happening at a fast pace that Kally had trouble keeping up with given the recent chain of events. Dean however…he just grunted, bodily hauling her away from everyone else and slamming the door to Pomfrey's office shut behind them.

Instantly everything got quieter.

Dean plopped her down hard onto the nearest chair, Kally feeling slightly green. Had she felt more coherent, less shocked, she might have wondered why Dean was trying to separate them from the other survivors – it looking like all of them were alive except Amarante, and that-

Something in her stomach churned, her throat gagging. She could see them taking Amarante's pulse through the Healer's office window, the increasingly frantic efforts to revive Amarante appearing in vain, a sickening fluid draining from his ear…

Dean snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Kal! Don't look at Amarante, alright?" he half-requested, half-ordered. "Think it's making you woozy." The wizard was already turning to root through cabinets, coming out with a thick layer of curlex, rounding around back towards where she now sat, her attention reverted back onto him.

Dean was a Death Eater.

"Dean," she whispered, the shock still there. "Dean you're a-"

His wand moved so fast that she actually jumped, the privacy charm flying up around them, a loud buzzing filling her ears. "Death Eater, yeah, we established that," he muttered bitterly, biting the bandages between his teeth and tearing them. Spitting out a piece of fabric, he grunted, "Thought you might still be hung up on that so-" he gestured rapidly with one hand at their private little room amidst the chaos.

So that's why he'd separated them…

The damnable wizard had grabbed her leg, warning, "This is gonna hurt," before yanking it brutally out.

Kally actually screamed, a sizzling heard as Dean shoved his wand against her wound and cauterized it.

At the same time he'd grabbed her hand, squeezing it damn hard, her nails digging into his palm from the sheer pain alone. Dropping her head back, it thunking against one of Madame Pomfrey's cabinets, she hissed a pained breath.

Somehow Dean was winding the bandages tightly around her lower leg, his free hand now shoved over her calf, applying pressure. His hand was so big it literally wrapped around her lower leg, the wizard shooting her a critical look.

She just shot him aglare, croaking, "That seriously hurt, Thomas."

"Yeah well," he retorted unforgivingly, "next time maybe I'll let ya bleed out. How's that sound?" He forced a grim smirk, Kally quietly feeling ill yet still wanting to kick him.

As if reading her thoughts Dean frowned. "It's not that bad," he lied, "just a little love tap from the train's aluminum."

"Thomas you're a crap liar," she moaned, adding, "How in the hell didn't I notice that?"

Dean Thomas did not miss a beat. "Probably hit a nerve and it went numb while you were knocked out, then it didn't bleed enough while the shard was stably in place. When we portkeyed it shifted and then this happened," he said logically, making a vague gesture at her leg with his free hand.

Kally stared at him, aghast.

"What?" he responded. "I had to take a first aid course back home in order to babysit."

Despite the serious pain in her leg, she still managed to open her mouth and sputter something incomprehensible. "You what?"

Dean shrugged carelessly. "Gotta earn movie money somehow."

"Tell me," she half whispered, in awe that anyone would trust him with their children, "they forced you to play tea party."

He just smirked, the answer obvious. "Tell anyone and I'll deny it."

Then he brutally tugged the curlex bandage tightly into place, leaving Kally to spit something crass.

The leg-torturing-git just smirked.

Torn between kicking him and thanking him, she found herself utterly shivering. Looking up, half-wondering if a blanket was in the office, movement far across the hospital wing caught her attention.

She caught a glimpse of Remus through the small window of the hospital wing door, the wizard hovering just outside it.

A splash of familiar, messy dark hair could just barely be seen behind Remus's head. Potter.

Dumbledore appeared to be talking to them through the door, the Headmaster actually inside the wing itself. Whatever was said…

Remus' head disappeared from the window, Severus Snape appearing. He looked pissed, holding up a vial in his hand.

The Potion's Master ducked low, the vial rolling under the door and levitating up.

It floated eerily towards Dumbledore, the clear vial passing through some barrier Kally hadn't seen until that very second, sending it rippling like water.

Snape had rolled it under the doorway and levitated it inside, even though he'd been close enough to open the door and hand it to the Headmaster.

Instead he'd avoided contact with Dumbledore, and there had been an invisible barrier it'd had to pass through.

It took her several seconds to realize what that meant.

They had been quarantined.

Her chest lurched.

Dean gave her foot a squeeze, the bloody sock squishing slightly. "Should be good now. Straight in and out stabbing by an angry train. Just try not to move too much."

She didn't have a chance to say anything to him, her eyes darting down to where he kneeled by her legs, before she remembered that the wizard….

He was a Death Eater.

