Despite how McGonagall had been there when Harry was dragged up in front of Dumbledore and Fudge to get expelled and his wand snapped, she didn't appear angry at him. She was all too aware that he'd been caught red-handed breaking serious school rules and the law along with it. Yet he received no word of a reprimand. She made no comment when the conditions of his 'house arrest' were set out plainly, not saying if she believed them unfair or too lenient. Any opportunity she had to make his situation worse or add to his humiliation, she didn't use. Something he was very grateful for.

He blushed in silence, fiddling with his sleeves and jostling his legs. His gaze remained riveted to the floor when she mapped out the limits of his confinement, following her as she cast the spells that trapped him once again. All that he had as physical proof that he was tethered on a leash was a thin, almost invisible band of faint light around his right ankle. It was easily concealed from view and kept it hidden when Ron and Hermione finally reunited with him later.

After he and McGonagall signed the contract and sealed the spells, officially releasing him from the Ministry's wardship, Remus and Kingsley made their exit through her fireplace, giving their farewells and assurances that Harry would have a weekend reprieve. He hugged Remus goodbye and even received a one-armed hug from Kingsley.

Once alone with McGonagall, she then added her own stipulations to his very strict list of terms he had to follow. Harry was left confused as she did on too many occasions. When he most expected her to punish him, she didn't, once again.

"I'm allowed guests?" Harry said back in surprise. McGonagall smiled faintly in response as she made them both tea.

"I am not your prison warden," said McGonagall, then she pursed her lips as she stirred his tea. "I am not even your Professor at present while you are suspended. You're my ward and I'm your guardian. My job is to be responsible for you and that includes your care. I will not have you isolated from your friends."

She passed him his teacup and saucer, a ginger newt biscuit accompanying them.

"I can already tell you are… not unscathed." Her nostrils flared a little, looking down at Harry's wrists which he kept hidden under his sleeves. "I'll have Poppy see you before I give your friends permission to visit."

He fell quiet as he drank his tea and nibbled at the biscuit.

"You aren't my first guest. My brother, Robert, used to stay here when he had business in Hogsmeade." She shared with him, baffling him further. For some reason, the idea that she had family outside her job as a professor was as weird as when he saw her at Headquarters in general muggle attire. Seeing her as a person, as his guardian, was something he had to come terms with quickly, especially when she'd given him a particular rule that he was struggling to wrap his head around.

She wanted him to call her 'Minerva' and, in return, she would use his first name.

The other rules or perhaps they weren't rules… more like conditions, he reasoned as he went back over them in his contemplative silence. He'd be allowed to use her office to study as long as he wasn't disruptive. If she was out, he was welcome to use the space as he saw fit. She allowed him to have Hedwig with him in his room as long as he cleared up any mess. He'd also be allowed to write as much as he wanted, though his post was being screened by the DMLE for his protection.

There were restrictions. Leaving out her office door or even out any window was strictly forbidden. If he tried to get out, the spell around his ankle would activate and put him in a body-bind until Aurors showed up to arrest him again. Trying to leave would be considered as him trying to escape the law and he'd be duly punished for it - severely.

For that reason, he couldn't meet with anyone outside the rooms - including Ron and Hermione. He also had to have his meals in his room. He was spared the embarrassment of sharing a bathroom with his professor, having his own toilet and facilities next to his room.

"I saw the sign on the door." Harry thought it best to admit that he'd clearly noticed the room that he'd been given had a previous occupant. Now he knew that 'Robbie' was Robert McGonagall.

"I never had the heart to take it down." She admitted then, her eyes meeting Harry's. "He made himself a target very early on in He Who Must Not Be Named's campaign of terror… and he was murdered for his strong opinions against pureblood mania."

Harry set his cup down.

"I'm sorry."

"He would approve of you staying in his room… if that helps you feel more at ease." She then smiled faintly again. "Robert often did business with your grandfather. He knew your family well."

His exhaustion after a long day caught up to him very quickly. He soon got himself sent to Robbie's room with Poppy Pomfrey soon making an appearance, making him dress in pyjamas and lay still on his new bed while she tutted over the state of him. He did his best to hold his tongue, doing his best to not think about how it was her fault he never received any specialist healing treatment after his ordeal at Voldemort's hands in June. She cared about bruises on his wrists from metal restraints but not when his nervous system was shot from the Cruciatus curse.

