"Blah" Talking
'Blah' Thinking
"Blah" Parseltongue/Notes/Different languages
Blah Dreams/Flashbacks/Anything and Everything else
Author's Note: I have no idea how many more chapters we've got, but the current estimate is around 5. So… Yay? I'm so sorry that I update this fic so, so slowly – there was school and then RL hit the fan and then I got really into Glee (DAMN YOU DARREN CRISS, WHY DOYOU HAVE TO BE SO AWESOME?) so it just took forever for me to get this all out. And as you all know…the next wait will probably be long too. Sorry.
Albus was grim as he looked at Peeves. Bill stood next to him, quietly unweaving the spells keeping Peeves connected to the stone wall. Mr. Zabini had already been dispatched back to the Slytherin common room.
"I can get him free, but I'm not sure what put him here. It's obviously more than a mere prank, but other than that I have no idea what did this." Bill stated grimly. Albus nodded. He had a good idea of what had happened.
"Bill, my boy, I must wonder if you have had any news from your parents…" Albus wasn't sure why he brought it up, here when Bill was in the middle of concentrating and probably not in the mood to hear about his brother's sad demise. But Albus had been in his shoes once, and he knew how it felt to lose a sibling. He knew he would want to know.
"Yes." Bill staid firmly, jaw set. There was no mistaking it – Bill knew about Percy's unfortunate decisions and his death. He was probably told by another member of the Order, now that Albus thought about it. "Charlie and I know. The kids don't."
Albus nodded to himself. Molly and Arthur had finally come out of their caves of grief a little, long enough to tell him that they were sending a letter to the castle explaining about Percy and if any of the children want to talk to please connect the floo.
With a snap and a flash of golden light, Peeves was disconnected from his stone imprisonment. He hovered a few centimeters off the ground, looking at Bill in a peculiar way.
"Thank you, Bill. That's all I need from you at this moment. Molly's letter to your siblings should be here by now, if you wish to stay…" Albus trailed off, leaving the decision to Bill. The younger man nodded, once, before walking off. Albus sighed and turned to Peeves.
"Can you please tell me how you came to be conjoined with the dungeon wall, Peeves?" He asked pleasantly, being sure to twinkle with extra force.
"Peevesy was minding his own business, he was… when castle decided to eat Peevesy. It needed Peeves, so Peeves went." Peeves rushed through his explanation, sounding like a frightened toddler. "It was toad-woman's fault! But Peeves helped, he did. Peeves helped."
Albus blinked, in shock more than anything else. 'Peeves had been missing since Dolores was still alive and teaching here? And no one noticed? I never noticed?'
"Thank you for helping, Peeves, it was much appreciated. If you'll excuse me, I have to go check the state of the wards. Please allow the Bloody Barron to update you on current… affairs." Albus swept away, heading deeper into the school. He had to check the wards: if what Peeves was saying was true, then they were almost compromised by Dolores. He couldn't afford to have them weakened in any way right now.
"What do you mean she just appeared?" Bill asked his brothers coldly. He had been terrified when Poppy told him that his baby sister had been in Hogsmeade when it came under attack and that she was missing from the students that were brought back. He was near hyperventilating at the very thought that two of his baby siblings – for the only one he called 'younger' and not 'baby' was Charlie – were dead. When the twins rushed in, one of them carrying her, he almost didn't let Poppy near her. He was so, so happy that she was alive and there that he was crying, clutching her close. It wasn't until Poppy snapped that he might be hurting her that he let his baby sister go and be attended to by the medi-witch.
"We were helping the Order and Aurors bring people into Hogwarts -the gates were as far as the wards would let any of the students go- and when we were going back out to help more… she was there. Once we got close enough, she fainted and we grabbed her. We performed a few identification spells on her, to be sure, so we know it's her. She was just… there." The twins spoke as a strange melding of voices and Bill found that he could tell them apart, vocally – Fred's voice sounded closest to their father's while George's was slightly higher in pitch.
'Huh, George sounds kinda like Percy… Dear Circe, they don't know yet. None of them know yet…' Bill thought to himself in a near daze.
