Author's Note: This chapter contains mature content, per the rating. If you'd prefer to skip that kind of thing, skip the last page or so of this particular chapter (that's the only place with mature content).


"Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase."

~ Martin Luther King, Jr.


Chapter 45 ~ Seeing Eye-to-Eye Really Isn't Our Thing


ECOTS


Everything had gone 'balls up.'

Standing there, barefoot upon the rocks of the Black Lake's shore, she heard Dean Thomas repeat his statement. "Seriously Kal, balls up. It's that kinda day." His large hand dropped onto her shoulder and gave her a comradely shake.

An emergency meeting of the Order had been called to discuss the possible location of the next horcrux.

It'd been a train wreck.

A harpy-esque shout could be heard from over the embankment's crest, both Dean and Kally glancing towards the sight of Ginny Weasley kicking up dirt. "Yeah…I'm gonna go make sure Ginny doesn't kill someone," Dean muttered to her lowly, Kally's lips twitching ever-so-slightly.

"Try," she warned, "to not get killed." Her eyes flickered open, finding Dean's dark brown. "I'm pretty sure I heard her muttering bat boogey hexes beneath her breath before."

"Merlin we're screwed," he drawled in mock horror, tapping her on the shoulder once more, gaze boring into hers. "You gonna be okay?"

Despite herself she smiled wanely, her golden eyes turning to gaze across the Black Lake's eerily still surface. Only an intermittent, soft breeze would send it stirring, ripples spreading out across the loch, lapping gently against the far shoreline. "Oh, I'm fabulous," she assured, dryly telling, "Balls up and all."

Dean let out a barking laugh. "Well, if you need me to drown him…" he jested, before his hand fell away from her, the sound of his footsteps indicating his departure. Kally was left standing on the stony beach alone, the sounds of the other Order members milling about now her only distraction.

Fred always provided an excellent distraction. "How far is it again?" the twin asked.

Glancing towards them, her long hair hanging loosely down her back, a slight smile touched her lips as she watched Fred and George Weasley miming rolling out their shoulders, exaggeratedly stretching a few meters behind her on the bank.

They were preparing.

The Order meeting really had been a train wreck.

Dumbledore filled them all in about the potential horcruxes. He'd told the Order about the possible location of the newest one. He'd told them about the thirteen doorways that needed simultaneously activated to get onto the island.

There'd been an explosion.

Half the Order were convinced they were screwed. Those who still had hope had tried to be practical, discussing strategy, but there had been absolutely no consensus between any of the Phoenixes about anything. They couldn't even decide which thirteen should make the run on the island, harsh words thrown back and forth.

The young within the Order had argued that they would be the most likely to survive the treacherous swim even to make it there, while the older guard had vehemently argued that they were more skilled in magic and would be the most likely to survive once on the island, given that no one knew what awaited them past the thirteen doorways.

Fred and George Weasley had started a chest bumping match with Diggles over it.

Kalliandra was a strong swimmer. She'd tentatively volunteered, uncertainty in her, and yet…

She hadn't expected Potter, of all the people there, to flat out swear the way he had.

Nor had she expected him to point out to the group that she couldn't cast spells and wouldn't be much help once on the island. He'd called her a liability, saying they'd have to spend too much time watching her back for her to be an asset.

Apparently he had been trying to be coldly logical, arguing against her going.

The abruptness had been like a knife in her stomach, Kalliandra not having expected that. Not from him. Not at all. Especially not after the unbelievably warm feeling he'd left her with this morning, the memory of him calling her his mate something that had damn near shaken her. Instead she'd stared at him in abject shock from across the living room in Number 12 Grimmauld, not knowing how to react.

She'd almost left the Order meeting, but Tonks had come to her defense, pointing out that a Reach might be exactly what they'd need if things went south. Apparently she'd heard about the events in Dublin.

Fred and George had even leapt in, jestingly telling that if it wasn't for her not only would swamp 2.0 never have risen from the city streets, but none of them would have ever gotten out of that office building, because there would have been too many undead blocking their way out.

Kalliandra had taken them out. She remembered.

She also remembered being rendered unconscious by the effort.

Regardless of the brief argument surrounding her inadequacies with magic, Tonks had pointed out that they'd need thirteen people, and if Kally could swim she should be going. The Auror had stated that she'd be the first to go with her, since she was more concerned about dead weight in the water than on land.

And here Kally had thought the witch hadn't liked her.

Kalliandra hadn't been the only one argued about. Mrs. Weasley had steadfastly, almost tearfully shouted that she couldn't condone the continued danger of children, teenagers under her care, including Harry and Hermione. Her biologics, Ron, Fred, George, Bill and Charlie, had pointed out that they were already of age and that it wasn't her decision to make. Not to mention Bill and Charlie weren't teenagers.

Mrs. Weasley had looked mutinous, angrily countering that it was at least her choice to make for the underage Ginny, ending any discussion regarding her ability to help.

Ginny had nearly exploded.

It was Hermione who had gotten all parties to shut up.

Hermione's idea was why half the Order was now gathered on the banks of the Black Lake. They were going to swim for it. The best swimmers would be the ones to make the approach to the island, Hermione having reasoned that it wouldn't matter how powerful someone was or not if they drowned on the way in. Whoever swam the fastest went – no room for arguments.

Everyone had already been briefed that it may be a one-way trip

"Oi! Reggie! How far was it again? From where the boat's gonna drop anchor to where we stop impersonating a school of sharks?" George called, swinging his arms with such enthusiasm that he nearly took out his own brother, Ron giving a loud shout for him to watch it.

Regulus Black stood not far off down the shoreline, the wizard looking distinctly uncomfortable in a pair of short shorts and bare chested, an uncountable number of scars across the wizard's back. They resembled whip lashes.

His discomfort probably explained why he didn't try to kill George for the moniker.

"Easily over a hundred meters," he answered in a tight, clipped tone. "You will have harsh currents, battering waves, and an uncooperative sea to contend with in order to reach it." Raising a wand, Regulus cast a spell, a beacon of light shooting out across the surface of the Black Lake, stopping to hover far off.

"That," he told all gathered, "is the target distance."

Fred let out a low whistle, placing a hand over his forehead and squinting. "Well that ought to be easy. Georgey-boy and I could do that before breakfast."

Another wizard, one looking eerily similar to Fred and George Weasley and going by the name of Charlie, stepped up, eyeing the not inconsiderable distance with far more severity than the others. "It'd do you well to not joke until everyone's back alive, Freddy."

Fred shot his older brother a betrayed look. "So serious brother-o-mine. Who are you and what have you done with Charlie?"

"Yes, you and Percy have clearly swapped bodies."

Charlie shot them both a withering look, flexing his arms menacingly.

Bill Weasley stepped up alongside his brothers, breaking up the row. "Why can't we just cast a calming charm? Or row ourselves in?" The sky over the lake was overcast, the late afternoon casting hues of red across the still waters.

"Judging from the descriptors of those who have seen it," Snape scoffed with heavy derision, "there is no guarantee that a boat, even one of magical persuasion, would not be broken into a dozen pieces." The dark eyes of the potion's professor turned to regard them all. "You'd best be prepared to swim, as I for one will not be fishing you out."

Kally wet her lips, curling her toes in the sand. Her leggings and jumper were barely enough to keep her warm in the rapidly cooling air. Just thinking about the cold ocean was enough to send a spasmodic shiver running through her.

Dumbledore's voice cut in to the debate, silencing it. "Enough. There is dark magic there. When Regulus and I observed it, even though the sea was calm, the sea surrounding the island behaved as if under a storm for a kilometer." The Headmaster peered out towards Regulus' beacon, the spell marking the distance. "Our attempts to use magic to calm it proved rather futile."

Everyone went rather silent, all eyes turning soberly towards the beacon.

"Apparation did not work," Dumbledore gravely continued. "Magic as we know it failed. Mechanical means of transportation also failed."

Bill Weasley looked thoughtful. "Magic didn't work? Sounds like the magic the goblins use in the Gringotts vaults."

The surface of the lake suddenly broke, ripples scattering in all directions, Ron having skipped a rock across it. "Great. You know if we're lucky maybe we'll get a welcome party once we're on shore too."

"There's got to be a way to get there that doesn't involve swimming," Hermione said worriedly.

The look Regulus Black sent her was positively biting. "In case it's not obvious," he drawled, "we already failed insurmountably at finding a Muggle or magical way of reaching the island, before deciding that swimming was our only recourse. But by all means, if you in your infinite sixth year wisdom have a better idea do speak up." Turning to scowl at all gathered, he pressed, "Now are there any more asinine questions that we couldn't possibly have thought of before resorting to the recommendation of such suicidal methods, or shall we get on with it?"

Molly Weasley stood on the shoreline, the woman's lips pursed in grim disapproval. "I do not like this, Albus."

Dumbledore could only nod. "One can hardly blame you, Molly."

"I can swim, mum," Ginny hissed angrily, clearly still pissed at having been forbidden from participation. Her protest earned a smoldering look from the Weasley matriarch.

"I have allowed you to participate in one suicidal and inadvisable activity for the Order already, Ginerva, and only because there was nobody else that was immune." The woman drew herself up to her full height, stating unquestionably, "I will not be allowing you to do this. Not before you are of legal age and still require my consent."

Ginny made a sound not unlike an angered harpy, spinning and stalking towards the shoreline, snatching up a rock angrily and launching it into the water alongside Ron. The eyes of her eldest brother, Bill, and his girlfriend, Fleur, followed her with unveiled concern.

Wetting her lips, Kalliandra shook herself, turning her attention back upon the waters. "So are we doing this or not?" muttered beneath her breath, the Order members still debating the advisability of their plan. The scent of algae wafted across the lake's surface towards her, Kally closing her eyes and breathing it in.

She almost missed the quiet approach of footsteps on sand, the interloper finally halting alongside her.

She didn't look to see who it was. She didn't have to.

Potter cleared his throat, Kalliandra remaining cursedly silent, concentrating on her breathing. She was still pissed.

The Order meeting when Potter had all but called her useless had been not half an hour ago. All those who had been interested in trying for one of the thirteen spots hadimmediately floo-ed to Dumbledore's office. Potter couldn't possibly expect her to be okay with him. Not yet. Not that quickly.

Yet apparently he did.

"Will you please," he voiced lowly, "let me explain?"

