Chapter Nineteen

"Do you think it's in the Malfoy's vault?"

To anyone who had arrived in the last half hour, the question would have appeared totally random. Harry lay flat on his back with one arm outstretched, and Hermione lay atop his arm, curled onto her side and most of her unclothed body pressed against him. He was using his free hand to comb his fingers through her hair. But then, no one could have arrived recently, or at all. They were well-hidden.

They had begun talking about the Ravenclaw Horcrux close to an hour ago, and become terribly distracted. It was Hermione's fault. She hadn't bothered buttoning up her shirt when she dressed, since they were just sitting around the tent studying, and she'd looked so beautiful, her head bent over a book and her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She knew how she'd looked, too, and she'd turned her eyes on him in a most bewitching way . . .

But it was time to get back to business. No matter how incredible it was to finally add this new level to their relationship, they had other things to do. They'd allowed days, maybe even weeks, to slip by since they'd robbed the Lestrange vault, spending countless hours learning the secrets of one another's bodies. Harry had a little more experience, but he had never been in this kind of relationship before, and the newness and excitement of it had taken up time they knew they couldn't afford.

"What day is it?" was Hermione's response.

"I don't know. Why?"

"We need to figure that out. We've been wasting a lot of time."

His hand stilled in her hair. "I wouldn't call it a total wash or anything . . ."

He could feel her smile against his skin. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know what you mean. We need to get back to work. Hence, my question. Do you think it's in the vault?"

"No."

"Me, either. I think it's in their house."

Hermione levered herself up so she could grin at him. "And we're sure this isn't just wishful thinking, because we know we'll never be able to pull off two bank heists?"

Harry chuckled at that, pulling her back down on top of him. "Don't get up, I was comfortable. And no, that's not why. But I love saying I was involved in a bank heist."

She gave him a gentle slap on the belly. "Focus. I don't think it's in Gringotts because I don't know for sure the Malfoys would have it. But why do you think it's in their house?"

"Because the diary was," Harry answered.

"What?" she gasped.

"Dumbledore knew that someone had to give it to Neville, and he was able to get inside Neville's memories to see that he'd acquired it during a shopping trip before school that year, when he'd run into the Malfoys. Neville's memories clearly showed that he had no diary before the encounter, but he did afterward. There was some confusion over whether it was him or Ginny Weasley who was meant to pick it up . . ."

Hermione shuddered at that. "But she was a new student, and she was so little! The only reason anyone knew anything was wrong with Neville was because we knew him already! If the diary had taken Ginny, people could have died before anyone knew!"

Harry's lips pinched shut, thinking about what a condemnation of Lucius Malfoy's character that was. Ever since he'd started thinking about the Horcrux being hidden in the Malfoy's home, he'd been worried about his own home. Draco had been raised by that man, and what if it wasn't truly possible to reform him? What if he'd been a plant all along, or had simply made up his mind to go back to the Death Eaters? What if Sirius was dead?

"Harry? Are you all right?"

He'd been quiet too long. But he didn't want to tell her what he was thinking.

"In any case, they're the only people I can think of who might still have one. Riddle wouldn't have trusted anyone else enough to give them one, not with traitors popping up on both sides of the war."

"But what if he simply hid it, like he did with the locket?"

Harry sighed. "That's more likely. But I can't rule Malfoy Manor out until I've checked."

Hermione's arm went possessively over his chest. "I don't want you to go back there."

"I'd be perfectly safe," he responded.

"How on earth can you say that?"

He grinned at her. "The only thing they'd expect less than me strolling in there disguised as one of them, is if I did it twice. They'd never think I'd do it again."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Neither do I, but we have to try. If he hid it, instead of giving it to one of his followers, then we'll never find it. I just . . . have to check to see if it's there. I can't imagine where to begin, and I can't do nothing, so I'll start with this. At the very least, maybe I can get somebody to talk about it."

"If it's not in the Manor, who would know anything about it, except Riddle?"

Harry sighed again. If that was true, he'd have to find his way into Riddle's head to dig the knowledge out. The easiest way to do it would be to stand right in front of him. And Hermione knew it. She shuddered and clutched him as close as she could, and Harry could only be grateful she didn't know the extent of his thoughts. He wasn't ready to tell her everything. Not yet.

"Will we go tonight?" she whispered.

"No. I need to prepare. Also, there's something I've been wanting to do for a long time, and I think we should do it today."

Hermione made a face at him. "If this is that weird sexual position you were trying to explain to me, then—"

"No. Not that. This is important."

"What is it?"

"Mum, Dad, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Hermione, my parents."