By the time Ron and Hermione arrived, he was dead beat. So much so he actually fell asleep, missing them leaving. He was confused, waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom, until he remembered where he was. Embarrassment flushed through him as he realised he must have slept on Hermione while she was trying to comfort him.

He groaned, hoping that he didn't do anything too mortifying. Ron was used to him mumbling in his sleep, sometimes shouting and even, on occasion, screaming, but not Hermione. Rolling to one side, he checked the time on the clock beside his bed. He noticed then that he'd been tucked under the quilt. He didn't need to guess who had been responsible for making sure he was comfortable. He drank a little water then took the Dreamless sleep potion even though he was fairly sure he was tired enough to not need it. The reprieve from any nightmares was more his concern.

The following morning he woke from a comfortable deep sleep. He'd slept so well he hadn't noticed his trunk arriving. He soon busied himself with checking that everything was as he left it, kneeling on the floor in borrowed pyjamas. A folded piece of parchment sat on top of his usual mess of his belongings. He frowned, reading his name written in Ron's impatient hand scribbled on the front. He unfolded it, finding a note for him.

Before you panic, I've got the map and Hermione's got your cloak. We were worried that they'd make up some excuse to seize them so we removed them before they got the chance. Thankfully the aurors didn't get a chance to search your things when they were here anyway.

Hope you slept well. Don't worry. You didn't drool on Hermione (much).

Ron

Harry's face flushed again. He knew Ron was teasing but for him to make note of how Harry had slept on Hermione's shoulder said a lot. Of course, Ron was bound to notice how Harry held onto Hermione's hand like a life-line. Harry was painfully awkward about body contact at the best of times and he'd openly sought it out when they reunited. He hesitantly put the note on his bed, thinking of how he practically melted against Hermione. He hadn't been very subtle about how her presence made him feel. Ron could be as observant as a block of wood at times but he wasn't stupid.

Shaking his head, Harry tried to put it out of his mind. He wasn't even sure what he felt nor what was even going on between him and Hermione. They needed to talk about it, that much was clear, but how? It wasn't really a discussion they could have with an audience and how the hell could he ask to speak to Hermione alone without it being bloody obvious.

Hermione will think of something . He hoped. She was far more ahead than he was in the realm of feelings and relationships. His instincts told him that how he felt was natural. He felt a lot more comfortable alone with Hermione than he did when Cho cornered him under the mistletoe. And then there was that date in Hogsmeade. He shuddered. No, he was certain that his feelings were genuine. He just needed to know if Hermione felt the same and… if she did, then what? He froze again. What would it mean if they dated? If they were more than friends? Hermione got real harassment when Rita Skeeter printed about her last year, what would happen if she truly was his girlfriend?

He ran a hand through his hair. There was the whole issue with him being the front-page news again. Not just in his home country but all over the world. It was hard enough to wrap his own head around it. Could he really throw all that onto Hermione's shoulders too?

His thoughts were all over the place as he navigated his new accommodations in a confused haze. Breakfast had been left in his room along with his trunk so he munched on some toast at his small, rickety desk. He soon got dressed then sorted himself out in the bathroom. Once done and relatively presentable. He apprehensively stuck his wand in his jeans pocket and went up to see whether Professor McGonagall was in her office. He nervously paused outside the doors that led into her own bedroom and bathroom before sneaking carefully to the back of the secret door that led into McGonagall's room. He swung a small cutout aside, revealing a peephole.

Peering into the office, he saw McGonagall sitting at her desk and she wasn't alone. Harry blinked in surprise then a huge smile bloomed on his face. His heart lurched in a fierce racing beat of excitement and dizzying joy. Urgently, he drummed his knuckles on the back of the door in the pattern McGonagall told him to use as a signal. She looked over in his direction at once and gave him the much needed permission to enter. He slapped his hand on the release, activating the mechanism that opened the door. The spell kicked into life, the bookcase swinging inwards. Harry rushed into the office, not hesitating, not caring for any display of patience on his behalf. Any rational thought of questioning why on earth Sirius Black was lounging in Professor McGonagall's office with his feet on her desk was completely absent. He just needed to get to his godfather.

