Disclaimer: Don't own it, so don't sue.

A/N: Wow. The AN I set for this was soo far out of date…but I'm back now, and hopefully will be back for a while at least, so I'm going to post as often as I can manage, even if after I'm finished with this story I'm going to break it apart and redo a lot of it. I made a long, two-page list of things wrong with this story, and I'm hopefully going to fix it ALL. Anyway, enjoy, and I'm so sorry it took this long…I know I hate when authors disappear, and here I did it to all of you…again.

Thanks for the patience,

Miss Laine

Chapter 32: 'Home' for Break

Nothing really seemed to change after he and Malfoy shook hands. Harry still glared at the other teen, and Malfoy glared right back, making as many disparaging comments about Harry's scar, Ron's family, and Hermione's heritage as he could. It was almost as if nothing had happened…

Except that twice he found out that Malfoy ended up in the infirmary, injured in some way or another. He assumed it was because the death eaters were still after the other teen, but he couldn't seem to feel that sorry for Malfoy.

He figured the git finally was at least partially getting back what he deserved for years of treating everyone else as less than dirt. Certainly, he didn't really want to see Malfoy killed, but it didn't really bother him too much that Malfoy was suffering the consequences of joining the light side.

Neither Ron, nor, surprisingly, Hermione, felt that confident in Malfoy's suddenly loyalty to their side, and even he had to admit that it didn't seem quite right. Malfoy had never been one to do something without a reason, and, to Harry, the reason Malfoy switched sides wasn't that clear.

But Dumbledore obviously believed Malfoy to be truthful, or at least acted as if he felt that way, so Harry didn't press the point with anyone…he just stayed on his toes whenever the blonde teen was around. Just in case.

Of course, he was on his toes already because it was the last few weeks of the term, and he and his friends were all swamped with more homework than they could possibly handle. Essays were due every day of the week, and Harry found himself often mixing up his essays and his classes. Just the other day, he'd gotten out his Potions essay and his Transfiguration textbook, and it had taken him twenty minutes to realized that the reason he couldn't find 'asphodel' in the index was because he had the wrong book.

Even Hermione was tired and strung out, her eyes red from reading too much and too long, and her normally perfect handwriting starting to look a little sloppy. Of course, Harry knew, he essays were all, on average, about twice as long as his own, so she deserved to look a little frazzled.

"Just think…the holidays are coming up and we get a break," Ron told him wearily, stretching and setting down a half-finished charms essay. Harry sighed, stretching as well and cracking his stiff neck. His own charms essay hadn't even made it past the outline stage—he'd slipped off earlier to attempt to get wandless magic to work for him again, and then he'd tried a couple of times to complete his animagus transformation. Still, all he could get was some transformation in his arms and legs, but nothing more, no matter how hard he concentrated on the dragon form.

Ron and Hermione had put their own attempts on hold until the next term, much too busy with quidditch and studying (respectively) to put in the time and focus necessary to finish the transformations.

Of course, his own attempts to concentrate hadn't been that successful either—despite his rudimentary Occlumency skills, he couldn't manage to clear all the turmoil from his mind and focus on one thing. There were too many worries in his mind to let him relax.

"Glad there's something to look forward to," he finally answered. "Of course…I probably have to stay here for the break," he admitted.

Ron looked aghast. "They wouldn't do that to you, would they?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"I don't really want to go back to Grimmauld, especially if Remus isn't going to be there, and I can't put your family in danger by going to the Burrow," he explained.

"You're not putting us in danger, Harry!" Ron argued. "You-kno—Voldemort—knows that my family has always been against him. It doesn't matter if you're there or not!"

"Sure it does," Harry argued evenly. "Besides—maybe Remus will be home for the holidays anyway, so it won't matter."

"Whatever, mate," Ron said, looking as if he still wanted to argue. "Just don't think you're unwelcome at the Burrow," he added. Harry nodded.

"Your mum would drag me there if she thought she could get away with it," Harry joked. "I'd like to be there, too, but you have to admit that it's dangerous. Voldemort will do anything to get to me now, and I don't think the wards around the Burrow would stop him for very long."