She squeezed his hand and didn't say anything.

"I've always wished that I could bring a girl home to meet them," Harry said, looking down. "It's okay if you think it's weird or if it doesn't mean anything to you, but I just . . . needed to say that out loud."

She leaned her head on his arm. "It means quite a lot to me, actually. Thank you, Harry."

They stood before the headstones in silence for some time. Hermione kept hold of Harry's hand while his eyes continually traced the letters and numbers that spelled out his tragic history. There was no one else he could imagine bringing to this place, no one else he'd ever want to see him this way. But he couldn't imagine not having Hermione here, at least once in his life. She was his girl, the one he'd bring home if he could. She ought to be allowed to see this part of him. And her presence at his side, supporting him even though she was silent, showed her gratitude for letting her in.

It was enough, he thought. Even if he couldn't really introduce her to his parents, the act was basically a symbolic gesture anyway, and this fulfilled it just fine.

"If I was bringing you home, this is probably the part where my mother would get uncomfortable and ask if we were going to share a room or if she should make up the sofa for me, and my dad would start cracking disgusting jokes . . . Well, Sirius does that part already, so good enough."

His words broke the spell, and they began walking out of the graveyard. It was freezing cold outside, which would indicate that they'd wasted more time having sex and reading aloud to each other than they'd thought. They huddled close together as they walked, even though they'd donned their heavy cloaks. They exited the little cemetery and made sure to shut the gate behind them.

Crouching just out of sight, Antonin Dolohov was frozen, gaping. He'd seen two people he didn't know standing in the cemetery where James and Lily Potter were buried, which was just strange enough to investigate. They were in disguise, but they'd used their names. He couldn't believe it. Harry Potter, hand in hand with Hermione Granger, right here in the middle of Godric's Hollow. Were they stupid? He was supposed to be here to scout out the home of Elphias Doge so they could plan their raid. And here were the two people his master wanted more than anything in the world.

He ran. He went as far away as he dared to go before Apparating to Malfoy Manor, hoping it was far enough that the sound wouldn't carry. He rushed inside, and was lucky enough to find Lucius in his study with Rabastan Lestrange and Theseus Yaxley.

"Master— not— back— yet?" he panted.

"Not until tomorrow," Lucius said, standing up with the same implacable grace he always showed. "What is it? Has something happened with Doge?"

He shook his head, bracing his hands on his knees and gasping for air. Merlin, he was getting old and out of shape.

"Potter—" he rasped. "And girl. Granger. In Godric's Hollow. Now."

"You are certain it was they, and not another in disguise to lure us into a trap?"

"Not certain, no," he said, raising his head as he finally caught his breath. "But they were in the graveyard where the Potters are buried, and they called each other Harry and Hermione."

"We must investigate," Lucius decided. "Rabastan, your brother."

The man nodded and bolted from the room. It would have been nice to have his brother's wife as well, but she had accompanied their master on his trip to liaison with some wizards in Scandinavia. As had Crabbe, Goyle, a couple of other thugs, and Grayback's little pack. They were operating on low manpower this week, in the hopes that they'd have allies abroad at the end of it.

So it was Dolohov, Malfoy, and the Lestrange brothers who Apparated in the middle of the street with a series of echoing cracks just moments before Harry and Hermione would have returned to their campsite. Before they had even got their bearings on the ground, they heard a girl shrieking in surprise.

Harry didn't wait to find out if the people arriving were friend, foe, or somebody's grandparents coming for tea. He was pretty sure he knew, and he wasn't about to begin this duel exposed in the middle of the street. He grabbed Hermione and literally threw her over the fence around the cemetery.

"Get behind the mausoleum, and fight for all you're worth!" he shouted, then sprinted behind the nearest house. Their only hope was going to be separating their opponents. And maybe, just maybe, a few of the residents would be disturbed and call the Aurors. He was praying somebody called the Aurors, as he peeked around the house, saw who was here, and broke into a cold sweat. Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Lupin would be an awfully welcome sight right now.

Dolohov and Malfoy came after him, which made his heart leap into his throat. That left Hermione with the Lestrange brothers, at least one of whom was a confirmed sadist. He had to get to her. Now.

"Stupefy!"

"Nice try, sonny!" Dolohov shouted. "Child's play, is it? Well, Expelliarmus!"

Harry was incensed. This man thought he could joke around? Harry wasn't joking. Not with the Elder Wand in his hand. He heard Hermione scream in pain, and let go of all rational thought. Spells just started coming. He wasn't thinking about them, wasn't choosing them consciously.

Anything to cause them pain. Anything to get them out of his way.