She'd been unconscious…

He could have killed her if he'd wanted to.

He hadn't.

Her lips parted, completely uncertain of what they'd impart. Desperately she tried to focus on just one horrible thing at a time – too much was happening – but she still found that no words came.

That was when the office door flew open, the cacophony of sounds slamming into them as Dumbledore walked in. The wizard was still clad in a plastic head-to-toe suit, having moved through Dean's privacy barrier as if it were non-existent. Groaning, Kally's eyes dropped closed, Dean's hand still very much applying pressure to her leg, squeezing just a bit tighter at the Headmaster's greeting.

"Mr. Thomas, I hear that there have been some…developments."

Cracking her pained gaze, she saw the Headmaster handing Dean the clear vial, stating, "Remus has filled me in on pieces of an overheard conversation, when you and Kalliandra were picked up," he informed seriously, yet pleasantly. "If true, I can only presume, Mr. Thomas, that you would harbor little objection to just a tad of veritaserum, in the spirit of clearing up some areas of ambiguity that remain."

Feeling her chest racing, her hazel gaze darted towards Dean's dark one.

Her friend's expression had gone incredibly grim.

An instant later he'd grabbed the vial from Dumbledore, biting off the top and spitting out the cork.

He then downed it in one quick motion, expression contorted as the tasteless solution went down.

Then he threw the vial at the metal trash bin, the unbreakable-charmed glass – something that Snape did with all his potions vials - smacking against its rim with a loud thunk, clanking on its way down, smacking into the bottom with a note of firm finality.

"What," Dean darkly submitted, "do you want to know?" The words had been ground towards Dumbledore, but his gaze had remained locked on hers.

In that instant, even before the questioning started, she realized that she'd been right; Dean had been telling the truth.

He hadn't wanted that thing on his arm.

He hadn't wanted to be a Death Eater.

It was why he hadn't killed her, or worse, taken her to other Death Eaters.

It was why he'd just willingly drunk a highly regulated truth serum.

Her lips parted silently, her entire form nearly shaking as the knowledge that he wasn't what she'd thought he was, even if she'd only thought it for a few minutes, coursed through her. Dean's mouth just formed a strained smile from his spot on the floor amidst Pomfrey's clutter.

"Perhaps…" A wave of Dumbledore's wand sent the small office's door closing, another charm cast to seal it. Spotting the looks that both Dean and her were sending him, the Headmaster merely responded with a shockingly calm, "Perhaps it is best if the others do not, yet, overhear any of this. Now…Kalliandra," he pressed meaningfully, "if you would lend me a way to look at myself whilst talking to my apparent reflection, I would find myself most appreciative." Smiling with clear strain, he urgently pressed, "An old man cannot maintain his eccentric appearance, after all, if he does not appear to speak with inanimate objects at least once daily."

The Headmaster extended his hand, a pointed look on his wizened face.

A way to talk to himself?

It took her a second to realize what he was referring to: her compact.

It was a two way mirror.

Remus had the other half.

Remus was in the hall.

So was Snape.

And Potter.

Shifting quicker than she thought she could in the chair, patting her pockets down and ignoring the way Dean stiffened, her fingers clasped around the small mirror. The compact had somehow survived the train crash…flipping it hurriedly open she winced.

There was a large crack running through its center, and yet-

She could see the annoyed looking face of Severus Snape looking back at her, the jagged crack splitting his nose into two equally irritated expressions.

"Apprentice," he drawled, "so you did survive."

She made a slight sputtering sound, only for Dumbledore's voice to infiltrate her thoughts.

"He willingly agreed to the veritaserum, Severus," Dumbledore stated gravely. "And has drank the entire contents."

Eye jerking away from the dark eyes of the Potion's Professor, not having seen Remus or Potter, her eyes fixated upon Dumbledore.

The Headmaster had already turned his sights upon Dean. "Mr. Thomas, would you please do an old man the favor of telling me the story of how that mark found its way onto your arm, when you state you did not desire it?"

A second of silence passed, and then…

Dean opened his mouth, and talked.

There, alone in Madame Pomfrey's office, the others all being treated out in the main hospital wing, while Severus Snape listened in through her two-way mirror, Dean told them damn near everything he knew.

The longer he talked, explaining that Voldemort's Death Eaters had saved him from a fatal injury in Hogsmeade, telling him that his biological father had been a Death Eater – one of the most loyal – only to assume he would join, the choice to join or else obvious…

They'd not come right out and said it, but his Muggle sister had been casually mentioned.

