Halloween morning dawned pale and fresh. Overnight rainfall had given the air a floral, earthy aroma that clung to the nostrils and left the sweeping lawns coated in shimmering moisture. Hagrid whistled merrily as he rolled the last of the giant pumpkins up to the castle, the owls hooted and barked as they dropped off mail or returned to roost in the owlery, and the air was filled with chattering voices all excited for the annual Ball later that evening.

And Harry was actually enjoying being part of it, even if the main gossip was still focused on him. He swapped shy smiles with Sally-Anne as they bumped into each other on the way to the breakfast, with Neville insisting she must have been lurking round the corner to time their collision just right.

"She totally did that on purpose," he grinned, as Harry and he sat at the Gryffindor table. "She just wanted to get used to touching you, before her hands get lost in your hair later on!"

"Shut up," Harry blushed. "It was obviously an accident."

"Pah!" Neville snorted. "The corridor to the Hufflepuff part of the castle is one of the longest in the school. She'd have seen you coming a mile off. No, mate, she just waiting and waited for her moment, then rushed up and bumped into you on purpose. I bet she'll be trying to bump her gob against yours later, too! How will you excuse your way out of that one, eh?"

Harry shivered at that thought. "Do you reckon she will?"

"What? Want to kiss you? Of course she will. First date and everything. If it goes well and you don't scare her off, why wouldn't she want to?"

"But what should I do if she tries?"

"Well, do you want to kiss her?"

Harry considered it for a second. "I don't know. Kind of ... yeah."

"Then you should kiss her. But what about Hermione?"

"What about Hermione?" Harry frowned in his confusion. "She doesn't want to kiss Sally-Anne ... or, at least, I don't think she does."

"You know what I mean," Neville replied, rolling his eyes. "She's been the only girl in your life for the last couple of years. Are you sure you don't want your first kiss to be with her?"

Harry shivered again, rather pleasantly this time. Kissing Hermione was a nice idea, one he'd had a few times before. But it was never going to happen, was little more than wishful thinking. Hermione would never lower herself to something like that, and especially not with him.

"Me and Hermione we're ... complicated," Harry replied. "She's my best friend, my best person, and I know she's a girl and everything but it's ... different. It might spoil everything we have, and I don't want that. She doesn't either, I don't think. And besides, she's never said she wants to kiss me or anything, and she's not the kind to not say if she wanted to. Which she hasn't. So I assume she doesn't."

"I don't think it works like that ... unless you don't want to say something that might hurt someone's feelings," Neville frowned. "Maybe you're right, and she hasn't said she doesn't fancy you because she doesn't want to upset you, in case you fancy her, which you clearly do despite what you say to the contrary. Hermione's a thoughtful sort so it makes sense. And besides ... you aren't very fanciable, you ugly troll!"

Neville nudged Harry playfully with his shoulder, just as Harry felt something drop inside as he thought about all this, which was weird, but he went to listen to whatever Neville's open mouth was about to say next. But at the last minute, Neville seemed to change his mind about whatever it was and snapped his jaw shut.

"Well, whatever you do or don't do, I hope Daphne lets me give her a little peck later," Neville went on finally. "I doubt it will be in public, but I thought she was going to kiss me after our Hogsmeade date, but there were too many people about. She's quite shy, see."

"You'll have to whisk her behind the broomstick shed, I'll cover your exit!" Harry chortled. "Just make sure there's no tongues involved. My Dad told me that if you do that before the thirty-seventh date a curse will kick in to give you permanent halitosis."

"Yikes! Is that true?" Neville gasped. "Thanks for the heads up. Hey, maybe that explains Malfoy's bad breath ..."

And they spent the rest of their breakfast discussing reasons why their enemy might smell so bad, which became increasingly ludicrous but were still hilarious to joke about. Harry was just beginning to think that this might be a good day when suddenly Katie Bell tapped him on the shoulder from behind. She had a grave look on her face when Harry span to face her.

"Morning, Harry," she began. "Sorry to interrupt, but Professor McGonagall sent me to find you. Wants you to go to her office as soon as you can."

Harry's face dropped. "What for? I haven't done anything. At least, I don't think I have."

"She didn't say," Katie replied. "But she sounded pretty serious. I hope you don't get banned from the Ball tonight, whatever it is. My cousin is a dorm mate of Sally-Anne Perks and she's ever so excited about your date. I hope you don't have to cancel on her."

"Oh, I wont," Harry promised firmly. "Whatever it is, I'm definitely going tonight."