Sirius wasn't lounging for very long. He kicked his chair over in his haste to reach Harry as he ran at him. Their reunion wasn't a gentle one as their bodies slammed into each other. Both were fuelled with a powerful desperation to reconnect.

He never expected Sirius to wrap his arms around him and lift him upwards. Nor did he expect to be almost crushed in a grip that rivalled Hagrid's. His cheek became squashed against the velvety lapels of the robes Sirius wore. Fingers pushed into Harry's hair in a way that would normally have him panicking and blanking at the confusing touch, instead he sank into the welcoming embrace.

"Si-Sirius…" Harry breathed his name out, practically vibrating with emotion. "You're here. You're really here."

"Yeah, I'm right here." Sirius gruffly said as dropped his arms from Harry, his hands remaining on his arms as he drew back. Harry had seen Sirius worried, he'd seen him angry - murderous even, he'd even seen him on the brink of tears and also manically happy. He wore a new emotion as he stared intently into Harry's eyes. His greyish blue eyes were wide as he looked at Harry as if he was the most momentous spectacle he'd ever seen, wonderment shining out of his eyes. The madness that gleamed in those eyes once had gone, as was the glassy hollowness of hopelessness and the bitterness of a man who lost all control over his life.

"It's so good to see you, Harry." His voice, a little hoarse, gusted out. He brushed his thumb over Harry's cheekbone before he straightened. He adjusted his robes, shifting to place his hand on Harry's shoulder. He turned to where Minerva McGonagall was surveying their reunion with a soft look on her face behind her mountain of paperwork. "I came here with Remus though I expect Minerva would like the honour of telling you the good news of why he's pretty preoccupied right now."

He steered Harry over to McGonagall's desk where a second chair sprung up next to the one Sirius had toppled. His chair pulled itself upright at McGonagall's sweep of her wand. She indicated for them to sit. Harry gripped the back of his chair, steadying himself.

"Where is he?" Harry asked.

"Your exploits left Hogwarts without a Defence teacher, Harry." Minerva said but didn't appear reproachful in the slightest. "As the new Headmistress, it falls to me to fill the vacancy and I could think of no one better suited. Remus will be taking over classes next week and he has a lot of catching up to do."

Harry gaped, gobsmacked. "But… Snape exposed his… er… problem. He's registered as a werewolf now."

"I have cleared it up with the Governors already." McGonagall assured him. "I vouched for him. His excellent track record with the OWL and NEWT results for the year he taught here made them come around quickly to my point of view."

"Wow…" Harry pulled out his chair, dropping down hard. It was a lot to take in.

"So that's where he's gone. He's rushed off to do 'Professor Lupin ' business." Sirius said as he went to sit next to him, crossing his legs over, looking relaxed once again. "Maybe the two of you could tag-team. Professor Potter has a nice ring to it, after all."

Harry's face grew hot at the light teasing. He swallowed and turned in his chair to look at his godfather properly. He looked well but Harry could see the stress in the tightness in his eyes and the tension in his jaw. His happiness was genuine but the gravity of their reality wasn't ignored.

"While Remus re-acquaints himself, I thought this would be a good time for us to talk." Professor McGonagall then said, waving her wand to clear the stacks of parchment from her desk. They floated off to be stored elsewhere. Her tea set clattered as she brought it over. "I have taken it upon myself to inform your friends that you will be busy until midday as… I feel this is a conversation that is best between just the three of us. You are of course at liberty to share with them what we talk about later. I believe it best that this is held at your discretion for now. Your privacy has been abused enough as it is."

Sirius made a low sound, agreeing. Harry went still, alarm screeching his thoughts to a halt. Whatever Sirius and McGonagall agreed to have discussed in private didn't bode well.

Minerva filled the teapot with a stream of boiling water from her wand and then settled back while it went to brew. Sirius sighed and turned in his chair to look at Harry.

"I know that vile hag had the fires and the post monitored - I nearly got caught myself talking to you - but you must have known what she was doing was some Dark shi- er stuff. Why didn't you speak up?"

Sirius reached across to take Harry's right hand. His roughened fingers carefully brushed over the scars. Harry pulled his hand back from Sirius, his heart giving a warning flutter, chest tightening.

"It's not that I didn't think you would have helped or tried to at least." Harry said quickly, tucking his hand self-consciously under his arm. He fluttered his glance over to McGonagall. He shifted on the seat, his gaze going over to the teapot that was steaming out the spout.