Kalliandra's hazel gaze lifted from her feet, her toes completely coated in the thick sand, tiny pebbles sticking to them. "No thanks," she murmured.

He'd never kept his desire for her to not get involved in the war a secret.

Somehow she just hadn't expected him to say it the way he had, so sodding boldly in front of other people.

Somewhere along the line Potter had acknowledge that he knew she was going to help, even if he didn't like it. Stupidly she'd assumed that had meant he'd not do things like imply she was useless. There was a war going on, and useless was the last thing she wanted to be.

Now he stood alongside her, on the beach, all the other discussions dimming to nothing more than white noise. Harry's unbelievably familiar voice vibrated into the still air. "Kaylens, I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Well then," she breathed caustically, "mission accomplished."

"I wasn't," he gutturally protested, the wizard's hand clasping onto her upper arm and tugging her around to look at him.

He was met with a glare, Kally tugging her arm abruptly away, Potter's hand remaining frozen mid-air. Now his fingers just clasped onto emptiness.

"Really?" she countered skeptically. "So what exactly did you think calling me nothing more than a liability would do?" Inclining a solitary eyebrow, she waited curiously. She honestly wanted to know.

Watching him, she found Potter's malachite gaze unwavering. "I told you," he ground quietly, intensely, as if desperately grasping for something humored, "that today was going to be all downhill after starting off so damn well."

They'd woken up together. Kally knew what he'd said this morning. She said nothing, merely watching him, hurt in her expression.

"Kal…come on," he muttered, the wizard taking a step closer, drawing near.

Taking a swift step back, she was shaking her head before the motion could even register, the reddish cast of the afternoon sun lending a warmth to the scene that she did not feel. "You don't," she hissed heatedly, "get to call me that right now." Dean got to call her that, Neville got to call her that, even Regulus could call her that, but not Harry. Definitely not Harry.

Potter's mouth opened, a mouth she'd been kissing that very morning unclothed beneath a conjured cloak. But that….

That had been before they'd met with Dumbledore, before the two classes they'd had, before the Order members had been whisked off to Grimmauld for the impromptu meeting, before Potter had all but called her useless in front of the two dozen gathered Phoenixes.

He'd been acting weird ever since he'd come back from Dumbledore's office, Kalliandra having asked what had happened, only for him to say absolutely nothing.

She hadn't pressed.

Whatever it was probably wasn't a non-witch's business anyway.

Potter looked upset himself. "Kal-Kaylens, I didn't mean to make it sound-"

"Oh but you did," she snapped icily. She still wasn't sure why she was so surprised. He'd been damn clear that he was against her getting involved when she'd been invited to join initially. He'd argued with her over it, but that had been half a year ago.

She'd thought after the battle of Grimmauld that he'd gotten over it.

Apparently not.

Dragging a frustrated hand through her hair, at an utter loss of what to say now that he was again trying to speak to her – the wizard had wisely avoided her at the actual Order meeting – Kally didn't miss the pained look in his eyes.

"I told you, Potter," something hard in her voice, "I told you a long time ago that I'd rather die doing something than nothing." Breaths quickening, eyes looking up at him, she wet her lips, quietly murmuring, 'Or did you forget that?" She'd meant it then, she still did, and if Harry-

Maybe he wasn't okay with that any longer, and if that were the case…then she was terrified. She didn't want to be forced to choose between him and helping, because she already knew what she'd choose.

Her family had died because of her. After that her life had to mean something.

Harry, her git of a boyfriend, opened his mouth again, Kalliandra already shaking her head in a silent refuting of anything he might say.

He never got the chance to say it. A large hand dropped onto Harry's shoulder, Remus giving it a rough squeeze. "Problem?"

Potter grimaced, the familiar malachite gaze remaining locked onto hers. "No."

Her own eyes practically blazed, her breathing controlled to control the stinging within them. "Yes."

"Perhaps," Remus diplomatically suggested, "you two should swim on opposite sides."

Potter looked annoyed. "Lupin that's not neces-"

"Okay." The murmured agreement escaped her lips before she could even think of anything else to say. Her feet were already moving backwards, her bare feet sinking into the stony sand of the Black Lake's beach. The way Harry looked at her, as if trying to think of something, anything to say-

She turned quickly, hands raking through her hair as she swept past Professor Gai and Hestia Jones, the two engaged in an animated conversation, Kally quickly reaching Dean and Neville. Something in her seriously needed Dean right now, if only to hide behind him until Potter stopped looking at her like that.

She didn't want to forgive him right now.

Neville had already stripped out of his shirt, standing there awkwardly, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Dean had just finished tossing his to the ground, his jeans hugging his hips as he looked her over, concern in his dark eyes.

"So," he greeted, "still mad at him I take it?"

She made a half angered, half upset sound, not bothering to answer the obvious.

Dean just chuckled, Neville wincing. "Poor bastard. The bloke's really in for it isn't he?"

"Yes," she muttered. "How'd it go with Ginny?"

"Woman growled at me like a velociraptor and started throwing things," Dean told with a crooked grin. "I wisely retreated."

"Hmph," she responded absently. She abruptly stopped walking, crossing her arms for warmth as she glared out across the lake, watching the setting sun reflect against its glassy, black surface. It'd be dark within two hours. Yet here they all were, about to plunge themselves into the Black Lake for a little swim.

Last night Potter had been so hell bent on forcing her to test her wand, trying to prove to her that she could use it to do her form of magic, and she finally had. She'd been able to draw with it, just like she did on her own, only with far more control. The feeling…

It had been exhilarating.

She'd tried to cast several simple spells that morning, knowing the outcome but giving in to the curiosity, though none worked. Not even lumos.

She was not a witch. She knew that. Yet somehow she had thought it hadn't matter to Potter.

Apparently it did. .

Potter's rough, slick hands had grabbed onto her, rain pouring down around them, clothes sticking to her as Harry had torn them off her. And now…

Now she just didn't know.

"Swimmers in position!" McGonagall called commandingly, tearing her violently away from her thoughts. Gaze darting towards the hill, she watched as McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley, Flitwick, Snape, and a seriously irate-looking Ginny all aimed their wands out across the lake, preparing to incant, to turn it into a writhing, turbid mess to mimic the sea.

Kally's fingers quickly snagged the bottom of her jumper, tugging it over her head and throwing it angrily onto the sand. The bare skin of her abdomen was now exposed to the chill evening air, Kally's sports bra not warm by any means, only her leggings lending her any warmth. Standing there, the non-witch felt undeniably exposed.

Last night she'd shown so much more to Potter, but right now, just standing on the same beach as him had her wanting to crawl into a hole and hide.

Off to the side Fred made a cat call, Kally shooting him an icy look that somehow paled in comparison to the one Harry was sending him. For a half second her eyes met Potter's, the wizard's entire face set determinedly, looking conflicted as he looked right back at her, holding her gaze.

Come on, Kal, he mouthed.

It took everything in her to yank her eyes away, her teeth clamping down so hard on her lower lip that it physically hurt. United front. He'd said that to her this morning in front of Dumbledore's office.

He'd done anything but that at the Order meeting.

She just felt completely, undeniably betrayed.

Standing there, shivering, she'd never felt so sodding alone.

Dean Thomas apparently had taken courses in mind reading.

A deep shadow swelled up from behind her, two arms dropping around her, the large hands attached to them rubbing her upper arms as he drug her back against his chest in a reverse bear hug. "Come on Kal," Dean jested, inadvertently echoing Potter's mouthed words, "just think about that warm, tropical water awaiting us and you'll warm right up."

She hissed an irritated breath, actually content to stay in the bear hug he'd drug her into. Even shirtless Dean somehow felt warm.

"How," she gave voice to her question, "are you actually warm?"

"I'm a man of many, deep talents," he told with mock mystery. "Though I may never reveal where I find the power behind my inner inferno, lest I have to kill you."

Swallowing, she shook her head, muttering, "I hate you so much right now."

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed, loosening his grip and continuing to rub her arms.

"Oi Harry! Think you just lost your girl, mate!" Fred instigated, grinning widely as he hooked a thumb over at her and Dean.

"Want me to hex him for ya?" George offered, shooting an apologetic grin over at them. "Sorry Thomas, you know how it is. Nothing personal."

Dean didn't even once stop rubbing her arms, using friction to keep her warm. "Totally hex-worthy," he bellowed down towards them. "Totally worth it. Can't have a Kally-cicle."

Kally shot him a look over her shoulder, Dean offering her an incorrigible grin. "What?" he questioned innocently. "Make him jealous and maybe he'll stop being an idiot."

"I don't want to make him jealous."

Dean smirked cockily. "Oh believe me Kal, you do."

She hissed a breath, glad that Dean was at least being himself, even if Potter was being an ass. Still, her eyes slid sideways, finding Potter angrily stripping out of his shirt, unbuckling his belt and tossing that into the sand, now doing his determined best to not look at her.

"I give him," Dean lowered his head, muttering very near her ear, "an hour before he cracks."

Despite herself, eyes lingering on the way Potter's jeans clung to his hips, she felt the tiniest of smiles touch her lips. "You think?"

"Oh yeah."

All those gathered on the beach were stripping out of their clothing, getting ready to dive into the water, transfiguring their clothing into swimwear. All but Regulus who for some asinine reason had shown up with short-short bicycle shorts. The others just stripped down to their boxers, transfiguring swim trunks.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, quickly conjured a bathing suit that looked like it was from the 1930s.

"Woo! Let it all hang out, Big D!" George shouted, pumping a fist. Fred stuck his fingers in his mouth, letting loose a loud whistle, the Headmaster merely affording them a cautionary grin.

"Albus," Professor McGonagall whispered, "I do not think you attempting this is advisa-"

"I can hardly allow the young and whole to be the only ones to attempt this, Minerva. But if I go, I shall earn my place exactly as they do." With that the Headmaster pulled a bathing cap over his forehead, smiling benignly.

A slight smile touched her lips, her eyes scanning up and down the beach. It was her, Fred and George, Dean and Neville, Ron and Hermione, Remus and Harry, Tonks and Professor Tres, Charlie and Bill, Luna and Regulus, Fleur, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Dumbledore and Hestia Jones.

Amarante was still recovering from his head injury in the Hogwarts hospital wing, the rest of the Order having stated that they either could not swim, or would not touch this mission even with a ten meter pole armed with a basilisk at the end.