Dolohov fell screaming, a Blasting curse having destroyed most of his legs below the knees. Harry was able to nab his wand while he was busy trying not to bleed to death. Malfoy, shocked at the brutality, leaped back before narrowing his eyes and shooting a curse that should have flayed off every inch of Harry's skin. Harry blocked it with a casual ease that made the blond man's eyes widen. Not for nothing had Harry spent nearly every day for the last five years learning and practicing everything about dueling he could find out. Hermione was screaming. Harry would get to her. Now.

"Stupefy!" he bellowed. Lucius Malfoy was lifted from his feet, carried through the air, and slammed into the side of a house.

"What's going on out there?" the occupant of the house roared from the upstairs window. Seeing the duel, his face went pale and he slammed the window shut.

Harry vaulted the fence and ran deeper into the cemetery. Where were they?

Hermione had been backed into a corner, where she continued to hold off their spells with a fierce silence, her face looking carved from stone. One of her arms was raw with burn blisters, the sleeve of her shirt mostly gone and what little remained hanging in charred strips. But no matter how well she fought back, they continued to get closer. Rodolphus took the brunt of the magical work, and Hermione seemed to realise only suddenly that Rabastan was literally close enough to reach out and grab her.

She flung herself away from the tombstone with a cry of sheer panic, but Rabastan had grabbed her arm. Stunned, she just looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You're bloody gorgeous when you've got your dander up," he said with a fierce grin, and swooped his head down to kiss her.

She yelped, and jerked her head back. Her lip was caught in his teeth and came away bloody. She slapped him soundly, and while he was reeling from the shock and while Rodolphus was laughing at him, she snatched his wand out of his hand.

With a shriek of triumph, she turned both wands on Rodolphus, ready to Stun him into next week. But Harry had launched forward with a roar of outrage, and punched Rodolphus in the throat. Eyes bulging, he fell to his knees.

"You—" Harry spun to face Rabastan. "You— Crucio!"

Rabastan fell to the ground, his face draining of colour and his fingers digging into the cold earth. He gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut, but he couldn't hold in his pain for long. He started to scream.

"Harry! Harry, stop!"

Hermione pounded her fists into his chest. The spell, and Rabastan's screams, cut off abruptly. Harry took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Let's go," Hermione urged, grabbing his hand and dragging him along. He stumbled, then realised what she wanted and followed her. "Come on, please, let's hurry."

What had he just done? He wasn't sure he could even understand what he'd done. It had been terrible. He hadn't known . . . hadn't known he could do that. He'd felt the power of the wand in his hand, power he'd barely begun to tap into. And then he'd heard her screaming, and he'd just . . . done things. Awful things. Blown up a man's legs, and used an Unforgivable. Again. This was no Imperius curse, either. This had been about hurting him.

Rabastan was trying to pick himself up to chase after them, even though Hermione was still holding his wand.

"Bastard! Come back here!"

They ran out of the cemetery. Harry wondered where they were going. They couldn't go to their campsite, Rabastan would have helped his brother by now, and they'd be followed. They ran right past Dolohov, who had dragged himself over to the still-unconscious Malfoy. Hermione gasped in shock when she saw them, but they didn't stop running until Harry recovered his wits enough to grab her, spin, and Disapparate the hell out of Godric's Hollow.

He went to the campsite first, to throw off any pursuit, but left immediately. There was only one place to go, with Hermione so badly injured. And there was one person Harry desperately wanted to see right now. He landed them right on the doorstep, and ended up having to kick the door with his foot instead of knock, because Hermione started to swoon and he had to catch her.

Unexpectedly, it was Neil who opened the door. He and Harry stared at one another dumbly for a moment, then he blinked and shouted,

"Draco, you'd better get a table clear in the lab!"

"What is it this time?" floated a haughty voice from the top of the stairs. "If Simon went out and picked a fight with a Muggle again, I swear by Merlin he can patch himself up this time."

Hermione was managing the stairs on her own feet, so long as Harry kept an arm around her. Neil followed cautiously behind, ready to catch them if they fell. Draco saw them from the landing, and he gaped.

"Oh. You're here. What happened to your face?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Look, Hermione's hurt, we've got to take care of her."

"Ooo," Draco said, looking at her arm with a sympathetic wince. "Okay, but you'd better do something about your face while I get started on her arm."

Confused, Harry put an exploratory hand on his cheek, and had no idea what he was feeling except a lot of blood. Then the pain finally registered, and Harry's vision went white for a moment. He gasped for breath, and nearly dropped Hermione. He passed her off to Draco and stumbled into the bathroom to look.

