Chapter 42

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Also, thank you, Cathy, for responding on the bèta request for my original story. If anyone else is interested, please PM me.

Enjoy


Rubbing the sleep from her face, Hermione took another cup of coffee, not daring to look in a mirror. Now, she had never been vain, but she didn't want to be confronted with how absolutely horrendous she must look. Past days had taken a toll on her, and she had only barely been able to keep her studies at the same level as they had been before. It was morning now, around 6am. She groaned audibly into the empty common room, her head slumping down on her arms. Another sleepless night… what she really needed now was another time-turner so she could at least get a decent rest.

She had began this with such high spirits, and only now did she admit how naïve she had been, and how arrogant. Things were slowly started to go in the right direction after she'd done as Rita had said, but it went very slow, and only very few wizards had been willing to speak for her to the Goblins. She longingly looked at the stairs leading to the girl's dorms, to the bed that hadn't been used the past three nights, but she knew she couldn't afford to waste time.

Once more, she took a sip of the warm beverage which had quickly become her new companion as she flipped through letters and goblin reports. It had taken damned long and had nearly used up all her patience to make herself believable. The only thing that she was glad of was that she was absolutely certain that the goblins also wanted to wield magic. And now they slowly started to believe that the Dark Side wanted to give them that with no other strings attached than to give support.

One positive, slightly surprising but very promising factor was that, while many magicians had initially reacted with shock, there had been no real negative sounds from that side. It had been unusual that the matter had been brought up again, but the goblin wars were long over, and the only thing most people remembered about those nowadays were the boring talks of Binns, more a rattling off of statistics than anything else. Goblins and wizards had lived together in relative peace for centuries, and the creatures did not seem as if they were about to usurp the magical society if they were to be granted the right of wands.

Rita's many arguments against Goblins appeared to be of a prejudiced kind that was rare in the Wizarding society. Even Purebloods, who usually weren't very keen on anyone challenging their superiority, benefited too much of the goblin race and their incredible financial sense to oppose them openly. Unlike house-elves, the only thing that oppressed Goblins now was the law, not the general public opinion and treatment of the race

But all that had only added to Hermione's sense of confusion when she hit invisible barriers whenever she tried to help them by telling them the laws could be changed. Perhaps it was because Goblins had a memory that went far further back than that of humans, or maybe it could be attributed to that they viewed themselves more as a close community over individuals. In either case, they were incredibly wary and closed, so much that she had had many difficulties to even get a debate going about it. In the mind of the Goblins, wizards were all alike, just like they saw themselves as all alike, and because they had been treated as little but animals in the past by wizards, they were incredibly sceptic about a wizard possibly aiding them. That belief was ingrained so much even that she had often been pointed towards the door when she'd tried to talk to them herself, the goblins giving her the clear message that they wouldn't be played with.

But now… now it seemed like she was finally getting somewhere. Travers, the same who had informed her about Goblin society before, had convinced them to do a completely unnecessary survey, only to get it black-on-white how many percent of the Goblins wished for wands, and how many would want to relinquish their Neutral position for that. Well, it wasn't unnecessary per se, or rather not all of it. The second part would make a major difference, and hopefully Voldemort would be satisfied with those results. She knew she had made less than desirable progress and her reports had been meagre as a direct result of that. She had not received word back, which was expected, but not very positive.

She hastily worked on her first good report, hoping it would get her in better graces. When she was finally satisfied with the result, she spelled her ink-stained fingers clean and got up, a tad wobbly. She had to steady herself by pressing her palms flat on the table. No-one was up still, but when checking the time she noticed that Lavender would probably be up already for her make-up morning ritual, as breakfast would start soon.

Yawning, she organised the papers and put them in her bag, deciding that she could go to the Owlery after breakfast. She was positively famished.

Nothing exciting happened on her way to the Great Hall, and she was pleased to see that breakfast was already being served, even though she was one of the first. She buttered her sandwich in silence. Ever since both Harry and Ron had gone, she'd found that people were starting to avoid her slightly again, be it consciously or out of habit. The only one who spoke to her on a regular basis still was, surprisingly enough, Neville. Luna, a friend of Harry's had also sought out her presence a couple of times in the library, but Hermione had to admit that she didn't quite know what to say to the girl without instantly trying to dispel the odd ideas she had.

