# A House Divided

Carbonbased

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 21/02/2009
Last Updated: 11/07/2010
Status: Paused

Takes place during "Deathly Hallows" but doesn't follow the plot exactly. This is something of a re imaging of the final installment.

## 1. The boy who...

Disclaimer: The characters in this work are not of my invention, obviously.

Author Note: Okay, here goes. This is not only my first fan fiction on Port Key, it is also my first fan fiction ever. So I hope you like it. If you dig it, let me know what worked and what didn’t (down to grammar and punctuation if you like.) If you didn’t dig it, let me know what I can do better. Enjoy.

Hermione gave him a look that shattered his façade. Harry dropped his head and looked sullenly at his feet. He tried to muster courage enough for his retort but the more time that passed the more he realized that he would have to do more than defend himself. This time it was beginning to seem like he would have to explain himself to her or the argument would never end.

“I’m afraid of death.” Harry choked out.

“Harry, we all are.” Hermione tried to comfort.

“Not my own!” He paused briefly and considered his words, “Okay, yeah, my own too. But I’m talking about other people’s.”

“Harry, it’s going to be all out war. People will die.” Hermione for the first time addressed a subject they had skirted for weeks. Guilt. “It won’t be your fault they die.”

“My fault they fight, my fault they die.” He threw his arms up, “Hell, in some cases it’ll be on my order that they die! I’m supposed to walk away from that? I get to go be a hero, say I even beat him. Then what? I just go on with my life as a murderer and worse? How does that work?”

“Harry, what do you want me to tell you? Everything is going to be chocolate rainbows and marshmallow dreams? It won’t, Harry. It’s going to be war, and war means death, and blood, and pain and loss.” Harry fell back into the chair in the empty common room and let out a sigh. In response Hermione added, “But it also means strength and valor and courage and victory. It’ll be the end of a reign of evil, Harry. They may have joined the fighting for you or with you or whatever else your conscience doesn’t like, but they’ll be fighting for a better tomorrow. We all will.”

Harry looked into her eyes, he knew she was only cheering him up but the tears building there seemed real enough. He smiled at her with his oddly charming boyish grin.

“Thank you, Hermione. I’ll think about it.” He said so quietly that she had to lean forward slightly to hear him.

Hermione got up from the couch and crossed in front of the fireplace in the empty common room to sit on the arm of his chair. They had been meeting in the common room to talk late at night for several weeks. Usually sneaking out of their dorm rooms in the dead of the night just to talk honestly with each other away from prying eyes. One honesty always eluded them, though they both denied it’s existence it was always present behind the thin veil of secrecy that these meetings ran rampant with. It was the reason that they never shared the clandestine rendezvous with Ron or Ginny, or any other member of the now defunct DA, or indeed any other human being aside themselves. They were, if only in these few hours they shared together, and never aloud to each other, deeply and remarkably in love.

From the arm of the chair she put her hand on the top of his head and played for a short while with his hair, mussing it about idly. He put his hand on her knee and slowly spun circles with his thumb and forefinger. This small moment between the two of them was not far from uncommon in this setting. They didn’t talk about how open they were physically here or why they never were in regular life. They just assumed that since this was time for sharing fears and secrets that the touching was part of the healing, they explored it’s deeper meaning in their heads alone, and only after they had both retired for the night. Neither wanted to make this into something that would destroy friendships or relationships. Which is how their love story would begin.

* * *

Harry was tired in class. He was tired in class all the time now. It could have been the fault of his late night chats with Hermione but he knew better than that. Even if he weren’t waking himself up to see her he would be waking himself to escape his nightmares. They had increased in frequency and had begun to take on truly bizarre themes.