"Oh my god," he mumbled. His cheek had been cut open just under his eye, and the arc of the cut had nearly severed his cheek from his face, leaving a flap of skin hanging down to his jawline. He could see his own teeth, for Merlin's sake. At least he thought he could, although it was hard to tell with all the blood. "Ow," he groaned. He had no idea when that had happened. Or maybe he had. He remembered seeing a triumphant smile cross Dolohov's face, briefly, and he sort of remembered him snarling something like "ruin you, pretty boy." But it was too much of a blur. Sectumsempra, maybe?

He was so horrified by the sight of the injury that he couldn't think what to do. He lowered his hand, and winced in new pain. He discovered that there was a rent in his clothes and patch of skin sliced from his shoulder, too.

The door flew open, banging into the wall. Harry spun around with his wand out, a growl escaping him.

"Harry?" Sirius whispered. "Oh, Harry, your face."

This was who he had so desperately needed to see. He dropped his wand, not caring where it went, and slumped into Sirius' arms.

"It hurts," he whimpered.

"All right, we'll patch it up. Come on, let's get you into the lab. You're all right now," Sirius said soothingly, his arm going around Harry to support him as he shuffled forward through pain that was nearly blinding him. He settled onto the edge of a work table, taking brief notice of the fact that Neil and Draco were both surrounding Hermione to treat her burns. Sirius held out a potion, and Harry didn't bother asking what it was. He drank it down, and couldn't help the stinging tears that fell from his eyes at how badly it hurt to drink. Some of the potion was dribbling out of the hole in his face.

Suddenly, he felt awfully sleepy. Sirius' arm was around him again, and he thought he was sinking. Everything was black and red and glowing with pain, and he just drifted away.

Harry woke up in his room, feeling very groggy. He felt sure that he wasn't supposed to be in his room, but he couldn't remember why. He stretched his arms and started to yawn, then froze. There were bandages on his face and his shoulder, which felt very stiff.

The memories of what had happened slammed into him, and he groaned. They shouldn't have come here, but he'd had very little choice, with their injuries. And he'd been feeling such terror, all he could think of was getting to his godfather. Sirius had always taken care of him, since he was just a boy, and it was all he could think of. He was so stupid.

He got up very cautiously, and shuffled into the bathroom. First things first. After seeing to the necessary, and washing his hands very thoroughly, he peeled back the bandage on his cheek. He held his breath.

Wow. Sirius, or whoever he'd gotten to help him, had done a great job. His cheek was pink with irritation, and there was a perfectly visible line of scar arcing beside his nose and underneath his eye. But there wasn't a grotesque, oozing hole, which was nice to see. He pulled the bandage from his shoulder to discover a large patch of pink skin. He left the bandages off, knowing he ought to be smearing more dittany on it but quite unwilling to do so until he'd checked on Hermione.

He ran into Remus, out in the hallway.

"Oh, hello," he said, befuddled. What was Remus doing here? Come to think of it, why had Neil been here? And how long ago had that been?

"Harry," Remus said with a smile, reaching out cautiously to embrace him. "Nice to see you awake."

"How long was I out?"

"You got here yesterday afternoon. You started to wake up last night, but Sirius dosed you again because he didn't want you to move your face until morning. It's morning now, by the way."

"Oh. Where's Hermione?"

Remus jerked his thumb. "Getting checked out in the lab."

Harry decided the rest of his questions could wait. He hurried to the lab, then, inexplicably, stopped short in the doorway. He stood there without making a sound, watching Sirius and Draco look over Hermione's arm. It looked very good, all shiny and pink but healing so cleanly it wouldn't even scar.

Why was he feeling so reluctant to call attention to himself? He felt a strange churning in his stomach. Guilt. He was feeling guilt. Why?

The weight of what had happened yesterday began to settle over him. He'd put her in danger by taking her to Godric's Hollow, no matter if they'd been in disguise. They'd been too careless. And then . . . the things he'd done. Awful things. She'd seen them. She'd seen him standing there with half his face sliced off, using the Cruciatus Curse on someone.

He didn't even want her to see him right now. He ducked away, and went back to his room. He felt sick to his stomach. He saw that his wand, the Elder Wand, had been placed on his nightstand, and he felt like he wanted to snap it in half and toss the pieces into the fire. But rumour had it couldn't be destroyed, not until its power had been broken. Which meant he had to die undefeated in battle before that could happen.

He began to shiver, and crawled back under his blankets. He thought he'd better die soon, before his need to be undefeated brought about things even worse than yesterday. Not like he wasn't already planning—

Someone knocked on his door.