Neither were in the Hall now though, and she was already almost finished when the first odd thing of the day happened. Whispers broke out through the Hall, which had slowly started to be filled as time passed, as a large, rather mean-looking owl soared through one of the windows. It was unlike one she had ever seen before: gigantic and black with piercing yellow eyes and faster than she was used to. Therefore, when it came directly her way and landed in front of her, flapping its enormous wings wildly, she sat stunned, not knowing what to do. The sharp beak snapped towards her as she failed to react, and a claw, outstretched as large as her own hand, was stuck forwards. With trembling hands she untied the envelope that was fastened to the leg, not sure if this was a mistake or not. She hardly ever got mail here, and this wasn't even the regular morning mail, which would arrive in about thirty minutes.

The beast didn't fly away when she unrolled the envelope, her own name clearly written on the parchment in a handwriting that looked slightly familiar to her, although she didn't know why. It was straight, slanted only minimally to the left and very readable, unlike most of the handwritings she had seen, certainly when having been written with quill and ink.

She didn't know if she could open this here, but the owl was staring at her so intensely that she didn't dare to get up and turn her back on it in fear of being attacked. As no-one sat near her anyways, she carefully opened it, glad when it appeared to be a normal letter. That was, until she saw the contents.

To Miss Granger,

I have found your reports to be rather lacking. You are going to have to send me some real progress within four days or I shall rely on someone else. News will probably be delayed as much as possible about this in Hogwarts, but Dumbledore is dead, and the dirt on him will have to be published very soon. However, as you have not convinced me of your reliability I am tempted to put a more competent person on that.

Expecting results,
Lord Voldemort.

For a moment she felt as if in a stupor. Four days? She was very glad for the nights she'd spent working now, and the report in the bag next to her. She didn't know if it was enough, or the progress he wanted, but it was all she could give him at the moment. The piece of news that had been given was shocking however, and she didn't know what to think of it. Dumbledore was dead? The headmaster had been at dinner merely two days ago… to think he would never attend another evening here was… odd. While she knew of his manipulations and flaws and didn't like the man at all anymore, his presence at Hogwarts had always been a constant one, a familiar sight that she could rely on.

Who would become the new Headmaster? McGonagall seemed the most logical choice, but she hadn't been here since yesterday either, causing some confusion among the students. Professor Ambrosius, the new Herbology teacher, had taken over her classes, and she found him to be competent in both courses. She wondered whether Dumbledore had chosen him or the Board of the school… Firenze, who now taught Divination instead of Trelawney, had obviously been Dumbledore's idea, but Hermione wasn't sure about Ambrosius. If he had been chosen by the School Board and thus Voldemort though, that would mean there were three teachers and the caretaker now who were on the side of the Dark.

Speaking of which, Snape had been just as absent as Dumbledore and McGonagall, but there was no-one good enough in potions among the staff to take that over. Thus, Hermione had had a nice extra hour in which she could thankfully catch up with her homework, and it had meant one piece of homework less for the next class, something she had for once welcomed very much.

She took parchment and quill out of her bag, careful not to expose her neck to the black owl, and penned a quick reply to Voldemort, deciding she might as well use his own owl to mail him the report. She put the letter in his own envelope, scratching out her name on it to show him that it wasn't just his own letter sent back, an held the report out to the owl, hoping it wouldn't mind carrying the papers in its beak. She jumped slightly as it snapped shut on the documents, and a gust of wind followed when it flew up, leaving Hermione behind in relief.

"Hey Granger, you attracting vicious beasts now?" someone shouted from the Ravenclaw table, trying to be funny. "Usually opposites attract but in this case I'm not sure… Who's that letter from, your boyfriend? Krum would have such an animal." She ignored the pestering voice and, with a quick flick of her wand, burned the letter before anyone would try to grab it and reveal her in their ignorance. "Oooh, must be a bad letter! He breaking up with you?"