He would be riding his broom out before a field of men and they would suddenly begin to laugh at him. Gradually he would laugh along with them and when finally his forced laughter turned into real laughter as he understood the gallows humor of him and his men laughing at death a dark cloud would descend. From the face of the cloud would fall a river of blood, washing him and his men away with a terrible cackling laughter ringing in his ears. Just as all seemed hopeless a hand would reach for him and pull him from the river. It was always Ron, and Ron was always injured in some terrible fatal way. Only Ron never seemed to notice his grievous injury or the horrific scene he had pulled Harry from. He just laughed and laughed and cracked his jokes. He would take them to Ginny and Hermione every time. Ginny was always sick with some kind of plague that caused her face to explode in puss filled sores. Hermione looked always like an angel and as soon as Ron kissed her Voldemort would break through the walls and rend Harry limb from limb. Never during this onslaught would Ron let Hermione go and Harry invariably found himself hacked and clawed and mauled to death while Ron and Hermione made out.

Harry refused to analyze these strange affairs and merely spent the rest of his day trying to forget them. The task would become far more difficult when he had to see these people everyday. His dreams had gotten worse in the days since Dumbledore had died and were growing worse in the days leading up to the funeral. He had, in the back of his head a plan that was growing ever more epic and life altering and of course much more heartbreaking. He knew he would leave Ginny, to spare her from the emptiness of his life and he knew he would leave Hermione and Ron to spare them from the horror he knew his life would become. It was a short time till then, but he would face it. He would tough through it and he would overcome. Or he would die.

* * *

Ginny cried for hours every day. In honest it was driving Ron nuts. Harry would be there soon and Ron knew that if he was still being all noble-hero-who-lived Harry that he would have to show him the ghoul. Ron had told his family a few weeks ago about the whole affair and Hermione had told everyone about what she had done and everyone knew the lengths they would go to protect Harry, everyone but Harry. Ron’s biggest concern was what would happen to this family if he died. He would make Harry promise to protect them.

* * *

Harry looked around at the tattered diner. He wasn’t exactly pleased with the outcome he had achieved in the last few days. He cursed himself for running off. Though it was true that the ministry was in the hands of Voldemort, he should have been a better leader. There were other things he could have done. He would cycle through them in a constant repetitive way in the back of his mind for years to come. It was in that instant that he had to stand up and make the calls that needed to be made.

“How’d they find us?” Harry asked out loud.

“Who knows? They shouldn’t have been able to.” Hermione responded.

“Maybe they can track the apparating?” Ron posited.

“Hermione? How possible is that?” Harry asked as he indicated that they needed to get moving. They quickly pulled off their wizard clothes and held them bundled under their arms.

“It’s possible, to a point. I mean I know they can track it when a spell is used by the under aged, so clearly they could track a apparation by the under aged, but we’re all of age, those tracking spells have worn off of us.” Hermione opened her bag and stuffed her clothes inside, she indicated for them to hand her their garments. “Unless they reworked the spell, but a spell that intricate would take a very talented enchanter. We need to start thinking about other possibilities.”

“Agreed. “ Harry stated quickly, “But since this is what we got for now, it’s what we stick with. We need to go somewhere that no one can follow even if they’re tracking us.” Harry thought for a second before an idea occurred to him that he didn’t like but knew would work. “Grimmwauld place. They can’t find it.”

Ron looked at Harry with a strange mixture of pity and awe, “Harry, you are one hell of a leader.” Ron said to lift Harry’s spirits.

“We’ll see.” Was all Harry could muster in return.

* * *

Harry had locked himself in the bathroom. He didn’t like having the flashes he was getting from Voldemort’s perception and he really didn’t like the idea of talking about it with Ron and Hermione. He filled the sink with water and began to splash it on his face. He needed to clear his head and also the cold water felt great against his burning scar. He caught sight of his scar in the mirror. He traced it with his hand.

To think that something that was so small would be such a big deal. It was because of this bit of healed skin that he was destined to kill another person. All of a sudden he was worried that he might not be able to do. Was he capable of murder? He steeled his resolve. He had to. There was no other choice and he would have to stop feeling bad for himself at some point and accept his fate. Just as he was draining the water he heard a knock at the door.

When he had opened the door a crack he saw Hermione standing huddled by the door in her night gown. She looked like an angel to Harry. Her bushy brown hair famed her face and brought out her eyes, and her gown clung to all the right spots. Harry tried not to stare, he had to respect the boundary in place. Above all the feelings he was trying to conceal about her Hermione was Ron’s girlfriend and Harry would never betray that. He couldn’t.