"Oi! Mum!" Ron called, standing next to Hermione and blushing red up to his roots. "Where's Dad at?"

"Already on a boat on his way to the rendezvous point!" called Mrs. Weasley.

Instantly every Weasley, including Hermione and Harry, turned to look at her oddly. "Wait? Dad?"

The Weasley matriarch tutted. "You know your father likes those Muggle contraptions. The more dangerous the better apparently. Of course he seized the chance to hop on one of those motorized floating death traps."

"So who's supervising him?" Bill questioned, sounding only slightly afraid.

"My problem children," Tonks responded, whilst giving Remus a smack on the ass. Kalliandra's eyes clenched shut, realizing that she was now going to be scarred for life. "Kingsley apparently likes to fish and knows how to operate one. Mad Eye just wanted to make sure they didn't drown and keeps forgetting he only has one leg."

"Don't worry Molly," Dumbledore assured, "they will be using magical persuasions for navigation and to reach the rendezvous point. The Ministry of the Americas shutting down port access to all from the U.K. regrettably made this more complicated than necessary. However…we should be able to apparate to meet them there, assuming the boat is in place at the proper time."

"Sorry Kal," Dean suddenly whispered alongside her ear, "but pretty sure Harry's going to hex me dead if I don't get my hands off ya."

His hands abandoned her arms, Kalliandar glancing curiously at Dean, before casting a surreptitious glance down the beach towards where Potter stood.

Several of the small pebbles in the sand around his feet had started to vibrate. His head was bent down, glaring into the sand as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world to him.

Kalliandra felt physically sick, gnawing on her lower lip. There was nothing about this that she liked, but it wasn't like she could fix it. Hell…if he thought she shouldn't be here she wasn't sure if she even wanted him to talk to her for awhile.

Of all the things she couldn't be to him, useless had struck a nerve.

Tearing her attention away from Harry, shivering now that Dean had been scared away, Kally bounced up and down on her toes, trying to stay warm while the other's continued discussing Mr. Weasley's whereabouts. The only one not participating was Ginny, who still was sending surly looks aimed at her mother.

"I still don't think Harry should be doing this," Mrs. Weasley called out. "He's not of age!"

Potter's head shot up, a furious and conflicted look on his face. Mrs. Weasley just sent him a pointed look right back, as if to challenge him into disagreeing.

"It's okay, the ward has my approval," Regulus cut in, dismissing the argument.

The look Mrs. Weasley now turned upon him could have sent dragons running. "He is not of age," she stated. "It's grossly irresponsible of you to-"

"If the boy wants to play at suicidal hero I say he can," Regulus interrupted, turning towards Harry. "You do want to play at that don't you ward? It seems to be your favorite hobby from the miniscule bit I've observed about your illogical mind."

The look Potter shot him could have killed. Regulus, however, barely noticed it.

"There you have it, Molly!"

"Congratulations Potter" Snape drawled, "your perchance for assuming the rules do not apply to you have yet again paid off." Snape stood off to the side, observing the entire affair with a distinct air of disdain, adding, "It seems you have earned a new fan."

Potter made to lunge, Hermione snagging him just in time. Regulus just smirked. "Hardly a fan, Severus. I so do believe in allowing young fools to make their own mistakes."

This time Hermione had to tug Harry away from Regulus.

Snape eyed all of it, turning his attention to the group as a whole and their ridiculous swimming getups. "You all," he sneered, "look ridiculous." Continuing, Snape flicked sand off his robes in irritation, "I will not be rescuing any of you foolish enough to drown in this endeavor."

"Can we please just hurry this up?" Hermione called, bouncing up and down on her toes for warmth and eyeing Harry as if he were a tightly wound bomb about to go off. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, was watching Hermione, the witch in nothing but a skimpy tank top and shorts, his eyes following her bouncing, but definitely not looking at her face.

Something about that caught Potter's attention long enough for him to heave a visibly annoyed breath, the wizard snapping his fingers directly in front of Ron's face.

Ron jerked to attention, nodding as if he'd just been slapped. Hermione frowned.

"Everyone pay attention," McGonagall snapped, her patience with the raucous group apparently waning. "The first thirteen to Regulus' beacon and back will be our swimmers. The remaining three will be on board the boat remaining outside the barrier, to provide support to Arthur, Kingsley and Mad Eye in case Death Eaters show up. Since magic does not work within the barrier, any of you that need to use magic to cheat will be disqualified. Does everyone understand?"

The woman's powerful roar was met with twenty nods.

"Are we certain," Snape drawled, "that we do not want to send more onto that…boat?" Snape drawled. "It would be a pity to go all that way only to call it off because one too many of the ingrates drowned."

McGonagall shot Snape a severe look, her lips pursed tightly. "Pessimism is rarely rewarded, Severus."

"Neither is misplaced, delusional optimism."

The Deputy Headmistress hissed rather like a cat, the witch nodding towards Ginny, Severus, and Molly. "Be that as it may….good luck everyone, and try not to drown. Severus does not wish to get his robes wet lest it ruin his attire. Iratus aquas!" A stormy gray light shot out of McGonagall's wand, shooting up and over the lake like a firework, before crashing back down into the waters like a weighted brick.

Severus scowled, but identical spells shot forth from his, Ginny's, and Mrs. Weasley's wands, the lake no longer still. Instead, with the impact of each spell, the black waters violently heaved, waves cresting and forming whitecaps that smashed against one another

That was all that it took to turn the Black Lake into a replica of the sea they'd soon be fighting against.

"GO!"

Twenty feet pounded towards the water, twenty wizards and witches slamming into the surface, Kalliandra catching Potter's eyes an instant before they both disappeared beneath the surface.


ECOTS


Of all the fun group activities that the Order of the Phoenix had done together, this misadventure – all because they couldn't decide who was going to hunt down the next horcrux - was perhaps the dumbest.

That really said something, given they'd broken into the Ministry of Magic, faced down the darkest wizard to ever live and spat at him, repeatedly, taunted an undead Bellatrix Lestrange to her face, and allowed Severus Snape relatively free reign, which was a terrifying prospect all on its own.

Harry's shoulder slammed down against the rocky sand, the wizard breathing as if he'd recently been smothered. Coughing, the battering waves having done their best to shove their way down his throat, he hacked up at least a quarter lung, and probably most of his alveoli.

There wasn't a single part of his body that wasn't screaming in pain.

Tasting mud, water and algae he wheezed heavily, both of his hands gripping the sand as if it were a lifeline, the wizard hearing Ron doing the same alongside him.

His best mate coughed up something green, someone farther off to the side actually vomiting.

"So glad to see that you both had fun," McGonagall greeted with poisonous cheer. Collapsed on all fours in the sand, Harry somehow managed to peer up from beneath his hair, the messy black strands plastered in front of his eyes, with enough time to see the Deputy Headmistress smirking.

"Now the next time all of you forget about cooperation and compromise and decide to try this type of foolish display of bravado," she threatened, "I will not go easy on any of you."

Ron gave a liquidy-cough, Harry nearly losing the contents of his stomach at the sound alone. "That was her going easy?" he heaved.

Harry could barely nod his agreement. There'd been a point where some of the cresting waves had turned into water dragons, the tails bitch slapping them beneath the waves in blatant attempts to drown them.

Besides him Harry heard a thud, Ron having face-planted into the sand. It took every bit of self-perseverance he had to avoid doing the same.

Instead he found his gaze desperately scanning the beach as he coughed heavily, searching for the one person that didn't want to speak to him, his eyes finding her a half dozen yards off. She'd made it back. Breathing hard, heart working so damn hard it felt like it might be damaged, he blinked the grimy water out of his eyes.

Kaylens was okay. She was sitting there, her legs drawn up to her chest, her face buried against her knees, alone. The way her leggings clung to her was distracting, Harry choking down what he swore was coughed up lake water, unable to pull his damn gaze away from her.

Her hair hung limply down, dripping, the non-witch shivering from the icy lake water.

Despite himself Harry tried to move, Ron groaning pathetically as he tripped over him. It wasn't his fault that his legs were numb. Smacking back into the sand, Harry heaved a pained breath. Not far off Fred Weasley could be heard making a similar sound of defeat, whilst Neville wiped something disgusting off his chin.

"That was dreadful."

Harry managed to look blearily up from where he lay tangled with Ron, finding Hermione dropping down to the ground besides them, a warm towel tossed around her shoulders. It was literally steaming. Harry blinked his eyes several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"'Mione," Ron croaked, "you're on fire."

Hermione fixed them both with a scathing look. "I'm not on fire, Ronald."

"Er…you are smoking," Harry managed weakly.

Her brown eyes turned to him. "It's called steam, Harry. McGonagall made it."

The attestation that she wasn't about to spontaneously combust still didn't stop Ron from trying to crawl right over him to reach her, Harry growling and shoving Ron off him with an oomph. He lay there for several seconds, feeling like his entire body was numb. Hell, he wasn't even sure where his right arm was anymore.

Hermione's teeth were chattering, but it didn't stop her from pulling out her wand, casting a warming spell at both he and Ron, the icy water literally hissing as it evaporated off their skin.

"Hermione, you're amazing," he groaned, slowly regaining feeling in his limbs. If he gave it a few more seconds he might actually be able to walk to get to Kaylens.

The look Hermione fixed him with clearly indicated otherwise. "Hardly," she said, nibbling on her lower lip. "I panicked and used magic. I'm disqualified."

Harry actually balked, as did Ron. "You what?"

The brightest witch he'd ever met shrugged. "I didn't know what to do when the wave pulled me under. I'm not exactly an athlete, Ron."

With a groan Harry shoved himself up off the sand, still dripping despite Hermione's charm. Looking at her, he realized she was right. She wasn't exactly a Quidditch player. Given what a powerful witch she was, he sometimes forgot.

Off to the side Professor Tres was storming towards McGonagall, shouting something about her being insane. Harry just eyed Hermione with unmasked concern. "You okay?"

His best friend nodded somewhat miserably, but it wasn't him she was looking at. Hermione was looking right past him, directly at Ron, Harry suddenly feeling like a third wheel.

"Right um…" he managed coherently, patting Hermione awkwardly on the arm. "Don't worry about it Hermione. You'll get it next time." With that Harry staggered to his feet, standing there awkwardly for a second, looking between Hermione and Kaylens.

"Just go, Harry."