The infirmary was filled with injured students, Aurors, medi-witches and wizards bustling from one to another. The dead were being held in another room off Poppy's office – apparently, that's what it was for. Sometimes, Bill forgot that the school was very old and had stood during numerous wars, so it made sense that their was a room specifically for corpses. Still, there was the strong sense of just how wrong it was for a school to have such a room.
"Where are Harry and Ron?" Bill asked, belatedly realizing that he should have asked that question first, all things considered. The twins look at each other, communicating something to each other, and Bill's whole body tensed.
"Harry and Draco are in Alexandria, they left this morning. Ron and Hermione went to talk to her parents. They should be back –" They were cut off by the door opened to admit the very people they were talking about. Hermione and Ron hurried over to the twins, looking worried.
"Is everyone okay?" Hermione asked in a rush.
"Luna is a bit burned, she was the one responsible for Zonko's exploding; Neville and Eleanor were put out, Neville for hysteria and Eleanor for medical healing; and Ginny is unconscious. Seamus and Dean are dead." Fred spoke while George remained silent and somber. Hermione closed her eyes and sank into a chair. Ron's fists clenched as he turned his head, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. Hermione touched his arm gently and Ron visibly pulled himself together before sitting down next to Hermione.
"We had contact with Harry and Draco; they're coming back right now. Apparently, they got what they needed." Ron said speaking to the twins in such an authoritarian tone that Bill was struck by the sudden thought that his baby brother wasn't a baby anymore. Hermione leaned on him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. She looked so small.
'Not babies, but not adults either. They shouldn't even have to deal with this shit.' Bill thought. A house-elf popped in, holding a folded bit of parchment in its hands. He looked at Hermione worriedly before presenting the parchment to Ron.
"For Harry Potter's Wheezy, letter from mummy Wheezy." The little creature said as Ron took the letter. As the house-elf popped away, Bill reached over and took the letter.
"That's for all of you kids, so let's wait till Ginny is conscious, shall we?"
They all fell into silence and Bill felt horrible that out of them, he was the only one who knew one of their own was dead.
Draco was quiet as he sat with Harry in the Headmaster's office. When they had gotten back to the school, there was a lot of yelling on the half of the Order. Draco had half a million things he wanted to shout at them, but none of the words came. It was like he was trapped in his own space.
Harry had slammed the books onto the nearest table during all the yelling, causing a complete standstill as he explained what they were and where the books were from. He then went to sit next to Draco and they hadn't moved since. That had been a good two hours ago, maybe three. And Draco was still caught in his own space.
Harry had lied to him. All things considered, that wasn't exactly correct; it wasn't so much as a lie as a withholding of information and manipulation of facts. Harry had not dragged Draco with him to Alexandria because he simply wanted Draco there; he brought Draco along because of the attack on Hogsmeade. Harry didn't want Draco anywhere near the attack, like a parent shielding their child.
"You don't trust me to be able to handle myself in a battle situation, is that it? I'm obviously just a helpless damsel you have to protect!" Draco snapped at Harry, who was looking confused and upset.
"That's not – "
"You just said it was! You just said you did this today because you knew there was going to be an attack on Hogsmeade and didn't want me there." Draco was going to continue shouting, but Harry cut in when he paused for breath.
"I just didn't want you to be in danger, is that such a bad thing?" Harry was getting louder, not quite shouting yet, but his voice was at least raised. Draco felt a little smug about it – he never realized how much he disliked Harry's maturity until then.
"You're not supposed to – Harry, I'm not your CHILD: I'm your lover, your boyfriend, YOUR PARTNER!" Draco wasn't really sure where this was coming from. He knew Harry didn't view him as a child, but sometimes Harry's constant worry about him grated on his nerves. Harry looked a little taken-a-back from his outburst. It was some time before Harry spoke.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I just… I didn't mean for it to come across in that manner. I'm used to manipulating the board around you, moving all my pieces around you, to protect you. But you're right; you're not a child anymore. You're my partner and I should treat you accordingly. I just… I worry, you know? I made sure Ron and Hermione were gone, too, practically bullied Hermione into talking to her parents today so they were away from Hogsmeade." Harry whispered, looking at Draco.