Ron looked defeated a moment, then sighed. "I suppose…I just wish things were different."

"So do we all," Hermione said softly, rubbing at her strained eyes. "I can't even imagine what we'd be like…what you'd be like, Harry…if none of this had every happened."

Harry frowned, thinking of how arrogant his father had been at fifteen and sixteen, then thought of how life might have been if he'd grown up with his parents. He sighed quietly, imagining life without a cupboard under the stairs, and shook away the image. It was too late and pointless to imagine what could have been.

"We'd still be stressed and tired right now," Ron pointed out. "This homework is killing me."

"It's not that bad, Ronald," Hermione scolded gently. Ron rolled his eyes, and, when Hermione looked away, stuck his tongue out at her.

"Come on," Harry said, shoving his books away from himself and standing up. "Let's go outside and play in the snow," he offered. "Let's do something normal for once."

Harry had to admit that Hermione's idea made sense, and he followed his friends outside.

"There is the issue of your holiday break," Dumbledore began slowly, eyes on Harry.

True to the teen's predictions, the old headmaster had called him down to his office the next day in order to discuss the coming break. "Where am I going to be?" Harry asked, resigned.

"Remus will be at Grimmauld Place for the entirety of break," Dumbledore went on. "You will be staying there…if that is agreeable to you?"

Harry nodded, trying not to seem eager. He didn't like the fact that Dumbledore knew how to manipulate him so well, but he had to admit that he did look forward to a real Christmas, spent with the one person that was the closest thing he had to a parent any more.

"How am I getting there?" he asked, knowing they couldn't possibly want him on the new, re-done Hogwarts Express.

Dumbledore smiled. "Portkey, my boy. I know you dislike them…but it is the only choice that I have available at the moment.

Harry nodded, swallowing. At least, he figured, he wouldn't be traveling while under attack or some such and would be able to keep his head. Only shock had kept him from panicking when Dumbledore had sent him to his office after Sirius's death.

"I'll be fine, sir," he said shortly. "Anything else?" he asked, standing up. Dumbledore shook his head.

"Good luck with exams, Harry," the old wizard said quietly, and Harry stopped, remembering something suddenly. He turned to face the headmaster again.

"There's been people speaking in French in my dreams," he said.

Hermione had been the one to figure out what had been said from his phonetic spellings of what he'd heard—something about 'help me, please'—and he'd heard similar words twice more since then.

"French?" Dumbledore echoed. "Are you sure, my boy?"

"Yes," Harry said. "The first person was asking for help, Hermione says, and the others have been bits and pieces that I didn't really understand."

"Do people often speak in your…dreams?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head. "Does it mean something?" he asked, though he already knew how Dumbledore would respond.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Perhaps…"

It was becoming a regular occurrence, he realized, for him to meet Luna somewhere in the halls on his way to the Gryffindor commons. He wasn't sure if it was coincidence or if she was purposely searching him out, but he found himself almost expecting to see her leaning against some wall or reading some book when he rounded a corner.

"Anything new today?" he asked her as he stopped beside her. She looked up with a warm, almost normal, smile.

"My father says his readers are interested in another interview," she told him. "About how the war's going—what needs to be done. I told him I'd ask you what you thought."

Harry hesitated, thinking about it. An interview might help, but he didn't want to give anything away to the enemy. It was asking for trouble—the interview last year had been an act of desperation, rather than a fully-planned move.

Luna nodded, before he'd even responded. "I'll tell him it must wait," she said. "He'll understand."

"It's not that I don't want to—" he tried to explain, instinctively hoping he hadn't offended her.

She nodded though, smiling again. "These are dangerous times, Harry," she said, a mystic quality to her voice. "You'll see it through."

Her words were encouraging and honest, and he smiled back. "Look—I've got to get back to packing and homework," he told her, "but maybe we can talk some later," he offered. "Write me over break or something, and I'll write back," he offered. Luna nodded, then walked away in her normal, wandering, manner.

Without thinking about it for too long, Harry reached for the proffered portkey, letting his hand rest fully against it as he breathed out, trying to keep himself calm.