"Ron and Hermione... they didn't really understand why I didn't ever tell you or Dumbledore. I knew what Umbridge's game was. I could see through it. She wanted me to run off and complain to the person I thought would have any chance of stopping her. She was waiting for me to lead her to her opposition - to run to Dumbledore and get him to do something. I didn't want to be the reason for any of you falling into whatever trap she had planned so I just took the punishment."

He took a deep breath. He rested his hands on his legs, stopping them from where his knees began to bounce with nervous energy.

"But you could have told me." Sirius said with a bite of anger. Harry let off a bitter laugh, turning his head away. He very much didn't want this discussion.

"What good would that have done? You were under house arrest, though not as literal as me." He then pulled up his right jeans' leg, showing Sirius the pale band of light just visible around his ankle. Sirius looked down, letting out a growl when he saw the grounding spell. "But I didn't want you to storm Hogwarts or… do something that would risk getting you caught." Sirius frowned but didn't say anything to counter his words. Minerva also said nothing as she added milk to their tea.

"I wanted to tell you though." Harry added softly. Sirius met his gaze and his eyes softened, mouth downturning.

"Dolores greatly underestimated your resilience." Minerva then chimed into the conversation as she passed them both their cups of tea. Her china set was very in character with a vibrant red tartan pattern with gold inlay. "She listened to the wrong opinions and came away with a rather unflattering and untrue image of your character."

Harry softly snorted. "Let me guess, she listened to Snape?"

Minerva, for once, didn't correct him with a sharp 'Professor Snape, Potter'.

"She was interested only in negative opinions so yes. Your more vocal critics were more than eager to help get a view of her potential 'troublesome' students. Believing that you were spoiled and weak-willed was ultimately her downfall." She said with a wry tilt to her lips. "She never faced off against a Potter in a battle of wills before. Woe betide any fool who tries."

Her accent made an appearance as well as a fierce glint in her eyes that burned whenever she spoke of one of her lions with pride.

"However, I did not ask Sirius to stay here to discuss that woman." Her mouth twisted with disgust around the word. "As Sirius is your official guardian, I have asked him to be present while we talk about how we prepare you for your trial. As we're going to be addressing personal topics, I believed it best that we have this conversation alone."

Harry looked between Sirius and Minerva, alarmed that they would talk about his legal issues so soon. He had a horrible feeling that he knew where the conversation was about to go.

"As much as we need to prepare your defence, you also need to be mentally prepared." Minerva continued. "You have a lot on your shoulders and it's about time you share your burdens. There is no reason for you to bear them on your own. You may have a safe space with your friends but I believe I am right in saying that you haven't shared everything with them."

Harry swallowed. "No, I haven't," he whispered.

"I am not expecting you to share with us either but I do want you to talk to someone." Minerva insisted without her curtness, her voice almost gentle. "I was given the name of the healer who carried out your diagnosis at the Ministry. I think you would benefit from speaking with someone who has dealt with other trauma victims."

Harry immediately went rigid in his seat. Of course, he remembered who Minerva was talking about. Celia Travers. She had even offered to help Harry after she witnessed his darkest, deepest secrets getting exposed one injury at a time. His skin prickled at Minerva's words. He really couldn't deny that he was a trauma victim. How could anyone go through what he had and not come away with mental scars as well as physical? The nightmares he suffered during the summer were evidence enough. When he wasn't forced to endure Voldemort's obsession with the Department of Mysteries, his dreams were never pleasant.

"It's a good idea," Sirius said calmly at Harry's side. "I know how it sounds, Harry, but really… talking will help. I know it's helped me and I just talk to Remus… and sometimes Buckbeak."

Harry didn't smile at Sirius's attempt at self-deprecating humour. He looked stiffly at Sirius.

"What I've been through pales a bit in comparison against Azkaban."

"Staring at the same four walls for twelve years with dementors for company did a number on me, sure, but…" Sirius rubbed at his face, his discomfort obvious yet he kept talking. "To be honest, I don't really remember much about it. It's like my mind just blanked out what I couldn't bear to handle as a way to keep me going."

"Disassociation." Minerva said quietly. "Some never recover… like Alice and Frank Longbottom."

Harry felt sick then. His hands shook a little.