Voldemort wanted eyes inside Hogswarts, and had set his sights on Dean. Snape had inquired why they'd use an untested idiot such as himself rather than simply sending Draco Malfoy, Dean shaking his head, his eyes slightly glazed over. Draco wasn't a Death Eater, yet, to his knowledge. He did not know why. What he did know was that Voldemort had wanted eyes in Hogwarts that no one would suspect. Malfoy seemed a bit obvious.

The longer he talked, the more grim Dumbledore's expression grew. By the time Dean was finished, stating he hadn't known what to do given he had been isolated with Voldemort and Death Eaters, with no one around to help, knowing that the Ministry was incompetent and that there was no resistance group that he could go to for help…

The Headmaster had sighed sadly.

"Oh my boy, I am afraid that in our effort to ensure secrecy, I have perhaps forgotten the one thing that knowledge of a resistance could offer."

The words lingered within the sudden silence, Snape's face contorting in disgust, Dumbledore smiling forlornly.

"Hope, Mr. Thomas. Hope."

Dean's brow furrowed heavily, Kally leaning wearily forward, dropping her hand onto his shoulder and squeezing. His hand fell almost mechanically over hers, squeezing tight.

By now the frenzy of activity out within the main part of the hospital wing had settled down, a black curtain drawn across the office window to block off their view, Dumbledore's normally twinkling blue eyes looking aged.

"You were not as alone as you thought, Mr. Thomas." Dean's grip just tightened over her fingers, almost angrily, the wizard remaining oddly silent given how much and for how long that he had been talking. Voldemort hadn't let Dean become privy to much, but he had enlisted his help in trying to get ahold of some within the safety of Hogwarts' walls.

Her, Ginny, Tonks, Hagrid, and a flying instructor with cat-eyes named Madame Hooch.

Apparently she had the blood of a wizarding hawk within her, due to a freak accident in her youth.

Wetting her lips, turning her hand and lacing her fingers through Dean's, she shook her head as if denying the situation he'd gotten himself in. "So what now?" Shivering suddenly, she didn't know if she was talking to Snape or Dumbledore.

The mirror showcasing the image of Severus Snape scoffed loudly. "Nothing. This tells us nothing," he drawled, dark eyes fixating upon her friend. "You've told us information, events, nothing that the Dark Lord himself couldn't anticipate us guessing on our own. So tell me, Mr. Thomas, what were your motivations to risk your own life, in order to save the imbecilic lot currently within the hospital wing?"

Dean's gaze was almost glazed over from the truth serum's effects.

Snape grew impatient. "What were they boy?"

His jaw set firmly, a grimace heard in his tone. "I'm not a killer," ground out into the silent office. "And Ginny and Kally…no one is hurting them while I'm around." What he said…

Kally clenched her fingers between his. He was telling them the truth. The fact that she and Ginny were a reason for him to not harm the others though…

Something in Severus' expression had changed, the bitter wizard looking upon Thomas as if he were seeing a ghost. Dumbledore's eyes had turned onto the mirror, observing Snape with a degree of unveiled concern. It looked as if they were both haunted.

It was a long, long moment before the Headmaster broke the penetrating silence. "The tides of war can be changed by one's caring for a single other person. Something Severus can certainly attest to."

The mirror grunted, Dumbledore ignoring the sound and persisting, "I believe one last layer of security may be in order." Dumbledore eyes were on Dean and not her. "So if Mr. Thomas would not mind submitting to just one last request from an old man…"

Dean practically growled, "Whatever it is," he grunted, "do it."

The Headmaster caressed his wand thoughtfully. "Very well. Legilimens."

The spell slithered from Dumbledore's wand to Dean's head, the two falling eerily silent, leaving Kalliandra sitting there, leg out at an awkward angle, with Severus Snape looking on disapprovingly through the two-way mirror.

Several minutes had passed when Snape finally sighed loudly, turning his attention towards her. "Apprentice, detail the uses of a sopophorous bean and the precise quantities necessary for potions it is used within."

Sitting there, holding Dean's hand while he remained catatonic, she actually made a sputtering sound.

"Voldemort," he stated evenly, "does not take days off. Ergo, neither do you. Now list."

Kalliandra was halfway through detailing its use in the Drought of Living Death when Dumbledore and Dean returned.

Dumbledore's expression was an unreadable mask, but his eyes…his eyes gave it away.

He looked aged.

"He speaks the truth, Severus. However, I fear the repercussions of his failure to ensure the deaths of the Dublin team."

The set of Dean's jaw changed, Snape no longer sneering, but instead looking on critically. "I believe I may be able to convince him of Thomas' utter lack of reliability and complete and total incompetence," he drawled. "Given his marks within Potions it should not be a stretch. If the Dark Lord believes him to be inept there is the possibility of an adverse outcome being avoided, and perhaps…"

Something strange shadowed the Professor's already dark gaze.