"What is your problem?" she finally snapped."Haven't gotten an owl from your girl in a while and trying to take out your frustration on those who do get paid attention to?" she said, feeling slightly better after that. Not that she was implying that she and Voldemort… The thought made her shudder. No, she would leave that to Harry, who for some strange reason seemed to be completely infatuated.


"You foolish boy!"

Harry groaned and blinked against the bright light that surrounded him, the words not yet having registered in his mind. He looked up, a bit hazy, wincing as an onslaught of feelings washed through him. "Ouch, tone it down a bit would you? I was nearly blasted to smithereens…"

His attempt at humour was not appreciated. "Nearly, nearly? You would have died if that bird had come only seconds later!" The voice was shrill now, nearly yelling, and Harry's eyes flew open for real, his head throbbing as he suddenly sat up. The room was empty, save for the man next to his bed, and for a moment he had absolutely no clue where he was until he recognised bits and parts, although it wasn't all familiar. The bed was obviously a hospital bed, and everything else, from the nightstand to the window and the low-maintenance plants in front of said window screamed the impersonal atmosphere of a hospital too, but he was certain that it wasn't the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. For an absurd moment, he thought Marvolo might have burst into St Mungo's with a dying Harry in his arms, yelling at the staff like a madman.

"It can't have been that bad…" Harry muttered. "I remember thinking I'd die, yes… I'd been hit rather badly… but I don't seem to have any wounds now… Nothing hurts." He looked down, not even scars adorning his arms as a reminder of the awful piece of magic that had ripped him apart. "What of Dumbledore? I hope he didn't recover like I did?"

Marvolo gave him an incredulous look, and Harry was shocked and slightly uncomfortable to see streaks of dried tears that the man had neglected to rub away. From the way his wounds had healed, some time must have passed between then and now…

"You don't remember?"

"Everything I remember are large birds in the sky… and then some flashes. You hovering over me, saying my name… me trying to answer you… it hurt so badly…" Harry winced as memories of the pain came to the forefront of his mind. Pain should not be something that memories were able to reconstruct so clearly… "Then nothing anymore… only an odd sound, almost like music. Me thinking I was going insane and hearing heaven call, and then nothing again."

The man released a long breath and sat down on his bed, carefully gathering Harry in his arms as if he were still wounded. "You have no idea how close you came to heaven darling," he muttered. "Your body had been ripped apart… the only reason you were still alive was that you happened to lie in an angle at which your intestines were being kept in place. If you had landed on your stomach you would have been done for… And even now you were just… bleeding out."

"Then…" Harry said puzzled, "how come I am here, feeling fine?"

"Your wand… your wand sensed your danger somehow, and the link responded. Do you remember? Our link does not only extend to the two of us love…"

"Fawkes!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly understanding.

"Exactly. Thankfully he has his own form of apparition, or else he would never have made it in time. You literally had seconds when he started healing you. The amount of tears he spilled on you must have been worth more than the whole Malfoy vault."

"That sure is something," Harry muttered, smiling weakly. "Draco must be jealous. I bet he never got a gift worth that much. I should tell him so he can go whine to Lucius about it."

"It's not a laughing matter Harry," Marvolo told him, not looking very amused. "To think how close you came to death… a couple more seconds and we wouldn't be here, together. What possessed you to pull that stunt? Blowing yourself up to take Dumbledore out? If the battle between us had continued I might have been able to take him down myself."

Harry cast his eyes downwards. "I'm sorry… I knew there was a risk but… I had actually put my hopes on the Golem, as the palm of its hand supported my back. I thought it would keep me from getting damaged too much myself. I also had a shield up but it seems that it wasn't as strong as I'd hoped."

"That might have worked, had it not fallen apart when it hit Dumbledore… After all, it was that old fool who created the thing, and his concentration was the only thing that kept it together. The moment you blasted Dumbledore out of this world, the Golem crumbled and you got hit by your own explosion."

"But Dumbledore… is he really…"

"Yes, he's really dead… my compliments for that," Marvolo smiled wryly.