"What's to stop the healers from putting me in the same ward as them?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"Aside from the fact that you weren't tortured into insanity?"

"But… if I talk to that healer and the stuff about my scar comes up… what then?" Harry voiced his main concern quietly. He peered over to Minerva. "Whatever confidentiality vows healers take, I doubt it's going to make them just ignore that I have a direct link to Voldemort's mind."

Minerva's eyes moved over to Sirius for a moment before returning to settle on Harry. Sirius sighed and he downed all his tea in three gulps. He turned in his chair to face Harry fully again.

"That's why it's best that you take yourself to a healer before they force an examination on your mental state. Whatever happened to you… whatever's going on with your scar… it's not going away any time soon and, one way or another, it is going to come up. The last thing you want is for it to come up in a courtroom when you have no defence ready to explain that you aren't mad and you're definitely not turning into a mini Dark Lord."

Harry shivered at the seriousness in his godfather's tone.

"You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I have to beat them to it before it's used against me."

"That's right." Sirius then glanced up at Minerva. "We have some time before your legal stuff starts properly. The Ministry has their hands full at the moment so we can get your defence water-tight before you go before the Wizengamot. And you need to have your head as clear as possible when that happens. Talking to a healer will help with that too, alright?"

Harry nodded. Everything Sirius said made perfect, logical sense.

"The truth is that we don't fully understand what exactly connects you to… to Voldemort." Minerva visibly winced as she made herself say the name. "Albus had his theories, of course, but Cornelius and whoever he drags up as his legal team will poke holes in them. We need answers and, more than that, we need a solution. Occlumency was one option and I think we can safely say that placing you in a room alone with Severus was a disaster."

Sirius gave a derisive sound. "Surprise, surprise."

Harry considered what Minerva was saying, bringing his hand up to rub his scar as they talked about it. It wasn't hurting him at that current moment, at least.

"But where exactly are we going to get those answers if Dumbledore only had theories?" Harry asked, convinced that if Dumbledore had little clue then they didn't stand much of a chance. He was the most brilliant wizard of the age, the only one Voldemort feared.

"We find a second opinion." Minerva said firmly. "And I know just who to consult. I believe you know who Nicolas Flamel is, Harry?"

He blinked at the name. It wasn't exactly one he could forget after spending weeks researching for any mention of the name during his first year at Hogwarts.

"I… well… yeah, I do, but…" He awkwardly cleared his throat. "I thought he passed away."

"No, he is very frail but he still lives. Though sadly, he is not long for this world." Minerva said solemnly. "As a wizard who achieved the impossible during his life, he will have a far greater insight into such a unique magical phenomenon. If you consent, I will write to him and ask for a meeting between you two."

Harry frowned, consulting the patch of floor again. The thought of having someone examining him like an exotic curio left him deeply uncomfortable but he knew it was necessary. After all, he wanted answers himself. He hated living with a constant reminder of the man who murdered his parents and ruined his life.

"Harry?" Sirius gently prodded him for an answer. Harry looked up, meeting Minerva's gaze and he nodded his assent. She smiled fondly at him, picking up her tea cup.

"I will write to him later today and shall I also write to Ms Travers?"

Harry caught Sirius frowning. "Travers?" He repeated the name. Minerva raised a brow at him.

"I do hope you aren't judging someone based on their relatives, Sirius."

To Harry's surprise, Sirius actually flushed. He cleared his throat.

"No, not at all." He said carefully then considered Harry, his expression softening. "It'll be good for you, truly, and it's about time someone looked into your well-being properly for once instead of just your safety."

Deciding to accept that maybe in this instance, the adults knew best, Harry dipped his chin again in a nod of assent. Sirius rewarded him with a ruffling of his hair.

"Very well then. It's decided." Minerva's eyes lit up with that proud glint again, smiling at Harry over her tea. "Now drink up, both of you. I'm afraid I have appointments all day and I daresay, we need to avoid getting Harry in any more trouble. I do not want to risk having 'aiding and abetting a known criminal' added to his charges."

Harry froze as he went to reach for his tea, his heart dropping. Sirius grimaced at the reminder of his wanted status. He picked up his tea, now sullen.

"But… will we be able to talk?" Harry said, bracing himself for disappointment. "Maybe with the floo?"

