Chapter 5

"You're off your rocker, Potter." Draco Malfoy peered down the hallway to ensure that their conversation remained private. "I've got no love for Dumbledore but even I know that the old man is too pure for that."

"It's true, Draco." Harry said. He was too exhausted to argue with his old rival, or to even give thought to a rivalry that seemed so small and pointless. "Every word. Dumbledore told me himself, in his study."

"It's a trick," Draco scoffed, though the uncertainty in his eyes was plain to see as he watched Harry. "You're Dumbledore's favorite."

"I am," Harry agreed. "He wants me to help him take over the world, actually."

"So...say that I believe you. I don't, not one bit..." Malfoy was watching Harry like he might start foaming at the mouth. "But let's pretend for a minute that I did. What do you even want me to do?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted, and he collapsed against the wall with a sigh. "I just thought...well, you know what they say. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'."

"We're not friends," Malfoy said quickly, sneering. "And I would be crazy to make an enemy of Dumbledore. Especially if he's the master of the Elder Wand, like you said - "

"Was," Harry interrupted.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"He was the master of the Elder Wand," Harry said. "He's still got it, but I disarmed him – makes me the master."

"How do you know?" Draco asked, incredulous. "If he has it, doesn't that make him the master?"

"I became the master of Death after I disarmed him," Harry explained, hardly aware of how outlandish it all sounded. "I guess the wand considers me its master – it respects strength, or something..."

"The master of Death?" Draco sighed. "What does that even mean?"

"Death is a girl," Harry frowned. "Well, sort of. It's hard to explain. Death...helps me."

"She helps you." Draco echoed, staring at Harry with a mixture of pity and amusement. "Look, Potter...I'm all for bashing Dumbledore, but I think you do need help. Go to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey can - "

"He's not lying." Death was standing behind Malfoy, her arms folded in front of her and her spectral wings shrouded over her shoulders. "I am Death, Draco."

Harry had to admit that as dire as his situation was, it was rather amusing to see Draco jump out of his own skin when he saw her. He scooted closer to Harry, reflexively reaching for his wand.

"What is that?" He asked, raising his wand with trembling fingers.

"It's Death," Harry said, placing a gently hand on Malfoy's wrist and lowering his wand. "I told you, Malfoy. It's all real."

"But you..." Malfoy's head was on a swivel as his gaze darted between Harry and Death. "No, there's no way. You can't be Death."

Death simply frowned, considering Malfoy's words for a moment, before she reached out one hand. She paused when Malfoy flinched, lifting her pure white eyes to his face. The blonde boy's lips parted as she stared at him, and he stood transfixed as Death laid her hand on the bare flesh of his wand hand. The moment her skin touched his, his eyes widened, a mingled expression of fascination and horror that Harry knew all-too-well.

"What..." Draco's mouth worked wordlessly, his eyes lost in Death's pupil-less pools.

"Shh," Death said, and slowly removed her hand from Draco's. The boy drew his hands in to his chest, unable to tear his eyes from Death's face.

"I told you," Harry said, though he took no pleasure in it. "It's all real, Draco. I wish it wasn't."

"I don't..." Finally, Draco seemed to shake himself free of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "What do we do? No one will believe us."

"I was hoping you'd ask your father for help." Harry said, swallowing heavily. "And his friends."

"I don't think they'd go for that," Draco said, shaking his head as he drew his robes tighter around himself. "I...I don't think you'd like them very much, either."

"I don't have to like them," Harry said, frowning. "Everyone that I liked has either turned on me or disappeared. I need allies, powerful allies, and I've got no one left to turn to."

"Harry – I don't like you. You know that right?" Despite Malfoy's words, there was no venom in his voice.

"I know," Harry said flatly. "I don't like you very much either. That doesn't mean that we can't help each other."

"Just listen," Malfoy said, impatience creeping into his voice. "I don't like you. But my father? And his friends? They hate you. Ok? You took everything away from them without even trying. Do you think they're going to just...offer to help you? Forget everything that happened?"

"No," Harry said with a shrug. "I expect them to take advantage of an opportunity. Which is why I came to you first. I want to talk to your father...he's smart, he knows how to seize an advantage when he has one."

"And what advantage is that?" Malfoy asked, clearly confused.

"If I tell Dumbledore that I'm going to go along with his plan, I'll know everything." Harry said, leaning in intently. "Or at least more than we know now."

"Wait - " Malfoy said, shaking his head. "You want to be some kind of spy? Against Dumbledore, are you crazy? He'll see right through you."

"I don't think so," Harry said firmly. "Dumbledore's brilliant, but he knows that he's brilliant. I really don't think that he can imagine that I'd refuse his offer."

"Harry, I don't know..." Malfoy looked between Harry and Death once more. "I don't know why I'm trying to protect you. If you want to meet with Father, be my guest. If I'm lucky, he'll get rid of you permanently."

"Great," Harry said, nodding. "When?"

"Why not tomorrow?" Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "There's a governor's meeting...I'm sure he can find time to listen to all...this."

"Governor's meeting?" Harry frowned, reaching to push his glasses up. "I thought your father was removed from the board of governors. You know, when he tried to curse them?"

"You think something like that would stick to someone like Father?" Draco laughed dismissively. "You don't understand anything, Potter. He had his post back within the year, once he made the accusations against him disappear. He's not the chairman again, though – not yet, anyway."

"Typical," Harry said with a sigh. "Though maybe that's the kind of person I need."

"Potter," Malfoy said suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you remember when we first met? What I said to you?"

"You said that some kinds of wizards were better than others," Harry said, scowling at the pretentious boy. "Meaning pure bloods."

"I also said that I could help you choose your friends wisely." Draco smirked, looking Harry up and down. "Turns out I was right, wasn't I?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak he suddenly realized that he didn't have an argument against what Malfoy had said.