"It wasn't as if I'd planned to go to him actually… The Golem had gotten a hold on me and was carrying me towards Dumbledore, so I figured I might as well use that against him. He was the one who interrupted the duel with that by placing himself in a straight line between you and me, as he knew that you would risk hitting me if you continued. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't acted…"

"I'm surprised he used that tactic actually." Marvolo said, thoughtful. "As far as I know he was never aware of our relationship, and as he believes me completely heartless, I could just have continued to duel him anyways…"

"I suppose he thought I was your 'trophy'. He knew how protective you are of the things you call yours."

"Perhaps. I am disappointed that I never got to rub it in his face for real, but letting him know of our relationship would have been a terrible move in case he escaped."

"Perhaps there'll be a painting of him that we can gloat to," Harry suggested, finally making Marvolo chuckle slightly before the man grew serious again.

"We are now faced with some difficulties though. The very thing that I had wanted to avoid happened. He died a martyr, for we did not publicise his history and discredit him before his death."

Harry gave his lover a shocked look. "I hadn't thought of that… does that mean… was it all for nothing?" The thought of his whole mission to gather Dumbledore's memories being worthless upset him a great deal…

"Not for nothing, no, but we shall have to act quickly. Miss Granger failed to convince the Goblins, so I shall have to look at other reporters than Skeeter…"

"Did she? I actually heard some rumours about her seeking people to speak for her to the Goblins, and during one of the last Death Eater meetings I heard that some had accepted…"

"You know more than I do then. I shall have to speak to her. I don't trust Lovegood to not mix up the facts and combine them with his own previous stories. There can be done enough with solely the facts, and every bit that becomes public about his life that can destroy him needs to be backed up with sources. It won't do us any good if people start to question parts, as they could start to question the whole."

Before Harry could answer, the door opened and a nervous man in light green robes entered. "The patient is up then?" he said in a soft, fragile voice. Harry blinked, once more wondering where exactly they were.

"I'm feeling fine," he reassured the man, who nodded and fled as soon as the words had left the teen's mouth. "Where did you bring me?"

"St Mungo's," Marvolo answered, and before Harry could help it, he'd let out a disbelieving laugh.

"For real? How did you manage to not get arrested?"

"The hospital is complete neutral ground love. I usually don't send my Death Eaters here just in case, but you needed treatment too much. Fawkes healed your outer wounds, and Severus administered blood replenishing and some healing potions, but you insides were damaged too."

"You know I despise strange doctors," Harry told the other, a tad harsher than he'd wanted to. "Couldn't Narcissa heal me?"

"I kept you in a constant state of sleep because of that. And no, Narcissa is skilled, but don't forget that she never finished her training. I simply couldn't trust anyone but the best for you, and those were all in St Mungo's. I briefly considered Pomfrey, but had no way to reach her on such short notice."

That mellowed Harry somewhat, and he felt grateful for that Marvolo had given it some thought. "Did you barge in and demand them to heal me while throwing a fit and cursing people all around?" Harry asked curiously. The corner of Marvolo's mouth lifted slightly, which gave a strange expression as he had hardly any lips.

"Perhaps," the man muttered, absentmindedly starting to stroke Harry's cheek. The teen sighed, relaxing under the touch and arching his neck as the hand slid over his throat.

"This reminds me of summer," he heard, and hummed in agreement. Impatiently, he shrugged the blankets off a bit, annoyed when noticing he was wearing one of those hospital gowns that are fastened around one's neck and middle and leave the back open. He didn't mind feeling exposed in front of Marvolo, but the thought of strange people undressing him made his stomach clench.

"Who… who changed my clothes?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Did you really think I would let others touch you like that?" the man replied, and Harry instantly relaxed again, feeling relieved. He muttered something unintelligible and butted his head against the familiar hands in demand for the man to continue his petting.

"Eager, love?" The lust in the man's voice made his skin ache in excitement, and as red eyes raved over the exposed patches of skin, he felt content and wanted.

"Not my fault that we haven't made love for weeks," he grumbled. "Unless you count that time you took me against the wall when you caught me just out of my shower as you got changed, but that lasted no more than ten minutes before you had to get going again."

"I'm sorry darling, I'll make it up to you as soon as you're let out of the hospital, which I expect to be soon. Also, there was something else I wanted to tell you. As you killed Dumbledore, this was earned as well." Harry was confused for a moment as Marvolo put a hand in his robes, searching for something, before pulling his hand back and revealing a very familiar wand.