Sirius considered him cautiously for a moment. Minerva wore a similar look, frowning at him. Harry looked between them, not expecting the reaction. "W-what?"

"Do you not have the mirror I gave you?" Sirius asked him, his brow furrowing. "Was that why you used the floo before?"

Now confused, Harry stared at him. "Mirror?"

"I…" Sirius glanced over at Minerva, hesitant for a moment before his shoulders dropped. "The two-way mirror. James's mirror."

Harry remembered the package in his trunk, the one that Sirius had passed to him the last time they spoke. He'd pointedly cast it aside, scared that whatever the gift was, it would lure Sirius out of safety to help him. He'd completely forgotten all about it.

"I…" His face burned once again. "I didn't open it. I'm sorry… I was worried at the time you'd let your hate for Snape go to your head and then I just… forgot."

Sirius gave a bark of a laugh. "Huh, well, that's a relief. I thought maybe you accidentally smashed it or got it confiscated."

"No, I… what is it?" Harry then asked, relieved that Sirius wasn't upset with him.

"It's just a mirror to anyone else but if you say my name into it, you'll be able to see out of the paired one that belongs to me. James came up with them when we kept getting put into separate detentions. Until-."

"Until I caught you." Minerva interrupted wryly. Harry looked over at her, seeing her smile. "I returned them to Sirius at Christmas and I assumed you both had been in touch. I see I was mistaken." She met Harry's gaze. "I trust you to be careful with it? Only use it when you are in your room?"

"Yes, of course." Harry said at once.

"Good, then finish your tea. I daresay you'll have guests here shortly now that we are done." She said, checking the clock behind her.

Doing as he was told, Harry took his teacup and drank it quickly. He had to admit, Professor McGonagall knew how to make a very good cup of tea. Too soon, though, he was on his feet, walking with Sirius to Minerva's fireplace. He was pulled into another hug, closing his eyes as he relished the embrace, feeling much closer than he ever had in that moment.

"We're getting there, alright?" Sirius gruffly said as he checked Harry's face over as if double-checking that Harry truly was right in front of him. "Both of us. We'll get our names cleared then we'll get some good old-fashioned revenge."

Minerva McGonagall appeared to decide at that moment to have momentary deafness as she made no remark on his words. She had returned to busying herself with matters at hand, quill scratching as she made to start on the letters to Nicolas Flamel and Celia Travers.

"Revenge?"

"I'm not Dumbledore, Harry. I'm not going to preach about being the 'better man'."

The fire in Sirius's eye might have once alarmed Harry but instead, he felt his own anger flame up in response. His jaw tensed.

"I want them to pay." Harry said in a low voice though he knew Minerva was listening to every word. "All of them."

Sirius gripped his shoulder in response. Minerva cleared her throat pointedly. Sirius took a handful of floo powder from the box on her mantlepiece, casting it into the grate.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Emerald flames shot upwards at once, illuminating them as their eyes burned both with green fire and fierce determination.

"You ever need to talk, I'm listening. No judgement. Not from me - never from me." Sirius let go of his shoulder. "My childhood was shitty too."

Harry didn't bluster at Sirius's implications. He met his gaze.

"I'll speak soon." He said softly, his heart suddenly feeling as warm as the floo. "I promise."

"That's all I ask… ."

Then Sirius Black was gone, leaving Harry with his love.

Remus Lupin's surprise reinstatement as the Defence Against The Dark Arts professor had come as momentous news. When his appearance at the head table set tongues waggling, the news served as a good distraction. While the Gryffindor table was suddenly preoccupied with discussing his arrival, it gave Ron and Hermione an opening to escape. All morning, from the Common Room to the tables in the Great Hall, they'd been harrassed for information about Harry. Hermione's patience was stretched thin. Ron had already bent a fork in frustration.

Slipping out, they made haste to find somewhere they could talk alone. Making use of Harry's cloak with Ron clutching the Marauder's Map, they bundled away into one of the disused classrooms before their absence was noticed. Hermione didn't put it past Ginny to check the Room of Requirement for them and their dormitories weren't actually a sensible choice when shared.

With their privacy restored, the awkwardness returned. It hung over them, unspoken, while they had both snapped at gossipers to leave them alone and mind their own business. In the dusty silence of the forgotten classroom, desks and chairs stacked in an abandoned heap at the back wall, they waited for the other to start the conversation. Hermione rubbed at her arm, chasing down feelings of guilt, while she watched Ron checking the map.

