For the first time in almost two years, he had his Firebolt in his hand. Ignoring every barrier and every posted warning, Harry made his way up through the castle, up to North tower. The further he went, the more disarray, damage, and wreckage he saw.

The night air hit him, wind catching his cloak. Stepping to the edge, he looked over. Night, endless night. Leaning off the tower slowly, he tilted and fell.

And he kept falling… diving toward the earth. Pulling out with a second to spare, his heart and stomach lurched and lifted, and he kept going, flying higher than he'd ever flown at Hogwarts before, sweeping up and around over the castle—euphoric. From here, he could see how much they repaired and how much they still had left to do. Very few windows were lit so he flew as close to the castle as he dared, feeling invisible like the wind itself.

Alive again.

He could breathe again and see again and feel again. Every worry, every care… nothing seemed to matter except this moment. All of his regrets and fears were left behind on the ground, worthless and irrelevant. The wind stole him, feeling it in his lungs, reverberating through his entire body. Free… completely free.

An ominous weight pressed and held at the end of his broom. The back end sunk, shifting his balance. Something was there, right behind him. His stomach plummeted and dread doused him.

Harry turned, afraid of what he was going to see. Billowing in the wind, dark robes whipped in the darkness and mixed with the night sky. Poised at the very end of his broom were two light feet—balancing perfectly on the end of the broomstick.

Snape could fly.

Harry opened his eyes in the darkness, still feeling the weight.

Room of Requirement. He was in the Room of Requirement, practically cocooned in his blanket. A dream. A silly dream.

Getting dressed, Harry was feeling many mixed emotions and they weren't the emotions he was expecting. Instead of feeling angry about what happened last night, Harry felt better. They should have done this last year. Snape should have shown up, tied him to something, and forced him to see the memories. After that, he would give over the snitch, the Deluminator, the book, and the sword. Before he left, he should have given him the light from his chest, said "Hey, I'm going to allow torture at Hogwarts," Jazz hands "it's all for show, well, unless Voldy wins. We probably won't survive this. Congratulations on your death." They would shake hands and go about their merry way. In fact, Snape was an entire year late with his upfront support.

Despite the boundary violation, he felt like he owed Snape an apology. He was obviously stressed out about the state of the castle, the sick students in the hospital wing, McGonagall knowing about their relationship, AND he was supposed to be teaching a workshop today. All Harry had to do was homework and wait around for a snog.

"There you are. I thought you were skipping. I've been looking for you all morning," Hermione said, watching Harry's contemplative face as he joined her and Ginny at lunch.

Whenever I need him, I can find him. Maybe Hermione too. "Yeah, no, slept in."

"I can see that. Your hair's all funny." Hermione kept giving him side glances while looking through her stack of medical books, all of them too advanced for what they were about to do. Ginny looked smug about something.

Harry ate a lot at breakfast, his appetite unexpected, like he couldn't get enough food. They both watched him eat, a little put off by his show of appetite.

After lunch, they killed time in the library after lunch while the Great Hall was getting flipped for the workshop. Ten minutes until one, they pooled with the other seventh years waiting to be let in.

Hermione seemed incredibly nervous for the workshop, fiddling with her bag and looking around anxiously. This felt like a bit of an over-reaction for simple first aid training. Did she really think she was going to need all those books? Or could Hermione of all people not pick up healing skills from a book? No, maybe it wasn't the healing after all, because she kept giving furtive glances down the hallway. Unsure of what she was looking for, he started glancing down the hallway too. Five minutes later, a tall ginger-haired freckled man turned a bend and was walking down the hallway towards them.

"RON!" Harry yelled ecstatically and ran to greet him.

Ron's face broke out into pleasant surprise, not expecting this warm greeting. They slammed into a hug followed by several strong pats on the back. "You came?" Harry asked, breaking apart and holding his shoulders, looking him over. "Brilliant!" Ron, still shocked, smiled at this enthusiasm. Hermione came up from behind looking relieved. But they had no time—the doors to the Great Hall were opening.

"What are you doing here?"

"Kingsley asked me to come—cleared it with know, pick up on some healing. Also, Slughorn's party, got an invite, you know."

They filed in. Stations were set up for groups of three with supplies laid out on the table: leather strips, bones, cauldrons, and a rat. "Let's sit up front," Harry suggested, pointing to a table where Snape would be.

"Why so close, mate? Let's sit here. More private, you know."

"Uhhh, right." Harry looked around the room. Ginny, choosing a station with Luna and Neville, watched this positive reaction to her brother's arrival.

As they sat down, Ron looked at the workshop materials wearily and the rat with extra aversion.

"It's not so bad, you'll be fine. It's easy," Harry accidentally said, both of them giving him a funny look.

It was like no time passed at all. They launched into talking all at once, sharing stories over the year, Ron animatedly reenacting several close calls at work while Harry told him about the entire class of students in the hospital wing. And at the front, about to start the workshop, Snape watched murderously at the three of them, displeased by this ill-timed trio reunion.

"And so Robards says, no, we're not going to interrogate him just yet, we're going to go with Ron's idea, and I'll tell you what, everyone—"

"SILENCE!" Snape demanded.

Ron had enough sense to immediately shut up, the fear of Snape not entirely gone.

Snape's eyes swept the room slowly, looking at each individual face, accusatory. "You may have been wondering why you are not… trusted… to heal simple wounds until your seventh year. You have seen the incompetency within the classrooms. The hexes in the hallways. The im-ma-tur-ity. Healing spells are not a simple 'Reparo' to perform on your friends to cover up your mistakes. Medical grade magic is permanent. It requires a subtle, precise hand... which very few of you have." He started to pace. "Imagine if first years were taught to heal, the dangerous magic they would try, only to find out they cannot reverse their stupidity."