"I hadn't even thought of that!" Harry breathlessly said as he took the wand from his lover, and he shivered as a few sparks sprung from the tip. The death stick… the first Hallow, the most powerful wand ever made, but also the most treacherous if they had to believe Grindelwald. He felt uneasy at how happy it seemed to feel in his hands, this wand which had switched owners through a long string of murders. "I'm not sure if I want to wield it," he admitted. "To think of what has been done with this wand… Don't you want it? If you were to disarm me right now it would apparently switch ownership to you."

"I'm not sure if I want to trust a wand won so easily… And last battle made me realise something. As you are now, you are... incredibly vulnerable. I am not letting you go out into battle anymore before I am certain that you can't die anymore. I feel uneasy with the thought of you mutilating your own soul though, and even if you call me a hypocrite, I will not aid you in doing so. However, the owner of all three Hallows is supposed to become Master of Death… and you possess two now."

"But is that title really something? Or has it been made up by legends? After all, it's not as if they were made by Death itself either, even though that's how the story goes. What does 'master of death' really mean?" Harry had been curious about that title before, and it seemed a good solution if it held some truth. He wasn't all too keen on damaging his own soul. He had to admit that the thought had fascinated him when he had first learnt of Marvolo's Horcruxes, but ever since seeing the ritual in which the man had created his last one, it hadn't looked so appealing anymore.

"That is not something I can answer, but I hoped that it would mean you would be granted immortality somehow."

"And yet, we can't be sure."

"Mr Potter?" another voice sounded, and they both looked up, noticing someone had entered, another Healer, female this time, looking far more confident than the one they'd seen previously. On a second glance, Harry saw that one came in behind the elder woman. "I am Healer Grace, and have been responsible for your healing yesterday. Healer Brent just told me you were up and about and indicating you felt recovered?"

Harry liked her instantly. He wasn't sure why, perhaps it was the fact that she was a woman like Pomfrey and Narcissa, and all the awful doctors the Dursleys had taken him to had been men. She didn't seem afraid at all, only a tad surprised as her eyes flicked from Harry's face to his right hand, around which Marvolo's was curled loosely now. She quickly looked back though, without commenting on it, and a pleasant, sunny smile spread on her face. Harry handed the wand over to Marvolo again, who pocketed it.

"I am glad to see you have healed up so nicely. Of course, my treatment was nothing compared to that of the legendary bird who I heard aided you… And it is solely thanks to that, that not even scars remain. Do be careful to not point explosion spells on yourself next time."

Harry laughed sheepishly at the humorous reprimand. "Nah, I have no targets I am itching to blow up near me anymore," he replied, feeling Marvolo's eyes narrow on him.

"And I shall make sure he won't get a chance to do so anymore," the man said in a clipped voice, the hand tightening for a moment.

"Please don't keep me from battle," Harry said –not begged, he was absolutely not begging- "I want to be useful, and you said before that it was my own choice whether I participated or stayed away… Well, I want to make myself useful and fight rather than wait for you to come back and spend my time worrying… I promise I won't do anything like this anymore."

Marvolo sighed. "Harry, no." he simply said. "Not until I'm sure I can't lose you anymore. I came far too close to doing so. You can keep yourself occupied in the library or by training if you want to, but you had your share of battles, and this is already the second time you nearly lost your life. Don't think I forgot last time. I… underestimated the risks it would pose for you."

Harry was incredibly surprised, not at his words, but at the fact that he would speak so honestly and with his feelings so clearly on display with other people in the room, people who weren't even at their side. The elderly Healer, Grace, did her name honour, standing still with her hands in front of her, her eyes on the window as she waited for them to finish their conversation. Brent was the opposite though, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched on. It was even more surprising because Marvolo could easily have switched to Parseltongue. It was almost as if he honestly didn't care anymore to show his feelings.

"Rodolphus will laugh so hard at me," Harry muttered, finally giving in. He saw Marvolo hesitate to say something before pressing his lips tightly together. "What?"

"Rodolphus… perished on the battlefield."