"Those books… why are you giving them to the Order?" Draco was satisfied with Harry's explanation. He knew Harry worried, knew the other boy didn't mean to treat Draco like a child sometimes; it happened.
"They're important. History is important. This war is much more complicated than they think it is… than you think it is. I can't just tell them something without having facts to back it up; especially since what I'm telling them is so complicated and hard to believe. I know it's true because it is and I was there, but I can't just tell them something like this without having outside sources."
So, it did have to do with memories Draco no longer had, memories that Draco would regain… eventually. Draco was never sure how to talk about them with Harry – after all, with what little he knew, how could he be sure that Harry knew more then he did? Or that Harry knew how this worked?
'Because he knows you get headaches when you remember things and he comes to you during those times. Because you know, at the very least, that Harry is the one that remembers. Because you remember things the clearest when you and he are intimate together – you remember more when intimacy occurs.' A little voice in the back of his mind whispered to him, urging him to just come out and ask the fucking question that had been itching to be asked for weeks, months now.
Harry reached up to fiddle with his hair and briefly the light caught on the diamond bracelet that had a permanent home on his wrist. Blaise had almost choked when Draco told him what the gift symbolized after he happened to catch a glimpse of it during classes. He trusted Blaise with something that important.
He grabbed Harry by the wrist, fingers closing over the bracelet, and pulled the other boy closer.
"When I gave you this, I was professing my desire to pursue marriage one day." Harry nodded, clearly confused and anxious. "I need to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly." Draco paused, staring into Harry's eyes. After a few seconds, Harry nodded, still looking anxious. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." Harry didn't hesitate in his answer. He still looked utterly bewildered.
"My memories…"Here, Harry tried to back away, turning his head to the side and biting his lip. Draco yanked him closer once more, chests touching, and Harry whimpered. "They come quicker, faster, and clearer when we're together, like this." Draco pressed their lips together, once, twice, before pulling away. "That's the reason we don't go any further, isn't it? There's something there that you don't want me to remember."
And Harry looked horrified.
"No, no, that's… no." Harry shook his head frantically, trying to explain. "That's not… Draco how much do you know about what happened to me over the summer?" Harry asked. Draco remembered blood and broken bones and Limbo.
"Your Uncle almost killed you."
"Is that all you thought it was?" Harry asked, looking at Draco's hand where it's still curled around his wrist. He cleared his throat. "Your virginity is important Draco. I just… don't want to rush you, us. Like that."
And that old suspicion was starting to creep up along Draco's spine because he had been wondering about this for months.
"You want my first time to be special, because yours wasn't." Draco said quietly, trying to push the subject to the surface. Harry took a deep breath before closing his eyes.
"I was seven. I was a baby. He had no right to… it was wrong, it was wrong, and I just want to make sure you don't ever feel that dirty and used and abused and disgusting. It wasn't right." Harry didn't cry and he didn't have glassy eyes or anything like that. He just looked revolted and enraged. And Draco didn't ask any other questions, because they weren't important.
He was brought back to the present by Albus Dumbledore clearing his throat.
"Somehow I think you're about to explain all this rather horrifying but interesting pieces of history, Mr. Potter?" He said, looking at them. Harry took a breath before explaining.
"Merlin tried to create a Guide – it wasn't that hard, they're really nothing more than glorified human sized dolls. They have no soul and they can't really die – if they break they just fix themselves. And they're fanatically loyal. And, because of how they're created and how much magic goes into them they're also very, very powerful. It's why they made perfect soldiers for warring families.
"But Merlin wanted to put something powerful into his Guide, wanted it to be the most powerful. He experimented for decades before he came across an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea. He would create the strongest force of magic and put it into his Guide – he would create a demon and seal it inside a Guide, so it would be forced to obey his whims.
"It would be perfect for Rome – no longer would they need to use the Legion to conquer nations, this single Guide would do more damage then any army of man. That was the idea, anyway." Harry stopped here, running his fingers across the books. The only reason the books were even there was to prove what Harry was about to explain, to prove that he wasn't just making this up or insane.