"Today you will learn basic healing only, and by the end of this demonstration you will find out why. Many of you will embarrass yourselves today and I pray you do not attempt these spells again outside of these doors. Before we go any further, understand this: there are two areas you must never attempt to heal: the spine and the brain. Damage to the nervous system, including failed healing attempts, can be irreversible…" he smiled like this was delightful. "And know this: we do not encourage any witch or wizard to heal a serious injury. St. Mungo's exists for a reason: it is best left to trained professionals."

Ron stopped listening after the first minute and started whispering to Harry under his breath.

"So I tell Robards, right, why do we have to interrogate him? Why don't I just go in and act like I'm some blundering idiot, tell him we're going to release him, but we need some information before I can let him go. See if he gives us any extra info, lets something slip, and he DOES! Most of it were lies, but we did get some new stuff we didn't know. I tell you, if I can get one dumb enough, I can pretend to be his friend, and they tell me all sorts of stuff they shouldn't. Especially if they think I'm going to let them go afterwards."

"WEASLEY!" Snape spat. Ginny jumped, wondering why she was being reprimanded. "Did you come back to Hogwarts just to CHAT? If you cannot pay attention—LEAVE."

Ron took the reprimand only long enough for Snape to turn his back. "Pleasant as always, he is. You told me he was better this year, 'Mione."

"We don't talk over his lessons, Ron," Hermione hissed.

"Anyway, so there's this guy, William—Weepy they call 'em, he just sleeps! Sleeps through every strategy meeting, and if you can believe it, he wakes up at the end, gives some sort of… brilliant idea, and just goes back to sleep! It's like he can think and hear when he's out. And me, I feel like I'm just failing all the time, right? And there's this bloke who does nothing but give one good idea a day. Like he just thinks all day and saves 'em up. He found my Deluminator once when I lost it. Swear he's a seer."

"You lost your Deluminator?" Hermione wailed, breaking her concentration from the lesson she didn't even need.

"Well, I wasn't going to tell you I lost it, was I? Just fell out of my pocket, it was easy enough to do."

Harry had to struggle not to laugh.

"Don't keep it in your pocket then!"

Snape, who was up front tapping broken bones with his wand to demonstrate, looked like he was about to volunteer Ron as a live specimen.

"I can't wait until you start, it's going to be brilliant. You wouldn't believe how few of us there are. So many people died last year."

"Sounds like you're doing pretty well for skipping Jr. Auror training," Harry whispered, trying to look like he was paying attention for show. "When I start, you'll get to show me the ropes. I'm going in blind compared to you—you'll have all the knowledge for once."

Ron gave a funny smile, proud to be Harry's senior in something for a change.

When the lecture was finished, Harry and Hermione had to show Ron how to mend bones because he missed the entire lesson by talking through it. Harry kept cutting off Hermione with helpful suggestions, which annoyed her with their accuracy.

"What? You knew I was studying for the healing C.H.A.R.M.S." Harry said, offended by the looks.

"I know you said you were but…"

"I can't learn anything on my own?"

"I thought you were lying... to justify spending more time by yourself."

"You were wrong then, weren't you?"

"No, Harry, I just…"

"It is a little suspicious, mate. Studying healing by yourself?" Ron butchered his bone, healing it in one spot but cracking it in another. Hermione and Harry both winced at this ineptitude.

"I did want the alone time. Stop, don't do it like that—you're just connecting the surface area, you have to go deeper so it fuses."

"Listen to this," Ron tapped the bone, trying again. "We caught Mundungus the other day." They both looked up, forgetting about the bone, now all ears. "He was seen with a group of the new fringe Death Eaters, right? Who knows what he was doing there, trying to sell something probably. Disguised as a witch, but we didn't know that. Well, I didn't know that. We bring 'em in and we have to strip search him. So, me being new, they make me do it. I almost punched him! I was feelin' him up, looking for his wand because he hid it on him. I think the others knew and they wanted me to do it just for a laugh. Then I thought: why am I strip searching anyone? Isn't this done by magic? But dad says you do have to strip search people too, because hands can find what concealing magic hides."

Harry couldn't contain his laughter, holding his mouth to muffle it. Snape was currently at Ginny's table doing rounds and both of them were looking over at him in disapproval.

Ron noticed. "So you and Gin are, uh… done now, are you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, not sensing any anger. "Is that… okay?"

"Well, it's been months. I missed my opportunity to punch you, didn't I?'

"You can still have a go. I don't mind."

Ron thought about this, his eyes doing a full sweep of the room and finding Harry again, curious. "So who are you going with now?"

"I'm not going with anyone!" Harry lied.

"'Mione says you are. I believe her."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Of course she picked up on this. Why did she have to tell him? He paused too long, which gave him away. "She's got the wrong informa—"

"Having fun?" A shadow dropped over the three of them, Snape looking at all the broken bones, not a single one healed.

"Yes sir," Harry said innocently.

"My my, I expected a prefect to be more helpful during a workshop." He cocked his head towards Hermione.

"Oi! I'm not even a student at this school!" Ron exclaimed.

"Then why are you here?" Snape bit. Ron opened his mouth to argue.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry kicked Ron hard underneath the table. Ron looked over, offended at this sincere apology to Snape. Harry shoved the long piece of leather into Ron's hands. "We're sorry, we'll work now, Professor. I promise."

Snape looked at all three of them like he knew better and turned away, sweeping to the next group.

"Blimey, does he wash his hair now?" Ron said, squinting after him.

"Ron, mate… work. Or he'll throw us out, he will, you know he will."

Harry and Hermione's bones and leather lay mended off to the side, only taking them a minute to do, and their potions bubbled happily nearby. After Ron butchered both the leather and the potion, they encouraged him to try again instead of forcing him to touch the rat.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Snape acquiesced to a 7th year Gryffindor, who was doing such a good job with everything he was forced to.

"Blimey, he has changed. Since when do we get points?"

"Ron, you're not a student, you didn't get anything."

"So, what, I'm not a Gryffindor now that I'm out of school? Bollocks." He mended his bone but it fell back apart as soon as he picked it up.

