Disclaimer: Not mine, as per usual. I wish it were, because then I'd be rich, have a job, and know how the seventh book is going to end.

A/N: I know, I know, it's been a LONG time. I don't have anything to say, except I'm going to finish this thing. I've actually probably only got about five chapters left to this, and meanwhile I'm getting more involved in my seventh year fic, which will NOT be a sequel to this. It's a continuation after book six, and I've found some of my thoughts cropping up in other stories, so I must be somewhat on the right track, right?

Anyway, sorry again and enjoy.

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Chapter 37: Interlude

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Harry took a large bite from his toast, savoring the thick jam, and flipped a page in the book with a lazy movement of his wand. More archaic and faded writing met his eyes, a small and worn sketch the only interruption on the right page. He stifled a tired sigh, instead forcing himself to at least skim the words and wait for something to catch his attention.

"Is that book yielding nothing useful?" Snape asked levelly. Harry shrugged, eating another bite and swallowing before answering.

"Not much, honestly," Harry admitted. "A few comments on how to make impenetrable fortresses, but not much else. Stuff about using blood magic and dark spells. Nothing about where you might find them."

"Interesting," Snape said flatly, giving away no emotion.

"I could probably make an invisible and unplottable matchbox, from what I've read, but I couldn't find one," he grumbled.

"Indeed."

He looked up, gauging Snape's expression as one of mild rebuke before looking back down at the book. The past day and a half had been tense between them…as in like having a lion and a snake in the same room…and Harry was never really sure on how their truce now stood. Sometimes, it seemed as if they were getting along rather well.

Like when Harry had fallen in the living room when his left thigh had cramped up suddenly and he'd toppled over, surprised. Snape had been beside him almost instantly, checking the limb quickly and giving him a muscle relaxing potion without a word. Harry had accepted it gratefully, albeit warily, and nothing more had been said.

Other times, though, Harry was fairly well convinced that Snape still hated him with a fiery passion. Like when he'd caught Harry trying to smooth his wild hair down. Or when he'd asked about Snape's years at Hogwarts, not thinking about what it probably had been like with the Marauders there to torment him.

Not that he probably hadn't deserved it, Harry thought honestly. Or at least seemed like he deserved it.

He turned another page, giving up on the other, and watched Snape do the same with his own tome. That pretty much summed up their days, he thought with frustration. Nothing getting done but reading.

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"Lupin will be here in an hour," Snape announced. Harry looked up from his bed, where he had been ordered to go when the third muscle spasm had occurred at the breakfast table. "He will be escorting you back to Hogwarts."

"Oh," Harry said dumbly, getting out of bed quickly. He was still wearing his day clothes, unwilling to be caught unprepared anywhere. "I'll…um…pack?" he said.

Snape nodded. "See to it that you do."

And then he was gone.

Harry stood still in the middle of the room for a few moments, collecting himself, and then moved to the wood chest open by the wall. It held the few things that had been shipped with him to Snape's home, and he carefully put away everything that he'd taken out during his stay.

Which wasn't much, he realized. Everything was within a few feet of the trunk, and he was able to pack it all up within a few minutes. He looked around the room, realizing very suddenly that it reminded him of a guest room that only got used once a year or less. Somewhere to put someone that was usually unwanted.

Perhaps Snape really didn't like him very much at all, Harry mused. It had been somewhat hopeful on his part to think that the dour man had changed his opinions of him even slightly.

He levitated the trunk out into the hallway and down the stairs, letting it come to rest by the front door. Then, he headed for the library, planning to get a little more research done before he had to leave.

Not that it was going to help, he thought bitterly. Snape was adamant about refusing him the potion that let him into the visions of the fortress he sometimes had, and Harry hadn't been able to change his mind. The sense of urgency that had filled him since the first time he'd used the potion had only grown with the passing days, and he was more and more often wondering how long it would be before he could use it again.

It was such a simple, direct, and sure way in which to get information, and yet Snape denied him every time. This frustrated Harry to no end, but he forced himself to be pushed towards old texts that actually weren't quite old enough to be of much help. Fortresses, the real ones, had not been built in many hundreds of years, and the books just couldn't explain how or why they had been made in the first place.

And, especially, they couldn't tell him anything about just where they might be.

But the potion could, he thought suddenly. It would give him the chance to look around and figure out just where the hell he was in those visions.

The risk to himself would be worth it, he figured. If he let himself recover just a bit longer, perhaps a week, he'd be strong enough to take the detrimental after-effects and get what he needed.

But Snape…

Snape was in the library, Harry realized, noting that the man was bent over a book, back to him. He hadn't seen him yet. Snape was not in his lab.

And Harry had heard the password the other day, when he'd had a half-seizure of the muscles in his back, sending him to the floor in a heap of pain. Snape had dragged him up to his feet and then down the hall, and Harry had heard the words in a haze.