"He used and created many Magicks of Heaven rituals to create this demon – he massacred villages and nations and his own people. He devoted everything he had to this project and it was eating him alive from the inside out. He wasn't the same, he became twisted with power and greed and obsession. He invaded Khemet – Egypt as it's now known – and took some scriptures from the Palace in Cairo depicting how to summon bits of Egyptian Gods inside you. With a few tweaks his masterpiece was almost done. All that was left was to go through with it."
"Muggles say it was a plague that swept through Rome. It wasn't a plague, it was a massacre – people screaming and buildings being ripped open and the horrible laughing. So many people…" Harry was looking off, seeing something only he could see. "And I was screaming 'what have you done, Merlin, what have you done?' because it wasn't stopping, it was spreading and eating everything. It was like the ultimate Magick of Heaven ritual gone mad and Merlin was laughing, oh Circe, he was laughing… And before him his doll stood up and Merlin started to chant and then nothing happened. It had gotten away from him; it was destroying the whole Western portion of Rome and beyond." Harry blinked, seeming to come back to himself.
"He is the reason the Roman Empire split in two and later fell. If he hadn't unleashed that… thing none of it would have happened – or at least it wouldn't have happened in that era. Men, woman, children – gone – ripped apart and devoured for nothing, for curiosity. For shits and giggles, essentially! And he didn't even know what he was doing!" Harry was yelling, sounding half hysterical. He gasped a few times, body shaking, before he sat down; blinking as if confused. Draco knew the feeling well – the dizzying, almost double vision; the knowledge that what he was seeing was both the present and the past.
"Reincarnation isn't unheard of: it's very rare, but typically it's only 'this person was alive 5 centuries ago and is now reborn in the same family' deal. You sound… much older." Albus said, calmly staring at Harry over the top of his spectacles.
"I was a general in the Roman Legion and an adviser to Merlin."
"You're the reincarnation of Lady Saliar?" Albus asked, which made Draco wary because how did he know that name?
"How do you know that name?" Harry asked sharply.
"We have another book, a journal we found through our own sources that confirms much of your story. It mentions Lady Saliar and I connected her to you. Black hair, green eyes, and a lighting bolt birthmark on her shoulder – it seemed like a few too many coincidences." Albus said, smiling at Harry.
"I like my hair and eyes. The lighting bolt this time around was a freak accident." Harry says dazed.
"Not that I don't like finding out more about you, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I don't see how this applies to today's current events."
"When Merlin's doll broke and he realized he had no control over the thing he created and as he lay at my feet, broken and believing I had taken everyone he loved from him, he invoked another ritual – sealing the thing into a staff. His staff. Doing so ripped his soul apart and his body froze completely from the inside. I had realized what he was doing, so I helped.
"Between the two of us, we got it sealed. Merlin will never touch these shores again because there is no part of him left that exists as we know it. I hid the staff, for centuries, trying to figure out a way to ensure the thing inside of it never escaped, trying to figure out how to destroy it. When the Byzantine Empire was breathing it's last an upstart politician somehow found it.
"I still have no idea how he did it, but he broke the staff, the incompetent fool. Being locked away without food weakened it, so it possessed the fool and that's what caused the last massacre before the Empire collapsed on itself. It possesses people, fuels their desires and greed, and urges them to kill as many people as possible in short amounts of time – to bask in bloodshed and carnage, because it feeds off that.
"It's the thing that attached itself to Tom Riddle in a moment of great weakness."
It was cold and wet and dark. Serpentine eyes took in the surrounding atmosphere. He hated this place, this place that houses a portion of himself that he discarded, once, long ago.
You need it back. I cannot help you as you are, you are broken. She will not want you as you are; you are broken.
"I cast these aside for a reason." Never mind that he doesn't know the reason anymore, never mind that a part of him knows his Diamond will always accept him, not matter what he is or how broken.
I cannot help you if you are not complete.
And the threat of never seeing Diamond again, of having her forever barred from him, moves him into the darkness to greet his oldest horcrux and rejoin with the fragment of soul he cast aside many, many years ago.