Ron wasn't the only person having trouble: looking around, Harry noticed a lot of people were having difficulty. The spells were easy, but controlling the magic to get small perfect cuts or a nice even heal seemed harder. Adding additional ingredients into his potion, Harry felt like Snape exaggerated how poorly he did sometimes.

Bones abandoned, Ron's progress on the leather was minimal. Harry stirred Ron's restarted potion for him, which thankfully was the correct color.

"Sooooo, go on mate, you can't escape this: whooooo are you dating?" This time Ron had enough sense to whisper and look busy at the same time.

"I told you… no one."

"NO ONE… believes you."

"She's ugly," Harry said quickly, thinking this was a rather clever excuse.

"Blimey, is she?" Ron cut his leather straight in two, but also cut his robes beneath him in the process. "OUCH!"

"Ron! Be careful!"

"It's alright, 'Mione. Is she really that ugly?"

"Yes," Harry sort of lied. "Good with a wand though."

"Oh, that makes sense. Going for novelty over looks this time." Hermione gave him a 'what is that supposed to mean?' look over her perfect potion.

"Sort of," Harry said, putting down Ron's stirrer when Snape caught him across the room doing work that wasn't his.

"She's not ugly, Ron. He's lying—I can tell."

"She's sort of ugly..." Harry reiterated, thinking of Snape's sunken in sternum. "Cleans up alright."

And both of them stared at him, not believing he didn't pick another looker.

"Well Harry, we're curious now," Hermione admitted as they both looked around for so-so seventh years, like she must be in this room.

"Go on, give us a hint." Ron repaired his leather, trying again for what felt like the 50th time.

"No. No one needs to know. Dating me, a lot of pressure, 'The Boy Who Lived,' and all. I'd think I'd like to keep it quiet until the summer."

"But we're your friends," Ron complained.

"And you've got the best girl in the year," Harry chided. "So, stay out of my business." Both of his friends smiled, feeling rather good about themselves.

After four hours where all Ron did was cut open his leather a hundred times and cut his rat into two, they left. Harry shot an apologetic look back at Snape as he stopped by their abandoned station to check the carnage. The Great Hall doors closed at Snape's angry narrowing face watching them leave.

"Wow, that was a lot harder than I thought!" Ron said while Hermione and Harry had to stop themselves from rolling their eyes. "And Snape too, hasn't changed much if you asked me."

"Ron, you barely tried. That would annoy any teacher."

"But it's Snape! Do we have to be nice to him now? Just because of Harry's mum?"

Harry looked down uncomfortably. They still didn't even touch this subject despite snogging for months. Seemed improper to do now, like they missed their chance to have an open conversation about it before things got complicated.

After a glorious meal at dinner, they had an impromptu party in the Gryffindor common room where both Harry and Ginny reenacted George's legendary Quidditch prank for Ron and the entire Gryffindor dormitory. Many Butterbeers later, Ron was mumbling intoxicated in Harry's four-poster instead of the room he booked in Hogsmeade. Hermione stayed with him for a little while, Neville looking around uncomfortably, wondering if he should leave to give them privacy. Harry shrugged. "He's going to bed, I think."

Feeling excellent, Harry went back to the party, finally introducing himself to all the first and second years that seemed awe-struck just to be finally talking to him. He even had a proper conversation with Ginny and played a few rounds of Exploding Snap while everyone else booed or cheered. Hermione did not reappear.

After a solid hour of having a wonderful time, he retired to the seventh floor. Advanced Potion Making was waiting for him—a forbidden midnight read. Turning the pages, he looked at the scribbled notes with fresh light. Is this who you are? And why are you so angry? Sixth year Snape was certainly a wickedly smart obsessed person building a war chest of knowledge. And Dumbledore's love Enigma Magic, how did he manage to taint even that? But Harry did not last long in his recliner, falling asleep with the book in his lap.

He slept way past breakfast on Saturday, not finding Ron or Hermione anywhere when he finally made it downstairs. Waiting in the Great Hall right before lunchtime, they came in laughing from the grounds, Ron holding a broomstick. "Oi! Harry! There you are—are you serious, you haven't flown all year?"

"Where were you two? The Quidditch Pitch?" Harry's heart caught in his throat and experienced a sinking feeling. This was the worst possible thing Ron could have done.

"Yeah! Wood let me borrow his broom! Blimey, it's cool that he's here. I'd be out there every day if it were me."

Everything just felt wrong. Who was he to come here and start flying around like he owned the place? Harry started feeling very hot and jealous. Did he not think he wanted to fly? There were many times where he wanted to jump on a broom and forget everything. At first, he didn't because he couldn't trust himself not to leave, crashing into the barrier on his way out. And now… well, he didn't have a good excuse. But somehow he didn't feel like he deserved it.

"Oh, well, I'm glad you had a nice time," and he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

Ron squinted, feeling the indignation. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick? Go to the hospital wing, then. You never would have acted like this last year. I don't get it."

"Ron… please…" Hermione begged.

"We're here to finish out our year, and you just barge in, thinking you're having a laugh?" Even as he said it he regretted it, hearing how ridiculous it sounded. Before he could screw up even more, he pivoted to leave.

"OI! What's wrong with you! Where are you going!? I wanted to ask you to come, but Hermione told me not to!"

"Ron!"

"I don't get it, why do you let him act this way? He didn't lose a brother."

He let them argue, wanting to punch himself for his own behavior. Of course he wanted to fly; he thought about it all the time. To just jump on your broom and forget everything. Do a hundred circles around the castle, falling out of the air just to catch himself at the last second, feeling free, and… why had he not? He couldn't answer this himself, but if he had to… flying was special. Flying meant letting go… and he wasn't ready to let go. He either didn't have the right to, or… wasn't ready or…

But he can't do this anymore. He can't act like this to the people he cared about. Forcing himself to turn around, he walked right back into the Great Hall and approached them more aggressively than he meant to.