“Hermione? What are you doing up?” Harry asked.

“Same to you.” Hermione said in her playful way. The tone of voice she reserved for their old late night conversations. Harry felt a pang of heartbreak. Those nights were gone now. He wished he could have them back.

“I needed to wash my face.” He paused hoping to say what he had to without drawing suspicion, “Bad dream. No big. You?”

“I heard you walk by the door.” She said with the right amount of desperation and nonchalance, “What kind of bad dreams?”

“The kind everyone gets when they’re living on the run planning to over throw a corrupt government and kill the powerful evil wizard running it. Everyday sort of stuff.” He said with a wry smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked.

“Not really. Did you need to use the lou?” Harry changed the subject.

“Do you want to talk about us?” She said quietly.

“There something to say?” Harry asked very carefully trying to ignore the obvious suggestion in her wording, “I’m not certain you guys should come along but you insist. My hands are tied you can see.”
“No, Harry. About you and me.” She stared at him, her eyes searching his for the glimmer she knew was there and hoped to see. The glimmer that showed through all his lines and forced strength that he loved her.

“Hermione. I. Look It’s not that I don’t think, or rather…” Harry fought his brain and his heart for the right words to tear his heaven apart. “You and Ron are… He’s my best mate Hermione.” His eyes pleaded with her to understand. In the quiet glassy surface of his eyes he let slip a glimmer of his feelings for her and she caught it. That was all she needed.

With one hand she pushed the door open and with the other she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss she had waited six years to give him. She would be certain if he resisted her, if in this moment he pushed her away and fought for a platonic relationship. If he kissed back, though she would know that now and forever, he was in love with her too. What he did was what she had wanted most. He poured all six lonely and lovelorn years into the kiss. He kissed her with a passion she had never known from any boy she had shared a moment like this with.

When their lips parted she rested her glowing forehead against his. The smile on her lips impossible to conceal and in a short time it had turned into a euphoric kind of giggle. She was in the clouds. She cracked her eyes open to see his face. To see what sort of Harry emerged before her now. Would it be the serious leader or the playful boy or best yet the love sick hero?

What she saw was panic. Harry was looking wide eyed at the floor and his eyes were searching the boards for some answer he was failing to see. She worried that he was regretting what had happened. She quickly and silently closed the door. She stared into his face.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” She asked concerned. When she didn’t get an answer she ducked under his face and gave him a quick kiss to revive him from his stupor.

The second kiss was much longer and split into a series of similar kisses. Her tears of happiness ran down his face and dripped from his chin onto his shirt. Still they continued. Years of desire finally made real and tangible. Neither of them wasted a second of the kissing wondering what they should do or where to put their hands. This was simple, this was breathing easy. Nothing came more naturally to the two young people than the simple act of being together. As soon as the kissing ended in both parties wrapped in each other on the cold bathroom tiles did it occur to Hermione what a strange place to have a first kiss. Then again Harry did have a penchant for ending up I strange places doing life shattering things. Once upon a time he had ended up at the same table she had been sorted into. Nothing was the same after that.

She moved her head to look at him. He was flat on his back and smiling ear to ear. His chest rising and falling with labored breathing as she knew her own was as well. She moved her hand to his chest and stroked the shirt there. He picked up her hand and kissed it before turning to look at her. She opened her mouth to speak but he put his finger up to stop her.

“I can’t do this.” He said with all the happiness draining from his face, and hers.

“Harry, don’t look me in the eyes and tell me this didn’t mean something to you.” She tried to scream but was choking with rapidly gathering tears.

“This meant more to me than you can possibly imagine. It’s what I’ve wanted for longer than you can know. Maybe longer than I do.” He looked away for a moment, solemn but determined, thinking about her and this and so much more, “But I can’t. I can’t do this to Ron. You can’t either.”

“We can’t deny how we feel. That’s what got us into this mess!” She retorted, “For so long we refused to let ourselves have this! This perfect thing that we both wanted so badly and wouldn’t admit. Look what it’s gotten us. We get to be in love from afar all because Ron had a crush on me? You give up everything for everyone and take nothing for yourself and you think that makes you righteous, but you don’t even think about me. You give me up for him as though I don’t feel for you, as if I’m yours to give away!