"Severus, do you really think?"

"The potential is there, given his biological father's position. The Dark Lord does trend towards favoring certain blood lines."

The Headmaster made a thoughtful sound, as if mulling something important over.

Kalliandra felt lost, but Dean…

Dean was not.

"You want me to spy on him, don't you?" he ground abruptly, his fingers shifting slightly within her own.

Kalliandra felt like her throat was growing tight, a single word sticking out to her: it was one she certainly didn't like.

"How alarmingly unclever," Snape drawled, "were we that transparent boy, or did you receive our written invitation to the spy-of-the-month club?"

Dumbledore shot him a curious look. "Was that wit, Severus? I see that all the time spent with Regulus has been rubbing off."

The Potion's Professor's face contorted into such a look of disgust that Kally wondered how the glass did not break further just from transmitting the image.

"I was merely commenting upon the inconvenience this child will pose. I have enough of a task in keeping myself alive and my godson out of the ranks of the Death Eaters. Adding this one to the list of my mounting concerns will only prove hindersome."

"That's the spirit, Severus," Dumbledore said kindly, his lips turning only slightly.

Dean just looked between them both, opening his mouth to say something, but Snape cut him off.

"Cease speaking boy. I will assure the Dark Lord that you are an incompetent twit who somehow succeeded in messing up his asininely simple and solitary task of ensuring the deaths of Order members within a zombie-plague-ridden zone full of Death Eater aerial assistance. I'll assure him that you were injured badly in the initial assault and are now in quarantine, which will buy you time, and will also explain why you failed to succeed in your mission." Practically spitting, he added, "I cannot make you sound too useless or he will decide you aren't worth the trouble and assign me the task of ensuring you do not make it out of your sixth year intact. Now assuming there are no other assignments…" he shot a look towards Dumbledore, the Headmaster nodding.

Snape disappeared from the mirror in a flash, Dumbledore closing the compact and handing it back to her.
"I can assume that it will make its way back to Remus eventually," he stated, frowning as if rethinking his own statement.

Given how intensely the two disliked one another, Kally seriously doubted Snape would go talk to Remus willingly. For now though…

She turned her attention to Dean, staring at him with serious conflictions coursing through her. Spying…spies had to do things that there was no coming back from, and here they were talking about Dean becoming one, assuming that Snape managed to convince Voldemort to not kill him.

"This is a sensitive matter, so I trust that this new…development shall remain between only those Order members aware of Mr. Thomas' current predicament."

Gnawing on her lower lip, it was Dean who responded. "Yeah, if I get the sudden urge to shout to the Gryffindor common room that I'm He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's lackey and becoming an apprenticed spy under Professor Snape I'll try to resist."

Kalliandra's lips twitched just a bit.

"Precisely, Mr. Thomas. Only yourself, Remus Lupin, Harry, Severus, myself and Kalliandra may know of this. So if things do trend in a direction we did not anticipate…"

"They're the ones I have to go to. Yeah, got it," he grunted, sounding distinctly unhappy about it. The look he was shooting her was even more unhappy. "By the way, when exactly did you have time to join an underground wizarding resistance? You've been in the wizarding world what? Half a minute?" He sounded dumbfounded.

At that she couldn't help it.

She let out a small laugh, her leg still throbbing. "Hogmseade got real," she stated simply. "Nothing like Death Eaters trying to-"

That was as far as she got. A sudden wave of dizziness struck her, a nauseous wave rolling through her stomach, followed by a chill so intense that she began shivering almost violently.

"Kalliandra?" Dumbledore sounded somewhat concerned.

She did not respond. She couldn't think of anything beyond how suddenly, violently cold she felt.

"Kaylens?"

Dean sounded panicked.

That was the last thing she recalled.

Everything went black, her body sliding off the seat and smacking limply against the floor.


ECOTS


Regulus Black fell ill the next day.

The remaining antidote had already been destroyed in Dublin, and now…both Kalliandra and Regulus had fallen ill.

In Dublin, when Fred and George had contracted the disease, there had been no delay in treatment. With Kally and Regulus…there was.

Another batch of antidote had needed brewed from scratch, so they'd started doing just that. It was brewed right there within the hospital wing. Dean, Fred, George, Ginny, Tres…they all worked furiously, following Regulus Black's weak instructions and Severus Snape's barked ones that came through the barrier.

A strange, clear Quarantine barricade had been erected within the hospital wing, one that allowed Severus Snape to levitate potion ingredients through it to the wizards, and one that unfortunately allowed the wizard to stand on the other side barking orders.