The governors met in a room that Harry had never set foot in, a meeting chamber apparently designed for that very purpose that was located off the first floor corridor. On Draco's instruction, Harry had arrived at the door to the meeting room just five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to end, yet he had to wait for over an hour before the witches and wizards that made up the board of governors began to file out one-by-one.

Lucius came last, his silver-handled cane tapping on the stone tiles as he walked. He smiled when he spotted Harry; an oily, well-practiced smile that didn't reach his flinty eyes. He didn't speak, but he motioned sharply with one gloved hand for Harry to join him inside the meeting room.

The chamber was large and well-appointed, dominated by a massive circular wooden table around which twelve chairs were arranged. The chairs and table both were made of a dark, rich wood that Harry thought might be mahogany – though he wasn't certain. Lucius sank into one of the red-cushioned chairs with a sigh, pulling off his gloves one after another as he watched Harry lower himself uncertainly into a chair opposite him.

"Well, well, well." The silver-haired man said, smirking slightly. "I didn't think you'd actually come, Potter."

"Well, I did." Harry said, and immediately felt stupid for it. "I, uh, wanted to talk to you."

"Yes, Draco told me." Lucius pursed his lips, canting his head to the side. Those unsettling gray eyes never left Harry's. "He told me that you have some interesting things to say about Albus Dumbledore. Very interesting things indeed."

"Yes, I - " Harry began, but Lucius held up a hand to silence him.

"Don't say them. Not here." Malfoy sighed, looking away from Harry for the first time since he'd entered the meeting chamber. "This castle serves the headmaster, Harry. Things you say in here might as well be whispered in his ear. In fact I'm rather curious as to how you've managed to avoid his notice thus far."

"I haven't, actually." Harry admitted. "He knows that I know."

"Yes, but one would think that if he knew you were meeting me here – which, by all accounts he should – he would have intercepted one or both of us before this rendezvous took place. And yet...here we are." Lucius smiled, thin-lipped and dangerous. "Why?"

"I helped," Death said, standing behind Lucius as though she'd been there the entire time. "I can keep him from listening."

"Ah, you must be the avatar of Death I've heard so much about." To his credit, Lucius didn't so much as blink as he turned to face Death. "Yes...you do look the part, don't you?"

"I do?" Death blinked, and canted her head as she watched Lucius. "Draco didn't believe me."

"Draco is a boy," Lucius said with a shrug. "He has much to learn about the world."

"So now you know that it's safe to talk," Harry said. "Do you want to hear what I have to say?"

"By all means," Lucius said, leaning back and laying his cane over his lap. "Regale me with what you know."

"Well..." Harry swallowed heavily.

He knew that once he started talking, there was no turning away from this path. He was suddenly filled with doubt, looking at the silver-haired man across from him. He'd hated Draco Malfoy and his family from the moment he'd met them, and now he was asking them for help? Dumbledore being who he was didn't change anything about the Malfoys. They were still slimy, unscrupulous, and self-serving.

"Well?" Lucius echoed, impatience dripping from his tone.

"It all started during the first task." Harry sighed, making up his mind all at once. "I spoke with the dragon – Sarchanie, is her name – and she told me that Voldemort isn't my true enemy."

"Yes, I've heard of your new pet." Lucius sniffed. "Very clever, Potter."

"She's more of a friend than a pet, now." Harry said with a frown. "Anyway, she helped me break into the Department of Mysteries, where - "

"You're lying," Lucius interrupted. "No one can break into the Department of Mysteries. The layers of magical protection that guard it are far beyond your comprehension – many of them are beyond mine, as well."

"I'm not lying," Harry said through gritted teeth. "But I didn't do anything, either. You've heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

"I'm familiar with the legend." Lucius said carefully.

"It's not a legend. The Hallows are real, and I've got two of them."

"But to be the master of death, mustn't one possess them all?" Lucius had clearly affected his most patronizing tone, but Harry ignored him.

"You need to be the master of them all. I disarmed Dumbeldore, and that makes me - "

"You disarmed Dumbledore?" Lucius asked, leaning forward in his chair. "You dueled him?"

"No – well, not really – just listen." Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. "I need to start at the beginning. You can ask you questions at the end. Deal?"

Lucius pursed his lips, watching Harry for a long moment. "Deal."

"Right, okay. So I broke into the Department of Mysteries – Death's shroud doesn't just make me invisible, it makes me undetectable. None of the charms even knew I was there. Sarchanie told me that there was a prophecy – one that would tell me the identity of the true dark lord."

"How did she know?" Lucius asked, then immediately held his hands up in silent apology. "Continue."

"It took hours," Harry said, casting his mind back to that bizarre time he'd spent beneath the Ministry of Magic. "But we found it, eventually. It was bewitched to look like something else – a prophecy about chickens, I think. Every time I looked at it it was like looking at the most boring thing on the face of the planet...Sarchanie undid the enchantment, and I was able to see what it truly was."

"And?" Lucius prompted, impatient. "I suppose it didn't outright name Dumbledore as the next Dark Lord?"

"Not exactly," Harry said. "It was vague. I brought it back to the school and we did some research on it – trying to figure out who the prophecy was referring to. We went through every book we could find, searched through every record of notable witches or wizards – living and dead. Took ages, but we narrowed it down to one name."

"Dumbledore, I presume," Lucius drawled.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "We didn't believe it either, not at first, but..."

Harry paused, casting his mind back to the start of everything – when they'd first discovered the prophecy, and all that had come with it. It all seemed so long ago, like another life lived by someone else. So much had happened and in such a short span of time that it nearly made Harry's head spin. It was helping, in a way, to lay everything out to someone – even if that someone was Lucius Malfoy.

"We found proof. The prophecy mentioned Hallows – the Deathly Hallows – and we traced the Elder Wand to Dumbledore. I disarmed him, like I said, but he still has the wand – I'm its master, but I couldn't get it from him. We spoke with his brother, Aberforth...he had a letter, from Voldemort, thanking Dumbledore for the private lessons over the years. And finally...he told me everything. Dumledore, I mean. He admitted to it all."