“You gave yourself away!” He bellowed with a rage he didn’t know he still had, “You dated him. You said yes to him and you shut the door on me.”

“You wouldn’t let me in! You wouldn’t share your burden with anyone and by proxy you wouldn’t share yourself!” Her tears running down her face she continued, “I went to Ron because he was willing to give me something you weren’t. You drove me away and then acted hurt when I went. You don’t ever think about my feelings!”

“You’re not thinking about Ron’s.” Harry cut her off with a cold anger.

Together they sat and stared for a few minutes. Eventually they talked about how they would forget this had happened. About how they would never tell Ron. About how Harry had a mission to do and about the clues they had to accomplish his goal. By the end of it all they agreed start digging through the Black family library in the morning. Hermione slowly started to walk back to her room. She stopped as if a sudden thought had occurred to her and spun around and walked back to him.

“Tomorrow we forget this night between us ever happened.” She said with defeat, “So if I don’t say this now I never will.” She looked Harry dead in the eyes and with honest conviction she said, “ Harry James Potter, I Hermione Jane Granger am in Love with you.” She concluded with a quick peck on his cheek and a long and lingering kiss. She then turned around again and started off to her room looking back only once. He face was so sad it broke his heart.

A few moments later the boy who lived started off to his own room, full of regret and heart break. He thought bitterly of an old muggle saying, “Love conquers all.” He scoffed in bitter regret. His scoff turned into tears. With those tears lost in his pillow our hero finally got to sleep.

## 2. Scorch marks on a wall

Disclaimer: I do not own the Characters. That should clear up the matter nicely.

AN: Part two is here and I hope you enjoy. It could be a week or so before I’ve got more to give you, so let me know if there is anything you didn’t like or anything you did. Reviews (even harsh ones, are always welcome.) In the mean time, I’ll just reiterate that I’ve never written a fan fiction before and hope this isn’t too bitter a pill to swallow. Again; enjoy.

The sun had come up. A crack of bright morning light shone through a crack in the boarded over window in Ron’s room. The light had landed in exactly the right spot on his face that he had woken up trying to bat away the bulb he knew had to be there. He know sat on the side of his bed looking at the door. He was casually flicking the deluminator against the inside seam of his pajama bottoms. He knew that today was going to be important for many reasons, the least of which was that he would probably have to sit around the library all day. He knew a thing or two about Hermione and Harry and how often they agreed with each other. Ron had so many things running through his mind that he could barely concentrate.

He knew that over the next few weeks or months or however long it takes that the dangers would be immense. He knew that his family would be devastated if he died. He knew all of this rationally. Deeper than ration he knew two more things;

Harry could not die. Ron would not let him. Ignoring all the better sense he had accumulated in the last few months he knew that he would not allow Harry to die. Not his best friend, not now and not ever. Even if it meant throwing himself before a killing curse Ron knew he would rescue Harry.

He also knew that Harry was in love with Hermione. And even if he hadn’t known before he certainly knew after the argument he overheard in the hall the night before. That was the wrench in the works. Harry saw her as untouchable because Harry would do anything to spare Ron in the same way that Ron would do for him. What more Harry didn’t know was that Ron was questioning his feelings for her. He didn’t exactly ant to end it with Hermione. During a war seemed callous, also he didn’t know if she was aware of her own feelings yet.

He didn’t want to hurt her if she didn’t know she was in love with Harry yet. Of course he had also thought that hurting her would be a great way to get her and Harry together, but he was terrified of ending it in a way that broke them all apart. He was also deep down struggling with the fact that he may or may not have feelings for her. He could never reconcile in his mind whether his crush was real, honest and pure, or if it was something else. Something like his age old jealousy of Harry Potter, or his proximity to her for so many years. He wished for the hundredth time in his life that he had never asked her out. She made things too confusing.

“Maybe if I let Harry have her she’ll confuse him instead.” He mused aloud, “Course that would mean Harry would be captured and killed. This situation keeps getting better and better.” He added sardonically before throwing his body back onto his bed and staring at the ceiling for answers. He brought the deluminator to his face, “What would you do?”