"Come in."

"Oh, good, you're awake," Hermione said as she entered. She broke into a happy smile. "Your face looks much better than I was expecting."

"I guess you were expecting a monster," he mumbled.

She cocked her head in puzzlement, but she came over to the bed and grabbed his hands. She tugged on him.

"Come on, Harry, Draco said you should come to the lab. The scar shouldn't be too bad."

"Maybe it should be," he mumbled as he followed her directive.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She pulled him back to the lab, where Draco was rearranging a few bottles on a shelf. His shelves were looking a little scanty, these days. Was everyone in the Order now too afraid of being in public to go to the hospital?

"Oh, you're up," Draco said without inflection. "Sit down, I want to put a little more dittany on that."

Harry sat, and allowed Draco to slather the stuff on his face. He sized Draco up while he was sitting there. Draco looked a little bit worn out. But not nearly so unhappy as Harry had gotten used to him being, which was a good sign. And Sirius wasn't dead, so Harry's paranoid worry about Draco's true loyalties was unfounded, it would seem.

"Small favours," Harry sighed.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Nothing. Thanks."

Draco shrugged and turned to put the jar back on the shelf.

"No, really, thank you." Harry put his hand on his cheek, which was still a little moist. "When I first saw it, I thought . . ."

"Sirius did the work on you. I was busy with your girlfriend, there."

"And thank you from me, too," Hermione said.

Draco rolled his eyes. "What was I going to do, ignore you until you went away?"

Harry rolled his eyes right back. "'You're welcome' was really all you had to say, you prat." He swatted Draco's shoulder as he started to go by him. Then he turned back around. "Hey. What's going on around here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are Neil and Remus here?"

"Oh." Draco's face blanched. "You seriously don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"About the compound."

"Draco, you'd better start talking."

Hermione came forward and clutched Harry's arm. Harry's stomach churned again, feeling like she should be running screaming from him instead. "Draco, what happened?"

Draco shook his head. "No. Not me. Go ask Sirius. Don't ask the werewolves, it hasn't really been long enough, and they're a little— well. Sirius said he'd be in the study."

Feeling apprehensive, they headed down there.

Sirius looked up with a smile when he saw them. "You two are looking much better than you did yesterday," he greeted them. "That's good news." His smile fell when he saw their faces. "What is it?"

"What's Draco talking about, with the werewolf compound? I asked why Remus and Neil were here, and he wouldn't tell me."

Sirius took a breath. "You'd better sit down."

Harry and Hermione were cooking dinner, insisting that they needed something productive to do after laying about for a whole day (not counting the part after they'd talked to Sirius and Harry had disappeared into the sparring room for over an hour), when they heard the front door open and sounds of greeting in the hall. They decided not to be nosy, despite wondering who had arrived, and were rewarded only moments later for their patience.

Tonks came in, her husband's arm around her waist, and smiled at them. "Hello, you two."

"Hello," they answered, but their eyes were on her stomach.

With an even bigger smile, her hands slid over her pregnant belly. "I know, I'm huge."

"And beautiful," Remus added, kissing her cheek. "Sit down, love."

She rolled her eyes when he directed her to a chair. "I'm fine, you know. I managed to work all day without breaking."

"And that was the last time," he said sternly.

She turned a persecuted look on the two cooks. "I had to tell Scrimgeour that today was my last day. I'm due in two weeks, and Remus says I'm not allowed to work anymore. Of course, I will be going back someday, when the baby's old enough to manage without me."

In Harry's private opinion, that was a poor choice of words, since a kid was never old enough to manage without a mother. But he knew what she meant.

"You'd better enjoy your time off while it lasts," Hermione said wryly. "Babies are supposed to be terribly exhausting."

"That's assuming Addison ever lets me near my own child," Tonks said. "She professes to love babies."

"Addison loves everything," Remus smirked.

"I do?" came a voice from the hall. Addison peeked her head into the kitchen. "Oh! Hello, Harry. And you must be Hermione, I don't even think we've met properly!"

"Hello," Hermione said. "I'd love to shake your hand, but . . ." She held up her hands to show they were covered with crumbly goop.

"Oh, I see. Have you two finished your, um, whatever it was you've been doing all this time?"

"Not yet," Harry answered, looking up at her without stopping the motion of the knife in his hands, which made her cover her mouth with her hand in fright. "We just needed to make a sort of pit stop."

"So I hear," Addison said. "You look as though you've recovered well."

"Well enough to make dinner, anyway," Harry shrugged, looking back down at the cutting board.