"I'm sorry for walking off," he gritted through his teeth.

"You don't have to be sorry mate," but Ron still looked furious. "She warned me it would upset you and I did it anyway, sooo… MY BAD. I guess. Hermione understands you. I don't. But that doesn't' matter—so, I'm sorry."

"No," Harry said bitterly. "You don't have to be sorry. For anything. Of course you can go flying on a nice day. Why wouldn't you? And I'll… I'll see you tonight at the party. I just wanted to say I'm sorry," and Harry turned and left again, knowing leaving was still the wrong thing to do.

"Oi! You can join us!" Ron yelled back at him. But he was too ashamed of himself to stay, wondering if this was just how he was going to be from now on: testy, on edge, and ignoring things he once enjoyed. He wanted to go talk to Snape who would tell him his friends are shit, his studies are shit, and he's shit too... and maybe hurt him a little so finally all the pain would go away and he could think properly again.

But he didn't. He sat in the Room of Requirement, alone and awake in the dark until 5:30 when he finally decided to bathe and dress.

The music from Slughorn's party still invoked a certain level of panic inside him. No matter how chipper and festive, it still seemed indecent and foreboding as it called. Ten minutes had already passed and he didn't go in. But he didn't have a choice, did he? Ron and Hermione were in there—his friends waiting for him. Already late, Harry hitched up his smile and entered the loud roaring monster of noise. Slughorn, who had a side eye for the door, smiled immediately when he entered, satisfied that Harry kept all his promises.

He spotted Ron instantly from height alone, veering off in that direction.

"Sorry for earlier." Harry joined the group, looking around, uncomfortable with the amount of people. "I have my good and bad days. Please understand—it's getting better. I don't want to make excuses but…"

"It's fine," Ron said, and when he made eye contact with Harry, he didn't look angry anymore. Worse, he stared at him with a new expression: concern. Did everyone tell him how avoidant he was this year and how he almost failed out?

"Who are all these people?" The room was packed full of industry professionals, possibly like Slughorn, looking for the brightest students to collect.

Wood swung in, pulling Ron into a tight manly hug, closely followed by Ginny. "That was some flying you did today! Sure it's been a full two years since you've played?"

"I've been mostly stuck behind a desk all year! Action few and far between—had some steam to let off."

Harry held in his anxiousness, bottling it semi-successfully, looking for a distraction. "So…" he turned to Hermione, "had a nice day?"

She gave him a cold look that said 'no, we argued about you all day again, thanks.' "Yes, it was fine."

"Listen, Hermione," he said softly so no one else could hear, "I didn't mean to act like that, I just can't. I know I'm being insufferable. I would ask for more time but you've given me enough; you've been more than understanding. I just… I can't control how I react sometimes."

"I know Harry. It's just… hard to walk on eggshells."

"Yeah… I know…" He licked his lips, surveying the crowd. He caught Snape's gaze, who impassively looked at him before turning back to Professor Sprout. Ron, Ginny, and Wood were talking animatedly in speculation for the semi-pro Quidditch recruitments. Turning back to Hermione, he found himself being studied. She looked serious… steeling herself.

"Harry, I know it's the wrong time to bring this up, but I think you should take the Draught of Acceptance."

He locked eyes with her properly. "I've already taken it."

"You have? When?" She sounded shocked.

"Christmas, when no one else was around. It helped a lot, but it's not a cure-all. So, do me a favor and drop that, won't you?" He cringed. "I mean, thank you... thank you for being patient with me."

They sighed, both ruffled, choosing to look around for more people they knew.

"Goodness Harry, these are fun and all, but I'm glad this is the last one."

"Good luck with that, because I signed you up for four Slughorn parties a year."

"Why would you do that!?" she asked incredulously and thankfully Ron was too busy arguing with Wood over some female beater to hear them.

"Because it was the only way Slughorn was going to take Draco under his wing as some… socialite. You saw how people were treating him."

"So you traded me? Why?"

"Both of us, actually, you and me. But tell Ron it was all three of us—shouldn't leave him out, probably. Slughorn was sending him invitations all year, he'll believe it."

"I can't believe you did that Harry! You don't even like Malfoy."

"Well, you do, so…"

"What gave you that impression?" she hissed. When Draco's name came up they decided to leave the group under the guise of getting a drink nearby.

"Oh, just that you've been meeting him secretly all year."

Her mouth dropped open. She closed it, rallying. "Well, I guess you would be checking the map."

"No, I haven't! Saw you under my Invisibility Cloak, didn't I?"

"Good," she said. "Didn't think he'd tell you. And it's not what it looks like."

"Studying, have you?"

"A matter a fact, we HAVE been!"

"Then why didn't you invite me?"

"For your information, Draco happens to be a very good student once his head's on straight! And don't you ever, ever, ever tell Ron. He'll never forgive me."

"Not dumb enough to." They both looked back at Ron with a thick hand on his chest, demonstrating to an enraged Ginny how breasts can get in the way of swinging a beater's bat. Wood was trying to give him a warning 'shut up' gesture.

"Good. And if you ever do, know that I will ruin you," Hermione threatened in a whisper.

"You two mean everything to me. I know I don't always show it, but you do. So don't go sneaking off with boys again, because it's putting me in an awkward position."

"Excuse me!? I will meet with whomever I want if it's school or work related!"

"Of course," Harry shrugged.

Slughorn was eyeing him from across the room. So it was time. "Quick Hermione, how many people do I need to carry on with to fulfill my obligation here? Fifteen minimum? Is twenty fair? Or do I have to do thirty?"

"Hmmmm, twenty," she said, not missing a beat.

"Right, then." He stepped over to Ron and slammed him on the back. "Hey mate! Would you, or would you not, demonstrate this Breast-Beater theory in front of Angelina?" Ron looked perturbed at the thought. "Well, you have your answer. Give it a rest if you still want a sister by the end of the party, won't you? Alright, have to go. Slughorn. Gin, if he continues, write to Angelina."