* * *

Harry had spent the better part of the morning pouring over book after book in the dank old library at number 12. He was more and more certain that he was no closer to understanding RAB then he ever was or was ever likely to get in this dusty, moldy old place. However the more sure he got that they were getting off the beaten path the more sure Hermione was that they were getting closer to the answer. Harry had been reading the same line of text over and over again without realizing that he was doing it. He just kept letting his head replay moments when he made poor choices. He saw every order he ever barked and questioned the worth of them in the same moment. He built elaborate battle plans and thought up chain combinations for stringing together battle spells. When he was done with that he would look back at his tactics and chain spells for weak points. Endlessly dissecting his commands and plans until he was certain that he would arrive at the perfect plan. He never did.

Harry always saw some small flaw that could be exploited. Some tiny detail that he overlooked in planning that would bring down the whole house of cards and get everyone killed. If there was one thing he was sure of it was that he would never beat Voldemort by winging it. Perhaps it was because he was getting so frustrated, or perhaps because he was fighting off his standard boredom with dark, dank and books, but Harry’s feet were keeping time with a rhythm beating in his head. Fast paced and with high crescendo, music fit to make someone anticipate action. Harry could hold his tongue no longer. Ron’s head was trying to escape his hands clutch on his cheek in it’s attempt to hit the table when Harry stood up.

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I’m..” Harry stared off into space for a second before answering, “I just need a breather.” He walked out of the library and left Ron and Hermione staring at his wake.

Ron and Hermione stared at each other for a second in a kind of awkward but absolute silence. Neither knowing what to say to the other. Hermione buried her head into the book she was reading. Looking for something that wasn’t there, why Harry had left the room. Ron on the other hand had always been something of a pragmatist. His was a path of far greater a number options. Instead of pining for Harry while hiding behind a book Ron could simply make a loud noise with his tongue and cheek and make some throw away small talk.

“ You know, Herm, not to suggest that I’m trying to bail or anything.” Ron said with a kind of coolness he reserved for sneaking off or asking people to let him copy their homework. “But I gotta say, a breather sure sounds like a great idea.”

Hermione flopped her book down on the table with a cloud of dust and loud noise, “Whatever Ron. You go ahead and do whatever you want! God forbid you try and help your best friend.” Hermione said as curtly as she could.

Ron had no reason to respond. He just got up and walked into the hallway. He looked up and down, but knew in his heart where Harry was. He followed his instinct down to the room that held the Black family tree. Sure enough that’s where he found Harry.

Ron watched from the doorway as Harry sat and stared up at the scorched place where, once long ago, Sirius Black’s face used to be. Ron knew that Sirius used to represent something very important to Harry. Something that had always been so important to Harry. More than just the hope of a family and the glimpse of what he was and where he came from Sirius had represented a kind of normalcy that Harry had never known. He painted a life in Harry’s mind that was closer to the one he so envied in Ron and Hermione. Sirius was a chance for a stable home and someone that loved him. Something Harry had never really known.

A part of Ron’s heart hurt when he watched Harry stare at the wall. Ron would give anything to be able to erase the horrible past Harry had come from and give him something more fitting. Ron thought that Harry’s life should have matched Harry. Harry according to Ron was always a tough subject for either person to broach. There were times when Ron was jealous of Harry for things Harry couldn’t possibly control. Harry was famous and Ron would always be just another Weasley. Harry was such a natural at so many things that Ron had to work so hard at. Harry was his best friend and that meant that Ron would ever be living in his shadow.

But for all of that Harry was something else entirely. He was kind to everyone. Everyone. He never let social standings or race color his perception. One of his greatest friends was a house elf after all. He was funny, and though it was something that Hermione might not appreciate as much Ron thought that being able to make a joke was the single truest human virtue. Harry once made him laugh so hard he thought for a second that he would never breathe again. Harry was genuine. He never lied about who he was, and he never expected anyone else to have to do the same.