"Why would he do that?" Lucius asked with a scowl.

"Because he wants me to join him," Harry said. "He wants me to...help him take over the world, I guess, and then take over his work when he's gone."

"Take over the world?" Lucius Malfoy raised one amused brow. "Isn't that a bit trite for a wizard of Albus Dumbledore's caliber?"

"He helped Voldemort rise to power," Harry said. Lucius' constant quips were starting to get on his nerves. "He wants a war, so that he can unite the wizarding world...and then take over Muggle Britain using the Frownden act."

"The Frownden act?" Lucius frowned, trying to recall. "Isn't that a piece of legislature pushed through by that muggle-lover? I don't see how – oh. Oh, very clever..."

"Once he has Muggle Britain under his control, he's going to start a war among muggles and bring muggles everywhere under wizard control." Harry shook his head slowly. "He has some...vision, I guess, of what the world could be like if muggles and wizards worked together."

"Hmm," Lucius said. "Well, Potter, that's really all quite a fascinating story...I assume you have something more for me. That letter, perhaps?"

"I don't have it," Harry said miserably. "I gave it to Alastor Moody and asked him to help me, but he disappeared."

"I see," Lucius said with a frown, and Harry's heart sank as the silver-haired man moved to stand. "Well..."

"Please, sir." Harry said, swallowing what little of his pride remained. "I have no one else to turn to for help. I'm telling the truth."

Lucius paused, hovering between standing and sitting, before he finally lowered himself back into his chair with a sigh.

"There might be...one way, Harry. Have you ever heard of Legilimency?"

"No," Harry said with a frown. "What is it?"

"It's a school of magic," Lucius explained, tenting his fingers as he peered at Harry. "One that allows one wizard to access the mind of another by means of a spell."

"Like...mind reading, then?" Harry's blood turned to ice in his veins.

"It's often called that, but no." Lucius frowned. "It allows the wizard using Legilimency to access thoughts, feelings, senses...sometimes memories. The mind is a complex thing, Potter, it isn't like rifling through a filing cabinet to select the memory you want."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I want to use Legilimency on you to determine the veracity of your tail," Lucius said. "But I'll need your cooperation. I'm a not a master of the art, and you will have to guide us to the pertinent memories in order for me to examine them."

"I see," Harry said, swallowing heavily. Letting Lucius Malfoy poke around inside his brain was not something that Harry particularly relished.

"You have to understand, Harry," Lucius said, and for the first time his haughty veneer had given way to something more honest. "Taking any stance against Dumbledore is a tremendous risk. Suicidal, even. You can't expect me to do it on your word alone."

"Fair enough," Harry said, nodding once. He considered for only a moment more. "Do it."

"Do try to relax," Lucius said, leaning forward to fix Harry with a piercing stare. "Legilimens."

Harry braced himself, not entirely sure what to expect. Yet as Lucius Malfoy stared deeply into his eyes, Harry didn't feel particularly different. Malfoy's invasion was a subtle, slippery thing – the vaguest sensation of coolness at the back of his skull, and the unnerving feeling like he was being watched in a room where he had been quite sure he was alone. Then he heard Malfoy speak – but his lips never moved. Harry nearly yelped when he realized his voice was inside his own head.

Show me, Lucius prompted. Show me when Dumbledore told you.

Feeling profoundly self conscious, Harry deliberately thought back to his meeting with Dumbledore. It was like thinking with two minds – Harry tried his best to recall it in perfect detail, but Malfoy's presence in his mind nudged him to recall certain facts, repeat certain phrases. He tried his best to keep his thoughts focused; he didn't want Malfoy seeing anything that Harry wished to be kept private. Malfoy bade him to recall the meeting three times, in all; at the end of the third Harry felt the cool presence withdraw from his mind. It was replaced with a splitting headache almost immediately.

"Ah, yes, some have that reaction," Lucius said, noticing Harry wince and lift his hand to his forehead. "It should pass in a day or two."

"A day or two?" Harry asked, exasperated. "Did you find what you were looking for, at least?"

"I did," Lucius said, smiling thinly. He stood and picked up his cane, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "I'll be in touch."

With that, the elder Malfoy left the room, leaving Harry more unsure of his aid than before.

"The bacon," Sarchanie prompted, her glittering eyes fixed on the morsel on Harry's plate. "That's my favorite."

Harry smiled faintly as he lifted the bit of bacon to Sarchanie's miniature maw, where she devoured it in a single bite. The shrunken horntail licked her chops, and then with a contented sigh she curled up around Harry's neck and drifted off to sleep. Dinner that evening had been a somber affair for Harry – he sat alone, as he had for the past few days, and ate in silence aside from the occasional hissing banter with Sarchanie.

He hadn't seen Hermione since she'd informed him that the headmaster was looking for him. Perhaps she was avoiding him – Harry was certainly avoiding her – but he couldn't deny that he missed having her close. Perhaps he'd taken for granted how comforting her presence was, and the knowledge that he could rely on her quick and practical mind to get him out of nearly any jam. Losing that was like losing a piece of himself.

The food on his plate went largely untouched, an after a few minutes of staring sullenly at it he shoved it away with a sigh. He was just preparing to stand when a familiar voice cut in behind him.

"'Arry?" Fleur said, and when Harry turned around he saw her looking at him with a smile. "Walk with me, won't you?"

"Sure," Harry agreed with a shrug. He didn't have anything better to do, and it would feel nice to talk to someone without hissing.

They left the great hall at a leisurely pace, and soon found themselves wandering the grounds as the sun set over the rolling hills that surrounded the castle. They walked in companionable silence, both waiting until they could speak without being overheard without truly realizing it. They'd nearly reached Hagrid's hut before Fleur spoke.

"'Ow are you feeling, 'Arry?" She asked, peering at his face with a concerned expression. "You look tired."

