Trauma: So I see that people are still mad at Harry for pushing his friends away. But of the trauma endured by child soldiers convinced to martyr themselves, keeping your friends at arm's length is not that bad. Not healthy, but he clearly isn't.

Summer 1995 - The Sword

There were benefits to being rich.

Like being able to buy a replica sword so your godfather could steal the real one from Dumbledore's office which was laced with basilisk venom.

Sirius was obviously jazzed for being able to be part of this heist because he was downright bubbly the next time Harry and Leta saw him.

It was still weird visiting Grimmauld Place, having Sirius here and a friendly Kreature —since they were meeting out Regulus's last wish— while Hermione and the Weasleys were just below their feet.

Harry felt guilty about worrying them, but not guilty enough to put his head back into Dumbledore's noose.

"So when are we going to learn how to transform?" Leta asked.

Sirius shook his head, "Oh no, it's not that easy, first you need to discover what your spirit animal is."

Leta gave him a dry look, "How do we do that?"

"Well, luckily, there are two of you, this is easier to do with someone else. I mean, Wormtail would never have figured it out without James and me."

Leta waited, her face so expressive, Harry had to swallow a laugh.

Sirius grinned at her, "Joint meditation."

"What?" she demanded.

Sirius held up his hands, "It's not that dramatic, you begin with soul searching. Sometimes, you have to trust someone else —open up to them— before you can open up to yourself."

Harry exchanged a look with Leta.

They had been living together for weeks, done crimes together, however, Harry didn't know if he wanted to pry into her secrets.

Or reveal his own.

He had slept with Hermione, but he still hadn't told her directly what his life at the Dursleys had been like.

"Open up how far?" he asked.

Sirius shrugged, "The deep stuff."

"The deep stuff?" Harry repeated, feeling nervous.

Sirius took some pity on him, "Start with your favourite colours."

Leta gasped, "You go too far."

Harry snorted.

Sirius smiled but continued, "Your favourite Quidditch team, favourite magical creatures, and why. You aren't going to see results in a day or two, becoming an animagus takes time."

Harry nodded but he couldn't quite shake his nervousness.

Buckbeak headed-butted Harry's back and he leaned into the feathered neck, petting the hippogryph's beak as he avoided eye contact with Leta.

He was not looking forward to tonight.

And because of that, the night seemed to come all the quicker.

Back in the Shrieking Shack, Harry sat cross-legged across from Leta.

"Favourite colour?" he asked, awkwardly.

"Persian blue, you?" she returned.

"Green."

She quirked a brow, "Fitting, favourite magical creature?"

"Owls, you?"

"Phoenix."

It was his turn to raise a brow, "Why?"

She shrugged, "I like the idea that death isn't the end. That there is no hell or heaven waiting for me on the other side, but a new life, a new start."

He nodded, he didn't agree, if only because he wanted to see his parents and get to know them for himself.

"Have you ever had sex before?" she asked.

He blanched and his voice came out in a squeak, "What?"

"So that's a no," she said with a smirk.

"No," he argued.

"So you have," she said, her smirk growing.

He glowered at her, "Have you?"

"Yes," she said. "She was an American. Last summer vacation, we were left 'unattended' too long."

"You prefer women?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I don't have a preference. She was beautiful and I felt safe with her."

"Wasn't that not okay in your years?" he asked, it was barely okay now, or not at all if you listened to Uncle Vernon.

Leta shrugged, "I'm part French, unlike the British and the Americans, there were things the French didn't sweat about activities that passed behind closed doors. Her name was Eulalie Hicks, she was beautiful and she had the most amazing way of speaking."

"My best friend and I, Hermione Granger. We were living in the woods, in hiding during the war, but… it was good while it lasted," he admitted.

"You had a problem lasting?" Leta asked.

Harry flushed, "NO! I mean— That's not what I meant! I meant, it meant more to me than it did to her."

"She broke up with you?"

He ducked his head, "We weren't dating. She was dating my other best friend Ron Weasley. But he walked out on both of us. We were on our own, but when he came back… she chose him."

"Bitch," Leta said.

He shook his head, "No, she's not. I didn't tell her what it meant to me. What she meant to me."

Leta looked at him for a long moment, her long hair haloing around her as she wore it loose for once. "You are very good at destroying your own happiness, aren't you?"

He glared at her, "Speaking from experience?"

"Touche," she said. She fidgeted a bit in the resulting quiet and then as if on impulse she asked, "What's the worst thing you ever did?"

He thought about it, thought about Hermione and the Malfoys but then he realized the question wasn't what he felt most guilty about but what was morally the worst thing he had ever done.

So he said, "Aside from indirectly getting people killed, and directly killing them in the war. I accidentally almost killed Draco Malfoy in our sixth year by trying out a spell I didn't know the purpose of. I cut him to shreds and if Snape hadn't been close enough he would have bled to death before I could have gone for help."

Leta blinked at him.

"Funny, isn't it? I mainly used stunners but a stunner and a thirty-meter drop is still a death sentence. But that was war, in the real world, and what I did to Draco… It was stupidity on my part and I can't shake the regret."

She shrugged, "He shouldn't have screwed with you. He learned a healthy lesson."

Harry snorted, "Trust me, he didn't learn anything."

There was another silence, but he didn't ask the question, feeling it was going too far. Leta seemed to have nearly as many regrets as him.