After this one he'll have five more to re-find. And then, at long last, his master would give him Diamond and they would be together again.
Ginny opened her eyes to bright, bright light. Seconds after she squeezed her eyes closed and groaned, Madam Pomfrey, identified by her voice, handed her a potion to drink.
"Miss Weasley, I'm glad you're alright." Madam Pomfrey said as she helped her sit up. "A few of your brothers are outside, along with Miss Granger, to inquire after your health. Your friends are too, but as you're still weak I'll just let in your siblings and Miss Granger." She bustled off towards the doors.
Within minutes her bed was covered with her brothers and Hermione. Bill, whom Ginny was somewhat alarmed to see, scooped her into his side while the twins each held one of her hands. Ron and Hermione sat on the edges facing her with smiles.
"We were really worried about you, little missy." Bill said planting a kiss to the top of her head. She smiled – Bill kisses had made her smile since she was a baby – and looked up at her eldest brother.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to."
Ron and Hermione chuckled, Fred and George smiled widely, and Bill rolled his eyes.
"What are you doing here anyway?" She questioned Bill, who tensed and paled quite a few shades. Her alarm increased.
"I have a letter for you guys. From mom and dad," He choked out. He stuck his hand into a pocket and pulled out a letter, handing it to the nearest sibling, which happened to be one of the twins. They read it together, expressions becoming grimmer before they passed it to Ron. Hermione read the letter over his shoulder and she gave off more expression then Ron – she looked horrified and sad, whereas Ron blanked his face of all expression.
Someone was dead. 'Please don't be Charlie, please, please don't be Charlie.' She thought to herself as Hermione gave her the letter. She read it and felt numb inside. Like a cold weight flowed throughout her body, anchoring her down.
It wasn't Charlie. It was Percy and he was dead. He was a Death Eater and now he's dead. Percy was dead. Her older brother who used to play dolls with her was dead. He used to read with her. He sometimes tucked her in at night. He used to sing her lullabies when she was sick. And the last thing she said to him was 'I don't want to talk to you, save your ink for someone else.'
And now she can never apologize.
"This is really happening."
The dorm seemed uncomfortably larger. Neville sat on his bed, staring at the space where Seamus and Dean's beds used to be, where their trunks once were, in a numb state of horror. There were only three people sharing this room now.
"Neville?" Harry opened the door gently, peeking in at him. Neville looked up at him, his eyes burning because this was wrong. This was wrong.
"It's too big." He said as Harry sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Neville curled into him, because Harry gives wonderful hugs – the kind Neville used to dream about when he still had dreams about miraculous recoveries or a night where Lestrange hadn't come to his house to torture his parents.
"I know, I know," Harry says, smoothing his hair back and kissing the top of his head, like when he was eleven and woke up from a nightmare about screaming and laughter and Harry was there, trying to calm him. "It's gonna feel weird for a long time, but it'll get batter. I hate to say this, but I'm really glad you're alright, Nev. I know it's not fair or right and this is all messed up, but… sometimes things happen." Harry continues, sounding gentle and older than ever. Everything was wrong.
"They're really gone." Neville muttered into Harry's shirt, memories of the attack coming back.
Dean trying to hold a shield while Neville tried to create a fire-whip.
Seeing Seamus defending a family long enough for the parents to get their kids to safety.
Both of them jumping in front of Eleanor, green light ricocheting towards them.
The moment of time that was a mix of fire, ash, burning hair, and thrumming magic pulsing through his body, leaving him drunk and feeling strange.
"Something strange happened after they – after they – d-died." Neville could feel tears rolling down his face and Harry was rubbing his back and this was just like he was eleven after having a nightmare. "I created and held my fire-whip but, it was strange, I didn't feel right. Everything was strange and…" And he thinks he went a little crazy.
"It felt like you were at the edge of a cliff, looking down at yourself feeling like you wanted to cry and scream and laugh all at once. It was like looking at a stranger in your body, doing things and you couldn't help but find everything funny and it felt like you were about to laugh yourself to pieces except certain parts of you already felt broken." Harry says and Neville is somewhat amazed that someone else knows so well what those moments were like because he was sure no one else would understand. He pulls away from Harry, drying his eyes, to look at the other boy.