"Three…two…one," Kingsley said, and Harry felt the familiar but still gut-wrenching jerk as the portkey activated and the world around them swirled away into nothing.

"Easy there, lad," he heard a familiar voice say as he stumbled. Hands held him up until he got his feet back under himself, and he stepped back and turned to smile at his guardian.

"Remus," he greeted the older man warmly. The werewolf looked as uncertain as Harry felt, but suddenly seemed to make a decision.

Harry found himself in a warm hug before he could blink, and, to his amazement, he realized he'd missed being hugged a lot. He returned the hug until Remus let go, stepping back and looking him over with a smile. "You've grown, Harry," Remus commented.

"I've grown an inch," Harry informed the man. "I'm still barely taller than Hermione, though," he admitted.

"And your father was such a tall teenager…" Remus mused, then looked away a moment, eyes focused on distant memories. Harry tried to get them past the almost awkward moment.

"Exams went well I think," he said. "Potions was terrible, as usual," he added with a dark glare at the floor.

Remus laughed. "To be expected, I suppose," the man agreed easily. "Severus surely isn't taking it easy on you."

"He dumped out my practical," Harry informed the man. "Tipped my cauldron into the sink without any explanation, and afterwards told me that 'it was too green.' It's unfair what he's allowed to get away with!"

"He may not have to keep up appearances any more, but most of the Slytherins don't know that he was a spy," Remus reminded him. Harry sighed, then let his guardian slowly lead him towards the main living room.

"He likes doing it, is the problem," Harry tried to explain. "I can see it in his eyes…he's always loved humiliating and hurting me."

Remus looked up. "Hurting you?" he echoed sharply. Harry reddened.

"Not like that, Remus," he assured his guardian, almost alarmed at the reaction since he'd so long been away from Remus's rather protective nature.

Still…he couldn't help but remember when Snape had thrown him away from the pensieve…

But Snape had been upset, and for good reason, Harry had to admit to himself. He couldn't really use that as some sort of example of Snape physically attacking him.

All the times that Snape had humiliated and degraded him—those where what stuck in his mind, though. Even if he tried to excuse it as an act put on by Snape…it didn't make any sense. Why would it have mattered when he was eleven, and Voldemort was gone? Could Snape justify humiliating and tormenting an eleven year old child?

"I'm glad I was able to come for Christmas," Harry finally said, forcing the conversation to change. "I was wondering if it was going to be safe."

Remus smiled wanly. "It took some convincing," Remus admitted. "He may not always seem it, Harry, but he's more worried about your safety than you might think."

"I think I get it now," Harry assured his guardian. "I didn't understand it last year."

"I'm glad," Remus said quietly. "I'm going to let you get settled in, then," Remus said, indicating the room to their left. Harry nodded, and followed his trunk as it floated through the doors and up the staircase. "I've got a meeting, but I'll be back for dinner," Remus called after him.

Harry headed up the stairs, following his floating trunk, and unpacked once he was back into his room and the trunk had settled down on the floor. Remembering something, he went to the dresser and pulled out the photograph of his parents and friends, smiling at the figures all waving up at him. They all blinked somewhat in the brighter light, looking like they'd been sleeping this whole time.

"Sorry I left you in there," he told the photograph quietly. He placed the photograph back on top of the dresser, feeling much better about it. Somehow, being at school seemed to have helped him come to terms with how he felt about his father and Sirius. Also, it was hard to feel sorry for Snape anymore…

He was downstairs, actually working on homework, when Remus returned through the fireplace. "Hullo—" Harry started to say, when he saw Remus's grim expression. "What happened?" he asked instead.

Remus sighed, hanging up his cloak and spelling soot off of his robes. "Everyone's all right, for now," Remus said. "There's been a leak—we don't know how—and Voldemort knows that you're here. Professor Snape's fairly certain that Voldemort's researching a way to get into here, but without a tie to the inner circle, we can't know anything for certain."

Harry was reminded…again…of his failure to keep that information from Voldemort, but pushed it away. It was done, and he couldn't take it back.