"For which I must thank you," Addison said dramatically. "It was my turn to cook tonight, and I had the most horrible day."

"You're still wearing your name badge," Tonks pointed out.

Startled, Addison removed it. "You see?" she laughed. "I'm supposed to be the wine expert at this upscale grocer's, but apparently that means cleaning up the mess when a customer's bratty son throws a fit. Glass everywhere! And was she going to pay for the damage? Of course not! It was my fault, because I didn't tell the little terror not to climb the shelves." With a harrumph, she threw herself down into a chair. "I wish Jeremy was home. I want him to rub my back."

"Does he work late tonight?"

"No, he ought to be home any—"

"What's everyone doing in here?" Jeremy asked from the doorway.

"Oh, hello, dear," Addison smiled.

Jeremy's eyes swept over Harry and Hermione, but his first order of business was to go to the table and kiss Addison. Having been forewarned by Remus, the newcomers didn't ask if he was hurt—he'd been given a permanent limp due to an injury to his knee during the attack on the compound.

Jeremy saw the exhaustion on Addion's face and began to knead her knotted shoulders without her having to ask. The lines of stress had eased from her face as soon as she saw him, and now she slumped forward with a happy sigh. It clearly showed on the entire group's face that they were thinking the same thing: those two should just get married already. It made Harry and Hermione smile at one another.

Then another pang of guilt went through Harry, and he turned his eyes back on dinner preparations.

"Thank you for cooking," Jeremy said. "This poor woman needs a break."

"We're happy to help," Hermione spoke up for them. Harry could tell how puzzled she was by his behaviour. Honestly, didn't she have any sense at all? Why was she still trying to carry on like nothing was wrong?

"What are we having?"

"Breaded chicken and roasted vegetables."

Harry set aside the knife he'd been using to chop the potatoes and carrots and picked up the first of the herbs he'd selected.

"That's not thyme, is it?" Tonks spoke up, her face looking slightly green.

"No," Harry grinned. "Remus warned us."

"Oh, good," she said with relief. "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to eat thyme again."

"Well, you're not supposed to eat it, it's only a method of dividing solar and lunar phases into socially acceptable—" Remus was cut off by Tonks smacking him, but at least Hermione giggled.

Once they'd got the food into the oven, they moved everyone into the larger dining room, where Remus and Jeremy volunteered to set the table and let the ladies rest. Which Tonks snorted at, since she'd been relegated to desk work for two months already and could hardly get up for a glass of water without ten people jumping to attention and asking if she needed anything. Pregnancy was sort of uncharted territory in an office so predominated by men.

Sirius, Draco, and Simon all clomped down the stairs just around the time the food was coming out.

"Typical," Harry muttered, poking Sirius in the side. "You show up just after all the work is done."

Sirius grimaced at him. "You think it's not work to supervise those two?" he muttered. "Draco is supposed to be giving Simon Potions lessons, to help him revise for his NEWTs, but mostly they just bicker like a pair of old women."

Simon came straight to the table, pausing only to drop a kiss on Tonks' cheek and say hello before plopping himself down with an expectant look. Draco, however, stood austerely in the hallway.

"I should be going," he announced to no one in particular. "Good evening."

"Nonsense," Hermione said, coming up behind him with the covered dish of chicken levitating in front of her. "Sit down, we made plenty."

Draco tried to retreat, but Hermione was directly behind him with a scorching hot piece of glass and a dangerous look. He had no choice but to enter the room. Harry, coming behind the two of them with the vegetables, was surprised at how forcefully Hermione was asserting herself in the household. She seemed determined to be cheerful in direct proportion to how melancholy he got.

The two of them had managed to create a decent meal, if the way everyone was eyeing it was any indication. It was a challenge to go from cooking for two to cooking for ten, but Harry felt pretty confident. But looking around the table, there were only nine . . .

"Hey, where's Neil?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Sleeping," Remus replied.

Everyone seemed to accept that, but Harry had no idea what was going on. A quick look at Hermione said she was just as puzzled. But they didn't want to ask, since it seemed like an uncomfortable subject. Sirius, who was seated beside Harry, took pity once the dishes were getting passed around and conversation started up. He leaned over and explained quietly.

"One of the curses he was hit with during the attack was a new one, and they haven't solved it yet. He gets these fits, kind of like seizures. Taking a sleeping potion seems to counter it, so he takes one when he feels it coming on. They used to happen every day, but they've been happening less often and less strong all the time, so we think they'll eventually go away. We think it was supposed to just send him into one long seizure until it killed him, but he got help really quickly."

"I hate to say it, but that's an impressive curse," Harry muttered.