He finished his drink in one go, preparing to mingle. As a warm up, he shook hands with every stranger as he crossed the room. Slughorn, who was in conversation with someone else, watched him out of the corner of his eye, mustache tingling as he approached like he had a sixth sense for 'Harry Potter.' When he arrived, he wrapped him into a tight arm. "HARRY POTTER! The one and ONLY. COME NOW Harry, I have SO MANY people for us to meet."

And Harry did meet a lot of impressive people. To his shock and awe, he met several Jr. Aurors he would be working with in the future. Harry stared at them hungerly while they stared at him back with the same amazement, the defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He tried to take their compliments, but he never knew what to say to all the boundless praise. And there was Hermione, materializing right next to him, shaking Wizengamot members hands, and then Wizard Law makers, and then Winston was there, shaking Harry's hand hard. "Good show in October, good show," Winston said, like trying wizards was just a friendly game. He looked rather impressed and intrigued by Harry, who didn't know what to make of him. He reminded him a bit of Slughorn in size AND manner. "And who is this?"

"Hermione Granger sir, but you already knew that," she said devilishly.

"But of course."

"Potter, future Auror, is it? We will be seeing a lot of each other, as I am one of the seven Dark wizard prosecutors."

"Oh." This surprised Harry and didn't know what to do with this information. He didn't particularly like Winston, or any of the other prosecutors for that matter, yet they would be collaborating to bring Dark wizards to justice.

"So, tell me Potter, my colleagues and I have been wondering, how do you expect to be an Auror when you've testified in defense for three Death Eaters?"

"I don't remember Narcissa Malfoy having a Dark Mark, sir."

"No, Lord Voldemort was just living in her house," Winston quipped, smile growing.

"She's not a Dark wizard sir… she hasn't performed any Dark Magic. I believe that's a qualification, not being a victim of Lord Voldemort. If we prosecuted all of his victims, we would be in a lot of trouble, wouldn't we sir?"

Winston looked at Harry up and down, impressed, like he did indeed live up to expectation. "Have you considered a career in Magical Law?"

"No, but I have," Hermione smiled.

"Really?" And now he had eyes only for her. "What branch?"

"Magical Creatures."

"Whatever for?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," she smiled. And Winston smiled too, knowing their paths would cross somewhere in the legal system, and it would be a battle to remember.

"Winston, old boy, what are you doing? Talking to Miss Granger—be careful!" Slughorn laughed, wagging a finger at an old friend. "You can't outsmart her, many men have tried." He brought Draco with him, who managed to look more expensive than anyone else in the room: tall, clean cut, and objectively handsome. "Winston, please meet Draco Malfoy." It was awkward: Draco, a cleared Death Eater, shaking hands with Winston, a Dark wizard prosecutor, after he and his colleagues put his father and all his cronies in jail. But they both did their dance, shaking hands with convincing manufactured smiles and pleasantries.

Slughorn slinked up beside Hermione and whispered, "Magical Law, Creature Council I presume? Miss Granger, you are always a surprise and a delight. Please come with me, I have several people you need to meet." And just like that, he swept her away and she could be seen in the distance shaking hands with illustrious people to help her in her career. Seeing her get the royal treatment, Harry decided he sort of liked Slughorn after all. Not that Hermione needed help, but after SPEW, it wouldn't hurt to find more like-minded people as they seemed few and far between.

Sixteen people. Or did he go through Eighteen? Did handshakes and short introductions count? If so, he may have met his quota of ten people ago.

"Having fun?" came a cold sarcastic voice behind him.

"You know I'm not..." Harry said, not turning around.

"Tut, tut… talking to my prosecutor."

"Apparently I'll be seeing a lot of him."

"Did you just figure that out?" Snape moved to stand beside him now, talking softly, not looking at him but around at the other people. But nothing escaped McGonagall, eyeing the two of them together from across the room. Harry was not perturbed.

"I feel like I owe you an apology… but I also feel like you owe me an apology, so…"

"I'm not sorry. Does that clear things up for you?"

"No. And your jealousy was unbelievable yesterday. That was Ron. My best friend, Ron. He's going to be around permanently, this year was a fluke, so don't act like that."

"I know better than to be jealous of a Weasley."

"Ohhh, no. No, you don't. You acted like a jealous prat, just because my friend was around."

"Really, Potter? You have what feels like fifty friends, one hundred thousand admirers, and you don't think I'd be jealous that I am just one person in a sea of people wanting your attention?"

Harry was surprised he admitted this. "You have my attention. AND—I go to you to get away from other people. And Ron's my friend, I thought you'd know better."

"And I thought you'd pay attention like a good little student. Instead, the three of you acted like clowns."

"I'm sorry," and he was. "I didn't know he was going to be there—bad timing. Besides, it would look suspicious if I was too good at healing."

"I assure you, you are not too good at healing."

"And everyone else apparently. I was embarrassed for them."

"If there were only students who knew what they were doing that could have helped…"

"Which is it? Am I rubbish or not? Pick a lane. And did you see Ron with that piece of leather? He needed all the help he could get. …Are we okay?" he finally asked. They just sealed the deal and everything and now they were fighting again. Harry was desperately trying to hold onto his anger about the incident but couldn't muster the energy to be upset anymore. Now he felt the exact opposite of upset: he was glad it happened, suspected he had some abandonment issues, and felt secretly very happy he could find Snape wherever he was, whenever he wanted him.

"Oh, I didn't realize the next Hogsmeade weekend was cancelled. Or am I waiting on your permission slip?"

"No," Harry said. "Hogsmeade weekend is fine."

"Goodbye, Potter…" he said with almost a tune in his voice. "May your introductions be short and painless," and he left.

Harry sighed, feeling alone in a room of strangers he didn't want to talk to. But he wasn't off scot-free: Draco was now coming towards him, looking angry about something. Was this the moment he was going to get told off for embarrassing him?