"Yeah, I guess I am." Despite his fatigue, Harry worked up a smile. "But I'm alright."

"Do you 'ave trouble sleeping?" She asked.

"Most nights," Harry nodded. There was no sense in hiding it. "Actually, the last night that I really slept well was after we..."

Fleur hid her smile behind her gloved hand. "I haven't forgotten."

"It was, um..." Harry struggled to find the words to describe the night that they had shared, and when he failed he settled on a grin.

"It was, wasn't it?" Fleur agreed, lowering her hand to reveal a brilliant smile.

"So...what's up?" Harry asked at last. Sarchanie had fallen fast sleep around his neck, snoring softly.

"I wanted to talk," Fleur said, looking away from Harry and towards the sunset over the lake.

"Alright," Harry said. "What about?"

"Well…" Fleur seemed reluctant to say whatever was on her mind, but finally after a long moment of silence she looked up to meet Harry's gaze. "Ze girls say that you are with 'Ermione...zat you were with her when we spent our night together."

"That's….complicated," Harry said with a grimace. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes and looked away from Fleur.

"It's not," she countered with a slight frown. "You either were, or you weren't."

"I was," Harry said with a sigh. "Technically."

"You betrayed 'er," she said with a frown. Her voice dropped, and Harry knew that she was disappointed.

"Well…" Harry frowned. "It is complicated. She betrayed me, first."

"She did?" Fleur asked, peering at Harry's face curiously. "How?"

"I was counting on her to stick up for me and stand by my side," The boy who lived sighed, lowering himself to the grass slowly. "And she wasn't there when I needed her the most."

"What do you mean?" Fleur asked, persistent.

"I…" Harry shook his head. He didn't know if he had the energy to explain everything to her. "It's a long story, Fleur. There's something that I know...something that no one else believes. Something big, and trying to get people to believe me and help me hasn't been easy. We were trying to convince some friends...well, people who I thought were friends...and Hermione didn't stand up for me."

"Maybe she was scared," Fleur suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said. The thought had certainly occurred to him. "But we're all scared. I'm scared. It doesn't stop me from trying to do what I know is right."

"I think you're being too 'ard on her, 'Arry." Fleur's expression had softened, and she ank into the grass beside him with her robes pooling about her legs elegantly. "You can't expect everyone to have your courage."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, though his reply lacked conviction. "It just...I don't know. I've always been able to rely on Hermione, of all people. She's always been there for me. She took that away and it feels like...someone just yanked the chair out from under me right as I was about to sit down. I feel more alone now than I ever have."

"Well," Fleur said, canting her head to the side as she watched Harry. "Did you take my advice? Look for help in different places?"

"I did...I mean, I am. But it isn't the same. Hermione was my friend, we trusted each other. I could tell her anything without being afraid of ridicule. But these new allies I'm trying to make...I can't trust them. I feel like there's no one around me that I can trust anymore."

"I think you should talk to 'er," Fleur suggested. "Such a friendship is too valuable to lose, 'Arry."

"I just…" Harry drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't stop thinking about the way she just...sat there. And let them tear me apart."

"People make mistakes, 'Arry." Fleur laid a gloved hand on his arm, and her smile was gentle. "She doesn't have your courage, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care about you."

"Maybe you're right," Harry said, poking miserably at a tuft of grass. "I just don't know how to talk to her now. After what we both did."

"Be honest," Fleur suggested. "Just be lay everything out for her, and you can both start fresh."

"I suppose you're right," he said after a long moment of consideration. "But I can't imagine that this is going to be a fun conversation."

"Probably not," Fleur agreed. "But it takes a different kind of courage to own up to your mistakes, and to forgive others for theirs."

"Yeah." Harry nodded, letting his breath out in another sigh. "Thanks, Fleur."

Fleur smiled and leaned in, wrapping her arms around Harry in a tight embrace. Even then, the nearness of her was intoxicating - as his hands settled on her back, he couldn't help but think back to that night they'd spent together. They embraced for a long time, and as Fleur pulled away she paused, leaned in, and kissed him on the lips.

"Hermione is a lucky girl," she whispered, her smile tinged with sadness.

"I - " Whatever Harry had been about to say was lost, for as Fleur pulled back he saw a figure standing in the field, watching them.

It was Hermione.

"Hermione!" Harry called, and he sprang away from Fleur as though she was made of acid.

Hermione was silent for a long time, staring at him with hand lifted to cover her mouth. The expression on her face was heartbreaking; she was looking at Harry as though he had ripped her heart out with his bare hands and spat on it. Harry stepped forward,his arm outstretched, but she stopped him with a quick shake of her head.

"Hermione, please," Harry said. "Let me explain, we need to talk."

"No," Hermione said sharply, taking a step back from him. "No, you don't need to explain anything, Harry. This is all pretty clear."

"Wait!" Harry called, but it was too late. Hermione was already running back to the castle.

"I'm sorry, 'Arry." Fleur sounded miserable. "I shouldn't have...it's my fault."

"No, it's fine." Harry sighed. "She needs to know what happened either way."

"Just give 'er time. She will come around." Fleur suggested, though she didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Yeah," Harry replied miserably. "Well. Thanks, Fleur - I'll see you around."

Harry trudged back to the castle alone, his head hung low. He looked for Hermione in the usual placed he'd expect to find her - the library, the great hall, and the common room - but she wasn't anywhere to be found. Eventually he gave up the search, and crawled into his bed with a sigh. He'd certainly run into her later...until then, he'd just have to work out what he wanted to say.

As it happened, Hermione was especially adept at avoiding him. He saw her often, of course, but never in a setting where they could speak. She left class without speaking to him, ate her meals somewhere else, and disappeared to the girl's dormitory the moment she returned to the common room. He would have followed her up there, just to get a chance to speak with her, but he knew that the enchantment on the staircase would send him sliding right back down again.