Then there were the things they had in common. Of course they both loved to laugh and make others laugh in turn. They both had the same interests and they both found pleasure in the smaller things. Ron would die for Harry and in turn Ron knew Harry would do the same. That’s what made their friendship so remarkable. No one shared a bond quite like theirs.

“So.” Ron said wading the waters and testing the silence of the room.

“Yeah. She’s something, huh?” Harry said agreeing to an unspoken statement.

“She’s obsessed.” Ron answered back.

“This is true.” Harry mused with a slight smile. Ron decided to go for the joke.

“If they had her when they were inventing fire, man. She would have made a damn lighter out of spit and dirt.” Ron smiled.

“Only problem is she would have made it so boring man would never have come out of caves.” Harry said with a widening smile. The pair broke into laughter. Good laughter. Three parts nervous tension and ninety-three parts companionship.

Ron walked over and took a seat on the floor next to Harry. They didn’t talk about what was troubling him, they didn’t examine the bad situation they were in, and they didn’t tell each other fun lies about how easy this would be once they figured it out. They just sat and stared at a blank wall until they both spaced out. For the first time since they had fled from the wedding they were at peace.

It was shattered, as it must be, when Kreacher sauntered in talking to himself in his normal way. All mud bloods this and blood traitors that. Harry looked at Ron and Ron looked at Harry. They both broke out laughing for no reason at all. This was what Harry had needed and Ron knew it.

“Hey, man?” Ron threw out I a non-committal way.

“Yeah?” Harry answered back with the same subdued laziness.

“Let’s get outta here. Kreacher’s staring a hole in the back of my head.” Ron answered.

“Yeah. He’s been doing that since we got here.” Harry said just loud enough for Kreacher to cough as if he wasn’t listening to them.

Harry and Ron got up and walked slowly back to the Library only sort of dreading it. When they got back Hermione silently condemned them for taking so long before making them read the books she set out. Ron spent the remainder of his time there sending Harry dirty jokes on floating pieces of parchment when Hermione wasn’t looking. Harry spent his time trying to suppress laughter and exchanging looks with Ron every time they were almost caught. Eventually they all packed up their things and went down to make dinner.

* * *

Harry was staring at the ceiling thinking about things. The cryptic message inside the snitch, R.A.B whoever that was and what he was going to do in all this. He somehow had to become both a leader and a hero and was succeeding in neither. He didn’t see it going down like this. He always thought it would be a series of epic battles. Sure he figured he would probably die early on, but he saw it that way. He just didn’t think it would be him and his friends on the run. Then again ideally he had hoped it would just be him and Voldemort in an open field with only enough time for one well chosen spell in a wizard’s duel. Voldemort ruined all that with these goddamn Horcruxes.

“R.A.B” Harry said as he stared past his hand to the ceiling. On the face of things he was a different guy. He was this hapless amateur magician leading a pack of more talented and knowledgeable magicians. Hell if he was going to be completely accurate he would say that he was a kid leading some kids to their death. Pleasant thoughts like this kept him up most nights.

“Rudolf Aaron Bag-shot?” He mulled it over, “No. Ridiculous. B. Benson, Barry, Bruce… BLACK!” With that Harry tore out of his room and down the hall headed straight for room he knew his answer would be in. He knew he had seen a name that began with an “R” on the wall in the room that housed the Black family tree. He just had to know what the middle initial was. He could almost feel that he was right.

In his hurry he tripped over Kreacher causing the little house elf to spin out of control against a wall and Harry himself to land flat on his face snapping his glasses at the bridge. He got up and pressed forward, ignoring the broken glasses, the noise and the wailing house elf. He had to be sure. He didn’t have time to be distracted. As he rounded the corner he whipped his wand from his back pocket and shouted “lumos!” much louder than he had intended to. He ran through the door way and shoved his nose against the wall and his wand against his nose. He began to scan the wall frantically for the name he was certain he would find.

As soon as he wound his way around to the scorched out portrait of Sirius he saw that Sirius’ brother’s portrait was also blackened against the shade of the wall. He thought that odd. He had remembered Sirius saying that his brother was considered the good son, and in a family of muggle haters that would mean his portrait should still be intact. Suddenly his heart welled inside his chest. There was only one reason old Lady Black removed a portrait. This was looking like the first big breakthrough.