Before he could change his mind or rethink his sudden decision, Harry turned, heading with sure steps towards the door of the lab, across from the sitting room.

"Slytherus Locialis," he said quietly, hoping Snape had not changed the password in the past twenty-four hours.

The door slid back noiselessly after a moment, and Harry entered with some trepidation, wondering what other possible spells or wards could be on the room.

But nothing stopped him from entering, and he went immediately to the shelf of potions that Snape had specifically brewed for him and his condition. The hallucinogenic potion stood out easily, its flask filled with the blue-purple swirling mixture to a little over halfway.

Harry gently took it from the shelf, unstoppering it and wincing at the pungent smell though he remembered its rather nice flavor.

Fishing through the drawers of the work table, he found an empty vial and stopper. It only took a small amount of the potion to fill the vial, which he stoppered quickly and slipped into his pocket. It barely looked like anything was gone, he decided as he reshelved the potion, and Snape probably wouldn't notice for at least a week, he hoped.

He slipped out of the office as quickly as he had come, making sure the door closed properly before stealing towards the front hall.

Just as he finished tucking the vial into the bottom of his trunk, he heard footsteps behind him. He occluded sharply, almost instinctively, and hoped it wasn't too obvious that he was hiding something.

When he stood and turned to face Snape, then, his face was calm and collected, with no trace of his guilty afternoon actions. "Lupin is in the sitting room – he came through the floo network."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said quietly before brushing past the man and hurrying to the other room.

Remus was examining an open book, head tilted and sandy hair falling in his eyes, but when Harry came into the room he looked up instantly, a smile spreading across his face. "Harry!" he exclaimed, sounding overjoyed, relieved, and worried all at once.

Harry allowed his guardian and friend to hug him tightly, though he didn't like the coddling, and stepped back a bit as Remus released him. "How have you been, Harry?" Remus demanded. "I couldn't get anything out of Albus or Snape about you! They wouldn't even let me visit you until now."

Harry shrugged, flopping down into a chair. "I suppose it wasn't safe," he guessed. "It's not like we were safe at Grimmauld, so why assume we would be safe here?"

Remus sighed, sitting down as well. "I guess you're right, Harry," Remus agreed. "There's a mole, and we don't know who it is. Everyone passes every check, and yet information is still leaking out. No one can figure out who it might be."

"Dumbledore can't figure it out?" Harry asked, surprised.

Remus eyed him. "You know he's not omnipotent, Harry. He's just as stumped as the rest of us. Everyone in the Order is a well-trusted friend…or so we thought."

"I wish I could help," Harry admitted.

"You've done plenty," Remus assured him. "And I mean that. Molly's been telling everyone who'll listen how you saved Charlie's life."

"She's wrong," Harry said lowly, images of the short stay on the stone floor at Lucius Malfoy's feet flashing through his mind. "I didn't do anything, and Moody—"

"Died just as he figured he would," Remus cut in. "Just maybe a week or two earlier than he would have imagined. He knew he was going to die in this war, and I'm sure he'd do it all again to keep you and Charlie safe. Any of us safe, for that matter."

"I know," Harry agreed weakly. "I just…it's hard to explain."

Remus sat in silence a moment, and Harry looked up after a bit, wondering what was wrong. The werewolf had a lonesome, lost expression on his weathered face, as he were thinking of something old and long-done. "Remus?" Harry finally asked.

"Sometimes," Remus admitted, "Sometimes I think Sirius wouldn't have died if I'd been a better friend. A better person. More loyal, or something. But…I just don't see it happening that way. I did what I thought was best, and I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."

"I know that," Harry said. He tried to think of something more normal to talk about, and did very quickly. "Hey—Professor Snape and I seem to have made a truce," he said.

Remus looked surprised, eyebrows raised. "Really?" he asked, sounding somewhat skeptical. Harry nodded.

"Yup," he assured his guardian. "It just took some fighting, a boggart, some more fighting, and we got it all sorted out. Well, most of it…some of it," he explained. It wasn't like he and Snape were going to be friends any time soon, but they could work together without fists getting involved.

"That's good," Remus said quietly. "Your mother would have been proud of you…James, too, after she hit him."

Harry and Remus sat in silence again, each lost in thoughts of Lily and James.

"So…are you escorting me out of here or what?" Harry finally asked, standing again. Remus stood as well, nodding.

"Albus has figured out a way to get you back to Hogwarts, and the wards on Gryffindor, the Great Hall, and pretty much every hallway have been strengthened in order to hopefully prevent any…mishaps…this term. It's just going to be long and a pain."

"Nothing new then," Harry muttered. "My stuff's by the door."

"Bring it, and we'll get going," Remus told him. Harry was more than happy to oblidge.