Dinner was filled with these awkward moments, times when it was obvious that half the table was still grieving over what had happened. There would be pauses in conversation where it was clear someone was supposed to jump in—except that person was no longer with them. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who filled up these silences, asking brightly if the food was to their liking, what Jeremy's work was like, what was Draco's favourite potion to brew, how were Simon's studies coming along . . . Harry knew the girl was capable to talking nonstop for days, but he'd never seen her do it amongst so many people before.

When the meal was over, Harry began collecting empty dishes.

"We're all dying to know," Tonks suddenly spoke up. "What happened to the two of you yesterday?" Harry froze for a moment. "I mean, who were you dueling? Where?"

Harry forcefully grabbed a stack of plates and hurried to the kitchen. None of their business, his mind was chanting. How was he supposed to tell them? It was totally embarrassing to admit why they'd been in Godric's Hollow, for one thing. But more than that, he was ashamed. So, so ashamed of his actions. He couldn't tell the story, like it didn't matter. It wasn't a narrow escape to laugh at. Because he hadn't escaped, not really. Every moment it wasn't fully occupied, his mind leapt back to the sight of Rabastan Lestrange's screwed-up face, the way his lips finally parted in a scream . . .

"It was my father, wasn't it?"

Harry jumped. He hadn't heard the footsteps over the running water in the sink as he rinsed the plates. He looked up at Draco, who stood there was his arms full of more dishes and a pinched expression on his face.

"You can say it, I don't care."

He obviously did care, but that wasn't the point. Still, it was a good excuse for why Harry might not want to talk about it.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "Him and a few others."

"Is he the one who got your face?" Draco asked, his tone sounding only mildly curious as he dumped the dishes into the sink.

"No. Dolohov did." And then I destroyed his legs, his mind added, and he closed his eyes.

"I can see the idea of fighting back is new to you," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, what did you do?"

"Used a Reducto on him," Harry muttered. "If they can grow his legs back, he might be all right," he admitted, grudgingly.

Draco looked almost impressed. His eyes wandered away when he asked, "And my father?"

Harry shrugged. "I only Stunned him."

"Hmph. Who did Hermione's arm?"

"One of the Lestrange brothers. Don't know which, they were both there."

"You two were fighting all four of them?" Draco asked in shock.

"Yes."

"You're lucky you got out alive."

"I know."

"None of this is what's really bothering you, is it?"

"Go away, Draco. Seriously. Just . . . leave me alone."

Draco shrugged. "Fine. I'm going home. My mother is probably going to give me an earful about being late as it is."

"How is your mother?"

"Annoying as ever. Don't know why my aunt and uncle put up with her, I really don't."

Which was all blustering noise, of course. He was totally still a mama's boy. But Harry was impressed with the ways in which he'd changed. He'd shared a meal with werewolves and blood traitors, and he had been so nonchalant about finding out Harry had dueled with his father . . . maybe he was on the verge of puking the whole time and just good about not showing it. Either way, Harry felt sort of proud of him, as if he had any right to be so.

All of which was something two blokes just didn't say to each other, nor was it a good idea to explain that Harry planned to break into his family's ancestral home to commit robbery, so Harry just gave Draco a grim smile and a clap on the back.

"See you tomorrow, I expect."

Draco sighed, and looked weary again. "Yes, I have a lot of work to do."

"Why's that?"

"The werewolves severely depleted my stock, with all their injuries, and then you and Hermione . . . I'm nearly cleaned out."

"I'll help you tomorrow," Harry said.

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"I could use a day brewing Potions. Sounds relaxing."

"Fine. See you, then."

Harry followed Draco into the hallway, and so it was the two of them that heard the hesitant knocking at the door. They looked at one another gravely, drew their wands, and Harry stepped forward to fling the door open.

Bathed in the light from the hall candles, Kimberly Kearney slowly lowered her hand, which was still lifted in a fist to knock again. Colin Creevey had his arms draped over her shoulders, almost laying on her. Her other hand held her wand, and Colin was trying to hold his wand as well, though he barely had the strength to keep holding onto her and not slip to the ground.

Kimberly looked up at them with wide eyes in a ghostly pale face. "Harry," she blurted out. "Am I ever glad to see you."

"What happened?"

"What do you think?" she snapped. "Death Eaters attacked the Creevey's house, just like they've been attacking all the Muggleborn students."

"Get inside," Draco ordered roughly. Kimberly's mouth became grim when she saw him.

"What's he doing here?"

In answer, Harry grabbed her and hauled her through the door, taking Colin off her as she went by him. She pointed her wand at Draco.