"No," Harry softly said. "No he didn't." He didn't even understand why Marvolo would say such a thing. Rodolphus was… was a survivor, he couldn't simply die like that! "I can't believe it. Say it isn't true?" He was begging now, thoughts of the man who had slowly warmed up to him filling his mind, all the spells he'd taught Harry, all the hours of training together…

"I'm sorry, I can't."

Mutedly, the teen nodded, turning his head away from the people near the door as tears started to find their way over his cheeks. "Has anyone told Rabastan yet?" he asked, his voice betraying his grief.

"There is no need to," the man answered, and Harry merely nodded again, the implications clear enough.

"Good. I mean... not good, of course, but… at least they don't have to live alone then… live with that knowledge and… and…" He gulped, not able to say more. He didn't care for the people in the room anymore, leaning forwards suddenly to hug his lover, clinging tightly to him as he buried his face in the man's robes, wetting the fabric as he sobbed. It was only now that he fully realised how real the threat of death was, and how close Marvolo had been to losing him, to having to live with the knowledge that he sent Harry out into the very battle he would have died in. For Marvolo had started this war, and while Harry followed him on his own accord, Marvolo was responsible for everyone there, as he was the one who lead every fight. "I won't go anymore if you don't want me to," he said, his voice muffled by the robes and distorted through his tears. Nonetheless, the man seemed to have understood, for the arms that had accepted his embrace tightened.

"Thank you." The two words were not muttered, but spoken loud and clear, relief and gratefulness in his tone. It took a few more minutes before Harry calmed down enough to pull away, feeling a bit ashamed for the weakness he'd shown. He still trembled slightly as he was released and Grace approached the bed, looking at Marvolo for approval. On his nod, she sat down on the chair next to the bed as Harry cleared his face of tears

"Sorry for that," he mumbled.

"It's alright dear, I know what it's like to lose people… it's a feeling that never really gets better does it?" Harry whispered his agreement, trying to shake thoughts of the two now dead men from his mind. "However, it's more important to remember the living than the dead, just a piece of advice. They're the ones who need it. And you, no matter how close you came to death, are still alive. Come, will you allow me to check up on you?"

Harry threw a nervous look at Brent, who still stood near the door, looking torn between staying or fleeing. On a sign of Grace, he gratefully walked out of the door, and Harry felt a little bit better after. "Alright," he finally said, when feeling up to it.

"Good… would you please move off the bed?" she asked Marvolo, and it surprised Harry how fast he did as asked, maybe remembering his encounter with Pomfrey. "Brilliant," the woman stated, and she slowly moved the blankets away so they rested on the height of his waist. Harry squirmed a bit under her touch as she moved the gown to inspect his stomach, fully aware that the only thing separating her from his private parts was a thin blanket and a sheet, which would uncover him the moment they would accidentally slide down a couple of inches. "Please relax," she softly said, but Harry had difficulty doing so, his muscles tensing even more as she placed her hand on his diaphragm.

~Harry, just listen to my voice~ Marvolo suddenly hissed. ~Relax love, she will not hurt you, I will not allow it.~ Harry released a breath as the softly hissed, soothing words washed over him, and slowly he noticed his body calming down, his heartbeat slowing and his breathing turning even. ~Good, just like that. Remember I'm here, just concentrate on my voice.~

He closed his eyes, listening as Marvolo spoke on about everything and nothing, talking to talk, but it worked astonishingly well, and before he knew it he felt the blanket being draped back over him, the stream of words stopping. "Thank you," he heard Grace say, and he opened his eyes slowly, seeing she was addressing Marvolo. "That seemed to work. I'm all done now, and he seems to have healed nicely. I advice rest for a while as the tissue is still sensitive and more prone to tearing than usual. I shall give him a potion of which he has to take one spoon each six hours for the coming two days. Afterwards, he'll be all healed up. If there are any complications, please return immediately."

"Understood," the man spoke. "I can take him with me now?"

"Yes. I am afraid his clothes were completely ruined though, but you can borrow some of the Hospital."

"No need," Marvolo spoke, removing his cloak. He approached the bed and draped it carefully around Harry's front, after which he untied the Hospital gown and removed it before wrapping the cloak fully around the other. The teen couldn't help but briefly inhale the scent, earning him two amused looks. He blushed slightly, keeping the cloak in place while trying to not let it drag over the floor too much.