Draco stomped right up next to him and turned to face the party. "I have decided that Granger is brilliant," Draco announced.

Harry snorted. "Of course she's brilliant. And I'm pretty sure you decided that when you were describing Malfoy's personal library. You practically invited her over."

"No, I didn't. You know I didn't. And when did she use Polyjuice Potion?"

"To imitate Bellatrix."

"Yeah, I heard about that. When else?"

"And to impersonate… Crabbe and Goyle in our second year."

"What?"

"Yeah!" Harry lied, knowing that Hermione just turned cat-like. "We thought you were opening the Chamber of Secrets and we were trying to catch you."

"...Are you making this up?"

"No! We found out pretty quickly you weren't. You had a stiffy for the heir, but all three of you were too thick to pull something like that off."

"You ARE messing with me," Draco decided, straightening.

"NO!" Harry said, laughing a little at his expression. "And you used it a bunch of times in our sixth year, so don't get on our case."

"I can't believe you impersonated my friends," Draco said, an odd look coming over his face.

"I can't believe you didn't notice. All we did was act thick and laugh at your jokes."

Draco looked taken aback and actually hurt, unsure what to do with this information.

Harry's face fell. "I'm… I'm sorry for bringing up Crabbe."

Draco nodded, looking away, uneasy.

"But yeah, Hermione," Harry switched the subject quickly, "great witch…err… I mean, wizard. I'm worried she's not going to have time to hang out once she starts her career. But, maybe I won't either. We'll manage, I suppose."

"I think I'd like to go into Magical Law," Draco relinquished.

Harry envisioned Draco as a sharp prosecutor like Winston, well dressed and furious, pointing holes in people's stories or drawling at witnesses, asking them leading questions, dripping with sarcasm and making fun of their pathetic answers. "It's strange…" Draco said, sounding unusually soft. "Wizards don't have a prison here, it's a torture chamber. Azkaban is known for being secure, but other countries use different ways to imprison wizards."

"I think you have a point. Hagrid says Azkaban is terrible."

"It is. I have visited my father. I barely recognize him."

"I think you'll be brilliant," Harry said without thinking, wishing he didn't. "What does your mum think about this?"

"I haven't told her. But Malfoys have always been well connected at the Ministry… I can't imagine myself not having the same ties. I could easily take time off and wait until tensions ease, but if feels worse to hide."

"I know what you mean… WELL, if you're at the Ministry, you'll be continuing your study sessions with 'Granger' then."

"Why is she telling you about them? She said she wasn't going to."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "She didn't. You just TOLD me."

Draco looked uncomfortable. "You don't care? I didn't think you'd want me getting too close to your friends."

"JUST because it took you SEVEN YEARS to realize that Hermione Granger is brilliant, doesn't mean the rest of us are that thick."

Draco sneered at the callback. "We've been going over magical law, that's it. Oh—that and she's been researching ancient Dark Magic, trying to find out what's happening with the castle. But she's not very good at it, doesn't have the touch, you know? But yes: debate sessions—she is obsessed. She forces me to debate her ad nauseum... uses me as a verbal sparring partner. She enrages me."

"She'd appreciate the compliment," Harry said brightly. "Pray her boyfriend never finds out. Good luck debating out of that. Midnight, really?"

"Nothing happened."

"I believe you!" Harry said. But Slughorn was looking at him—his time was up. "Well, face back on then. Good luck debating witches smarter than you." He finished his goblet and walked off, grabbing another on a passing tray, throwing on a winning 'Lockhart' smile. Collected, he was pushed and shuffled around the room, face hurting from all the fake smiles.

"And this is MR. BORGIN!" Harry's face fell and so did Mr. Borgin's. The oily smile slipped back on, pleasantries hiding the displeasure. "He runs the most interesting shop in Knockturn Alley. Very interesting valuable objects. You would not believe the things that crop up there!"

"Oh, I would believe it," Harry dared. Hermione again materialized beside him.

"Mr. Borgin, delightful to see you again!" she said in a very un-Hermioneish voice, holding out a hand for him to shake.

"Mr. Potter," Borgin said warmly, only giving a half-glance at Hermione. "I have two more items at my shop that may interest you. They are saved in the back, but I don't think you'll want them."

"Cursed?"

"There are worse things than curses, Mr. Potter," he said cryptically.

"Uhhh, can you hold them for a couple months? Maybe a few more items will come up, and I'll take a look at them all together."

"As you wish, Mr. Potter." Borgin turned back to Slughorn, his smile slipping into incredulity. "Did I hear correctly? You aren't assisting with the castle repairs?"

"Repairs!? I'm an OLD MAN Borgin! It's bad enough, teaching at my age. I can't expect to work on no sleep!"

"It's practically oozing Dark Magic and you aren't helping them?"

"Wait a moment, how do you know it's Dark Magic?" Hermione cut in, Harry just about to say the same thing.

"Because it's my business to know, Mr. Potter."

"Now, now, Borgin," Slughorn wagged a fat finger. "I know Dark Magic as much as the next man, and it's not necessarily…"

"What does it matter? You have twenty sick students in your ward right now."

"But how do you know It's Dark Magic?" Harry asked.

"He doesn't," Slughorn said for him. "He would have to run tests for that."

"Would he?" Harry brightened. "Well then, why doesn't he? We should know what's going on, what type of magic is getting released, and from where. Mr. Borgin, would you run the tests on the castle for us?"

Borgin looked at him thoughtfully before shaking his head apologetically. "No. I am a busy man Mr. Potter, I have clients to serve, items to collect, including yours. And my services can be expensive."

"How much?" he asked instantly.

Borgin considered. "Three thousand Galleons. For an afternoon."

"Done," Harry said. "When can you do it? Tomorrow?"

"No… prior engagements. My appointment book is two weeks out, if not more."

"That's okay," Harry said. "Three thousand Galleons, two weeks at the earliest, month at the latest, for an assessment on the castle."