He would simply have to wait. Maybe Fleur was right, and all she needed was time. Still, the waiting filled him with anxiety - knowing that the confrontation was coming and that he would have to own up to his actions ate at him.

He didn't even have that much to keep his mind from it. Quidditch had been cancelled, and after fake-Moody had revealed his plans for the final task the Triwizard tournament had been cancelled as well. Despite the lack of demands on his time, he found that he couldn't focus on his schoolwork. His grades were slipping, but he found it difficult to care. He spent his time sitting in the common room alone, his homework splayed out over his lap, staring at his assignments hopelessly night after night.

"Hey, Harry." Neville Longbottom's voice startled Harry out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the boy's round face peering at him with concern. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said, shaking his head to clear the fog. "Yeah, Neville, I'm alright."

"You sure?" Neville slid into the armchair beside him, though Harry wished he wouldn't have. "It's just...well, you used to be hanging out with Ron and Hermione all the time, and now you guys don't even look at each other."

"Yeah, well," Harry shrugged and stared sullenly down at his herbology homework. "People change, I guess."

"I dunno, Harry." Neville frowned. "I can't imagine what would tear you guys apart."

"It's a long story," Harry sighed. "I found out about something that Ron didn't want to believe, and he thinks I'm a liar. And Hermione...well, we were both weak, and hurt each other."

"Well, Harry." Neville was still frowning. "The truth is the truth, yeah? If you can show Ron proof - he can be a bit stubborn, but he's a good person. He'll come around."

"Maybe," Harry sighed. "I don't know if I want him to."

"And Hermione...well, if you hurt each other, just be honest. People make mistakes, that's what makes us human."

"You're not the first person to suggest that," Harry said with a faint smile. "And I'd love to follow your advice, but she won't even talk to me."

"She will, I'm sure of it." Neville smiled, laying a hand on Harry's arm. "She just needs time. So...what did you find out, anyway? That made Ron angry?"

"Oh, it's a long story, Neville." Harry shook his head - he wasn't sure he wanted to explain the whole thing again, particularly not to Neville. "I - "

"Sirius Black is waiting for you at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Death was leaning over Harry's shoulder, whispering in his ear so close that he could feel her breath on his neck like a cool breeze.

"I have to go," Harry said. Judging from Neville's confused expression, he clearly couldn't see Death over Harry's shoulder. "Sorry, Neville. I'll talk to you later."

Harry left Neville sitting in the common room, looking confused and disappointed, and went up to his trunk to get the invisibility cloak. Wrapped in the silky shroud, he slipped past Neville and through the portrait of the fat lady. It was late, and the corridors were mostly deserted at that hour. Still, Harry kept a watchful eye out for anyone - if Sirius was really out there, the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to him.

He managed to leave the castle without incident. The grounds were desolate; even the moon had turned its back on Hogwarts, with the thinnest sliver visible in the sky. Harry made his way past Hagrid's hut and to the edge of the forest. There was no sign of Sirius - but then, Harry didn't expect that there would be. His godfather had become very adept at hiding himself ever since he'd escaped from Azkaban.

Harry removed his cloak, folded it neatly, and tucked it beneath his arm. It was a chilly night, and he suddenly found himself wishing that he'd worn a sweater. There was nothing he could do about it now, however, so he simply wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He didn't have long to wait, however - after a few moments, a familiar shaggy black dog came trotting from the woods. Moments later, his godfather stood before him.

"Harry!" Sirius whispered, wrapping his arms around his godson as Harry rushed in for an embrace. "How did you know that I was here? I had a whole plan for getting your attention…"

"That is a very long story," Harry said, giving Sirius one last squeeze before letting him go and stepping back. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I heard from Arthur about your...well, the things you've been saying." Sirius peered at Harry very closely, laying a hand on his shoulder. "It's….well, this is serious, Harry."

"I suppose you don't believe me, either." Harry sighed and looked away.

"What?" Sirius craned his neck to catch Harry's gaze once more. "Of course I believe you. How could you say that?"

The relief that flooded Harry was almost palpable. It his knees weak, cleared away weeks of fog and anxiety. He wasn't sure what Sirius could do to help him as a fugitive - or if he could do anything at all - but simply knowing that his godfather believed in him enough to accept his word without challenging it was enough to give Harry a newfound confidence.

"Sorry," Harry said, unable to hide the grin that crept over his face. "You're the first one to take my word for everything."

"We're family, Harry." Sirius said, giving Harry's shoulder a little squeeze. "That's what we do. Now tell me everything - spare no detail."

Harry and Sirius sat down on the grass together, and Harry told him everything. Huddled close and and sharing Sirius' warm cloak to ward off the chill, Harry meticulously recounted his tale. He left nothing out, and even told him of Hermione and the night he'd spent with Fleur. Finally, he recounted how he'd gone to the Malfoy's in desperation, and Sirius' face turned grim.

"Harry, tell me you didn't." Sirius shook his head slowly. "The Malfoys?"

"I…" Harry swallowed heavily. "I didn't know who else to turn too, Sirius. All of my friends had left me, none of my teachers or other adults believed a word of my story, and - "

"Why didn't you come to me, Harry?" Sirius asked, and Harry could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Because…." Harry sighed. "I didn't want to bring any more trouble down on you. It seems like you've had enough to deal with without me adding to it."

"Harry," Sirius chided. "Helping you is never trouble. That's why I'm here. From now on, I don't care what it is...if you have a problem, you can bring it to me. OK?"

"Alright." Harry nodded, and suddenly felt like a fool. Why hadn't he turned to Sirius, the only one he considered family that he had left? "What are we going to do?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Sirius admitted. "The Weasleys are a lost cause. They belong to Dumbledore, through and through, and without the most concrete proof right in front of their eyes they will never change their views on that."

"That's why I went to the Malfoys…" Harry said. "I couldn't think of anyone else that would believe me. All of my friends are more loyal to Dumbledore than they are to me."