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Remus was right, and the trip was long, tedious, and tiring. Mostly, it involved muggle transport in first a taxi, then a bus. Harry was surprised that this was Dumbledore's great plan to get him back to Hogwarts, but then again Voldemort probably wouldn't expect it or plan for it. He'd be watching more common means of transport.

When they finally made it into Hogwarts, Remus's concern had turned to downright awkwardness about how to deal with Harry, who had had two different spasms occur during the trip. Exhaustion and sitting in a cramped position had made his muscles cramp up several times, and Remus had been little more than useless each time.

Harry took care of it by himself, dosing with muscle relaxant each time, but Remus had still seen the pain on his face when the spasms hit. "I'm all right," he said, once they were inside Hogwarts. Remus looked over.

"Huh?" he said smartly.

"You don't have to act all…whatever…around me," Harry said, sighing. "Snape said the effects should wear off eventually." He walked forward, luggage trailing behind him now that he could use a levitation spell. Remus followed after a beat as they headed up the stairs towards the headmaster's office.

"I know," Remus defended himself. "I just…I just don't like to see what this war's doing to you, I guess," he admitted candidly. Harry stopped and turned, surprised.

"It does things to everyone," he stated plainly. He figured he'd gotten off lucky. Sirius was dead. Mad-eye was dead. Dozens of others…dead or wounded badly. He'd been lucky for certain. "I'm going to be fine, so it's not a big deal."

"Your mother…" Remus murmured, looking sad. Harry ignored the comment and turned to the statue guarding the headmaster's office, but before he could say anything it moved aside, allowing him up the circling staircase.

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"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing to him. He was surprised at the vehemence of her hug, but he figured he shouldn't have been all that shocked. She'd certainly heard most of what had happened to him, as had Ron.

"Hey, how was break?" he asked her, not wanting to talk about anything serious with so many people around.

She seemed to realize this, and allowed him to divert the conversation. "I stayed with Ron, at the burrow," she told him, looking slightly guilty.

"What's wrong?" he asked, confused. She looked up at him, smiling weakly.

"I just…I don't want you to be jealous," she said slowly.

"Of you and Ron?" Harry asked, confused.

"That I got to stay at the burrow!" she told him. "I know you wanted to, but—"

"Hey, Snape and I didn't kill each other, obviously," he said. "Actually, I think we're kind of…at peace…right now," he tried to explain. "I think we sorted out a few things."

"That's good!" Hermione said, clearly glad he'd ended the six-year hate with Snape. "Did you work on…your problem?" she asked, referring to his search for the 'dark fortress.'

Harry shook his head, even as he saw a red head appear in the throng of students. "No, but we tried. Nothing's helping."

"Over here, Ron!" Hermione shouted, seeing the red-head now. Ron turned, smiled, and made his way through the students.

"Need to grow a little taller, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder before sweeping Hermione up into a hug. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Look—we should go somewhere to talk," he broke in. His friends must have noticed his serious tone, and together they hurried back up to the third floor and the Room of Requirement.

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He didn't tell them about the potion he'd stolen from Snape.

He didn't know why, but when it came to that part of his break, he skipped any mention of ever even using it at all. Partially, he didn't want his friends to worry, but he also knew that Hermione would probably go to a professor about it and Snape would find out.

And he knew he needed it, in order to figure out the fortress. There had to be a clue in the dreams, visions, or whatever they were, that would tell him how to get there or where it was. But Ron and Hermione probably wouldn't understand if he said he wanted to take a potion that could possibly kill him.

So he told them about the boggart and his and Snape's truce, and everything else that had happened, then said he was tired and pretended to go to sleep. But, his mind was still racing with a million different possibilities that might help him figure out everything, and he couldn't imagine falling asleep any time soon. Certainly, it would be near to impossible for him to clear his mind.

After a few sleepless hours he gave up, getting out of bed and slipping down to the common room, then out the portrait. The fat lady didn't say a word, snoring in her frame, as he swung it open and stepped out, needing to clear his mind and figure out his next step.

Amusingly, though, it was decided for him.

"Don't suppose you've seen my sweater?"

He started at the voice, and turned to see Luna standing there, blue eyes large and luminous, even in the hallway's dim light. She was holding her wand nonchalantly, although she looked much more alert than she usually did during the day.

"Er," he said, confused. "I don't think so."

"Did you get my letter?" she asked, stepping closer. Harry nodded, uncomfortable now.

Luna smiled. "And?" she pushed. "Well?"

Harry hadn't thought about it much, too busy with everything else confusing his life, but now the answers seemed clear. "I'm not exactly relationship material," he pointed out, using a phrase he'd heard Lavender say about some seventh year Ravenclaw. "And I've got a Dark Lord out to kill me."