"Now, now," Slughorn protested. "It's not Dark Magic. And the school year is almost over. We have all summer to…"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Please inform the headmistress I will be coming. I require a thousand Galleon deposit in advance."

"Done," Harry agreed.

"Thank you, Mr. Borgin," Hermione added. "We really appreciate it."

"LINDELL SAUNDERS, you old chap, and where have YOU been hiding?" Harry had one last look of Borgin until he was pulled into another direction, offered a drink and polite chit-chat with Mr. Saunders, and then off into another direction. They stopped long enough for him to meet Madam Hooch's wife, a scary looking woman with giant boots and a firm handshake. And then into another circle of party-goers, shaking hands and exchanging light conversation and tidbits with people he prayed he would never meet again because he would not remember them. Thirty. He was way past thirty people now. He suffered the endless thanks and congratulations, many people raising their goblets to him, toasting to 'The Great Harry Potter,' and soon he was feeling rather fuzzy. This… this was... easier. It was easier talking to people and having them compliment you when he felt so… loose and... relaxed. This wasn't so bad, why did he think this was so bad?

"Westly! Where's Mr. WESTLY!" Slughorn boomed, rather intoxicated now too. Everyone in their vicinity looked for a 'Mr. Westly' and it took several minutes to locate Ron, who was sticking close to Wood, Ginny now absent from this trio.

And it was Ron's turn to be interrogated jovially by Slughorn, asking him about the Ministry, and when Ron told the Mundungus story everyone laughed, Slughorn loudest of them all.

Harry stood there politely with one eye open, his other eye not cooperating, drinking from his goblet, wondering why he thought these parties ere so bad before. But now Slughorn kept cutting Ron off to ask Hermione questions and Ron soured.

"I destroyed a piece of Voldemort, you know!"

Slughorn looked at him, enraptured. "Did you really?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said, building Ron up. "He destroyed Voldemort's locket! With the sword of Gryffindor!" And with an audience of twenty awestruck people, Ron launched into an animated story where he wrestled an elongated locket that turned into a biting golden snake. After he freed himself from the locket, he danced around, acting out a full sword fight scene. Hermione nodded along supportively, giving him his limelight.

As ridiculous as this scene was, it didn't stop Harry from noticing Draco arguing with Pansy alone in a corner. This was a party, they shouldn't be doing that. He crossed the room to butt in.

"Slytherin for the Cup!" Harry exclaimed, raising his goblet. "And everyone can see you arguing—do that out in the hallway."

"Mind your own business, Potter!" she spat at him. "And why'd you bring your friend here? He's an idiot." She stormed away giving them a look so nasty it practically screamed 'Voldemort should have killed you both.' Draco gave a sigh of relief as he watched her leave, not sorry to see her go.

"Why are you two fighting?"

"It's none of your business. And why is Weasley dancing?"

"That's a sword fight, actually."

"So he's had as much as you, then."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're drunk, Potter."

"I'm not drunk. And I'm allowed to drink. It's a party."

"This is for networking," Draco reminded him.

"I don't think I need to be more famous, thanks. And it's not my fault everyone else is sober." Harry didn't think he was that drunk, but just as he thought that, he accidentally backed into a table, knocking over a stray glass. He caught it, but barely.

"Don't—people are watching us."

"I'm fine—actually, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"About what?" He raised his nose suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.

"Over here, more private."

"No. I don't like where this is going."

"I really want to talk to you. Come on."

"Do you not realize how drunk you are? You need to leave—you're going to embarrass yourself."

"Since when do you care? Come here, yes, over here, yes..." Draco followed him reluctantly to an area beside the curtains. "Listen, I'm sorry about your dad."

"Don't, Potter."

"I'm really sorry about your dad. Your mum seems lovely."

"My mother is lovely," he growled.

"Listen, I don't know how to talk to you. Sorry I called you mate, I don't want to be your friend, believe me. But can we just… can we just be alright?"

"I thought we were alright."

"And I'm really sorry about Crabbe."

"Don't bring that up!" and he looked incensed.

"Draco, you're not listening to me. I think you've had it worse than I have. I got to be the good guy, didn't I? You were misguided, bit of a prat, but you just wanted to protect and defend your family, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about the wand stunt. I just thought your dad would be more careful with your wand, as it's yours, you know?"

"Your boyfriend is staring at us."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"We haven't discussed that yet—listen."

"Weasley is now staring at us."

"Which one?"

"Both of them."

"Draco—I'm sorry."

Instead of taking the apology, he leaned in close to him and jabbed a pointy finger in his chest. "This is why everyone makes fun of you. You are hopeless, you are pathetic, and frankly you don't know how to conduct yourself as a wizard." Draco bent even closer and whispered to him: "Can your 'boyfriend' -fuck you- into having some class?"

"He probably could to be honest," Harry said.

"This is why I can't be around you. Being a pureblood marked Death Eater is more noble than being a drunk muggle," and Draco stalked off in Blaise's direction.

"Rude…" Harry mumbled.

"WHAT was that about!" Ron strode over, coming in too late for backup.

"I told him: I'm sorry for embarrassing him at Dueling Club, and I'll tell you what mate, he called me a drunk muggle."

"The NERVE!" Ron roared sarcastically, also noticing how Harry kept leaning.

"And!" Harry added, pretending not to be drunk, annoyed that Ron wasn't on his side, "He called Hermione and your sister average."

"Way off base!" then he actually was angry.

"Enjoying the party a little too much, Slyffin-puffs?" Snape swooped in, monitoring Harry's progress through a goblet. "A little hydration, I think," with a wand flick, his wine turned to water and he stalked off, eyeing them as he went, threatening them to behave.

"You're to talk," Harry mumbled.

"Greasy, no good… well, he's not greasy anymore, is he?" Ron muttered. "Still ugly, though."

"Is he?" Harry asked earnestly, trying to see the ugliness. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"Everything alright? McGonagall's here, you know," Hermione joined them, coming around after seeing Snape stalk away.