Harry winced, managing a quick nod of thanks to Hermione before he staggered off in Kaylens' direction. Around him various Order members were still washing up on the beach, McGonagall greeting all of them in similar sadistic fashion, Harry doing an informal count.

He and Ron had made it back in the top thirteen.

So had Kaylens.

From the looks of it Kaylens had made it back before he and Ron.

His entire stomach felt sick. Kalliandra was pissed with him. The hurt in her eyes when she'd looked at him had been so damn transparent that she hadn't even let him explain why he'd said what he had in the Order meeting. He hadn't had a chance to even talk to her about what Dumbledore had said. He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

And then she'd stormed off, barely dressed, and Dean had started touching her right in front of him.

If there weren't so many witnesses he might actually try to break Dean. As it was he ignored everyone else washing up on shore, that their fight and not his, staggering up to where Kaylens now lay on the rocky embankment.

He found her laying on her back in the rough sand, utterly soaked, her excuse of a top sticking to her in ways that made him lose his voice.

Harry approached as close as he dared, jaw set determinedly as he came to a halt. Swallowing, trying to think of what to say to her that wouldn't cause her to storm off again the instant she realized it was him, he realized something: he'd been right.

Ever since he'd woken up with her that morning the entire day had been downhill.

"Can we talk?"

Harry stood there, dripping wet, waiting. The evening air was starting to feel cold against his chest.

Kalliandra didn't move. She didn't even react. From nearby came a loud flurry of profanities, Diggles and Dodge dragging themselves back to shore, the vicious sounds of waves pounding against the beach loud.

Harry's eyes roamed, the wizard standing tensely above her, able to see goosebumps rising along her smooth skin.

"Kaylens, please," he roughly tried again, waiting.

Kally's eyes remained closed, as if silently willing him to go away. Harry didn't. When she finally figured out that he wasn't disappearing that was apparently enough for her to verbalize it.

"Go," she murmured tiredly, "away, Harry."

Harry. She hadn't called him Potter.

Despite the situation he felt something warm squirm within him.

"No."

Her wet eyelashes fluttered open, fixing on him in the twilight. Harry's eyes lingered, roaming over her. She was pale, probably paler than he was.

She was also shivering.

He had several ways to fix that, but right now he had a damn good feeling that she wouldn't let him lay a single hand on her. Holding her was out of the question.

"I could have SWORN," McGonagall's voice burst forth in the background, mocking the entire beach, "that all of you seemed to think this would be easy! What if I were to begin hexing you now? Huh?! The Death Eaters would!"

That was a terrifying prospect, given McGonagall actually might. A loud array of indistinguishable coughing rose up, Harry glancing back to see Luna sitting serenely alongside Charlie Weasley, patting him on the back.

"What do you want, Harry?"

Kaylens demand tugged his attention right back to her.

"For you to not be pissed," he brazenly told, his own muscles shivering. He'd stalked over in just his conjured swim trunks, his shirt abandoned somewhere back on the beach, the evening chill starting to overtake Hermione's charm work.

"I'd also," he ground truthfully, "like to go back to how we were this morning. You know, when you'd actually look at me."

The next three syllables cut him sodding deep.

"Unlikely."

It was like the waves were trying to drown him again, Harry tensing. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have a seriously good reason for not wanting you to go on a suicidal mission with us?" Not that it seemed to matter. She'd obviously swam fast enough to get in.

Kaylens shifted, propping herself up on her elbows in the sand. "Funny that," she said, wet hair dripping down her bare shoulders. "So it's totally okay for you to go on a suicidal mission, but not me?"

"I can incant, Kally." He seized onto her first name, eyes desperately roaming over her. "You can't."

"Oh yes," she said simply. "You were extremely clear on that point."

"Kally…"

"Please go away, Harry. Just-just please." The broken note in her tone startled him, the sudden change in expression making him realize something.

She wasn't just mad. He'd hurt her.

Cautiously he took a step closer, intending to sit-

She tugged her legs away from him, like a frightened animal, Harry freezing, feeling suddenly sick. He swallowed, throat dry.

"I'm not," he ground hoarsely, "going anywhere."

Something in her irises flickered, a fleeting hint of unnatural gold there, that perhaps the most telling sign of her upset with him. "You really shouldn't hang around liabilities, Potter. They'll only get you killed."

"You're not."

"So why say it?" she half-whispered, something indescribably broken in her murmured words. She was shaking her head now, her long hair, darkened with saturation, moving with the motion. "It's not like you're the first one to have said it."

Instantly he frowned. "What do you mean?"

From her spot on the sand her incredulous gaze shot up to him, something swirling within it. "You're not the only one to have said that. It's not like I haven't already been told that I could be a problem for you."

An unpleasant feeling washed over him, overcoming the throbbing pain in his muscles. In the background he heard the distinct sound of someone getting hexed, McGonagall laughing.

"Care to elaborate?" he ground, a steel edge entering his tone.

Kaylen was looking down at the ground, her fingers plucking up tiny pebbles one by one, before dropping them back into the sand. "You know, the whole…Harry has enough people trying to kill him. He doesn't need some Muggle to watch out for that could get him killed." She sighed. "I didn't realize you felt that way too, at least not until you spoke up today."

Harry's fist tensed on thin air, his throat tight. "What? Who the hell said that to you?" His heart was pounding, Kaylens' upset suddenly making a hell of a lot more sense.

She'd already been damn insecure that she was a problem for him, and then he'd gone and said exactly the same thing in the Order meeting.

Damn't.

"And I don't think that." If anything he thought the damn opposite. Kaylens could take care of herself, in the right situation. But when the potential for an outright duel was there…

The thought of her getting killed had his stomach churn.

Her crystalline eyes flickered up to his, the non-witch gnawing on her lower lip. Her mouth was pale, almost grayish from the cold water, something upset in her eyes.

She looked away as quickly as she'd looked at him.

Harry about sodding lost it, heaving a rough breath as he stared at her. "You're not a liability, Kally. But in this exact situation, this situation only you have to admit you kind of are. Now who said that to you?" So he could find them and kill them. Preferably slowly. Without magic. Using a rusty object.

His gaze roamed over her, searching for the slightest glimmer that she might soften, finding nothing. All he found was the top of her head, the non-witch looking determinedly down.

It a long while before she looked up, ignoring his question, responding only to his refutation that she was a problem for him.

The words she formed were sarcastic as hell.

"Sure, Potter."

He let out a growl. "Kaylens," he took a decisive step closer, "I stand by what I said. I'm not sorry for not wanting you to get yourself killed. But-"

"Bold move, Potter." With damn terrible timing Dean Thomas strolled up, buttoning his jeans and shaking out a wet mass of hair like a dog. "Seriously bold." The wizard's tone conveyed that he clearly thought that Harry was the equivalent of the walking dead.

Harry's throat released a low growl, seriously wondering if he could drown Dean and make it look like an accident. "Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

Dean grinned in a way that could instigate a fight to the death. "Nope."

Before Harry could decide precisely which way to kill him, his dorm mate had already turned his attention on Kaylens, nodding with a grin. "Kal."

Her eyes flickered away from him and onto Dean, Harry feeling his stomach knot as she smiled weakly at the other wizard. "Hey Dean."

Dean shot Harry a wink, continuing to address Kaylens as he talked. "So, where'd you learn to swim like that?" he questioned, summoning his shirt and shrugging into it.

Kaylens wrapped her arms around her torso, shivering. "My father was in the navy before he became a teacher," she told, carelessly shrugging. "We learned to swim practically before we could walk."

Harry blinked at her, but the non-witch was clearly talking to Dean and not him. It was like she'd suddenly and determinedly decided to pretend that he wasn't even there. He half wanted to ask if everyone around him had gone insane, but then he'd processed what she'd said to Dean.

Her father had been a teacher, and had been in the navy. She was a swimmer.

He hadn't known any of that about her. She hadn't told him.

Then again, until right then Harry hadn't known Kaylens could swim. She'd once nearly drowned in front of him.

To be fair, she had been stunned by him and then tossed into the water by a Death Eater, but still…

The three lapsed into silence. The way Thomas was looking at his girlfriend had his blood boiling. He hadn't forgotten how Dean's hands had been on her bare skin, rubbing her arms.

Just when Harry was starting to seriously contemplate hexing Dean back into the lake and enchanting its freshwater version of kelp into drowning him, Thomas twitched his wand in Kaylens' direction. "Calidum celer."

A gentle orange spell swarmed out, striking Kaylens' smooth flesh, the non-witch immediately making a contented sound as the goosebumps running over her arms disappeared in an instant.

"Thomas," she murmured, "you're a saint."

Harry's jaw about dropped, but Dean just shot him a wink. "No problem, Kal. Figured you're probably freezing." With that the wizard started to leave, pausing as he passed Harry and thudding him on the back as if they were friends. "Good luck dead man."

A second later he heard the crunching of sand and rock underfoot, indicating Thomas' departure. Harry just scowled after him, angry that he hadn't thought of doing that for her. Kaylens wasn't a witch, something he'd made damn clear that he was aware of earlier that very day. Of course she hadn't been able to cast a warming charm on herself. Of course she'd been cold. He should have thought of that before Thomas could.

Looking down at her from where he stood, Harry's jaw set in a tight line. "Why didn't' you say you were cold?"

Kaylens' gaze had followed Dean, the witch sighing sadly. "Why would I give you more reasons to think I'm useless?"

The quality of her voice physically tore at him. "Kaylens…I never said you were useless."

"Oh?" her cutting gaze flickered back to him, color coming back to her lips. "So did I hallucinate that Order meeting?"

"You're not," he whispered fiercely, "useless."

She smiled sadly. "Yeah well," she murmured, "it didn't sound like that when you were talking."

They were back to this then. Harry shuddered as a breaking wave showered him in mist, the wizard feeling like a statute, unable to move. "I didn't mean it like that."

"So what did you mean?"

Harry opened his mouth, desperately searching for response, only for Hermione's voice to cut through the throng of chatter.

"Harry!" Hermione called, still looking despondent, but tapping her wrist all the same. "The D.A.!"

He blinked at her from across the embankment. The entire shore of the Black Lake was littered with Order members. Some were standing and milling about, like him. Others, like Kaylens, were sitting. Then others were flat out collapsed on the ground, looking like death. Fred and George appeared to be outright hissing at McGonagall.

The Deputy Headmistress responded by turning into a cat, turning her back paws and kicking sand into their faces as if the beach were her litter box.