"You're too damn tall," he commented as he failed. Marvolo merely smirked and picked him up, under Harry's loud protest of not being a damsel in distress.

"Not anymore you mean," the man answered, ignoring the death glare Harry threw at him. "What do we owe St Mungo's?" he asked Grace.

"Three galleons and five sickles. Freedom of magic would also be nice," she said, smiling.

"We're working on the last thing," Harry laughed. "Can I transfer the money from my vault to the hospital somehow? I don't have money with me."

"As you are underage, your legal guardians will receive a bill…" Grace said, looking at Marvolo.

"Oh great," Harry groaned. "The Dursleys shall be sooo pleased. Somehow I'm glad they can't send Howlers. I can already imagine Uncle Vernon shouting at me: 'Why didn't you just die instead of wasting our precious money?'" he bitterly said, mocking his uncle. Grace gave him a shocked look.

"Would the hospital allow me to pay instead?" Marvolo quickly threw in.

"I… suppose. Yes, although you will have to fill in a form for that."

"Then I shall do so."

The Healer nodded and hurried away, leaving them alone for a while. There was not much to say however, and Harry merely clung to Marvolo, brooding about the Dursleys as he rested his chin on his lover's shoulder. He smiled slightly as he felt the man swaying a bit, and his eyes drooped despite having slept for a long time already. In his half-sleep, time went far quicker than it should have, for it seemed only seconds later that Healer Grace returned with parchment and a self-inking quill. Harry shivered slightly, being reminded of Umbridge's bloodquills, even though he knew this one was harmless.

Marvolo put him down again and Harry sat on the edge of the bed as the man filled in the papers. Harry curiously looked at the questions, hoping his love wouldn't have to fill in details too personal, but it was merely information about his Gringotts account. Marvolo hesitated on the part 'relationship with the patient' for a moment though, and Harry realised that admitting the depth of their relationship would be a great disadvantage were it to become known, even with Dumbledore gone.

"Are these completely confidential?" Marvolo asked Grace, who did not seem surprised at the question.

"They should be. If you want, I can personally make sure that these don't… get lost I the system. They're bound to cause some commotion in the administration department when seeing your and Mr Potter's names on it."

"That would be appreciated," the man answered, before firmly putting 'fiancé of the patient' in black and white and signing it at the bottom. It was a different one as he used when signing Death Eater reports, and Harry wondered for a moment if it was made up on the spot, but it appeared to be written too fast and smoothly for that. He saw 'Marvolo', and thought to recognise an R, C and S written through it, uncertain as to what they stood for. R for Riddle, probably, but the rest? Marvolo handed Grace the forms, who quickly looked them over, her eyes widening minimally as they rested somewhere at the bottom."Remember that none of this information should go beyond the walls of this Hospital," Marvolo sharply reminded her, and she nodded faintly. "And the same goes for anything said in this room. Please remind Healer Brent."

"Of course. I understand… completely." Grace said, her previous air of confidence and professionalism returning. "Everything shall remain confidential. Excuse me now, I am expected at another patient in a few minutes."

"Thank you for healing me," Harry told her, and she smiled.

"You're very welcome dearie." And with that, she was gone. Marvolo supported him as he stood and once more picked him up. This time Harry did not protest, knowing that he would most likely stumble over the long cloak. He did not know what floor they were on, and he didn't fancy tripping down a flight of stairs.

As it turned out, they had been on the first floor, most likely rushed to the first room available, completely ignoring the actual layout and purpose of the different departments. Marvolo surely must have caused a ruckus…


"Dumbledore is dead… Mad-eye is dead, Trelawney, Sprout, Mundungus… Arthur and Molly have gone missing, Sirius is hardly ever here and I heard Severus turned on the Order after all last battle and aided Harry…" Tonks spoke, her saucer rattling as her teacup slipped a bit too much to the side when she tried to put it down. Brown, hot liquid spilled on her desk and she hissed as it hit her fingers as well. Kingsley, with whom she shared the office, stared at the wall, which had still not been undone from the 'wanted' posters of Sirius and the locations he'd been 'spotted' by them, the false trail they had set up to cover for the man.