"And what's she going to do, tell off The Boy Who Lived?" Ron asked.

"Yeah!?" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, actually, she would." They didn't argue with this.

"Westly!" Slughorn boomed at Ron, who didn't know he was being called until Hermione elbowed him. "Tell my good friend, Barney Hashbrook, about the Chamber of Secrets. He is very interested. Come now boy, you must give us details. You too Miss Granger—you were there. Pulling out Basilisk fangs. And they were STILL POTENT? Fascinating!"

They left but Luna drifted in, looking nice in another pale gown, her large crystals catching the light. Harry was happy to see her.

"Professor Snape looks like he's having a nice time, doesn't he?"

He looked with his good eye over at Snape who was deep in conversation with McGonagall, both standing as equals.

"I do hope he's never headmaster again, though. It was awful last year… even if he was acting. And he's never been very nice."

Harry frowned. As deputy headmaster, Snape may indeed be headmaster again in the future. Voldemort or no, Snape was not the most patient or understanding educator. "He would be… a headmaster to remember, yes," Harry started. "Not all bad. Maybe he could run the castle while someone else takes care of the students... or punishments… or, you know… policies."

Luna laughed. "You're funny, Harry. You know, I almost didn't come back for my final year. I'm glad I did. I'm having a wonderful time. And you?"

"Yeah, Luna, I'm having a great time," he sipped his water. "Not learning much, though." They both laughed.

"Professor Snape looks so different. He looks happier."

"Does he?" He didn't think Snape ever looked 'happy.' But maybe Luna would be the type of person to notice these things. "I think he misses Dumbledore, though." He didn't mean to say it. "His support, I mean… a void."

"Yes… I think we all have those."

"Yeah… I … I can't even think about some things. It hurts too much. …Luna?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"You are spectacular, you know that?"

She beamed. "Yes, I think so. You too Harry. I really enjoy classes with you, and everyone."

"Listen Luna, normally I wouldn't say anything, but if you ever get the chance… would you just… be nice to Snape? Not nice, but just… give him the benefit of the doubt? We've all been through the ringer, and he had to… well, he had to pretend to be on Voldemort's side, didn't he? There is no worse job than that."

"Yes, I think I know what you mean. It must have been really scary."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Thank you, Luna."

"Of course."

"Ten points to Slyffin-puff."

"Only ten points, Harry?"

"Fifty then."

His buzz faded after another hour and a half. He wanted another glass of wine to keep it going but Snape's hooked nose kept finding reasons to pass him and check his goblet. Not feeling his best anymore, he avoided anyone important. He spent thirty minutes listening to Trelawney drunkenly talk about how she wanted to teach Transfiguration in her tower room.

He did it.

He stayed the entire party, the entire four hours. It was over but half of the people still remained. Ginny was arguing with Wood, McGonagall was in a deep conversation with Snape, and Draco was talking to Luna, looking like he wished he wasn't.

"Harry my boy! Feeling a little steadier, are we?" Slughorn was by himself now after a pair of haughty looking witches left with their goodbyes.

"Uh, yes sir." Perhaps everyone did notice how drunk he was earlier. "Just water now."

"Yes, it's been a fabulous year, fabulous year. Didn't think it was possible after last, but life goes on. Everything slips back into some sense of normalcy. Still starting on August 1st, are you?"

"Oh, yes," Harry said. "I keep waiting for an owl that says Kingsley changed his mind."

Slughorn shook his head as if to dispel an annoying fly. "Harry, my boy, it was smart not to go to the Ministry so soon. They are rebuilding too, you know. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has affected us all, yes," he dropped his head in a great show of sadness.

"Sir… do you know any Enigma Magic?"

"OH HO HO!" Slughorn boomed, looking at Harry with new light. "Yes, of course, Harry Potter, close to Dumbledore, may have seen some Enigma Magic." He stroked his mustache. "Enigma Magic… Enigma Magic… yes, I may know some."

"Could... could you show me sir?"

Slughorn didn't say anything but looked down thoughtfully. Harry thought he was about to be refused.

Was there something wrong with the lights? No… everything was getting fuzzy… Was he sick? No, again. Slowly…. the room started fading out… everything but Slughorn, who remained in sharp focus.

The world unfocused leaving them alone in nothing but a white plane. They were utterly and completely alone. The silence was overwhelming. Harry turned, looking around, completely gob smacked. He must be dreaming again.

"What is this sir?" Harry gasped up at him, too impressed to be afraid. Slughorn smiled through a look of deep sadness. Harry looked around again at the utter nothingness around them, spanning into eternity. This was something he didn't think he'd experience again so soon. He turned back. "Sir?"

The white pulled away and everyone stood exactly where they were before, party returned, as if they were gone for only but a second.

"Sir! Was that time-space magic!?" he whispered excitedly.

Slughorn shook his head sadly. "Yes, Harry, my boy. Some wizards do not need a time turner. But understand this," he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "I have tried to undo many things in my life, and I have realized that it is better not to touch time at all. We go through our entire lives wishing we could change, alter, and fix. But sadly, these attempts did not alter the course of my life the way I planned." He looked around at the loud drunken room. "Now, I only use it when I want a private moment alone!" he laughed. "It's a worthless thing to learn. Maddening. Yes, time is too tempting my boy, too tempting."

Harry privately agreed. If he had that power, he would have turned back fifty times, saving each and every Hogwarts Student. Lupin, Tonks, Fred… all of them. And how many turns would it take to get to Sirius? And would he fall through the veil every time? But Dumbledore chose his death, and so did he, so did the others to some extent. They were prepared to fight, prepared to die. Harry looked away, eyes feeling irritated.

"Yes, my boy, it is a great dilemma and a lesson. Time marching forward! It is better to cherish the now," and the hand lifted from his shoulder and they parted. Despite drinking a lot, he now felt quite sober, and spent the rest of the evening with Ron and Hermione.