If any of the other students looked out a castle window and saw this they'd think they'd all gone mad.

It also occurred to Harry that he honestly had no damn idea who had even won.

"Yeah, come on Harry," Ron threw, his best mate now in possession of one of those warming towels Hermione had. "Doubt the Americans want a no show for their first one."

Hell, he'd forgotten about the D.A.

He spun back around to Kaylens, expression conflicted. "Kaylens, I have to-" Swallowing, hating the timing, he ground, "I have to go. But can we…will you wait up for me?"

The look she returned cut him to the sodding core. "Wait for what?"

It took him a terrible second to realize what she meant. Harry's throat went dry. "Fine," he grated, "I'll just have to find you."

It took him another second to tug his gaze off her, Harry taking in every sodding centimeter of her that he could.

Then he grimaced, his wand flicking out, her hair swirling around her head as he hit her with a drying spell. Thomas might have warmed his girlfriend up, but he sure as hell wasn't letting that wizard have the last spell.

Harry had already turned, heading back towards the castle, before he could see her reaction.


ECOTS


The sun had long since set, darkness falling, but alongside the Black Lake flickered firelight.

Dean Thomas tossed a flat rock in hand, sending Kalliandra a quizzical look. "So you just hang out here, with the Giant Squid, alone?" he repeated slowly, raising a black eyebrow in the dark.

Kalliandra's lips twitched, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. "What about 'skipping stones with the squid' wasn't in plain English?"

"Well…" Dean mulled aloud, "that's not creepy at all." Widening his eyes for emphasis the wizard took careful aim, launching a stone out sideways across the Black Lake's once again calm surface. It shot out into the night, the squid shooting a tentacle up at the last minute, batting the stone back at them with force.

Kally squeaked, Dean letting out a loud shout as they both ducked.

The stone smacked against the embankment and went skidding a bit more forcefully than normal.

Kally lifted her head up, shoving her hair out of her eyes. "I think he's a bit more miffed than usual," she observed.

"Well," Dean diplomatically pointed out, "we did curse his home into resembling a hurricane, then launched a full out water-assault. Wouldn't be surprised if he went twenty thousand leagues under the sea on our asses."

Despite herself Kally actually laughed, the fire Dean had started crackling welcomingly. "Hey," she defended her stone throwing buddy, "he still pulled Hestia out of the water so she wouldn't drown. He didn't have to do that." Wrapping her arms around her body, comfortable between her jumper, the fire, and the warming charms Dean was intermittingly placing on her, she let her eyes linger out across the lake's dark surface.

Dean was already tossing another rock in hand. "Fair enough." He launched a second stone out, the squid still managing to find it in the dark, batting it back.

They'd been sitting there skipping and tossing stones for the better part of two hours, ever since the rest of the Order had abandoned the lake to do more 'reasonable things' like go inside, warm up, and shower. Kally hadn't wanted to go anywhere near the castle though, let alone the dorms.

Potter had asked her to wait up for him. She wasn't sure she wanted to, so staying out here had seemed like a better idea, even though her clothes had been dripping wet.

Dean had only let her suffer like that for a little bit. Potter on the other hand…

The way he'd so casually dried her hair for her when he was walking away…it left something stirring in her alongside the upset. He'd tried to talk to her, but she hadn't wanted to listen.

She was in a different world, surrounded by wizards, unable to do magic of her own. Even after months she still wasn't comfortable. Perhaps she never would be. But Potter…

He had made her comfortable.

At least until she'd found out that he still thought of her like everyone else.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she wet her lips, peering out into the deep darkness cloaking the lake. Not even a moon cast any light. It was just her and Dean, a fire, and a playful squid.

Next to her Dean was eyeing her somewhat shrewdly, leaving her to close her eyes, bracing herself for it. "Okay…what is it Thomas?"

The wizard chuckled, picking up a leaf and tossing it into the fire. "Was just thinking," he stated wryly, "you seem in a better mood."

Her golden eyes narrowed suspiciously, the fire of driftwood and leaves burning dully. "And?"

"So would now be a good time or a bad time to point out that I can see where Harry was coming from?"

Kally's lips parted, staring at him aghast. "Traitor."

The wizard just held his hands up, as if making a peace offering. "Just saying, don't like seeing ya upset Kal. Thinking ya might be being a bit hard on him. Besides, the bloke's obviously crazy about you."

"Oh of course," she imitated a drawl, "that completely explains why he thinks I'm totally a waste of Order space."

"You really," Dean told her somewhat seriously, "need to get over that. He could have phrased it better, but I doubt he thinks that." The wizard's dark complexion grew marginally more amused. "Besides Kal, the bloke's bad with women. Would have reckoned you of all chicks would have figured that out by now."

Obviously Dean hadn't a clue how very wrong he was. Potter wasn't bad with women. Hell…

He wasn't bad at anything.

Something daggered through her, Kally not wanting to think on it. Not for anything. She instead wrapped her fingers around another rock, tossed it in hand, and contemplated tossing it directly at Dean's head.

"Protego."

A blue spell sprang up alongside her, Kally gaping at him. Dean had casually cast a shielding charm, whistling innocently. He stopped only when he caught her gaping at him. "What?" he said innocently, the shield flickering like an aberrant ghost in the night. "You're armed, and this is in the best interest of my safety."

She couldn't be sure, but sitting there in the dark her growl might have resembled that of a rabid wolf.

Dean just smirked at her, water lapping at the lake's shoreline. "Seriously though Kal. Think about it. If I couldn't do this," gesturing at his shielding charm, Kally already racking her mind for ways around it, "I'd have no protection from you pelting me in the head with that rock you're holding."

Instantly her fingers closed around the rather dagger-like blue stone, eyes narrowing as she listened. "Uh huh."

"So, how'd you feel if I walked into a wand fight where people were flinging deadly curses at me if I couldn't do this?"

For a fleeing second it felt like Dean had stabbed her, something inside her pained.

"I'd probably," she admitted truthfully, "want to slap you." She already knew what point he was making. She didn't want to hear it.

Dean apparently didn't care.

"Now imagine it was, Harry," he pressed, letting the shield charm drop. "And you had to be with him and watch him try to navigate that. Pretty sure you'd about lose your mind and be distracted, yeah? That whole, 'you don't want anything to happen to him' thing you snoggers got going on."

In the night her eyes flickered over Dean, lips wetting.

"Now think, Kally, about what he actually said in that meeting."

Beneath her the sand suddenly felt very cold. "That I shouldn't go, because I can't do magic."

Dean's jaw twisted a bit sympathetically. "Yeah, just a bit more…douche-like. Because, ya know, it's Harry and he has no sense with women."

Despite herself a slight smile touched her lips. "He has plenty of sense, Dean."

He lifted a challenging eyebrow, a bit of smoke wafting past his face. "If I said even half of that about Ginny, in front of anyone other than someone's pet cat, let alone half the Order, she'd have killed me dead where I stood."

Sighing, wiggling her still bare toes within the sand, feeling pebbles sticking between her toes, she bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully. Ginny would have killed him and they weren't even dating.

"Way I see it, Potter's lucky you left him alive with his nads intact."

At that her eyes slid towards Dean, a bemused expression touching her face.

Dean just smirked, kicking his legs out and reclining back on the embankment. "I stand by it," he stated, a counter to her silent look.

Remaining quiet for a moment, she studied him in the dark, the firelight casting a dim circle around them. Potter…she didn't want to think about him right now. There were too many conflicting things within her.

Like the fact that every time he so much as touched her it was like an electric jolt, something good in the sensation.

Like the fact that she didn't want to be with him if he saw her as a liability.

Like the fact that she slept so, so much better with him.

Like the fact that she didn't want to be the reason he got killed.

Like the fact that the insufferable git could actually make her laugh.

Like the fact that he could be a horcrux, that he could die, the private knowledge terrifying her.

Like the fact that she was sodding in love with him.

A fortnight ago he had asked her something, whilst hiding beneath the invisibility cloak in the common room. Potter had wanted to know if she'd have been so angry with him if she didn't.

He hadn't said it. He never came right out and said anything.

She still knew. Would she have been so angry if she wasn't in love with him?

It was why she was so upset right now; because she was.

Sucking in an unsteady breath, she tilted her head towards the lake, where the Giant Squid was lazily waving a tentacle, murmuring, "Your buddy's getting bored."

"Oh right!" Dean sat up with a grin, snaring a larger rock and rearing back his arm, launching it high and up.

Her eyes followed its flight until it disappeared, muttering, "Did you have to choose one quite so big?" Glancing back at him, she added, "He's just going to throw it back at our heads."

Dean just waggled his eyebrows. "What's the matter Kal? Not up for the challenge."

She shook her head, sighing, falling silent. As predicted the rock eventually came soaring back, Dean using a shield charm to stop it from killing either of them. She didn't even flinch. She just remained where she was, sitting on the sandy ground, taking in the display of magic she'd never be able to do herself.

Dean was magic in a way she'd never be, just like Potter. Their world…

Sucking in a breath, she glanced at Dean, tone quietly serious. "Dean…what are you going to do about…" Trailing off, she wasn't able to finish her sentence. All she could do was reach out, allowing her fingertips to linger upon his inner forearm, tracing where the Dark Mark was.

Instantly the carefree Dean she knew vanished, the wizard's forearm growing tense at her touch, but he made no move to leave.

She could practically hear the shadow in his voice. "Snape's training me in Occlumency," he told in a monotone. "So they can't get in my head" He paused. "Allegedly."

"Ah," she murmured, "so that's why he hasn't been harassing me lately." She'd thought it odd, that he'd recently stopped forcing her to stay late in the potions rooms every night brewing increasingly complex things so as to turn her into something 'useful.'

Dean just snorted. "Yeah. Pretty sure Snape's worse than the Death Eaters, actually." The wizard went quiet, seeming contemplative.

Then, sitting there on the shore of the Black Lake, she heard Dean speak in a tone she'd never heard from him before. "I'm scared."

Her lips parted in silent understanding, no words coming. At a loss, she gave his forearm a squeeze. Dean reached up and snagged her hand, giving it a squeeze back.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, Dean saying nothing more on the subject, but by the time they heard the footsteps approaching, the two having long since begun to talk about other, lighter things, it'd grown late.