"Is he-?" Hermione went to start.

"See for yourself." Ron cut over before she could finish her question. Hermione was taken back by his curt tone as he thrust the Map at her. She took it, searching for the first floor at once to where Harry was staying with his new guardian. Her eyes widened when she saw the names in McGonagall's office.

Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter and Sirius Black.

That explained why they'd been told upon leaving the office last night to delay seeing Harry until the afternoon. He was likely having a very personal conversation with the parental figures in his life.

Hermione handed the map back to Ron.

"I bet Sirius wants to know why Harry didn't tell him." Ron said after he cleared the map, hiding the condemning evidence from view. "McGonagall too. He did try to hide it from us too." Ron crossed his arms. "Does that never bother you? How he hides things from us?"

Indignance flashed through Hermione on Harry's behalf but then guilt rose up to combat it.

"No," she said promptly.

"Come off it." He scoffed, moving to lean against the wall. "We're his best friends and he doesn't talk to us about… well… much." He seemed to deflate as he tried to express himself, floundering as he did. Hermione sighed at his efforts, guilt mounting up more and more.

"You know full well why he doesn't open up to us."

Ron looked confused.

"I do?"

"Do you not remember how Harry reacted when we practically forced him to talk to us?" She said sharply, her heart twisting as she brought it up. A vivid image of Harry's face flushed with anger came to her mind. "When we had that brilliant idea to convince him to teach Defensive skills to us in the first place?"

When she saw Ron's face falter, she knew he remembered just as vividly as she did.

"I very clearly remember him telling us 'you don't know what it's like'."

She could feel her eyes growing warm. She then sat down on the dusty floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees, staring into space.

"The truth is we just expected him to be onboard and open up - tell us everything he knows. We never… well, I never… stopped to think that maybe it's too painful for him to talk about." She looked sharply over to Ron. "And you acting like he's an alien whenever he lets his guard down doesn't help either."

Ron's ears grew pink. He scowled down at the floor but then his expression turned thoughtful. His mouth then downturned and he looked away, his shoulders dropping.

"I guess…"

Hermione then made herself look at Ron directly.

"I sat through one detention, one, and Harry went through a dozen of them - more even - and he never complained. Not once." She said firmly. "And what did we do? What did I do? I just nagged at him to tell someone, not thinking that maybe he didn't want to talk about it. I didn't stop to think that maybe being tortured potentially on the orders of the Minister for Magic was getting to him more than he let on. Then that night when he blew up at us. We were completely out of order to push his buttons when he was in pain." She shook her head. "So… no, Ron, I don't blame him for hiding things from us because I don't think we've ever given him reason to think we can handle the sort of things he's been through. We don't show him half as much empathy as we should and we can't do that to him anymore."

She quickly wiped at her face. Ron's blue eyes found hers at once. She licked at her lips, then sighed. She knew she just had to outwardly say it, confess that her feelings for Harry had developed quite significantly.

"The thing… the thing is, Ron. I've started to. When we were together in the Ministry, he opened up to me more than he's ever done before." She quietly confessed, looking up at him, waiting for his reaction. "And I could truly see how deeply he feels about everything. We spent hours locked in a room together under strict guard but… it didn't matter that we were being watched. So we talked… about a lot of things, and then he told me about… how he felt about me."

A strange look dawned on Ron's face as she fumbled her way through her words.

"You don't need to say anything else." His cheeks had flushed, clearly working out where their conversation had led to eventually while locked up in the interview room together. "I might not be the most observant bloke in the world, but I've spent enough time around Ginny to know the effect Harry's name can have on a girl. You've been blushing at his name for a few days now, before you even went to the Ministry."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Of all the reactions she expected, she never thought Ron would be unsurprised. Then she felt rather foolish. Had she been blushing that much?

"I saw how Harry latched onto you last night. He normally shies from the slight touch but he was practically curled up on your lap like Crookshanks." Ron's eyes gleamed when Hermione felt her face warm up. "Ah, there it is." His smile then turned a little cold, his gaze turning inwards. He sighed.

"I guess I'm second to Harry Potter again."

"Ron-."