They were alone today, Scrimgeour having gone out to work on his campaign and several other Aurors having been set on catching a bunch of idiots who had drunkenly trashed a Muggle museum, animating several objects and setting them loose on the unsuspecting Muggles. Kingsley hummed thoughtfully before speaking up. "And are you glad for that?" he asked, making Tonks look up, her eyes defensive all of a sudden.

"What makes you say that?"

"You haven't agreed with anything Dumbledore said the past… months. Ever since the Dark Lord revealed his goals, in fact. You even fought with Mad-eye a couple of times because of it."

Silence fell over the office. There was nothing to say, she had no defence. "Perhaps I think the Order might have strayed," she finally replied. "I signed up because I'd heard of what they did for the people after the first war. But what I saw here did not match with that. Good ideas were thrown overboard just because Dumbledore hated the man who uttered those ideas."

"And so you became the new leak in the Order?"

"Since how long have you known?" she asked, not even trying to hide it anymore.

"A while," Kingsley replied. "You may be good at camouflaging your body, but your mind and opinions were rather… open."

"And what will you do?" she asked, oddly calm as she put some more sugar in her tea and watched it as she whirled it around with her spoon.

"There was a reason why I stepped down from the elections, Tonks," Kingsley replied, his voice showing a seldom hint of humour. "I agreed with Dumbledore as little as you did. Secrecy has had its time. I've thought long and hard on that point, accounting for all factors, and concluded that we really would all benefit. That still does not mean that I like Voldemort or all his ideals…"

"Me neither, but between him and Dumbledore…"

"That's why I chose for neither. I'll support Sirius. He seems to have a good mixture of both sides."

Tonks looked up in surprise. "I had not thought of that… but isn't choosing him the same as Voldemort?"

"How so?" Kingsley asked, curious. "He said he wouldn't be influenced, and even if he would be, wouldn't that have been from the Light side?"

The woman hesitated, before deciding that it wouldn't hurt. "He's lived in the Dark Lord's manor prior to the elections. Not for Voldemort, of course, I even heard that he openly defied the man, but Harry seems to have gotten through to him. And Harry is firmly loyal to the Dark Lord so in a sense I imagine Sirius' opinions will be influenced anyways, even if he doesn't want that."

"You're rather informed," Kingsley said. "I'm not sure if I like that I stepped down now… I do hope that Sirius will keep his promise of not being influenced and only taking advice, not succumbing to threats or bribery."

"So do I… from what I've heard, I think he will. The Dark Lord didn't seem to be happy with Sirius' speech."

"I can image," the man dryly spoke. "Voldemort isn't a man used to defiance." His fingertips drummed on the wooden surface. "So, what to do now? The Order seems done for. No-one really knew what Dumbledore wanted except for fighting Voldemort. Even Minerva didn't seem too keen on following his methods last time. None of the old bunch seems to want that… only some hot-headed new members."

"Of which a lot died," Tonks reminded him. "And they weren't the only ones. You were rather lucky too, hm?"

Kingsley grimaced, glancing at his artificial, wooden legs. Both had been cut off and only an emergency Portkey and quick treatment had saved him. Re-growing complete body parts was beyond Madame Pomfrey's abilities however, and he would never be able to walk without crutches again. It was also the reason why he was in office now, forever confined to paperwork. "What you call lucky," he replied. "But I'm not dead, no."

"And what you do now will be your own decision. I made mine some time ago and will await orders from the Dark Lord now. I'm practically a Death Eater, although not marked to not reveal myself to the Order. I think he forgot that I'm a metamorphmagus when he decided that, but you don't hear me complaining about not being branded."

The man nodded slowly, and Tonks was very glad for his reaction. If he would have told the Order… That chance still existed though. She could not be sure that he wasn't playing her, but she was inclined to believe his sincerity. After working together for as long as they had, she was fairly confident about her ability to read him. She hoped her confidence was not misplaced.


I hope you all liked the story!
Please don't hate me for killing off Rodolphus and Rabastan.. It's war, and it's not really realistic if everyone Harry cares for survives and only minor characters get killed...

Read and Review!
xx GeMerope