Sure enough under the scorch mark was inscribed the name “Regulus A. Black.” Harry took pause and backed slowly from the wall. There could be no other answer, this was the guy. He was sure of it. He just had to find out where the real locket was. Just that moment he heard Hermione from the doorway.

“Harry? Your glasses?” She was holding the shattered remains of his specs in her palms. A curious look plastered across her face. Ron arrived shortly afterward equally puzzled. Harry just pointed his glowing wand at the wall. Taking the hint they gathered around and stared at the spot he was pointing at. Slowly comprehension dawned on their faces, but Hermione, his perfect Hermione, was the first to say it.

“Oh my god. R.A.B.” She said with her hand placed slightly over her lower lip. Ron gave Harry a hard, confident look. Harry nodded back and moved his eyes to the wall.

“Nox”

## 3. The house that never sleeps

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or locations in this story. I’m just writing for fun.

AN: So it seems I was a little rash last time, I may have said it would be a week, and here we are only a few days later. Well there you go. It appears that I’m enjoying writing a fan fiction. Well, enjoy, gentle readers. As always; please review. Your feed back really helps.

Neville was pinned down. His breathing somewhat erratic even as he tried with all his might to steady it. He was sure they had taken out a Death Eater or two, but the numbers were overwhelming. This had by far been the single biggest thing that the DA had ever done, and it was not going well. With Ginny in command they thought everything would be okay, but as good as she was with her jinxs and hexes she was not a leader. That was how she had ended up taking refuge behind a crumbling staircase to begin with. She had lead a charge on a stately old manor in the countryside going on a tip from the radio broadcasts that Death Eaters had been spotted there.

The mission was to get information from them. The DA was looking for Harry Potter. If this war was going to be won they would be there to provide him their wands. Neville suspected that Ginny had other reasons, but he kept his trap shut. Neville was a very intuitive guy, that’s how he had managed to sort out what would happen to him and Ginny should they stay hiding behind the staircase any longer. He normally wouldn’t have spoken up, but right that second lives were on the line and they were no closer to Harry.

“Ginny?” He shouted over the sound of exploding spells, “We need to press into the attack!”

“What?” She looked at him like he was crazy.

“We strafe sideways but keep moving forward!” Neville said recalling one of the tactics that Harry had mentioned to him in the room of requirements. “It’ll make us harder to hit and also put us on the offensive!”

“They’re using killing curses out there, Nev!” Ginny shot back.

“That’s why this will work, Ginny!” Neville said as he stood up and put his plan into action. For one terrifying moment she thought that he was going to die out there as a burst of green sped past his head. Neville had deftly ducked the onslaught and continued to advance. Death Eaters had begun to fall by the wayside of leg binders or stuns fired in quick but effective bursts. Ginny began to notice that the tide of the battle was beginning to shift. Somehow these Death Eaters were never trained in battle tactics like the DA were. It made sense suddenly to her. She realized that Harry had trained hismen to survive an enemy with superior knowledge and experience in the craft. Voldemort asked for followers and slaves, Harry trained soldiers. They might actually win this war based on the leadership of a seventeen year old boy. She had to find Harry, he was the only way to win. The only way to beat insurmountable odds was by taking a long shot bet on a sure thing.

Once more that evening Ginny set off the DA badge hoping to get one of the three people they were looking for, and once again she was disappointed to find them too far from range. So she did what she had to. She drew her wand to her chest, took a deep breath and joined Neville in the fight. To her surprise after a few hours of fighting and the help of the other DA members not attending school that year they turned the tide of the fight.

As they stood over the crumpled and unconscious members of the Death Eaters she gave Neville a small thumbs up. Neville looked at the men and wondered if anyone was ready for what he knew was coming.