Dean drug a hand across his head, staring as Regulus hacked up another lung, weak as hell and bleeding from various surfaces across his skin.

Still, he remained on the floor alongside them, working when he could

Regulus and Professor Snape knew how to brew the antidote, but apparently Kally was the only one who could cause all the ingredients to merge together properly. The problem was…

Kally was already exiled to bed, boils on the back of her neck, arms, abdomen, the witch shaking like a leaf with the chills that accompanied the plague.

She had been weak.

Regulus hadn't been much better off.

By the time it came to combine the final ingredients, her breathing was so labored that Dean had felt a stabbing in his stomach unlike even the one that he'd had in Dublin, when he'd been instructed to ensure they all burnt to death.

Now she appeared to be dying before him.

Dean had learned damn quickly that when Kalliandra Kaylens used her version of magic that it weakened her – severely weakened her. She'd used it to create the antidote anyway, the ingredients somehow combining, the witch falling into an unconscious state, entirely unable to drink any of the life-giving antidote until Madame Pomfrey had been able to rouse her a day later

IVs had been involved.

Regulus had taken the time, while she was unconscious, to drink some antidote for himself, whilst making increasingly creative threats to her if she didn't wake up. They ranged from 'turning her into Snape's personal maid' to 'designating her as the bed pan cleaner of the hospital ward.'

By the time she'd been roused on day four even Regulus had fallen silent on his threats, the plague having fully taken a hold of her, Pomfreyhaving to help her drink.

The mediwitch had also fallen ill, but she'd become symptomatic after Regulus and Kally, and by then the antidote had been brewed and was administered right away. The wizarding illness hadn't had a chance to 'set in' with her the way it had for Kally and Regulus. As such, Pomfrey was doing fine.

The same could not be said for Kalliandra. Even with the antidote, having taken it at such a late stage and having been weakened from using her form of magic in that declining state, no one had been certain that she'd make it. Her entire form, in spite of Pomfrey's continued warming charms, had continued to shake, unable to maintain a decent body temperature.

Dean had flat out sworn, tossing the sheets aside in her bed, while barking at Neville. Within seconds both immune wizards had been on either side of her in bed, arms wrapped around her. That had gone on for two days.

There'd she'd been, all but dying, and Dean hadn't missed the fact that Potter hadn't shown up. Ron, Hermione, Remus…they'd all come on day five, but the damn dorm mate that the witch was dating hadn't shown.

By the time Kalliandra had regained enough strength, her eyes fluttering open to his and Neville's utmost relief, she'd figured that little fact out to.

Dean was going to deck the bastard the second he got out of here. For now…

Dean Thomas, a Death Eater and recruit of Dumbledore's, tightened his large arm around his friend's thin form, dragging the blanket up to her chin. Neville muttered another warming charm, Dean talking near Kally's ear. "You know," he drawled, continuing an ongoing jest, "if you really fancied a cuddle away from Potter, there were better ways than deciding to contract the plague."

The shaken, barely-present laugh that he felt shake her sent his insides swarming with relief. "You're," she murmured, "an absolute ass."

"Ah using me only for my warmth then, I see how it is."

"Hmph."

Laying there in bed, ignoring the disgusting boil against the back of her neck, Dean heard the door to the hospital wing open. Lifting his head, looking around her, he saw Remus entering.

"That Harry?"

Dean about winced, only able to shake his head no. "Lupin."

"Ah."

He didn't miss the way Kally's gaze opened, lingering towards the hospital wing door, as if expecting Potter to walk in at any second.

He didn't, and eventually….

Kally got better.

She didn't ask about Potter again.


ECOTS


The Quarantine was set up in the back half of the Hogwarts hospital wing, a floor to ceiling plastic-looking barrier erected, all eleven of them, including Pomfrey who had treated them without protection, shoved into it amongst the hospital beds.

A second, 'step down' Quarantine had been created in the other half of the wing, Dumbledore and Tonks exiled to that portion. When they had treated the injured they had been protected with the strange suits Dumbledore had conjured, but that didn't guarantee they hadn't been exposed.

Luna had been moved to an unoccupied classroom, a makeshift hospital ward created there to keep her separate from the potential plague carriers, Angelina drug in from her temporary prison at Number 12 Grimmauld to care for her, since Pomfrey had clearly also been exposed while treating the others.

For the first three days Harry hadn't been allowed to see them. Not Ginny, not Kaylens, not Fred or George, not any of them.

Instead Harry had resumed his vigil by Luna's side, the Ravenclaw eventually awakening. Only then had he felt okay enough to leave her for short time frames.