He looks so much older than a fifteen year old should. Neville doesn't blame him, he feels much older than he should too.
"I'm a murderer." Neville whispers because out of everything, that's what is bothering him the most. He can take dead friends, he can take war, he can take seeing dead children; he was prepared for those things when Harry came back last year saying the Dark Lord was back. He didn't know he'd have to be prepared to be a murderer at fifteen years old.
"I know." Harry whispered. "So am I."
And this was real. This was really happening. He was a murderer, he killed someone. He hadn't even kissed a girl yet and already he had defended his life and been forced to kill someone. He felt so violated somehow, because this wasn't how things were supposed to go. He should be talking about sex with Seamus and Dean, because they're fifteen year old boys. He should be stressing about his schoolwork and having a crush on some pretty girl. He shouldn't be thinking about how Seamus and Dean's families are going to take the horrible news of their deaths. He shouldn't be worried about how he's gonna go through the rest of the day without breaking down crying thinking about how it felt to slice someone in half. He shouldn't be worried about what he's going to say to Eleanor, shouldn't have to feel like screaming at her and hugging her at the same time.
He wasn't ready to deal with any of this stuff, he wasn't ready. He didn't know what to do. He cried in Harry's arms until he slipped off into sleep, emotionally drained.
Ginny was let out of the Infirmary hours ago. She had just been wandering Hogwarts since then, trying to think of what to do. She didn't want to deal with any of the aftermath of the attack – people she knew, people she saw everyday, were dead. One of her older brothers was dead. Her friends were dead. She wasn't even who she thought she was anymore; apparently she was the heir to fucking Russian royalty.
'What is my life?' She thought to herself.
She found herself sitting on a window seat, alone on the fourth floor, looking out over the grounds. To think that just this morning people had been alive that are now dead. Just this morning her friends had been joking around, laughing, filled with life… Seamus and Dean were older than her. They were Ron and Harry's age.
And now they're dead. Will she die by the end of this war? Will another of her brothers? Another friend? Luna?
"Ginny." Eleanor was standing next to her, fumbling with her shirt, looking down. She looked small and nervous again, like she had before the DA. Before she got out of her shell and learned to be confident in herself.
"Ellie." She had only just started calling Eleanor by a nickname recently; the one who came up with the name had been Dean.
"Dean called me that."
"Do you want me not to call you that?" Ginny didn't know how to do this conversation, they should be talking about what happened, she should be asking Eleanor how she felt, if she was okay… She didn't know how to do this conversation, and she was doing it wrong.
"No… I like it. You can call me that; it's what he would have wanted." The other girl sat down at Ginny's feet, back to the wall. Ginny nodded, even though Eleanor wasn't looking at her. Ginny didn't even know where to begin – Eleanor's shoulder was obviously healed and she didn't have any visible cuts or bruises anymore, so asking her if she was okay was rather pointless.
'How am I going to show Ellie I'm here for her if I can't even tell her I'm concerned about her? For Merlin's sake, I don't even want to have this conversation – I just want to go to bed, curl up, and pretend this isn't happening.'
"Dean told me he liked me. This Hogsmeade visit was supposed to turn into our first date." Eleanor whispered, staring blankly ahead of her. Ginny felt the bottom of her stomach fall out – what was she supposed to do here?
"I'm sorry." Ginny reached a hand down to Eleanor's hair, wanting to do something to help. Eleanor smacked her hand away.
"He's dead because of me. Seamus and he protected me and they're dead because of me." Eleanor was still just staring blankly ahead. Something scorching welled up inside Ginny, demanding to be let out.
"Don't say that! Don't take that from them!" The scorching thing burst out of her, and Ginny thought that maybe she shouldn't be yelling at Eleanor, but she couldn't help it. "They wanted to protect you; they did what they did because they care about you! Don't take that from them, that wasn't your fault; it's not yours to take!" She finished vehemently.
Eleanor turned to look at her, looking a little gob smacked. Ginny looked away, uncomfortable with her outburst.