The words sounded ridiculous, but were true. He didn't have time for relationships or even his homework. He had a job to do, and he was damn well going to do it.

But Luna took his hand suddenly, warm and somehow comforting, and smiled again, moving closer still. "I know," she said. "And everyone thinks I'm crazy," she pointed out.

Harry frowned. "You're not crazy," he stated. She laughed lightly, eyes on his face.

"Not everyone needs to know that, though," she confided. Harry felt himself getting pulled in by the late hour and hypnotic lilt of her voice. This felt…right…as nothing had in a long time.

Cho…Cho had been a mess, looking for someone to listen to her cry about Cedric. As if she'd been there when he'd been killed. They had never stood a chance.

But Luna…she had helped in the Department of Mysteries, had put up a great fight, and had stood by him since the beginning, even if it was in her own odd ways. She was saner than most people he knew, himself included.

And, if he understood her right, she was interested in him in that way.

And he was starting to think he felt the same.

The silence had grown, stretching into several long minutes, before Harry finally spoke again. "I can't promise you anything."

"Promise you won't give up," she said back almost instantly. "That's all I ask."

And he nodded, and suddenly he was kissing her in the dark hallway.

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He told Ron what had happened the next morning, wondering if he'd gone off the deep end on this decision or not.

But the red head had just laughed and said he'd seen it coming. "She's been mooning after you for a year and half now, mate," Ron said. "I was starting to wonder when you'd notice."

Harry eyed Ron suspiciously, honestly knowing the red head wasn't the most observant when it came to personal lives. "How did you notice?" he demanded.

Ron looked slightly sheepish. "Hermione," he admitted. "I swear, girls need manuals or something."

Harry wholeheartedly agreed, but didn't say anything since Hermione had just come out of her dorm room, coming down the short flight of stairs to meet them in the common room before they went to breakfast.

"What are you so happy about this morning?" she asked as they walked down the hallway.

Harry glanced sideways, to be sure she was talking to him, and Ron laughed. "Someone had a little late-night rendezvous," Ron hinted.

Hermione smiled, patting his arm. "Finally, Luna acted," she said without hesitation. It was actually slightly disconcerting, Harry decided, that she was able to figure things out so quickly. He certainly hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, and as far as he'd known, Ginny still had her 'thing' for him.

Although he didn't get a chance to see Luna until lunch, his day became interesting long before then.

Because his scar began to burn, as it had for so many years before.

It started, unluckily, in Potions. A stab of pain lanced through his head…through the scar, he quickly realized…and he couldn't stop a small sound escaping his mouth in surprise and pain. And, of course, Snape heard and whirled to face him, mid lecture.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape said sharply. "Is there something you wish to add to the discussion?" he demanded.

"No, sir," he said sullenly, but rubbed at his scar. He thought he saw comprehension of the significance of that action dawn in the man's eyes, but he couldn't be certain. The sharp pain in his head was dulling now to a steady ache that made his eyes burn and his stomach nauseous.

He caught Hermione's eye from the row ahead of him, and she nodded slightly, looking concerned. His scar hurting was not a good sign, especially since he thought he'd been occluding fairly well, especially during the past few weeks.

When potions ended, his friends cornered him immediately. "You have to tell Dumbledore," Hermione insisted.

"I'm with her on this one, mate," Ron agreed.

Harry sighed, nodding and absently rubbing at the mark. "Yeah, you're both right," he agreed. "I just wish I knew what it meant," he muttered, then realized suddenly that he could probably find out.

Not now, but tonight.

And he couldn't tell Ron or Hermione.

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As he'd thought, Dumbledore had been able to tell him nothing concerning what Voldemort might be up to, and the idea he'd been mulling over suddenly became his only option.

Which led to his present situation, seated on his bed with the drapes drawn and the vial of potion stolen from Snape in his hand. He eyed it, breathing deeply to control his apprehension, and unstoppered the vial. He couldn't back out. He had to use it now, and hope he could find something useful. Voldemort had already been given too much time. Harry knew he couldn't afford to let the monster have any more.

And with that thought, he tipped the vial down his throat, swallowing it all.

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A/N: Sorry, wrote this while really, really tired. As in I haven't slept in…25 hours now, and it makes me kind of incapable of spelling, grammar, and stringing together sentences. Oh well.

I'm highly disappointed in this chapter…everything's kind of getting scrambled and mushed here, as I try to figure out how to get from where I'm at to the last bits of this story, which are ready and waiting to be posted.

I'd like to thank all those wonderful reviewers that have asked me to continue—I wouldn't have, otherwise. Life, other interests, and everything else in between has made it difficult for me to keep my attention on this story.

On a happier note, I'll be posting some new short stuff soon, including one piece that's supposed to be a humorous little thing about a funky epiphany I had the other day…

Thanks,

MissLaine