She answered the unasked question anyway, "I killed my baby brother."

He was a bit stunned by this and blurted, "Purposely?"

She shook her head, "No, but it was my fault."

"How?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I was supposed to have been watching him..."

Her voice cut off, her gaze going distant.

"What happened?" he prompted.

She sucked in a breath and looked away. "The ship sank. We were separated and I couldn't make it back to him in time…"

"That's not your fault," Harry said with absolute conviction.

She huffed a hollow laugh, "If he had been with us, he would have survived."

Harry took her hand, "Please look at me."

She turned, her eyes liquid in the lamplight. "My aunt used to hit me with a frying pan on the back of the head when I was little. My uncle has strangled me and broke my bones. My cousin has shoved me in plastic bins and pushed me down steps. Trust me, Leta, you couldn't have known the ship would sink. You didn't purposely harm your baby brother and because of you, another boy lived."

"A life is not worth another life," she said.

He squeezed her hand, "I know monsters, and Leta, you aren't one."

Her fingers entwined further with his, drawing comfort.

Harry asked, "What's your favourite activity?"

She let out a long breath, "Dancing. Et toi?"

He smiled, "Flying."

Chapter 6 - Against the World

Newt Scamander visiting Leta had unforeseen consequences. Mainly, that everyone started putting it together that Leta Lestrange was that Leta Lestrange.

The one who went missing eighty years ago.

The rumours were ceaseless.

About how she had done it. If she had been cursed into some enchanted sleep. A lot of people started calling her Sleeping Beauty, especially the muggle-raised.

No matter where she went, people watched her.

"Merlin, woman!" Harry exclaimed. "What did I do?"

"Nothing, I just don't like being picked at," she said, propelling another spell at him.

He flicked it away, Harry was brilliant at shield charms.

"You think in nearly a century they would learn some propriety."

"Leta, darling," Harry said, "They think a baby saved their civilization. They really haven't learned much at all. You know aside from some medical advancements. They can treat dragon-pox now."

She flung another hex at him which he twirled out of the way not even bothering to deflect it.

It made her all the more irritated.

After a few more curses she had to ask, "How the hell are you so good at this?"

"War, bullies, and uncommon misfortune," he said. "Plus some pretty okay genetics."

"Ha ha," Leta said.

Harry held up his hand, "It's Halloween, how about we do something festive?"

"You like Halloween."

"Aside from the days I have to return to the Dursleys, Halloween was the day my parents were murdered."

All the anger went out of her in a rush, "I'm sorry."

He waved it away and looked to the room around them, "Could we have some pumpkins and some spark-powder, please?"

"Spark-powder?" she repeated as the Come and Go Room answered Harry's request with several jack-o'-lanterns with various faces, some joyous and others silly.

"No candles?" she asked.

He smirked then flicked his wand and it became a whip of fire, "How precise can you be, Lady Lestrange?"

That quickly, the anger was back, and she raised her own wand, firing on one of the pumpkins in a small but swift burst of light.

It looked as if the pumpkin swallowed the flame.

Then the pumpkin exploded with blue smoke, sending pumpkin guts everywhere.

Harry flicked his whip, and another pumpkin exploded, this one with red smoke.

Leta hit another pumpkin, and she laughed at the absurd violence of it.

Soon, the room was filled with rainbow smoke and the smell of burnt pumpkin pie.

Her laughter felt uncontrollable, it wasn't that funny, but the anger felt as if it was being pulled out of her.

Harry checked his watch, "Are you hungry?"

She nodded, "I could go for some pie."

He reached out to brush some pumpkin off her cheek, "I could go for some pie, pumpkin pie, I think."

She smiled. Logically, she knew it was her spell that had brought them together. But every day, she grew more grateful that fate had allowed her and Harry to find each other.

With him, she felt like herself, unashamed, and unafraid.

oOo

Harry knew he was falling in love with Leta. He wasn't quite sure when it started.

But he knew it was true.

It often felt these days as if it was them against the world.

They joined, first unnoticed by the crowd headed to dinner. But slowly, the students began to notice them, and the whispering began.

Leta's regained calm and happiness began to evaporate.

Harry stopped.

Leta stopped with him.

He held out his hand to her, "Let's give them something to look at."

Leta seemed confused for a moment before placing her trust in him, her hand warm in his. He put his other hand on her waist and her eyes lit up with understanding.

And then he pulled her into a dance, a lively polka that had their cloaks sweeping out around as they spun through the halls.

Everyone got out of their way, left to stare at their impromptu merriment.

Harry hardly noticed them at all, hardly noticed there wasn't music to dance, or where or when they were.

All he knew was that when Leta smiled at him, he felt as if life were worth living.

As if all the pain and loss had meant something if he could be here with her.

Their dance ended under the arch of the Grand Hall.

He knew what he was about to do would have the whole school twittering away, and he didn't care.

Keeping one hand on her waist, he let go of her other hand to cup her face. They were both slightly breathless. When he leaned forward, he did hesitate, giving her ample time to push him away.

Instead, the hand Leta had rested on his shoulder raised to his neck as she pulled him down into a kiss.

For a moment, all that existed in the world was him and her beneath a star-strewn sky and the warm firelight of a thousand floating candles.

oOo

AN: Thoughts, ravens, or feedback, pretty please?