"I'll give them that, but that attack on Hogsmeade was my fault. Warren told me it was all arranged so Voldemort could get me – something about needing a puppet or something in Hogwarts and how I'll be able to hurt Harry or get close to him or something. The attack was my fault." And now Eleanor was crying – not great, ranking sobs or whole body tears, just silent tears running down her face while she looked at Ginny with a lost expression.
Ginny wasn't sure what to say. Demand proof? Prove she didn't believe Eleanor? Believe her? What should she say?
"I don't think this was your fault." Ginny said slowly. "You said it yourself: Voldemort arranged the attack. He ordered his followers there, his followers killed people, injured others, set things on fire. This is his fault."
They didn't talk after that.
Hermione sat next to Ron, not thinking about anything in particular. Ron had his arm around her and was looking into the fire. Draco was sitting on the floor, a blanket around his shoulders. The Malfoy heir looked out of place in the Gryffindor common room. People were giving the odd trio their space and for once the common room was eerily quiet. People cried to themselves or just sat in their corners, reeling from the attack. After all, Seamus and Dean weren't the only dead students being held in that room off the Infirmary.
Harry came downstairs and sat next to Draco.
"Neville's asleep." He said quietly. For a few moments no one said anything. The four of them just sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts.
"I went to my parent's house to talk to them, like you told me to. I didn't like how it ended." Hermione said. Harry waved his wand and put a silencing charm and privacy charm around them. Draco turned his head towards her, not quite facing her, but she supposed that was all she was getting.
"I told them about the war. About Harry's role in it, about the danger, the people dying, the attacks. For once, I told them the truth. Mama told me she was pregnant." Hermione felt strangely old referring to her mother by such a childish name. "That I was putting my family in danger. I tried to tell them that we could protect them but they wouldn't listen."
"The Order of the Phoenix can protect you!"She said strongly, tears in her eyes. 'Harry can protect you, I can protect you!' she thought to herself.
Her mother shook her head, eyes closed and lips pursed.
"Yes, because from what you've told us that worked wonderfully for the Weasley's – not to mention the Potters!" Her dad yelled at her. He yelled at her. He never yelled at her.
"They told me to pick – my family and the "safe" muggle world, or the "dangerous" wizarding world. I tried to explain that neither were safe, that Voldemort killed muggles too, that just because the worlds were separate didn't mean they were islands, but they wouldn't listen to me."
"Neither world is safe, Mr. Granger." Ron said quietly from his seat next to her.
"I will not have you endanger this family anymore." Her mother had never sounded so cold. Where was the woman who gave hugs of warmth and spoke so gently? "We have to leave our home every summer you're here to prevent you uprooting our lives. And now we're finally going to have a normal family, I'm not letting you shake that, too. I'm tired of living in fear of your world." Her mother said calmly, hands on her slightly protruding stomach.
Hermione could feel hot tears making their way down her face. Her father was holding a picture, looking at it with a devastated expression.
"They kicked me out. I grabbed a few things from my room and left." She didn't cry as she explained this, just leaned on Ron and absorbed his warmth.
Her room was already in a transition stage. Boxes littered the floor and her bed was completely stripped.
A sudden burst of anger filled her – were they planning on getting rid of her? What, now that they had a baby, a baby that had a chance at being "normal," she wasn't important?
She grabbed one of the boxes and dumped it out on the floor. Old report cards from primary schools, childish book reports, old books that Hermione hadn't read in years – all useless now apparently.
She dumped another box over – trophies and ribbons from various academic contests and spelling bees. Useless. Meaningless.
Another box. Pictures of family holidays and summer camps. Worthless. (She ignored Ron stuffing them all into a box he was holding.)
Another box. Her old clothes, baby shoes and a few baby outfits. Maybe they'd give these to her little sister or brother that she'll never meet?
The last box has a few of Hermione's school books from Hogwarts – her first few magical textbooks – and various other odds and ends from her world. She grabbed it and looked around her room one last time – should she grab whatever clothes she has in her closet? She decided not to, they're probably too small anyway. After all, she grew a few inches again over the course of the school year. The only pair of shoes left in the closet are a pair of disgusting formal shoes that she's always wanted to set on fire.