"No. Don't bother." He flashed a hand up, his face twitching. "I'm not… look. I'm not mad at him. Yeah, it sucks to be left in his dust all the time. He's annoyingly natural at everything he does, except for potions but then I'm hardly good at that either. I might be able to flatten his arse flat each time we play chess, but that's really the only thing I have him squarely beat in. Even being made prefect felt like I was being pitied. And I know, you're going to tell me that not everything has to be a competition, but it kinda does when you're from a family as big as mine."

Hermione went quiet, eyes wide as she listened to Ron's honest spiel.

"But I know, deep down, no matter how jealous I might get, Harry has it so much worse than me. Sure, he's famous, but it makes him a target. Maybe he has money but that money doesn't buy him his family back, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." She agreed softly.

"After last night when I saw Harry like that, all guards down, absolutely knackered, I realised something pretty sad about him that I never really thought about before." Ron looked down, his fingers going to his pocket, pulling out the folded Marauder's Map. "It should have been his mum and dad comforting him, not us."

Her gaze went down to the map and she rested her forehead on her knees.

"I know," she said, "and he didn't even know what he wanted from us until we were there. He just needed someone to make him feel safe."

"Yeah so… if you can be the person that makes him feel like that, then… fine." He shrugged again. Ron then took out his wand, tapping the parchment lightly. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good", he mumbled.

Hermione watched him carefully, her keen eye looking for any hint that Ron was more upset than he was letting on. He did appear sad but in a resigned way. A thought dawned on her then. Was he sad because he had feelings for her? If he did think of her in that way, he had a strange way of showing it. She'd been curious about his explosive reaction to Viktor, at first believing that he felt threatened, but he'd never made any signs of wanting to fight for her attention. She wondered then if he was simply jealous that she had someone who liked her enough to want to date her, airing out his own insecurities.

"Ron, you don't…" She started, not sure how she could phrase the question sensitively. "You don't think of me in that way as well, do you?"

He jerked his head to the side, working his lip between his teeth for a moment, before he then shrugged.

"I don't really know." Ron rubbed the back of his neck, his face getting increasingly redder. "I can't believe I'm saying this. I have thought about it since everything with the Yule Ball and I do know that you're a girl and stuff." He met her gaze. "Then when Harry had that mess of a date with Cho, and I thought about us doing something like that, it just didn't feel right in my head."

Hermione suddenly remembered that Cho Chang existed.

"Oh… I completely forgot about Cho."

"Sounds like Harry has too." Ron pointed out. "Besides, the fact that her best friend sold Harry out to Umbridge put the nail in the coffin there, I think." He chewed on his lip as he consulted the map. "Ah, Harry's in his room now. I guess Sirius couldn't exactly hang around."

Hermione unfolded herself from the floor, coming over to join Ron. She glanced at him cautiously, seeing the tension in the corners of his eyes and the telltale red flush of his ears.

"You, ah, probably should see him."

"I… well…" She wrung her hands together for a moment. "This doesn't have to be awkward. We can talk about it together."

"Right, well… no offence but I'd rather get some flying practice than be a gooseberry around my best friends. Team practice is in an hour anyway."

Definitely more upset than he's letting on. She thought to herself, feeling guilty.

"Ron… you know that no matter what, we're… we're still friends." She breathed out quietly, watching him closely. "That's not changing."

He sighed, nodding. "I know." He handed her the map again. "Take this back to Harry. He should have it back."

"Okay," she said quietly. "You'll come later though. I know he'll want to see you too."

Ron met her gaze, his eyes wet with tears until he blinked quickly. He smiled a crooking, slap-dash smile that he threw over the evidence of emotion that threatened to betray his true feelings.

"Probably not as much as he wants to see you but yeah, I'll be there." He then moved to leave. He hesitated a step away from Hermione, turning to half face her again. "See you later."

The way that he clearly wanted to get away from Hermione hurt her more than the glimpse of tears she caught in his eyes. She let out a shaky breath, gripping the map in her fingers as Ron slipped out of the classroom, ears the brightest red they could go. Hurting Ron hadn't been something she ever set out to do, despite how often they found themselves bickering. She tucked the map in her pocket, fetching the Invisibility Cloak off the floor where she'd left it. Sweeping away the remnants of the tears that escaped her, she then sent off on her own to seek out Harry.