ECOTS


After little sleep for two nights running, followed by story time with Dumbledore, followed by the Order meeting, followed by that suicidal swim in the Black Lake, followed by teaching the D.A. with Hermione and dealing with American, Durmstang, and Beauxbatons slang, Harry felt like he could be asleep even before he hit his bed.

The problem was Kaylens wasn't in it. She hadn't been in the common room either. He'd half pled for Hermione to check the girl's dorms, the witch relenting on account of how utterly pathetic he'd looked.

Harry had waited impatiently in the common room for her to come back, pacing like a caged animal.

Ron had been sure to comment on that, asking if he was as bad with Hermione. Harry had been so shocked by the sudden admission from his friend that he'd nearly tripped headlong into the couch. Unfortunately Hermione had come back then, shaking her head. Kaylens wasn't there either.

That had led him to the dungeons, finding Snape's classroom dark and oddly unoccupied.

It was ten o'clock at night. Where in the hell was she?

That was how he'd found himself out on the grounds, storming back towards the lake, not giving a damn if any of the professors caught him. There was a tiny pinprick of light near where they'd been only a few hours earlier, and Harry was acutely aware of two things: Dean hadn't been at the D.A., and he hadn't been in their shared dorm either.

As such it wasn't exactly shocking when he found them sitting by the lake, a small fire going, the two talking and skipping stones to the Giant Squid. The cephalopod caught one mid-air, tossing it back to the shore, the pebble bouncing across the sand-strewn embankment until it landed at Harry's feet.

Kaylens appeared to only notice him when she glanced back, trying to follow the stone's tumultuous night flight. It was pitch black out except for the stars, no moon to speak of, and had it not been for the dim fire going or his ability to see in the literal dark, he might have missed the fleeting look of surprise on her countenance.

Kaylens looked genuinely confused to see him standing there, as if she honestly hadn't expected him to come at all, even though he'd told her he'd find her.

Now seeing her, sitting there so damn close and companionably with Thomas, while she was upset with him, Harry felt somewhat ill.

"Potter…" she murmured, "what are you-" she looked around, as if looking for Ron or Hermione. "What are you doing here?"

An intense pang of jealousy struck him, every line of his face creasing. "I told you, I'd find you," he said hollowly, gaze shifting from her to Dean. "D.A. just got done."

"Good ole D.A.," Dean greeted, "be at the next one, Harry. How'd it go?"

Harry's gaze narrowed onto his dorm mate and said nothing. Instead he contented himself with fantasizing about bribing the merpeople into taking the bastard prisoner so he'd not get to sit that close to his girlfriend again for awhile.

Spotting his clear annoyance just seemed to make Dean grin wider.

Kaylens was shaking her head, oblivious. "Harry it's late. Why didn't you just sleep? You barely did last-" The non-witch stopped herself, Harry affording her a grim smirk.

She knew exactly how little he'd slept the night prior. She'd been awake and very physically with him.

He just afforded her a grimace. "I wanted to see you. Besides…" Inclining an eyebrow in the deep night, sending a pointed look between her and Dean, he ground, "I could ask you both the same thing."

The fire flickered, Dean tossing a few more leaves into it that had blown near. Kaylens just smiled faintly. "I wasn't ready to go inside yet," she said quietly, honestly, Harry's gaze glued to her lips.

He acutely remembered why he didn't like fighting with her, and why now, given everything they'd been through, it was so damn hard to not touch her. Harry swallowed, racking his mind for something to say.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, an exaggerated yawn interrupting. "Dear me, look at the time," his dorm mate observed, stretching with both arms and nearly clubbing Kaylens in the head. "Don't know about you lot but I am beat!"

With that his dorm mate gave Kaylens head an awkward pat, rustling her hair and earning a wry look from her. Dean was on his feet an instant later, hands shoved into his pockets and whistling as he began to walk away, only pausing near Harry long enough to mutter something he swore to things unholy sounded like good luck.

Now Harry really was damn confused, his own darkened gaze following Dean's progress until the wizard had disappeared off into the night. "Hasn't really mastered the 'discrete' exit, has he?" he drawled, finally looking back towards Kaylens.

She was still looking after where Dean had gone, her eyes clearly cutting through the night farther than his could. "Dean, discrete?" Her lips twitched almost sadly. "I'm pretty sure subtle isn't in his vocabulary." The fire gave a crackle, her gaze leaving the shadows and finding his. "You two have met right?"

The way she inclined an eyebrow at him, almostcuriously, had Harry breathing deeper, harder. "Yeah," he managed, looking her over, searching for…he wasn't sure. All he found was a non-witch that he was sodding smitten with, who was upset with him, who had apparently been getting told to stay away from him by other people, because she'd just get him killed.

Now she sat there, legs curled beneath her on the sand, an oversized jumper hanging loosely from her form, her fingers curling around the ends of the long sleeves. Harry shifted nervously, his shoes sinking into the sand. "So um…may I?" He made an awkward gesture at the ground alongside her.

For a fleeting moment he was half afraid she'd say no.

Instead she afforded him a wane smile, tilting her head to the spot besides her. "I have a feeling," she demurred, "you're going to anyway."

Despite himself he scoffed. "Well at least we know you didn't suffer any head injuries in the lake earlier." Harry dropped down into the sand besides her, the lake rippling in front of them, the small fire burning beach detritus and spilling well-needed warmth over them.

Kaylens picked up a small, purple-gray pebble, the non-witch tossing it out over the lake's black surface.

The resounding thwack of the squid's tentacle making contact with it reverberated through the night, echoing quietly across the grounds. The stone soared back and over their heads, flinging stray water droplets at them from its contact with the Giant Squid's wet tentacle, before thumping into the damp sand.

Kaylens took a sudden, swift breath, as if about to say something, only…

She didn't.

Instead she sat there, legs folded beneath her, her bare toes buried in sand. A lock of incredibly golden hair, neither blonde nor brown but instead that strange, almost unnatural shade, slipped away from her shoulder to veil her face, blowing gently in the breeze. It was like looking at Fleur's antithesis, Kaylens as gold as Fleur's was silver. Harry's eyes lingered, things within him clenching.

Kally was barely a meter away from him, yet might as well have been on a different sodding planet.

Studying her closely, he didn't give a damn that he was staring. Kaylens' eyes remained locked on the lake, refusing to look at him.

Right. He was going to have to talk then. "Kaylens I-"

"How was the D.A.?" she swiftly interrupted, her delicate fingers scooping up sand and rolling it and the tiny pebbles that had come with it between her fingers.

Harry deflated, chest feeling tight. "Was fine," he responded, jaw line tensing. "Unlike us, earlier."

Kalliandra sucked in an audible breath, the non-witch letting the sand pour between her fingers. Harry would happily tell her anything she wanted to know about the D.A., but later. Right now he didn't think talking about a spell casting class that he was teaching, that she couldn't participate in was a smart idea given...things.

Harry didn't want to give up on getting her to talk to him.

Not after that morning. Not now. Not after having been so close to her.

"Any chance," he ground in that vein, "that we cut right to it for once, and not dance around it?"

Sitting there, in the cool spring air, Harry waited.

"Fine," came her whispered agreement, sounding like she was already regretting it. "What do you want to talk about?"

He wet his lips nervously. "For starts, how about how we don't see eye-to-eye about your involvement in the Order?"

The firelight's glow cast flickering orange shadows over Kalliandra's countenance, Harry silently watching, needing her to say something. Of all the things to be concerned about in dating someone, he'd never considered that arguments about taking life and death risks would be involved.

That had been rather stupid of him, given he was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

Still she said nothing.

Harry tilted his head, messy hair falling over his brow. "Kaylens…"

She was suddenly staring fixedly at the sand, voice the barest of whispers, barely audible. "I can't be the reason you get killed, Potter."

An unseen knife twisted in his chest. She still didn't know. No one did. "You won't be," he grated, a dark part of him wishing he could just tell her about the damn prophecy. Anything to get her to not think it'd ever be her fault. "I promise you that," he ground, "you will never be the reason for that."

"Sure," she sarcastically whispered, "that's why you said I'd be a liability. That me coming could get the rest of you hurt."

Harry's mouth opened, almost angrily. She didn't get it. "We're swimming to an island to look for a horcrux that could throw anything at us, Kaylens. For all we know the island's crawling with dementors." The second Dumbledore had described it to him that'd been all he could think about. "If it is what exactly is your plan for handling that?" He wanted to know. He really wanted to know.

Kaylens without her soul…he wasn't sure he could survive that.

Heart pounding at a frenzy, just the mere thought of her dying enough to elicit a physical response, he rawly demanded, "Well?"

A breeze gusted by, sending her hair swirling around her face like some fiery goddess of the night. Harry needed to know. He needed to know desperately that she'd be alright. That she'd somehow found a way to defend herself without incanting that he just didn't know about.

The glint in her eyes told him she hadn't. There was no magic cure for her mutation. Sitting there on the damp sand, hearing the Giant Squid slap an impatient tentacle far out on the water, Harry swallowed a lump in his throat.

The way she looked at him was cutting. "I'm not stupid, Potter. Told you before, I'm not going to enter into any duels with anyone. I'd die. I'm aware."

"Dementors are different," he bit tensely. "They don't care if you engaged them in battle or not. They'll sense you, They'll find you, then they'll suck your soul right out of your mouth." Like him, he knew she had enough bad, dark memories to make her an easy target.

Unlike him she'd never be able to cast a patronus.

Impossibly hazel eyes locked onto his, her lips trembling, anger and upset coalescing within her irises. "You're scared," she all but whispered, voice a soft accusation. "You're scared of them."

"Damn right I am." Harry's enamel about ground off his teeth, so hard was his bite. "And if you were smart you'd be to. Those things love that type of island, Kaylens, almost as much as they love Voldemort. I'm not exactly reaching in logic to guess that there might be some there guarding it."

She shook her head, her long hair tumbling from around her shoulders, her eyes clenching shut. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is," she whispered, "to be asked to stand by and watch while people you care about try to gallivant about and risk everything." Her eyes suddenly were open, turning to him, something conflicted shimmering within. "I don't think I can do that."

"I imagine," he hoarsely forced, "it's a bit like being asked to stand back and watch you risk your life, just so you can feel useful. So yeah, think I do, actually." He sounded biting, bitter.

For a moment Kaylens simply stared at him, firelight reflecting in her already fiery irises. "So I can feel useful," she repeated, as if stunned. "Thanks…"

Instantly he knew he'd gone too far, tripping over his words as always with a girl, this one in particular Harry drug a frustrated hand through his hair. "That's not what I meant."