"But isn't it under the Fidelus Charm?" Harry asked, confused.

"We have a spy…no one even knows who…but it means that Voldemort might already know where we're at," Remus said grimly.

"So we have to leave?" Harry asked. "Or just me?"

Remus looked reluctant. "Just you, Harry…we won't give this place up without a fight, but it isn't worth the risk of leaving you here."

"Where am I going next?" Harry asked, unwilling to fight about this. "Back to Hogwarts?"

Remus hesitated. "I can't tell you," the man admitted. "Only Moody and Arthur Weasley have been told."

"Oh," Harry said. "How long until they come?"

"Tonight," Remus said. "I—I have your Christmas gift, though. I thought we could have Christmas tonight."

"I hate Tom Riddle," Harry said flatly, setting down his book. "If it wasn't for him, none of this would be happening."

"I know," Remus said. "But we're dealing with it as best we can. This'll all be over some day, and you'll be telling stories about it to your kids."

Harry grimaced. "Kids? Don't you think I'd better just see if I make it through Hogwarts first?"

Remus looked greatly saddened for some reason. "I suppose…" The man looked away a moment, then turned back, clearing his throat roughly. "I'll see to dinner—Tonks should be over later, too."

Harry grinned. "Oh, really?" he teased. "What did you get her?"

Remus reddened a little, then suddenly smirked.

"A package came for you," he said. "From a certain blonde-haired girl."

Harry blinked. He knew only one blonde-haired girl that well. "Luna?" he asked. Remus nodded.

"Wonder why she's sending you a present, eh, Harry?" Remus teased.

Harry blinked, thinking back. He'd certainly been talking to Luna more than usual, and sure, he'd come to expect to see her during the day and listen to her silly bits of advice, chat a bit, and then watch her wander away again. Never had she suggested that she saw him as any more than an acquaintance.

He had said she should write, though…maybe that was what was behind this, he decided.

"I suppose I should open that now, so I can send her a thank-you note," he said. Remus smiled, then flicked his wand.

A small package dropped into Harry's lap after popping into existence from wherever Remus had put it. He eyed the red wrapping paper with the moving dragons dubiously, then slowly undid the paper, sliding out the letter that was lying on top of whatever she had sent him.

'Dear Harry,

The stars told me that I should send you something this holiday season, and I could not disobey. Hopefully, your holidays will go as well as mine—I am spending them with my father, writing another article on Voldemort's attacks south of Hogwarts.

I know I may seem somewhat…odd at times, but I know some of what you've been through. Talking to you is easy for me—you listen, unlike everyone else, even Ginerva. Hopefully, my gift to you will be of use, and we will find more time to speak during the spring.

While you may not believe in snorklumps and the other creatures that my father and I search for every summer, you must still believe in love and hope. That is what makes you who you are, Harry, and what makes you so different from everyone else.

Good luck for your holidays,

Love,

Luna'

Harry read the letter through once, to himself, then, puzzled, read it aloud to Lupin.

"What do you think she means?" Harry asked, confused.

Lupin smiled. "I think someone's trying to tell you that she likes you," he said wisely. Harry blinked.

"She's never said anything—" he protested.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell," Lupin said. "And, from what I know of Luna, it could be hard to tell just what she's saying."

Harry didn't say anything. He hadn't ever thought of Luna as anything more than a friend, but the idea didn't seem entirely impossible to him. There was almost a warm feeling in his heart, and he avoided having to say anything to Remus by opening the gift.

A slim book fell out, expanding somewhat so that it was full sized by the time it was fully in his hands. The title was written in gilded script across the front, and Harry had to tilt the book somewhat in order to read it.

"Castles of France," he read aloud, wondering how Luna knew what he was researching. "I don't get it," he said, wondering if this were some rare and possibly useful book.

Remus lifted it from his hands, eyebrows raising as he read the cover. "Very interesting," the werewolf said softly. "I haven't seen a book like that in ages."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Oh, it's not anything rare, really. I mean, I've never seen one for French castles, but I'm not surprised. It's something like an interactive book…open it later, when you have some time, and you'll see what I mean. Harmless, but very informative."

