The moment they managed to slip past Filch, Harry was off at a run, and it took everything she had to keep up and keep close without touching him or yanking the cloak from one or both of them. Even then, she was sure anyone looking closely would see their feet appearing beneath the cloak as they ran.

"Snape," Regulus warned from the hallway ahead.

She couldn't risk talking and being overheard. Instead, she snagged the collar of Harry's pajamas, fingers grazing his skin. The moment he'd stumbled to a stop, she yanked her hand away. He looked back at her, expression twisting with anger and confusion and pain and—

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library—Restricted Section."

The color drained from Harry's face at Filch's voice echoing down the hall, followed closely by Snape's.

"They're coming," Regulus said, sweeping back around the corner.

Leo glanced around and then nodded to the classroom to their left, door ajar. Harry pressed his lips together and nodded in return. Carefully, delicately, they shuffled into the room. Leo shed the cloak and eased the door shut seconds before Snape and Filch's footsteps came and went.

"What did you do to me?" Harry asked breathlessly, feeling desperately at the back of his neck. His voice shook. "What did you do?"

"I don't touch people, but we needed to hide." She set her shoulders. "I tried. I barely touched you."

"Barely?" he asked breathlessly, bringing his hands down. His fingertips were smeared with fresh blood.

Leo had once insisted that Regulus let her study healing spells after she'd grabbed Draco's hand without thinking and ended up touching bone. She'd been exhausted and delirious only weeks after her visit to Grimmauld, and her brother had been the only thing that had seemed real at that time. He hadn't even screamed. He'd sobbed, but he hadn't wanted to scare her. Regulus had finally let her learn a minor healing spell before returning to her other studies. She'd always wanted to learn more, but he kept saying that treating injuries would not be a priority in their mission. Surviving would only be a bonus.

"Turn," she ordered.

Harry looked up at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

She waved a finger in a circle. "Turn."

"Why would I—"

She reached for him; he flinched and turned.

She thought for a moment about retrieving her wand, but this was a spell she'd learned and only ever done wandless. The injury was barely anything, just layer of skin lost barely the size of two of her knuckles. She said the spell, putting a hand out, and then dug in her robe until she came up with a handkerchief. She stepped up to his side and held it out. "Here."

He was staring straight ahead at something, but his gaze slowly slid to her when she spoke. He blinked. "Oh." He let her drop the cloth into his hands and then lifted it to press at the back of his neck. "What is that?"

She followed his gaze only to be met by another image of him. His reflection in a mirror she knew too well.

Harry stepped closer. Close enough that his breath fogged the glass every time he breathed out, something her own breath had never done to anything. After staring for some time, he asked, "Do you see them?"

"No," she answered immediately, though she wasn't sure who he was talking about.

He looked back at her. "Here. Stand there." He pointed at where he'd been just before and backed away. "You see them? My family?" His voice cracked on that last question. "They're there, right?"

She didn't see his family in the mirror. She didn't see hers either. Instead, it was just her. Alone. She didn't look tired anymore. She looked satisfied. Grimly so, with her lips set in a thin line and her eyes glittering with victory. She had one hand raised, holding a swaying silver chain. At the end of the chain, the locket was dangling open, hinges loose and metal smoking.

"Well?"

She looked up at the inscription again, and it was as if she was seeing it for the first time.

I SHOW NOT YOUR FACE BUT YOUR HEART'S DESIRE.

"After everything you've done, the least you can do is tell me if you see them."

She jerked away from her reflection to glare at him. "I never did a thing to you," she defended. In fact, she thought she'd been doing an excellent job not letting her annoyance leak out.

Harry snorted. "You tried to kill me."

"I—" She pulled back. Harry was hardly the first to say that to her, but at least Goyle had been somewhat right in his claim. "I've never tried to kill you." She squinted hard. She would surely remember doing that, wouldn't she? She most certainly hadn't ever wanted him dead. Out of sight and out of mind, absolutely. But not dead.

"What did you think was going to happen if I got thrown from my broom, then?"

"That wasn't me."

"You jinxed my broom!"

"Before I had my wand out?" She huffed in incredulity, crossing her arms. "You're useless and dumb," she growled at him, stomping to the door. "I don't know why I even tried to save you in the first place. I should have let Filch catch you!"

"And I should've run us to the third floor so Fluffy could eat you," he muttered.

She scowled at him. "Who's outside?"

Harry's anger was briefly eclipsed by confusion.

"No one," Regulus announced. "The coast is clear."

She yanked the door open and stalked out of the room. Regulus caught up with her partway down the hall.

"He's staring in the mirror," he mused.

"It's fake," she said quietly, fists still clenched. "That stuff in it isn't real."

"Hmm. He was doing a lot of staring."

"I don't care. I don't care about him or his stupid friends or his stupid interested in alchemy or his stupid—" She stopped, staring down the dimly lit hallway. "Fluffy on the third floor. That— It's name is Fluffy. In the library, they were talking about the third floor."

"I thought you didn't care," he jabbed.

"They were talking about Flamel because he has something to do with the third floor." Her heart was rattling against her ribs. "What does Tom want that Flamel has?"

Regulus turned and tilted his head towards the third floor corridor as if he would be able to see it through the floors and walls. "Ah. That explains it. At least now we know what we're dealing with."

"I already have to deal with the locket," she protested. "I can't deal with the Stone or, or, or whatever Potter's gotten himself wrapped up in." She stared up at him, wishing he would look back at her and believe her. But he wouldn't, and she'd never really had a choice anyway.