"Course not," she bit. "Whyever would the great Potter say something he actually meant?"

Great Potter? It was like they were back on the first day of school all over a rock on the ground began to vibrate, every muscle in him tensing. "Kaylens," he ground, "you know what I meant."

"Absolutely," she agreed. "It explains why I'm pissed."

A frustrated sound escaped his throat, Harry uttering nothing. She was sitting so close to him. So damn close that he could reach out and touch her, yet he cursedly knew he couldn't. Not now. Not yet. "What is it exactly that you want me to say, Kally?" he demanded edgily. "That I'm okay with you going? That I think it's a grand idea for you to toss yourself into the middle of what could be one hell of a wand fight? Because I'm not, and I don't."

Kaylens' eyes blazed for the briefest of seconds. "So you just-you just want me to sit back here at Hogwarts and do nothing?"

His jaw set stonily. "No one's asking you to do that, Kaylens. I'm just asking you to play to your strengths, to think strategically, because I don't think I could handle seeing you die right in front of me."

Kaylens moved, her bare feet dislodging sand in his direction as she shifted. "I'm not planning on dying, Potter."

"Oh?" he baited, voice a raw note of steel. "You know I was pretty damn exhausted today. Did I miss the part of class where we learned that life can guarantee our safety when dealing with violent, genocidal, murdering psychopaths?"

"You're an ass."

"Glad to be one if it keeps you safe."

The witch he had taken to snogging over a half a year ago made an angered sound not unlike an enraged cat. Harry didn't so much as blink, he just stared her down. "Play to your strengths, Kaylens," he repeated. "That's all I'm saying."

Her lips parted, only silence falling forth from them in the night. She shook her head in silent, fierce denial. "Why is it," she brokenly demanded, "that others can trust me to do exactly that, no matter what situation we find ourselves in, yet you can't?"

He'd wondered that too. Even Tonks had been alright with her going. He still wasn't. "Because…" his voice died, unable to finish.

"Because what?"

"Because they're not in love with you, alright?" he grated, voice as forceful as it could get. Sitting there, staring at her across an infinitesimally small stretch of sand, Harry found that his throat was having trouble working. It wasn't like breathing and talking were its only jobs or anything, yet it'd somehow forgotten how to do both.

Kaylens made a small, strangled sort of sound.

Something in Harry's chest thundered harder, out-of-control at the sound of her distress, his hand smashing into the sand. He gestured at the castle, his malachite gaze locked intractably upon hers. "The others…they're interested in winning the war, Kaylens. I'm interested in making sure that when we do win that there's still something around that makes it worth living in."

Breathing hard, chest twisting in a manner he'd never before felt, he ground through clenched teeth, "No offense, but for me that's you, Kaylens. If we win and I find that our world's a peaceful one that you're no longer in, thenthat puts a bit of a dent in it for me." Chest heaving, Harry could only watch her, damn desperately hoping she'd get it already.

Her eyes were locked upon his, lips parted, her breaths coming swiftly. "You-you're what?"

Harry scowled. "Trying to convince you why I need you alive despite your stupid, brash, suicidal tendencies to-"

"Before that," she breathed. "You-"

"Don't," he ground darkly, "make me say it again." He knew. He knew exactly what she wanted him to repeat. Sitting there, on the sand with her, only a meter separated them, yet it could have been a cavernous chasm for all he cared. "I'm still happily trying to deny it to myself, so I'm not devastated if you decide to leave."

Another breeze gusted past, the flames of the small fire dancing, bending sideways, their thrown warmth a welcome relief from the cold sensation creeping through him. The way she was looking at him…

Abruptly Kaylens made an upset sound, scrambling to her feet, the non-witch gone in a whirl of flying hair. Her long legs took her quickly away from him, her bare feet running across the pebble-strewn sand towards the lake's edge, the non-witch stopping and letting out a frustrated scream.

Harry felt sick. Shoving himself up, he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't. It didn't matter. His own legs were already following, finding her in a dozen paces and grabbing onto her, his hand snaring around her arm and spinning her forcefully around to face him.

The scent of the lake was strong here, Kaylens' eyes blazing in the darkness. The light of the fire was behind them, Harry only able to see the subtleties of her expression thanks to Dumbledore and Fawkes' meddling.

As it was he could see how watery her eyes looked.

His mouth opened, ready to say, to do anything if it'd just get her to look better, less upset, but he didn't get the chance.

Her hands had flown up, smashing against his chest and shoving him away. "You ass!" she screamed. "You unbelievable ass!"

Abruptly he dropped his hands away from her. "Oh good," he drawled, "you're taking this well."

Shadows danced across the embankment, Kalliandra standing there and staring at him. "Taking it well?" she repeated, sounding dumbfounded. "Taking it well?" For a half second she looked almost calm.

Then her palms smashed against his chest again. "Do I look like I'm taking this well?!" she shouted, trying to propel him away by sheer force. Sand scattered up around her feet as she tried to push him away.

Harry refused to move. He dug his feet into the dirt and sand, holding his ground, silently watching her as everything within him was slowly gutted. "Gonna hazard a guess," he dryly grated, "that it's not mutual."

In the dark Kaylens ignored him. "All day. All day, Potter and I was-I was thinking I wasn't good enough for you. Because-" She made a frustrated sound and shoved him again, Harry doing nothing to stop her. "Because of what you said. Because I can't incant. Because I was scared you weren't just talking about missions for the sodding Order! Because you-"

"Love you?" The line of his mouth drew into a grim line, sarcasm escaping his throat. "Really Kaylens, you seem tense. Something bothering you?"

The non-witch took a step back and kicked sand at his legs. "You should have warned me!"

"Oh yes, because telling you I like you, snogging you senseless every chance I get, sleep depriving myself to spend time with you and repeatedly jumping in front of Death Eaters for you wasn't a clue. My mistake, Kaylens. Next time I'll try to be more obvious."

Out on the lake the squid lost interest in the humans and ducked beneath the surface with a loud splash. Kaylens just looked at him, having gone unnaturally still, Harry wanting nothing more than to go and pretend he hadn't said anything.

The problem was he had.

"That's why you said all of that to the Order today," she managed, sounding stunned. "Because you're scared of losing me."

"That may," he disclosed, "have been a component." If he were damn honest with himself he didn't want her anywhere near anything the Order was doing, but he also got that it wasn't his choice to make. It was hers. It was Dumbledore's. It wasn't his.

He still wouldn't stand around and not say something if he thought she'd for sure get herself killed. "I stand by what I said, Kaylens. We don't know what's on that island. You could get killed."

She was still staring at him with that cursedly unreadable expression, lips parted as she shook her head in denial. "So could you."

His mouth turned bitterly. "Yeah well, what else is new?"

Her parted lips began to sputter. "Me," she whispered brokenly. "You can't…you just can't…"

"Can't what?" he challenged.

She made a frustrated sound, dragging her hands through her hair and spinning in a circle, as if the non-witch had no idea where she wanted to go. She wound up right where she'd started, facing him. "You can't just expect me to be okay with you doing brash, stupid things that could get you killed, while expecting me not to do the same, Harry! It's not fair!"

"My mistake," he uttered. "I can see how wanting you to stay alive could be construed as terribly offensive."

"It's war, Harry! You can't protect everyone!"

"I will always," he promised, "try to protect you." Gaze raking over her, seeing the way Kaylens' entire form now shook, he pressed, "Even when it pisses you off." Seeing her mouth opening, he interrupted, "And it has nothing to do with you not being able to incant."

She took a step back, her heels hitting the water's cold edge, the non-witch he was in sodding love with wincing at the sudden shock against her bare feet. "Potter…you can't…"

A sudden feeling deep within him rose up, Harry suddenly understanding. It wasn't just that she was mad, she didn't want him. Not the way he wanted her. He'd been wrong.

It was like the air had been taken right out of him, a parasite within trying to liquefy his internal organs with cruel force. "Understood."

He couldn't love her, because she didn't him.

Harry turned to go, to leave, to walk the hell away so he didn't torture her any longer with this.

What he didn't expect was the panicked sound from behind him. "Harry…"

He didn't turn back.

He made it three steps.

Kalliandra's fingers had snared around his arm, the brush of her skin against his like an electric shock. She tugged, trying to turn him around, Harry unable to do it. He couldn't allow it. He went still, standing there with his back to her, a hollow, empty feeling filling his gut.

He'd been shoved a second later, Kally somehow already in front of him, her entire countenance screwed in upset.

Through the night's deep shadows her irises were flashing, golden magic within them. Seeing that…Harry felt like he was being strangled. She was upset. He'd only seen her eyes look like that a rare few times, either when she'd been drawing or so far beyond upset from terrible dreams plaguing her sleep that she'd lost control. He'd seen her eyes flash like this in Grimmauld.

The shoving and angered sounds continued for a full minute, Harry doing nothing to stop her. After awhile she seemed to just give up. Now her pleading gaze was fixed on him, her palms still pressing against his chest, no longer shoving him, no longer pushing, just…resting on him.

It was like his skin was on fire. It didn't hurt. It just felt so unbelievably good that he could barely form a coherent thought. "Kaylens…" he dared murmur, chest thundering.

"It's mutual," she whispered, shaking her head as if just realizing something. "It's so mutual. Please Harry, don't-" He could feel the trembling in her hands, his gaze desperately searching hers as she quietly breathed, "Just don't."

Harry swallowed, slow to comprehend. "Don't what?"

"Leave."

His mouth went dry. "Why?"

Kalliandra just looked at him, her fingers curling against the front of her shirt. "You know why."

Silence cloaked the grounds like a heavy blanket, Harry's gaze firmly holding hers. "Actually," he ground hollowly, "I don't." He remained immobile, musculature tense. Harry waited. He didn't dare assume he was right. Didn't dare hope without hearing it.

It was mutual. He hadn't processed that yet.

Kaylens looked aghast, lips parting in silent protest. "I-" She wet her lips. "Please don't make me say it."

His chest thundered, nervous tension quickening his pulse, his voice a rough grind. "I had to."

Her fingers instantly tightened, scraping against his pectorals through his shirt, golden pinpricks of light flickering within her eyes. "You're-you're an unbelievable ass, Harry," whispered into the night.