Katie smiled weakly at Harry and then she went away. As soon as she was out of earshot, Neville hissed under his breath.

"What can she want you for?" he demanded. "You've been with me all morning."

"Knowing my luck, even that might be a crime now!" Harry moaned glumly. "I'd better go and see what it is."

So Harry tentatively finished the last of his toast and left Neville alone. He moved slowly through the corridors, as though his feet were resisting his very will to move them. When they were quite sure they were in a deserted hallway, somewhere in Gryffindor Tower, Marici poked her tiny lioness head out of Harry's shirt pocket.

"What could we be in trouble for this time, Chi?" Harry asked lowly. "Do you think Aunt Min knows that we've been scampering around under the school to make our Map?"

"Maybe, but she would have told us off before now if it was that," Marici considered. "We might not be in trouble at all. It could be good news. Or she could be warning us about later. There have been a lot of rumours about us and Sally, you know ... Mum and Dad might have asked her to have a talk with us!"

Harry gulped hard at that. What if he was about to get the 'birds and the bees' chat from Professor McGonagall!? Imagine how awkward that would be! Harry thought he might prefer to call off the date after all, rather than to face Aunt Minerva talking to him about boobs and willies and babies and things. So by the time he was knocking on the office door, Harry rather hoped he was going to get a telling off for bad homework or something, rather than to die on the spot by having such a mortifying conversation with his former guardian.

But Harry wasn't there to get told off, or to even be told to keep his hands to himself at the Ball later. What did happen, though, was that he was assaulted the minute he was beckoned into the room.

And the assault was carried out by a very excited, very ginger and very fluffy sort of attacker ...

"Pap? Papageno?" Harry hushed out in fundamental surprise. "Is that you?"

"Is it, Harry! It is him!" Marici purred happily into his ear as she tried to leap out of his pocket.

"But if Pap is here ... then ..."

"Yes, I ... I'm here, too, Harry."

Hermione's stuttering, breathy voice floated to Harry as if he were hearing it from a dream. He looked past the ball of fur in his arms and finally clocked eyes on Hermione. She was slumped in a chair, her eyes glazed and sparkly and her chest rising and falling heavily. Harry felt his stomach knot and coil, knowing instinctively that Hermione must have been so overwhelmed, by the sensation of Harry touching Papageno, that her knees must have given way and she had literally collapsed into the chair behind her.

That meant something ... meant something really important. But Harry didn't have time to consider it as he put Papageno gently on the floor, released Marici to play with him, then bounded over to Hermione's slouched form and dragged her to her feet ... where he promptly tried to squash out whatever air was left in her lungs.

"You're back! Are you staying? Are you alright? Answer ..."

"... the second question first!" Hermione completed for him with a smile into his shoulder. This was becoming a habit of theirs. "Yes, I'm fine. And yes, I'm back for good."

"Great! That's so great! We've got so much to catch up on!" Harry sang. He still hadn't let go of her. It was as if his arms had forgotten how to do it. But since Hermione wasn't complaining, Harry assumed it was okay to keep holding her like this.

"Can I at least get unpacked first?" Hermione laughed.

"Oh, yeah. Course."

"If you let go of me, I'll let you wheel my trunk to the Common Room if you like," Hermione teased.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Harry blushed, finally letting go and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he saw who else was in the room. "Hi, Lyra. Hello, Pan. How have things been with you?"

"Eventful," Lyra smirked back. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm just glad you're all in one piece," Harry replied. "After all that happened, with Hermione's parents and things, I've been worried out of my skull."

Hermione turned her eyes down shyly and bumped her shoulder against Harry's, to tell him he needn't have been so worried. Lyra, however, wasn't the sort to sugar coat a grim reality.

"That's why we've called you here, actually," Lyra began. "The threat is far from over. I'll cut right to it, Harry ... Hermione and I are in danger, so that means you might be too."

Harry's mood steeled in an instant. He looked questioningly from Lyra to Hermione and back again.

"In danger? From whom?"

"A dangerous witch named Bellatrix Lestrange," Professor McGonagall informed him. "She was one of You-Know-Who's most rabid supporters before his downfall. We need to proceed carefully now that she's on the loose."

Harry felt his breath catch painfully in his chest. "Is that the same one who escaped from Azkaban? The one who tortured Neville's parents?"

Hermione gasped in shock. "She did what?"