"Do you think that's a coincidence?" Sirius asked, peering at Harry intently. "He placed you in a home where you would be kept entirely ignorant of the wizarding world, and then he sent Hagrid to introduce you to it. Hagrid is a good man, but I can't think of anyone more loyal to Dumbledore."

Harry frowned, thinking back. Sirius was right, of course; from the moment he'd been introduced to the wizarding world, he'd been surrounded by some of Dumbledore's most loyal followers. Hagrid had led him away from the Malfoys and towards the Weasleys, and the Weasley's acceptance of Harry - their willingness to accept him into their family when he had none of his own - had colored his entire experience with wizardkind.

"I guess you're right." Harry said. "I never realized how deep his plans went...or how many of the people who I thought were friends were simply pawns in his game."

"Don't be so quick to discard your friendships, Harry." Sirius' face was gentle. "They may have been engineered to benefit Dumbledore, but that doesn't mean they weren't genuine. People are drawn to you, Harry - and you can use that to your advantage here, too."

"I don't know," Harry said with a sigh. "It doesn't seem to matter if they were drawn to me or not. They all abandoned me once I took a stand against Dumbledore."

"People flock to Dumbledore, too," Sirius said. "And he's been at this far longer than you have, Harry."

"I don't feel safe here anymore," Harry said suddenly. "Hogwarts used to be my home, but now…"

"Well. There are other magical schools in Europe." Sirius suggested. "Beauxbatons, Durmstrang…even Ilvermorny, if you wanted to go to the States."

"You mean…" Harry frowned. "Leave Hogwarts? I don't know…"

"It might be in your best interests, Harry. Dumbledore is extremely powerful, and here...well, he's even more powerful at Hogwarts."

"I…" Harry didn't quite know what to say. His entire life, Hogwarts had been his home - he couldn't imagine leaving. "I don't know. How would I even get there?"

"Money," Sirius said with a shrug. "You've got plenty of that."

"Only as a last resort," Harry said at last. "Leaving doesn't feel right. I can't explain it, but...I just feel like this is where I belong. And I won't run away."

"Think of it as a tactical retreat," Sirius said, offering Harry a halfhearted smile.

"That doesn't really help," Harry said, but he smiled all the same.

"I know." Sirius sighed, his smile fading as he looked at Harry earnestly. "You're just like your father, Harry. But listen to this: there's nothing cowardly about avoiding a fight you can't win. And if you go up against Dumbledore now, you have no chance of walking away."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "And I just feel like the longer I stay here, the more danger I'm in."

"There's something else, too," Sirius said, though he seemed slightly hesitant.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking up at his godfather with a frown.

"Well," Sirius said slowly, "I didn't want to tell you...because I don't want it to influence your decision. But if you did leave Britain, I could go with you. Out of the country, I could live a normal life - well, almost normal, anyway."

"Sirius, I - " Harry swallowed heavily. He could only imagine what it would be like to live with Sirius, like they'd always planned to before Pettigrew had escaped. "That would be amazing."

"Again," Sirius said. "Don't let it influence your decision. Just know that I'm here, Harry, and that I support your choices no matter what they are."

"Even if it means going to the Malfoys for help?" Harry asked, casting his eyes down to his shoes.

Sirius heaved a sigh. "Even that," he said after a moment. "I don't like them, Harry, and they're not your friends. But I can't think of anyone who has a bigger grudge against Dumbledore. If anyone is going to bring their full power to bear against him and support you with everything they've got, it's going to be them. Just...please, Harry, you've got to be careful."

"I will," Harry promised. "Don't worry about that."

"Good," Sirius said with a smile. "Now. Tell me how things are going at school."

Harry was reluctant at first, but after he began filling in Sirius on the details of his school life he realized how much he'd needed someone to talk to. Unburdening himself from all the 'mundane' details of school life was strangely liberating; he told his godfather about his slipping grades, his difficulties surrounding Hermione and Fleur and even Death, and how utterly alone he'd felt since his friends had abandoned him.

Sirius listened with all the attentiveness Harry would have expected from a parent, offering advice or consolations wherever it was appropriate. Even if he didn't have anything to tell Harry that he didn't already know, it was a massive relief to simply talk to someone who cared for a while. When Harry had gotten everything out he sighed, feeling slightly deflated but more at peace than he had in weeks.

"Thanks for listening, Sirius." Harry said.

"You don't have to thank me," Sirius assured him, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. "That's what I'm here for."

"I should probably get inside before anyone notices that I'm missing," Harry said reluctantly. Leaving Sirius' company as about the last thing he wanted to do, but he also didn't need any more trouble on his head than he already had.

"You're probably right," Sirius said, and Harry heard the same sort of reluctance in his voice. "Go on, now. Get some rest before tomorrow. And think about what I've said...Hogwarts isn't the only place for someone like you, Harry."

"I will," Harry said. "Be safe, Sirius."

"I always am," Sirius said with a smirk, and then his form shimmered and was replaced by that familiar shaggy black dog.

Harry watched Sirius pad away into the Forbidden forest, filled with a sense of longing. He wished more than anything that he could go with him, follow him into whatever hiding place he'd discovered for himself. Nothing sounded more appealing than a life on the run, one where he could leave all of his problems behind and simply live each day like it was his last.

Of course, he knew that he couldn't do that. He longed for such a release, but he knew that his conscience would never allow him to have it. Instead, he threw his invisibility cloak around himself and began the long, slow trudge back to the castle and his problems.

Harry had been searching for an opportunity to speak alone with Hermione ever since she'd seen him with Fleur, but she was remarkably adept at avoiding. In fact, it was nearly a week before he was able to get her alone - and he was only able to do it because she had fallen asleep in an armchair while doing her homework. Harry himself had been studying in the library, trying to catch up on his potions homework without realizing how late it had gotten.