"No arguments there." Water lapped against the Black Lake's shore, the sloshing water the only thing breaking the deep, impenetrable silence, Harry cursedly aware of the feel of her fingertips on him. He was cursedly aware that with her he wasn't exactly rationale. He'd never been. Not from day one. There was nothing rationale about this, about him and her, about either of them wanting the other.

Yet, Godric help him, he did.

In an impulse Kaylens had moved, her lips pressing to his, Harry's moving back almost mechanically for a brief moment.

It wasn't until he felt her growing still beneath his unresponsive touch, starting to pull away, an unhappy murmur departing her lips that his heart lurched.

Harry grabbed onto her, this time meaning it, his arm sliding around her back, gathering her close. He needed her closer. He wanted her closer. The problem was…her reaction, the fact that they didn't agree and never would on her involvement within the Order...

It could drive a wedge there. It was driving a wedge.

Despite it Kalliandra's arms slid around his neck, his own pressing her firmly to him, Harry wanting, needing to forget the mounting problems between them that day.

He loved her.

Standing there, upon the shore of the Black Lake, Harry Potter kissed the non-witch he was in sodding love with, something unpleasant stirring in his gut. He didn't want to lose her.

Breaking the kiss, pulling his mouth back from hers, he could feel her warm breath ghosting against his chin. "Kaylens…" he muttered. "We can't-"

Her nose shunted against his own, her mouth pressing firmly, desperately back against his, silencing him. A contented, demanding sound rose in his throat, the wizard clutching her close to stave off the chill in the air. He was crushing her. He was sure of it. The way she fit against him so damn perfectly, his feet slipping in the loose sand as she pressed nearer...

Her lips broke away, seizing breaths against him, Harry doing the same as she clung to him for balance. "Harry…" she whispered, her mouth brushing against his with the barest of movements. "I love you. I just…I don't want you to love me."

Harry's hands instantly gripped tighter, the spring air carrying the scent of the lake towards them. She loved him. The twist inside him couldn't be a happy one. His lidded gaze could barely open, unable to look at her the way he wanted, afraid of what he'd see.

She didn't want him loving her…

"Why?" His voice was gruffer than he remembered, his hands brusquely tightening, then loosening almost rhythmically upon her.

She breathed quietly, her concern a mere whisper amidst the giant dangers already looming in the damn war they both fought within. "You knew Harry…you knew going in that I…that I probably won't live through all of this." She was so close he could practically feel her swallowing, her face tilting up to better look at him, Harry pointedly closing his gaze to avoid hers.

He didn't want to see her looking at him like that. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to hold onto her, to pretend there was nothing different about her. His own throat rose and fell in a nerve-wracking swallow. "There's nothing," he denied, "wrong with you." There was.

Reaches never lived long, Harry aware. They were an imperfect magical mutation, one natural selection chose to quickly, systematically remove every time it cropped back up in the population.

The oldest had been nineteen.

Somehow he had deluded himself into thinking she'd be different, because she had to be.

Fingers fell against his jawline, the electric feel one that could only come from her. "Harry…" she whispered, "please look at me."

Unbidden, against his own damn wishes his eyes cracked open, finding hers flickering with uncertainty. "You're going," he croaked, "to be fine. Unicorn blood, and your wand…they'll help." Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he gutturally pressed, "The others didn't have that."

She was tracing the slope of his jaw now, gnawing on her lower lip like she always did. "You don't know that, Harry."

"I do," he refuted. "Not giving you another option."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Now it was his turn to eye her questioningly, his darkened, malachite gaze resting remorselessly upon her countenance. "You're going to live, Kaylens. You already have. The things you can do-"

She released a wry breath, her hand falling to rest alongside his neck. "Energy shifting, Harry. Hardly a trick."

"Dunno, that trick last night was pretty damn good."

She smiled wanely. "I'm like a circuit, Harry. The wand and unicorn blood are like breakers, but eventually circuit breakers fail."

He was aware. Her blood cells lacked the cushion full wizards and witches had. That was why they could do magic so easily that she could not.

It was why she could do such violent, dangerously uncontrolled energy manipulation, when they could not. It could heat things, fry things, short circuit things, kill things. The bodies of actual full wizards and witches prevented that kind of magic, due to the need for self-preservation.

That kind of magic killed.

It was the only kind Kaylens could dabble with.

His hands slid to her waist, slowly clenching along both sides of her. Harry looked at her: just looked.

She looked right back, confliction betrayed across every centimeter of her smooth skin. "I don't want to be what you're looking forward to after the war, Harry. Before…you said you want to make sure there's still something to make the world worthwhile after everything is over." Her eyes flickered over him. "I can't be that reason."

Despite himself, despite everything in him knowing what she said was true, he grimaced. "Too late," he roughly bit. "You are. So you're just going to have to suck it the hell up and try to live, Kaylens." His breathing was ragged, voice raw with unrepressed emotion. "Otherwise I'm going to have to find a way to bring you back, and believe me I will, and when I do," he threatened, grip tightening, "I'm going to be pissed."

Her lips parted, but he didn't give words a chance to fall forth. He smashed his mouth over hers, speaking roughly, directly against her. "Don't," he threatened, "ruin it." He was no damn expert, but he was fairly damn certain that this wasn't how telling a girl he loved her for the first time was supposed to go.

Then again he was the Boy-Who-Lived. He shouldn't be surprised. Nothing went according to plan with him.

A small, quiet laugh shook Kaylens, her slightest of movements felt due to their crushing proximity. "Then what," she murmured, her lips moving against his in speech, "should I do?" Her head shook against his, her hair tickling his face. "You can all do these amazing things, Potter. I-" she sighed. "Sometimes I feel useless, and you saying that-"

"How many times," he interjected darkly, "do I have to say you're not?"

Her lips turned against his. "Probably at least one more."

He grabbed onto her hair, tugging her head sideways to speak directly against her ear, voice a dark growl. "You're not," he rumbled, "useless. Dangerous maybe…"

A second, small laugh shook her form, her breathing sounding a little easier.

Harry nipped at her earlobe, relishing the sound she made in response. A second later he'd drug his mouth away from her ear, finding hers. "Now shut up," he practically growled, "and enjoy this." His hand was already sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, dragging its way up her back, heart thundering as he found the clasp of her bra, flicking it open without apology.

It wasn't long before he had her shirt off her. His was damn quick to follow. The transfigured belt was lost to the shoreline. Pressing her against the sandy embankment, neither talking, Harry forgot everything except the feel of her skin against his. The feel of her fingers raking down his back, the way her mouth felt against his neck, chest…

Harry shoved her against the sand, kicking off his shoes as damn quickly as he could. Thoughts of everything, thoughts of the war, thoughts of their at-odds opinions, thoughts of early death all, for several fleeting damn seconds, didn't matter. What mattered was the scent of her skin, the scent of lake water still clinging to her hair, the way her hand slid down past his hips, his own grasping her breast, the gasp coming from between her lips, the feel of sand and stone digging against his knees.

He straddled her hips, his mouth against her neck, Harry's hands grabbing at her waist and lifting it, dragging her leggings down until they remained on only one leg.

It was fast. Every damn brush of her fingers against his bare skin tingling with her magic, Harry groaning as he drug her as close as he dared. He was uncaring of where they were, exposed outside, on the beach. The fire was too far away to cast any light upon them, the two moving in shadows. It was too damn late for anyone else to be out here. If Thomas showed up he really would kill him.

Stopping, Harry's mouth against her lips as he gasped to wait for a moment, the wizard fumbled for his wand in his discarded jeans, snagging and pressing it quickly to her flesh.

The warming charm swept over them both, Kaylens' shivering agreeably beneath him, Harry feeling her hips press against him with the motion and groaning. He wanted her. They were so damn close to doing this, to doing something they couldn't come back from. All it would take was a thrust…

An animalistic, instinctual alarm went off within his head. Not now. Not yet. Not when she'd been upset. He couldn't.

That didn't mean he could stop completely.

Harry's grip slid down her form, finding, touching parts of her that belonged to only him, Kalliandra's desperately finding him in kind. The way her hand wrapped around him, teasing with maddening slowness, both urgently moving faster…

Gone were the fumbling wizards that hadn't known what the hell they were doing months prior. Now Harry's mouth all but assaulted hers, Kaylens lips moving back, neither daring to break for breath. Still he found himself gasping, listening to her desperate attempts to snare oxygen as they continued, Harry's Quidditch-worked arm pulling her torso against his as close as he could get it, both of them gasping, sand everywhere

It was finished with a groan, Harry spent, falling back against the embankment and tugging the non-witch against him. Harry lay there, on the beach, unable to do anything but breath. Once more he could have damn well died and been reasonably happy, even if nothing had been resolved, other than spoken admissions that they both needed the other.

The night's breeze sent sand scattering over them, Kaylens' hair blowing into his face, the wizard tightening his arms around her in an unbreakable vice. "Kaylens…" he muttered, his head dipping against the top of her head.

She'd allowed him this, no matter how upset she'd been, the damn trembling of her form…

Harry groaned, eyes clenching shut. "Can't promise," he grated out, "that I won't argue with you," words truthful, honest, "about the Order." Raking fingers through her hair, Harry's chest twisting, thundering at the feel of her there, breathing against him, he forced, "Promise I'll always wind up right back here though." With her. However she wanted him. Every damn time.

In his arms he felt her hands sliding over him, the non-witch nodding almost imperceptibly. "Can't promise," she echoed, "I won't fight you on it." She would. He was sure of it. Somehow, right then, he didn't care.

What they fought about were damn important things. Not damn trivial. Not stupid like the kind of crap he'd heard Lavendar and Pavarti whine about in the Gryffindor Common Room. But if Kaylens and he could agree to disagree on this and still wind up here….

They both understood the other better, despite not arriving at the same damn place. Harry's hand continued raking through her hair, his chest quietly heaving from the exertion, his breathing slowing over time.

It was a long time before she'd moved against him again, Harry on his back, Kaylens mouth trailing against his jaw, down his neck, to his shoulders. It was an unstoppable cycle, Harry unwilling and not wanting to break it as her mouth reached his abdominals.

They spent the night doing things to each other that teenagers did. They spent so damn long that the fire eventually died, the repeated warming charms Harry was casting preventing them from caring. Neither noticed the giant squid's long tentacle sneaking up onto the shoreline, a sucker squelching onto Harry's belt and dragging it into the lake's depths.