So Harry proceeded to tell her, as fluently and quickly as he could, about all that had happened regarding that situation, from the stories of Lestrange's escape to Neville's experiences with the Boggart-Dementor in the Defence class. Hermione was a captive audience, hissing and gasping in all the right places, until she could cut in when Harry drew breath and came to a stop.

"So, she was Alice Longbottom's best friend at school, she tortured both Neville's parents and broke their minds, which led them to my world, and now she's on the run and targeting Lyra?" Hermione surmised in a whisper. "Could she get any scarier?"

"She can," Harry murmured. "She's been spotted in this part of the country. Nothing definite, but there have been supposed sightings very near to here."

"In that case, Hermione, you are not to leave the school grounds, not for anything," Lyra insisted firmly. She turned to Professor McGonagall. "As Head of her House, I will leave it to you to make sure my wishes are carried out. No village visits or anything of that nature."

"You can be assured of my vigilance," Professor McGonagall nodded in solemn reply.

"No, that isn't fair!" Harry protested loudly. "Hermione and I were looking forward to visiting Hogsmeade, I was going to show her around the best sights."

Then he turned to Hermione with the guiltiest look he'd ever worn.

"Sorry, I ... I've already been. I know I said we'd see it together, but ... but ... er ..."

The words he needed to say jammed at odd angles in Harry's throat. He found it nearly impossible to confess to Hermione what he'd done. But what she said next floored him.

"It's okay," Hermione soothed in a cloud-soft voice, which she dropped so low that only Harry could hear her. "I know."

Now, Harry had suffered many injuries in his short life, from being 'blessed' by the alchemical deity of the Sowilo rune, with a lightening-bolt scar on his temple, to having all the bones in his arm dissolved by the hapless Gilderoy Lockhart. They all hurt, in their own way, and Harry wasn't keen to repeat the experience of any of them.

Despite all that, he'd never felt as if he'd been punched directly in the heart before, nor did he know it would be the worst sensation he'd ever be hurt by.

But this was precisely the feeling he got from Hermione's hushed words, from the sad smile that crossed her eyes. She knew, somehow, about all things relating to Sally-Anne. Harry didn't even have time to consider how she might have known this, as he was too busy feeling quite disgustingly horrible, as though he had committed a great betrayal without even knowing it.

Though with this sensation came deep confusion. For he didn't know why he felt as if he had done something wrong. Harry had come to like Sally-Anne very much over the last month or so, and he thought she was pretty okay before that, too. He was looking forward to their date and that was confusing too. He hadn't agreed to it with Hermione on his mind, hadn't considered the impact it would have on her or their friendship because, well, such things just didn't exist between them.

It was as though they had come to an unspoken agreement on the matter, to keep all those sticky, landmine topics away from the beautiful friendship that they both treasured so much.

But now Hermione had broken the code with the merest of looks. That flick of her eyelashes, the loaded expression in her emotive gaze, told Harry a thousand new things about her without her lips ever moving. She had brought the subject of romance into their world now by suggesting not only that she knew about what Harry had been doing with Sally-Anne, but that she clearly didn't like any of it either.

Even Harry wasn't dense enough to have missed that, or to understand what it might mean.

But the question was why? The obvious answer was the most absurd in Harry's mind, but the others didn't quite hit the mark either. She might have been concerned about losing their friendship, their intimacy, but Harry laughed that off as ridiculous. This was Hermione, the most important person in his world, and nothing would ever come between them. And, in that thought, Sally-Anne Perks didn't even exist.

But in so many others, she did. And Harry struggled to equate that with his guilt. He didn't even really know why he was feeling guilty. He liked Sally and he liked Hermione, but they were very different kinds of like, but equally potent in their own ways. Hermione was more important to him, that was obvious, but this thing with Sally stirred and excited him. He didn't want to give that up either, if he was honest.

It was so confusing, and Harry could only turn one way for help ... so he looked Hermione directly in the eye.

"You do?"

Hermione nodded back. "I do. And it's okay. We can talk about it later ... when I'm helping you to get ready for your big date!"

The hollow falseness of Hermione's apparent show of support cut to Harry's stomach like a hot, rusty knife. It threatened to stab to death the butterflies he'd felt there earlier, when he and Neville were discussing kissing. Harry didn't think he'd ever felt this awful.

"I'm afraid visiting the village will be out of the question," Professor McGonagall told them with an air of finality, swinging the discussion back to the point. "As Hermione's guardian, Lyra's wishes are final. The fact that I completely agree with them only reinforces the decision. No village visits until this current threat has passed."