He slipped through the Fat Lady's portrait as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake up the students who were sleeping in the dormitory towers, but he nearly dropped his books when he saw Hermione curled up in a big, squashy armchair with her herbology homework open on her lap. Movingly slowly and doing his best to move as quietly as possible. He slid into the chair beside her and set his books down.

Harry felt like a creep, but he spent a moment simply watching her. It had been so long since he'd seen her or spent any amount of time with her, it felt in some ways surreal to be this close to her. Finally, he figured that he should stop spying on her, and he cleared his throat conspicuously with the hopes of waking her up.

"Hmm?" Hermione mumbled, shifting on her chair slightly. Her voice was thick with sleep. "Who's there?"

"It's me," Harry said quietly.

All at once, Hermione was awake. She jerked upright, scattering her homework on the floor. The look on her face when she saw Harry was one of mingled horror and fury, ands he dropped to the floor at once to gather he spilled parchments. From the businesslike way she was gathering her things, Harry could surmise that she was preparing to leave.

"Hermione, wait." Harry said, leaning forward and placing his hand on her shoulder. "Please, I want to talk."

"I don't want to talk," Hermione said, jerking away from his touch. "I need to get to bed."

"Please," Harry said again. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I screwed up. Let's just talk about it, that's all I'm asking."

Hermione paused in her frantic gathering, and heaved a sigh that sounded as if she had the weight of the world pressing on her lungs. She seemed to be considering for a long moment as she reorganized her homework into a neat pile on her lap, and it was only after she'd replaced them in her bag and sat back down that she spoke.

"Alright, Harry." She said carefully, not quite looking him in the eye. "Let's talk."

"What you saw with Fleur...that wasn't what you think," Harry said trying and failing to catch Hermione's eye.

"She kissed you, Harry." She said. "And from what I saw it didn't look like you were trying to stop it."

"It was more of a friendly kiss," Harry said with a grimace. "We were talking - about you and I - and she was telling me that I should talk to you."

"So you only came to talk to me because Fleur told you to?" Hermione asked, eyeing Harry with an incredulous look on her face. "That's nice."

"No," Harry said with a frown. "I wanted to talk to you - I was just angry, Hermione, after what happened at the Weasleys."

"I already apologized for that," Hermione said, and Harry could hear the effort she was putting into holding herself together. "I was scared, and - "

"I know," Harry said. "It's alright, Hermione."

"So, you and Fleur…" Hermione said, once again looking away from Harry as she chose her words carefully. "Was it...I mean, did you…"

"I made a mistake," Harry said. "I was...angry, and hurt, and I felt like everyone had abandoned me. And...she was just there."

"But all you did was kiss her?" Hermione asked, meeting Harry's gaze for the first time that night. Her expression was hopeful.

"Ah…" Harry grimaced.

He wished he could have lied to her. He wished more than absolutely anything that he could have simply told her what she wanted to hear, and let everything go back to the way it had been. He wished more than anything that he could simply take away Hermione's pain with a simple lie...but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"No," Harry said at last, looking away. "Not exactly."

"I see," Hermione said. Her voice quivered with the effort of holding back tears. "I had heard rumors, but...I didn't want to believe them…"

"It was a mistake," Harry repeated. He could feel Hermione's heart breaking from where he was sitting. "I wasn't thinking clearly, Hermione...I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared off into space and nodded - as if she agreed with what he'd said. Finally, she wiped at her eyes and gathered her papers together once more. With her books and schoolwork clutched once more to her chest, she seemed to regain a bit more of her composure. When she looked at Harry tears still shone in her eyes, but her voice at least was firm.

"I know I hurt you, Harry." She said, lifting her chin. "And I'm sorry I didn't stand up for you when you needed me. But I can't find it in me to forgive this. I will still help you - I'm still on your side, this is too big for me to quit. But I can't be with you, and right now I can't be your friend. Just...just let me know what you need from me, and I'll do it."

Hermione seemed to be on the verge of saying more, but instead she simply nodded once. Then she turned on her heel and left, walking up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Harry listened for the sounds of her crying, but he heard nothing. Then again, he knew how skilled Hermione was with charms.

Harry sighed and leaned back against his chair. He'd thought that talking things out with Hermione would make him feel better - no more secrets or guilt gnawing away at him - but now he just felt empty. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He wasn't irritable or angry or sad, he just felt nothing. He stared numbly at the fire, his finger tracing little patterns on the armrest of his chair, silently berating himself for being such a fool.

"You're sad," Death said. Harry had long ago become immune to Death's sudden appearances.

"I don't know what I am," Harry said softly, not bothering to look up at her. "Except an idiot."

"It's strange," Death said, and at that Harry looked up. She was curled up before the fire, staring into it much like Harry had been. "I've never felt...well, anything. Not that I can remember. But since I've been with you, I can feel everything."

"Why is that?" Harry asked - a small ray of curiosity managed to pierce through his apathy.

"I don't know," she admitted. She shifted on the carpet to look at Harry, and to his surprise tears were glistening in her wide eyes. "I've never had a master before. Maybe this bond means that some piece of you lives within me, now? Or maybe I'm just...awake, now. Sensitive to you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said after a moment. "I didn't mean to hurt you, too. But it seems like that's all I'm good at."

"Shhh," Death said, looking up at him with a frown. "Don't talk like that, Harry. You know it isn't true."

Harry simply shrugged and looked away from her. In that moment, it certainly felt like it was true. He couldn't think of one choice he'd made over the school year that had resulted in a positive outcome. His blundering had alienated him from all of his friends, put Moody in danger, broken Hermione's heart, and now he most likely had pulled Sirius into the mess as well. At least he didn't care about the Malfoys; any ruin that Harry's campaign brought unto them would be deserved, in his mind.

"I'm just tired," Harry said at last, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself. "I'll feel better in the morning."

"I could make you feel better right now," Death said, turning to look at Harry with those big, unsettling eyes of hers. "But only if you want me to."