On the fourth day both Angelina and Snape deemed Tonks and Dumbledore's blood work clean, the two released, Mooney finally stopping his frustrated pacing in the corridor.

On the fifth day, after the front half of the hospital wing had been disinfected, they'd been told they could go see and talk to the rest of them through the plastic barrier. It'd been charmed for that purpose.

Harry didn't go.

He'd tried, but when he had he'd seen Kaylens laying in bed, Dean next to her with an arm around her, the nearest torch in the corridor had plumed out and up with an almost violent sizzle.

For the next three days Harry had felt sick.

It'd been two weeks since that day in the seventh year boys' dormitories with Kaylens, just two weeks and she had been letting a Death Eater crawl in a hospital wing bed with her.

Harry wasn't sure if he felt numb, sick, jealous, or fully ready to pound Dean into the next life.

That was how Fawkes found him, brooding in the empty common room with a book on the Dark Arts opened and ignored on the floor. He sat on the floor, his back against one of the couches, using irritated, ever-so-slight jerks of a single finger to send the fire burning in the common room's hearth blazing up, sparks scattering.

He was getting good at certain, subtle types of wandless magic. Hell, he could almost even control it.

The phoenix landed on the ground alongside him, three-toed feet walking between him and the fire, before Fawkes settled comfortably down on the cold stone castle floor. Some of the sparks from the fire Harry was sending blazing up a bit too high struck the bird's back, Fawkes preening contentedly, feather's rustling as if that was his preferred type of comfort.

Harry just grimaced at him, suspicious. He liked Fawkes, but it was his human companion he wasn't too thrilled with. "If you're here to get me to talk to him," he dryly warned, "it's not going to work."

Fawkes just opened his beak, giving a little trill, the plume of feathers on his head moving in the breeze generated by the hearth's heat.

Harry just glared. "Playing innocent isn't going to work either."

Fawkes just preened again, closing his black eyes, settling in for what looked like a nap on the ground.

This left him having a frustrated breath, still unable to concentrate. Dumbledore had sent two requests for him to come speak with him, and Harry had happily ignored both of them. The meddling old man had saved his life on more than one occasion, had been someone he respected above all other wizards there, but the Headmaster had used the others as pawns, and Dean and Kalliandra had nearly gotten killed over it.

It made him wonder how often the bastard used Order members as pawns. Growling beneath his breath, he leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. The only time he moved over the next hour was to take some drinks from the goblet of cider alongside him, that too resting on the floor. He didn't have to open his eyes for that either. It let him stay in merciful darkness, not needing to think about anything.

Between Dumbledore and Kaylens, Harry really had no desire to function currently, just like he had zero desire to go down to the Great Hall to be amongst the normal-functioning. If he left, it had only been to go see Luna or get food from the kitchens.

That was how Ron and Hermione found him, the sound of their footsteps so familiar that he could pick them out from a crowd without even seeing them. Not bothering to open his eyes he darkly greeted, "If you're wondering if I'll move, the answer is still no." They too had been trying to get him to leave, to go do something.

At least McGonagall had the sense to give him some space.

Ron snorted, a soft plop indicating that his best mate had just sat on the couch. "Dumbledore still trying to get you to talk to him I see."

Fawkes preened, but Harry didn't even crack his gaze. "Yup."

Hermione let out an exasperated sounding breath. "Harry I understand that what Dumbledore did was clearly wrong, but don't you think you're being a little bit…dramatic?"

"Nope."

He was pretty certain that Hermione hissed like one of Salazar Slytherin's pet snakes.

Ron, fortunately, was still on his side. "He lied to all of us, Hermione. Bloke is allowed to be pissed."

Harry removed a hand from behind his head and gave a general gesture in Ron's direction, the movement clearly meaning, thank you!

Fawkes made an upset preening, and Harry could practically hear the frown in Hermione's voice. "Um…Harry? Does Fawkes usually cry in your drinks?"

At that Harry actually cracked one eye, finding Hermione perched on the desk and eyeing him strangely. "No. Why?"

"Because he just was."

Harry glanced from where his goblet sat to Fawkes, the phoenix right where he'd been the last time he had looked. He was still settled in front of the fireplace hearth, nowhere near his goblet. "Uh huh," he stated, somewhat skeptically.

Ron looked between he and Fawkes with a strange expression. "Er, Harry, she's actually right."

At that Harry actually shot Fawkes a strange look, picking up his goblet and sniffing it.

Then he took a rather rebellious drink from it, ignoring the look Hermione gave him. "Tastes fine."

"Really, Harry?" Hermione sounded somewhat exasperated, Harry sending her a smirk.

"What? Maybe he's depressed over Dumbledore being a slimy-" he said a word that made Hermione exclaim Harry! "-excuse of a Headmaster too."