"Oh, come off it," Draco growled. "You don't think Harry would have killed me by now if he'd meant to?"

Kimberly wasn't sure what to say to that, so she turned back to see Harry throw Colin over his shoulder and start trudging upstairs. Draco followed, talking all the while about what he had left in the lab. Kimberly stopped at the base of the stairs and eyed them as though they were the tallest mountain in the world, before she began to climb, both feet on each step and gripping the banister.

"Sirius, we've got company!" Harry bellowed over Draco's fretting and Kimberly's muttering.

Sirius popped out of the dining room and gave the tableau a startled look. "How did you two get here?" he demanded.

"Neville," Kimberly explained. "We went to Hogwarts first, but Neville didn't have any way to take care of our injuries, so he sent us here."

Since Ron had told Harry and Hermione about the state of things at Hogwarts, they weren't surprised. Sirius, well-connected as he was, seemed to understand as well.

"You couldn't sneak into the infirmary?" Draco asked.

"Neville said Madam Pomfrey is monitored all the time to be sure she isn't interfering with the Carrow's discipline. Anyone who's been subject to the Carrows goes to the Room of Requirement mostly just to get away for a while. Neville said the only supplies they have are what that old fellow in the pub can get them without being suspicious."

By now, they'd laid Colin out on the table. He had his eyes closed and he was covered in cold sweat.

"What happened to him?"

"Cruciatus," Draco answered for her. "Nothing to do for him but give him something for the pain and put him to bed. What about you?"

Kimberly shrugged. "I'm okay."

"Kim . . ." Colin whispered hoarsely, not even opening his eyes. "Please."

With embarrassment, she admitted that her pale colour came from blood loss, and she lifted her heavy cloak to expose the deep gouge on the back of her leg. Her dark jeans had kept hidden the fact that her leg was soaked in deep red. Harry lifted her gently onto the table by Colin's feet, and cut away the leg of her jeans. Hermione put a stool under Kimberly's foot.

"Were your parents there?" Harry asked Colin.

He shook his head. "Holiday," he muttered.

"Dennis?"

Colin turned his face away and uttered a heart-wrenching groan. Kimberly was beginning to tremble.

"I had to leave him there," she whispered. "He saved me, and I had to leave him. I had to carry Colin and there wasn't anything I could do for him." She broke down into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Hermione gathered Kimberly into her arms while Harry closed up the wound to her leg.

"Do we have any Blood-Replenishing Potion?" he asked Draco quietly.

Draco shook his head. "I gave the last of it to you, yesterday."

"Dreamless Sleep?"

"I have a little of that."

"Give it to both of them, and we'll put them in my room."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I'm not," Harry said grimly. "Sirius and I are going to the Creevey's house to get Dennis and to figure out how to get word to their parents." Then he turned back to Kimberly, who was still leaning on Hermione. "What were you doing there, anyway?"

Kimberly didn't even look up. "Didn't want to stay with my aunt. No reason for her to be in danger. And Colin and I . . ." She buried her head deeper into Hermione's embrace, but Colin had roused enough to reach his hand out for hers.

In answer, she pulled away from Hermione's arms and laid herself down beside Colin, though the table was barely large enough for two slender teenagers to lie atop it. They twined together and wept. Harry left them to it so he could join his godfather and his "other" godfather in retrieving the body of the thirteen-year-old boy who had sacrificed himself for his brother's girlfriend.

The next day, Draco arrived early, feeling exhausted before the work even began. But he found Harry already in the lab, efficiently setting up supplies.

"Where did you get all this? I thought I was going to have to have someone go out in diguise to pick all this up."

"Which I anticipated, and took upon myself to do," Harry said smugly.

"Have you been up all night?"

Harry shook his head. "In the end, we just called the police and left an anonymous tip that there was some kind of violence going on. Dennis' murder will never be solved by Muggle police, of course, but they were really fast about locating his parents and informing them. They'll be arriving later this morning, and Sirius is going to intercept them before they go into the police station."

"Oh. Well, that's good." Draco looked around at the things Harry had gathered in awe. "Isn't this quite a lot?"

"Ah, well, I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About Hogwarts, and how much they're trying to deal with. I want to brew enough so there's some stores laid by in the Room of Requirement. I think they need them just as badly as we do."

"It'll take two weeks to get that much done," Draco moaned.

"I'm here," Harry pointed out. "You can put up with me for a week, can't you?"

"I put up with Simon."

"Next to him, I'm a model lab partner."

Draco just muttered under his breath and began dragging cauldrons out of the cupboard.