"Fine. I'll just have to stay here with you," Harry retorted stubbornly, turning to Hermione once more. "Hey, we can use the Pensieve and view my memories of Hogsmeade instead! We can visit the village that way, all from the safety of this office! If you want to, of course."

Hermione smiled, a genuine one this time. "Yes alright. I'd like that. It looks like I'm going to be spending a lot of time in that Pensieve ... and I have you to thank for it!"

"Are you being sarcastic?" Harry quirked.

"No! I totally mean it!" Hermione reassured him eagerly. "Professor McGonagall was just telling me about what you've been doing for me, attending my classes and things. Thank you, Harry, for going to all that trouble for me. It means so much, it really does, to know that I'll be able to catch up on everything I've missed."

Harry blushed fiercely under the look Hermione was giving him just then, as his heart thrummed happily behind his ribs. What was going on! These jarring emotions were warping his little mind.

"It was nothing, really."

"It most certainly was not nothing," Hermione crooned back. "And I really appreciate it, truly. I wont forget it."

"You'd have done the same for me," Harry mumbled, that knot of guilt churning inside him once more.

"Yes, I would have," Hermione agreed. "It's what best friends do for each other, isn't it?"

"Only the very best," Harry grinned back. Then he turned to Lyra and Minerva. "So, what are we going to do about the Lestrange woman?"

"We aren't going to do anything," Professor McGonagall told him sternly. "Or, at least, you aren't ... so get your super-hero cape off this instant, Mr Potter, before you start hatching another of your hair-brained schemes!"

"But we cant just sit around and wait for her to come for us, especially if she's in this area!" Harry protested.

"I like your spirit, Harry, but the Professor is right ... this is a problem for us adults to deal with," Lyra cut in. "But you can relax, because to help with that I've recruited your parents to the cause."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Mum and Dad? Are they helping you?"

"I'm going to stay with them while you are at school," Lyra replied. "They are going to put a slew of enchantments on the flat, to make it invisible to unfriendly eyes. From there we will make it into a base of operations, where we can track any sightings of this Lestrange, to see if she makes contact with anyone suspicious. Then we can monitor them, too. It's not much, but for now it's the best we can do."

"Maybe we can help with that, send you news if we hear anything," Harry offered, enthusiastically.

"That would be alright, I suppose," Lyra smiled, her eyes flashing with adventure. "So long as you don't go looking for any leads ..."

"No, no of course not," Hermione promised, faithfully. "We aren't so reckless as you think."

"No," Professor McGonagall quipped dryly. "We rather think you are worse than that!"

Harry and Hermione exchanged shy grins, it was almost as if they were back to their old selves ... if only they didn't have this awkward, Sally-Anne Perks-shaped shadow looming over them, quiet and unmoving.

"Very well, I think we've warned them as best we can," Professor McGonagall went on. "You two run along now, I'm sure you have much to catch up on."

"We really do," Hermione agreed. She moved to Lyra and gave her a deep hug. "You be careful Mu - ... er ... Lyra. Don't go getting yourself blown up like those poor Muggles in Piccadilly Circus, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Lyra chuckled. "And you remember what I said ... leave the adult witches to me ... the others are up to you."

"Oh don't worry, I've got all that in hand ... or I will, with a little time," Hermione promised somewhat cryptically.

Lyra looked over at Harry and he was sure she gave him a little wink, but it was so swift that he was convinced a moment later that he had imagined it completely. He had little time to dwell on it in any case, as Hermione bounded back to him a moment later and threaded her arm into his.

"Come on then, Harry, grab my trunk for me, will you? Thanks!" Hermione chirped brightly as she guided them from the office. "Then you can fill me in on all I've missed. Start with how the Time-Turner works, as I'm sure you'll explain it better than Professor McGonagall did, then tell me about Neville and this underground exploring you've been doing, and all about Arithmancy ... as I'm so looking forward to that class ... then tell me again about Bellatrix Lestrange ... she's really quite terrifying, don't you think? ... and tell me what Hogsmeade was like and then ... ooh! Marici! How cute do you look all little like that! How did you do that, Harry!? Oh my word ... I've missed so much ..."

Harry grinned and drew a deep breath, confidently feeling he'd need a lot of oxygen to explain all of that, and a good deal more courage to try and justify all of the other things they needed to talk about, for there were a lot of those, too. But Harry was happy ... his best friend was back home where she belonged, and what was not to love about that?