The look his best friend shot him clearly indicated her lack of amusement with his recent attitude, Harry merely shooting her a devil-may-care look of his own.

Ron just flopped backwards, now fully laying down on the couch. "Well you might be pissed at Dumbledore, but is there a reason you're pissed at Kaylens?"

Harry couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he had actually preferred the company of a magical bird prone to setting itself on fire at random. "What's it to you?"

Now Hermione was giving him one of McGonagall's patented looks of disappointment. Ron just hung halfway off the couch to give him a bewildered look. "Dunno mate. Last time saw you two you were snogging so hard I thought your clothes were gonna come off, then you sulked for a few days while she was gone, now she's back and you haven't even been down there and are just doing," he gestured at his current state, "that. Even Fred and George were starting to ask." Ron tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air, catching it in his mouth.

Harry closed his eyes and resumed lounging. "Fred and George, how are those two?"

Hermione made a sound that sounded like she'd about had it with him. "Fred and George are fine," she said, one of those shrill notes entering her tone. "Ginny, Neville, Dean, Professor Gai, Amarante and the Muggle girl are fine. But Kally, Regulus and Madame Pomfrey are not fine, Harry."

Harry's stomach gave an unnatural flip. He opened his eyes in time to see Ron making a 'stand down' gesture at Hermione, as if telling her to shut it. "What do you mean she's not fine, Hermione?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him, but Ron cut her off. "Maybe you ought to start with why you're pissed?" He raised his eyebrows, offering a handful of popcorn to him, talking around a mouthful and spraying pieces. "Want some?"

Hermione's nose crinkled. "That's disgusting, Ron."

Harry just eyed it, muttering, "No thanks." Why was he pissed?

He knew why. Kaylens had hugged a Death Eater and then he'd seen them cuddling in bed. He wanted to break things. He couldn't even tell Ron and Hermione exactly why.

Lupin had apparently talked to Dumbledore, and it'd been requested that he keep Dean's traitorous allegiance to himself, for the time being. They hadn't explained anything to him about why they were coddling Thomas.

Harry was really getting sick of the Order coddling Death Eaters. They hadn't heard anything about Krum, but they were still keeping Angelina around on a tight leash for her healing skills.

And now they had apparently added Thomas to their treasured pets of Voldemort's collection. Really, they ought to just get them a whole wing of Hogwarts at this point and put them on display.

Ron and Hermione were looking at him expectantly, so he just shrugged. "I thought she was dead," he bluntly put. "Then she was cuddling with Dean in a hospital wing bed." Dean the dead Death Eater. It had a grand ring to it.

He made a mental note to add that to his tombstone once he'd finished pummeling him.

Hermione's lips fell open in an 'O' of understanding.

"Well then there's one solution," Ron said cavalierly. "We'll have to kill him. Hermione, get the shovel."

Hermione gawked. "Ron."

Ron, being his only loyal friend right now, mimed taking a shovel and beating Dean over the head with it, before flopping back down on the couch and resuming his popcorn eating.

Harry actually perked up slightly at this. "You think he'll hold still or make it difficult?"

Hermione just stared, sputtering. "Will both of you stop it?" Glancing at him, she shook her head. "Harry I can't believe you. I thought you were more-more evolved. And Ron, if you could restrain your barbarian-like instincts long enough to use your brain to think, surely you can think of a reason Harry might have seen that." She fixed her pointed, laser-like gaze on Ron, as if he were privy to something Harry was not. "Right, Ron?" She widened her eyes extremely wide, as if willing Ron to remember something.

Ron almost choked on his popcorn, hacking some out onto the floor. "Oh yeah, that."

"That what?" he groused, turning his attention back to Hermione. "You can't possibly be seriously defending them."

Hermione made a frustrated sound. "You can't possibly be serious about walloping him with a shovel."

Harry smirked around his goblet, "You sure about that?" Harry was feeling quite pleased with that idea. They could hang Dean's corpse from a tree in the Forbidden Forest. It'd make some accromantula a nice snack.

"Harry you're not actually mad at her," Hermione persuaded.

Harry grabbed his goblet in a vice grip and took a swig of the pumpkin juice, still certain that Hermione was quite mad to think Fawkes had been crying in it. Swallowing, he ground his teeth so hard the enamel practically ground off. "Oh, aren't I?" he challenged.

"No," she stated as if it were the simplest thing on the planet. "You're jealous."

Well if she was going to say irrational things he was going to ignore her. Harry eyed the fireplace. "Ron, how flammable do you think Dean is?"