This is the messiest she's ever seen her room – things are scattered all over the floor, boxes are overturned from where she tossed them aside.
"Hermione." Ron's voice is soft, his touch on her elbow gentle. She turns to face him (again ignoring the box in his grasp) and realizes this is the first time he's seen her bedroom.
"You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" Hermione asked Harry.
"I've known since you were thirteen, yes. The only reason I pushed for it to happen now was because I didn't want you two at the attack in Hogsmeade." He said quietly. She nodded – it didn't shock her that he knew something so personal for so long without telling her.
"What are you going to do about the summer?" Draco asked, turning fully to look at her. He didn't look pitying or smug or disturbed. Just curious and a little concerned.
"She's staying with us, of course. Weather my parents like it or not – I think it'll do mom good to have something else to think about, you know?" Ron said. Draco nodded.
"Oh, I forgot." Harry whispered, sounding a little bereft. He turned to Ron, reaching a hand out to touch his knee. "I'm sorry about your brother."
Hermione wondered how long Harry had known that Percy was going to die. 'Was it like Cedric, when he knew months in advance? Did he know that Percy had become a Death Eater? Did he even know Percy was going to die?' She wasn't sure if asking those questions were appropriate.
"Can you tell me if they're having a girl or boy?" she asked out of the blue. Harry turned to look at her, staring at her unblinkingly for long seconds. When he stared like this he even unnerved Luna.
"I haven't seen anything about it just yet. To be honest, I'm not sure I will. Traditionally, I see death more often than life." He said. She nodded; it didn't matter anyway, she wouldn't be a part of their life either way.
She fell asleep against Ron's shoulder.
Classes for the rest of the year were tense; news of attacks, not as big as the one in Hogsmeade, but big enough, littered study groups and more than once students had to up and leave classes when they were suddenly reminded of something so-and-so had done or liked or anything. It wasn't easy. Fred and George seemed to take it upon themselves to cheer the school up; they worked overtime at making sure everybody in a ten foot radius of them was smiling.
The first few meetings of the D.A. were torture. Harry emphasized the physical and worked them into the ground. Whenever someone wanted to rest, Harry threw Seamus and Dean in their faces. It made some of them genuinely hate him for awhile, but time made them get over it. They all knew why he was working them so hard – he didn't want any of them to die. He didn't want to see anymore dead children.
Before anyone knew it, graduation and summer holidays were upon them. Albus spoke beautiful words, once again naming the children that did not make it to this point, and stressing that next year the school would reopen its doors.
And now they were waiting for the train. Every teacher and a few aurors were loitering about for added protection. The Order of the Phoenix was no longer in hiding; they wore white robes with a bright phoenix decorating the back. They stood out, but it seemed to have the added effect of making the students feel safer.
"We got accepted into the Order." Fred said, literally out of the blue. They had all just been standing there when he spoke up.
"Congratulations. Be very careful." Harry said, not looking away from Draco, who was tucking a stand of hair behind his ear.
"Thanks, Harry, means a lot that you can take yourself away from Draco long enough to listen to us." George said jokingly. He may have been joking but there was a certain air of pride about him that he didn't have before.
"I won't see him for a few months. I'll be with Sirius and Remus and he will be with his father and Severus, who will be staying with Neville." Harry said, still not looking away from Draco.
"He's still going to be there if you take your eyes off him for a few seconds, hun." Ron says, trying not to grin. Draco grinned, leaning over to kiss Harry, before he could even bother to respond.
The train rolled in as he pulled away.
Last notes: Hermione's parents. I said a few chapters ago that they weren't horrible, prejudiced people and I want to reiterate that point. They're not horrible, prejudiced people, they're just scared. They had already known that there was a War going on in Hermione's world and that it might effect them, and then they found out that they were pregnant again. Then, Hermione comes and finally tells them the truth, the whole truth, and it scared them. Genuinely, truly scared them, and for good reason. They were already drawing away from her emotionally to make a furte cut easier, so they just cut themselves off from her earlier then planned. They're not horrible people, they're just scared.