Harry set the book down, wanting to open it but holding back. Then, he sighed. "D'you want to do gifts now, or eat first?" he asked.

"Dinner won't be ready for a bit longer," Remus said. "I thought I'd cook the ham the muggle way."

"When's Tonks due to be over?" Harry asked, smiling.

Remus tried to suppress his eager expression, but failed. "Soon."

"I'm going to write a thankyou to Luna then," Harry stated. "I can wait until she's here."

Remus nodded, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. "Ah, to be a teen again," he teased.

Harry blushed red, but Remus had already disappeared into the kitchen and didn't see it. He forced himself to stop blushing, then pulled out a blank piece of parchment and re-dipped his dried quill.

'Dear Luna,

Thank you for the interesting gift. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to look at it over break. Oh, and Remus said it was a good gift, too.

I hope you have a good holiday, too, and am looking forward to that article. I never really said anything before, but last year it was great to have someone to talk to that didn't pry or push me.

I know people tend to think you don't say anything sensible, but I like it. Sometimes, what you have to say is just what I need to hear.

So anyway, thanks, and see you after break,

Your friend,

Harry'

He thought of saying more, but wasn't sure how to write it. He also didn't want to say too much, just in case the letter was intercepted.

And so he left it how it was, folding it up and placing it to one side so he could send it the next day—if he could send owls from wherever he ended up.

Tonks arrived just as he finished his transfiguration essay, crashing through the fireplace and knocking over a tall vase. Harry managed to make it to her just as the vase shattered all over the floor and Tonks looked up guiltily.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said, by way of greeting.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno why there was a vase so close to the fireplace anyway," he said.

Tonks grinned. "Wotcher, Harry. How ya doing?"

"All right," he said. "Except the whole having to leave tonight thing," he admitted. Tonks looked sympathetic.

"We tried to find another way, Harry," she said, following him back towards the kitchen. "But Voldie's getting pushy, and we're probably going to have to abandon Grimmauld Place for a while, anyway."

"I don't suppose you can tell me where I'm being sent next," Harry commented, trying to keep from sounding grouchy. He didn't want to ruin what little holiday he was going to have.

Tonks sighed. "I don't even know," she said. "Only Moody and Charlie."

"Great," he grumbled, but was cut off.

"Dinner!" Remus called out. Tonks grinned, sniffing the air.

"Mmmm, ham!" she exclaimed. Harry sniffed, finally noticing the smell of cooked ham, and followed after Tonks as she hurried into the dining room, clumsily ducking the dishes of food that were floating their way over to the table.

"Hopefully, it turned out all right," Remus said, sounding unsure. A flick of his wand carved the ham into thick slices, and Tonks quickly stole one—knocking over her water glass in the process.

"Tastes all right to me!" she laughed, waving her wand to clear up the spilled water.

Harry laughed at her antics, pushing his worries aside for the moment, and let Remus heap his plate with a bit of everything that was on the table.

After dinner had finished, Harry ran upstairs to get his presents for Remus and Tonks, then met them in the sitting room. Remus had started a fire, and Tonks was curled up in a very un-Tonks-like manner in one of the stuffed chairs.

Both smiled as he came into the room, carrying two medium-sized packages, and Remus gestured for him to sit down. "Pull up a chair," Remus suggested. "There's been word—Charlie and Moody will be here between ten and four. No exact time was given," Remus admitted.

Harry sighed, but didn't argue as he sat down near the fire. Remus finally took a seat, pulling two packages out from below the chair, and Harry saw that Tonks had enlarged two small boxes she had pulled from her pocket.

"How do we want to do this?" Remus asked, looking around. Harry stood up, handed his presents to Tonks and Remus, and received theirs.

"All right," he said, once he was seated again. "Tonks, you open the one from me, and I'll open the one from you," he ordered.

Tonks nodded, eagerly tearing open the wrapping paper in order to see what he'd gotten her.

He watched somewhat nervously, not sure if she would like what he had gotten her, but she smiled broadly when she saw it.

"This is great, Harry!" she exclaimed, laughing and holding up the muggle cookbook. Harry smiled.