Hermione made an irate sound, looking at a loss. Ron however held up a hand, groaned, than actually sat up. Then he smacked his hands on his pants to wipe off the popcorn dust, looking like he was about to do something distinctly against his better nature.

Harry had known him long enough to read him, it taking Ron a full minute to get around to his lecture, the Gyffindor Keeper starting off awkwardly, "Now ya know Harry," he began in an overly pompous tone frighteningly reminiscent of Percy, "in matters of the heart-"

"Just get to it, Ron," Harry muttered rudely, cutting him off. "Hermione's having a bad influence on you if you've gone from helping me plan a justifiable murder to lecturing about 'matters of the heart' in two minutes flat."

Ron looked a bit put out, then frowned. "Fine," he said stiffly. "You've been holding Luna's hands for days and practically sleeping on the side of her bed. You and I both know we've fallen asleep with Hermione and neither of us has tried to get into her pants."

Hermione made a choking sound, Ron rolling his eyes and continuing. "So Dean fell asleep with Kaylens when they're all trapped down there and you're pissed over that?" Ron tossed another piece of popcorn ceiling high, catching it in his mouth and chomping, "Bit hypocritical don't ya think mate? Especially when ya don't know the whole story."

Harry made a frustrated sound. "Luna almost died and is in a hospital bed because I couldn't protect her," he snarked. "That's different."

"I cannot believe you, Harry, if you just knew-" Hermione started, stopping abruptly.

Now it definitely wasn't his imagination. Ron really was making 'kill it' gestures at her.

Hermione just shot him a wide-eyed, irritated look before turning her attention back on him, clearly deciding something unilaterally. "It's not any different, Harry. Maybe if you'd actually gone down to the hospital wing for longer than it took for you to glance through the hospital wing's window, then you'd know that Kally was sick. She caught the plague. Only there's no antidote left so her and Regulus had to make some while both of them were basically dying."

Ron groaned, Hermione haughtily adding, "She was shaking like a leaf, Harry. I'm pretty sure Neville was cuddling with her at one point too.

Abruptly Harry sat up straighter. "Wait, she's what?" The fire gave an aberrant crackle, sparks sprinkling Fawkes. "Why the hell didn't anyone tell me that?"

Ron rolled his eyes, catching another piece of popcorn in his mouth. "Dunno mate, maybe cause you didn't seem particularly interested? Maybe because the last time I mentioned her name you hexed a chair into ash? Or maybe because it seems like you've dumped her without bothering to tell her? Or maybe because Ginny threatened me within an inch of my life if we did say anything, because apparently all girls are nuts,"Hermione muttered git under her breath, Ron pressing on, "and my little sis thinks you ought to figure out what you did wrong on your own?" Chomping on some popcorn, he added, "Kaylens sure as hell wasn't in any shape to explain it to ya."

Harry was fairly positive that dating was bad for his intestinal fortitude. He felt wholly ill. "How long has she-"

"Since the day they got back, apparently," Hermione huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "She asked how you were when we visited, but looked a bit glum."

Kaylens was sick...there also was another pressing matter there. "She thinks I dumped her?"

The female of the two Prefects shot Ron an icy look. "I don't recall her ever saying that, Harry. Ron's making things up."

Ron just munched loudly on several popped kernels. "Eh, well if Harry hadn't come to visit me when I'd caught the most deadly plague in existence, I'd reckon I'd have been dumped," he said in a mock-wounded tone, placing a dramatic hand to his heart whilst smirking around another handful of popcorn.

Harry just stared. "Hermione," he stated mechanically, "if I ever date Ron please Avada Kedarva me. Just…beat Voldemort to it."

"Sure, Harry," Hermione replied absently, clearly preoccupied with other matters, staring aghast at his dorm mate's table manners. "Ron you are single handedly the most disgusting individual I have ever met."

Ron just opened his mouth wider and showed her the half-masticated popcorn.

Harry swallowed hard. "How…how is she?" He was starting to feel like a first class ass.

Hermione paused her punishing glare of Ron long enough to shoot an equally punishing one at him. "Why don't you go see for yourself, Harry?"

"Yeah, I bet Dean's been taking real good care of her too." Harry shot him a malevolent look, Ron holding up both his hands in surrender. "What? I mean someone had to while you were busy being all broody."

Harry clambered to his feet, his stomach in knots. Abruptly he found himself nervously rifling a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it.

Fawkes just looked at him and trilled sympathetically, as if to say 'it's a lost cause.'

Harry shot him a look. "Yeah, like you're any help."

He had left the common room before Hermione or Ron could ask why he was having a conversation with a phoenix, leaving the two of them to continue their argument over Ron's particularly gross style of chewing.