Harry looked at her for a long time. She was beautiful, in an ethereal sort of way. Delicate like a porcelain doll, otherworldly and cold. The memory of the kiss she'd given him replayed in his mind, cool and rejuvenating and exciting, in its own way. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to take her in his arms, lose himself to her the way he'd lost himself to Fleur. She was still watching him, waiting for an answer, and at last Harry nodded.

Death stood slowly, her incorporeal wings spreading as her hands lifted to the fasteners of her dress. It fell away easily, revealing the entirety of her body to him for the first time. She was pale and slender, and the gentle curves of her bust and hips drew Harry's eyes immediately. She took her time crossing the space to where Harry sat, eyes cast at her feet demurely. She wore a small smile when she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Do you like my body?" She asked, and Harry could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "I...I can change it, if you want me to."

"No," Harry said quickly, "I mean - yes. I like it. You're beautiful."

"Do you mean that?" Death asked, the smile on her face growing a fraction.

"Of course I do," Harry said. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

With a smile as bright and radiant as the sun itself, Death drew closer. Moving with a painstaking slowness, she climbed into Harry's lap and straddled his waist. Without thought, his hands were on her waist. Her skin was cool and smooth as Harry ran his hands over her curves. Hel let out a wordless, needy sigh as she pressed herself into him, her face wearing a mingled expression of surprise and eagerness.

"I've never done this before," Death said, leaning in to breathe the words against Harry's neck.

"That's alright," Harry said, his hands firm on her waist as he pulled her in tighter. "I'll show you how."

Death pulled back, just for a moment, her eyes searching Harry's face for something that only she could see. Her lips were parted, her chest heaving with anticipation - it was all too much. He needed her in that moment, and with one hand he reached up to pull her down and take her. The kiss was much as he remembered it - the moment her cool lips pressed against his, he could feel that curious, rejuvenating energy pour through him. Yet this time it had another effect - it ignited something within him, an urgent desire that only she could fulfill.

"What if someone sees us?" Harry asked breathlessly when she had pulled back.

"No one will," she said firmly. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched him.

"Good," Harry said, and he tugged her down on top of him once more.

Being with Hermione had been like going home - it was familiar and intimate, safe and comforting in her arms. Fleur was passion personified, the embodiment of a burning desire that had left Harry desperate to fulfill. Death was...different. Wrapped up in her embrace he felt like he was floating, straddling a line between consciousness and oblivion that left him feeling almost dazed. He felt like he was floating, lifted up by waves of pleasure.

When Harry was spent, he lay curled up with Death on the soft rug before the fire. She was tucked beneath his arm with her head pillowed on his chest and her wings folded over them both like a blanket. Harry felt more awake and full of energy than he had in weeks. Everything about him seemed to buzz with energy, a sort of energy that snapped with urgency. One that wanted to be released.

"I feel...different." Harry said after a moment. His voice seemed shockingly loud in the deserted common room.

"Of course you do," Death said, tipping her chin up to look at him with a small, mysterious smile.

"Why, though?" Harry asked with a frown. "I...I don't know, I feel like I'm about to burst with energy."

"We shared each other," Death said simply, laying her head back down on Harry's chest. "You gave me some of you, and I gave you some of me. Some of my power."

"Power?" Harry asked.

"It won't last forever," she said with a shrug. "But since we were...close...you might find that you can do things now that you couldn't before."

"I see... " Harry said, considering her words carefully. "And what did I give you?"

"You gave me this," she said with a contented sigh, snuggling a bit closer to him.

Nothing had really changed about Harry's situation, but the next morning at breakfast was the first time he'd felt positive in weeks. He sat alone, of course. The other students didn't really know what was going on, but it was enough that Ron and Hermione both had stopped talking to Harry. Still, it didn't bother him - he sat feeding bits of bacon to Sarchanie, hissing to her quietly as they shared their meal.

Harry was so wrapped up in his good cheer with Sarchanie that he completely failed to notice Draco sidling up behind him.

"My father wants to talk to you, Potter." The blonde-haired boy's sneer had lost some of its potency, but it was still there. "After the governor's meeting - tonight."

"What about?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Don't know," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Guess you'll have to find out for yourself."

Harry watched him go with a frown; he should have felt anxious at the prospect of meeting with Lucius Malfoy again, but in truth he was eager. He wanted to know if he would have the support of the former death eaters, or if he would have to look for help elsewhere. Knowing one way or another would be better than the constant wondering.

Harry sighed. He still had a full day of classes to get through before he would have his answer.

The day crawled by with an agonizing slowness that seemed designed to torture Harry. The closer the hour of his meeting with Lucius drew, the more anxious Harry became - until at last he found himself sitting in the library, ostensibly studying for his Potions exam but instead staring at the clock, willing it to go faster. Yet despite his constant vigil, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the clock struck eight o'clock and signaled the end of the governor's meeting.

Harry made his way to the meeting room with his bag slung over one shoulder and his heart in his throat. Only then did it occur to him that it might be a trap; yet as soon as that notion entered his mind, he dismissed it. Harry doubted very much that Malfoy would lay a finger on him inside of Hogwarts - his reputation was far too important to him.

Still, as he turned the handle and stepped into the room, it occurred to Harry that no one else know that this meeting was even taking place.

"Hello, Harry." Lucius smiled that thin-lipped smile of his and gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, sit down."

Harry did as instructed, slowly lowering himself into the red-cushioned chair oppsite the white-haired wizard. Malfoy looked as smug as ever, one gloved hand gripping the head of his cane - yet in his eyes, Harry saw something that he'd never seen before. Fear.

"I'll keep this brief, Harry." Malfoy cleared his throat. "But first I must ask you a question. What are you willing to do to win this little war of yours? How far are you willing to go to protect the wizarding world?"

"I'll do whatever it takes," Harry said without hesitation.

"Good," Lucius said, but he didn't look particularly pleased. A moment later when he spoke again, Harry found out why.

"Lord Voldemort wants to meet with you."