"You always seem to want to learn to cook," he explained. "Maybe it'll help."

"Thank you, Harry," she said, still laughing. Remus also had an amused expression on his face, so Harry figured it was all right. "Now open yours!" she said, sounding excited.

He unwrapped his gift quickly, wondering what she had bought, and smiled broadly at the book he unwrapped. "Essential Spells of the Auror," he read aloud. Tonks nodded.

"Yup," she said. "The author's legend around the Ministry," she said, and Harry looked down to check the names.

"Alastor Moody and…James Potter," he read weakly. "Wow," he said. "Thanks, Tonks."

"I'd forgotten about that book," Remus murmured. "Your father helped Moody to write it, though he was just a teen, fresh out of Hogwarts, at the time."

"Did he write anything else?" Harry asked.

Remus looked sad. "He didn't have time to."

Tonks cleared her throat loudly to end the melancholy silence. "Well, come on, Remus, open up what Harry got you!"

Remus allowed himself to be cheered up, and Harry watched his guardian unwrap the gift.

Revealing a photo album.

Remus opened it slowly, and Harry held his breath, wondering if perhaps it would be too emotional. The first few pages of pictures were of his parents and Sirius, and later were dozens of pictures of him, his friends, and both Sirius and Remus with him.

Worriedly, he watched a few tears drip down Remus's face, but then the werewolf looked up and smiled. "This is wonderful, Harry. I've always admired the album Hagrid gave you."

"You're welcome," Harry said sincerely. "I just thought…if we're really family and all…we should at least have a family album."

There were more tears in Remus's eyes now, and even Harry felt a slight lump in his throat.

But then the moment was ruined.

Sharp pain slashes through his scar and he cried out, slapping a hand to his forehead.

Remus leaped forward in an instant, mood switching from sad to alert in an instant. "What is it, Harry?" he demanded.

"He's…angry, maybe," Harry muttered, the pain in his head dulling to a slow throb. "Something didn't go right, I think."

"Should I get Dumbledore?" Remus asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know anything more than what I told you. He's angry."

"Does your scar still hurt?" Remus asked.

Harry waited a moment, letting the pain abate. "It's almost gone now," he reported. He rubbed his still-sore scar and nodded. "I'm all right," he promised, then opened Remus's gift to turn the conversation.

Sadly, it didn't do much to change the topic. Remus's gift was a large stack of shrunk-down books.

That were all about ancient castles in France.

Harry smiled weakly, thinking about his 'visions.' "I'll add Luna's book to this pile, I guess," he joked. "Maybe I'll find something in these," he added. "Thanks, Remus."

The sandy-haired man nodded, then turned as Tonks opened her gift from Remus. Harry smirked widely as he saw the gold locket on the fine chain. Tonks smiled, opening it, and Harry assumed that it contained pictures of the two.

"It's lovely, Remus," Tonks said, smiling happily. "Now open yours!"

Remus hesitantly tore open the somewhat garish paper on his gift, then laughed aloud, pulling out what appeared to be a pair of wolf ears. Harry blinked, feeling like perhaps he should leave the room, as Tonks lept up (knocking over several boxes), and planted the ears firmly on Remus's head, where they stuck tightly.

"Very funny," the mild man said, trying to pull the ears off of his head. They didn't budge, and Tonks laughed even more.

"There is still a kid in the room," Harry said aloud, waggling his eyebrows. Remus blushed, and Harry decided to have mercy on the two. "I'm going to go pack," he announced. "Thanks for the great gifts."

"No prob, Harry," Tonks said, still grinning at the wolf ears.

"I'll be up in a minute," Remus added.

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. "Suuure," he said. Remus reddened again, and Harry took his gifts and left the room before Remus could remember the sort-of love letter he'd received from Luna Lovegood.

A/N: A lotta action coming up next chapter, and, just to warn you, SOMEONE DIES! I know, scary, and it was difficult for me to off this individual, but it had to be done. People on both sides of this war die, and this is just an instance of that. Hopefully, it's not too badly written.

Thanks, and hang in there,

Miss Laine