* * *

Kreacher had told them all about what had happened to the locket. Hermione had told them that she remembered seeing it when they were cleaning the house a few years ago. Kreacher had been grabbing up little relics and hiding them away the whole time. When they tore apart the area he slept in it didn’t turn up. After asking rudely Hermione demanded that they start to treat Kreacher with respect, it was killing Ron, but it had worked. Kreacher had told them about Mundungus Fletcher taking all of the trinkets to sell. Harry told them to stay put and disappeared with a crack, clearly hot on the trail of Fletcher in the areas Harry knew that he would be. In the meantime Ron was stuck with Hermione and a Kreacher that was slowly getting more and more open and friendly as the days wore on in Harry’s absence. The tedium was murderous.

Ron had been making little pieces of paper float around and act out a short play for Kreacher in the living area. Kreacher seemed to really enjoy the attention, and truth told since the little house elf had begun to make meals for him Ron had grown fond of him. Most days he would hang out a little with Kreacher to kill the time. Mostly he used it as a worthy excuse to keep away from Hermione. Things with her had been strange these last few days. He didn’t know if he should tell her that he knew it all, or that he was conflicted by all of this. He wondered if they should address her growing concerns about Harry or if he should just let it go and hope Harry got better without their help.

A few hours after Harry had left Hermione had found Ron sitting in the hallway throwing a bouncy ball against a wall. She had sat down next to him and asked if he thought Harry had started to seem “kind of dark” to him lately. Ron had dismissed the topic by saying he wanted to see if the kitchen had anything good in it. In the coming hours and days Ron had begun to understand Sirius in a way he never thought he would. Confined to the house, unable to move for fear of trackers getting them, living in terror that they had found Harry, feeling totally useless. Ron left the paper figures floating in the air for Kreacher but got up to leave.

“I’m going to take a nap, buddy.” Ron said walking out, “Would you mind getting me when supper’s ready?”

“Not at all, Master Ronald.” Kreacher said as he watched the paper puts dance through the air. Ron smiled a little at both his and Kreacher’s transformation. Then he turned toward his room and felt the sickening wave of grief and guilt he had become accustomed to lately. Followed in kind by the exhaustion that he was feeling more and more these days. He was losing some sleep over the stress of everything. Ron sighed as he stared out at the walls of this old house. “This place is a goddamn Mausoleum.”

When he got to his room he laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was casually flicking the deluminator against the side of his knee as he let his mind wonder. So distracted was he that he never heard Hermione come in, barely noticed her sit down on the corner of his bed. Ignored her when he did notice her. She clearly had something to say but he would be goddamned if he was going to be the one to start. He was nervous enough just having her there. He had no idea what he felt for her, he had no idea what she meant to him, and he had no idea how comfortable he was with the notion of her feelings for Harry or if that was bad or not. She looked out the door when she finally began to talk.

“What..Ron?” She asked still hiding her face behind her thick curtains of hair. Ron sighed, he knew what this was going to become. He knew this conversation was a long time coming. That didn’t make is any easier.

“Yeah?” He finally uttered. The silence between sentences was as uncomfortable as he could ever imagine.

“What do you think…” She stopped to collect her thoughts. She laughed a little into her hand before responding again, “Damn this house.” Ron raised one eyebrow in a quizzical way. She looked over at him and smiled and he smiled in return. They were friends he realized. Regardless of whatever else might be going on they were friends. That’s why they were here.

“Yeah. Damn this old place. Starting to get how Sirius felt, you know?” Ron said at last.

“Yeah.” She stared at the walls, “Place has a kind of honesty to it though. Makes me feeling truthful. I don’t know. It’s not as warm now as it was.”

“Yeah, with Harry gone..” Ron trailed off. Hermione slowly shook her head and smiled.

“No, I meant like when we all came here that summer.” She said, “Remember that?” He nodded to her both sharing the same memory for a minute, “This was the room where Harry yelled at us that time. God that was awful, remember?”

“Yeah, he was just wound up though. I would’ve been too. Staying with those awful people. His family, I don’t know, they never really grew on me. Way they treated him.”

“Yeah.” A darkness rolled across her eyes, “The things they did to him. I can’t imagine a family being so…”

“Screwed up?” Ron added hopefully.

“Yeah, that’s about what I was looking for.” She smiled, “Still, he came out pretty damn okay.”

“Sure did.” Ron agreed.

“So…” She stared off, “We probably need to talk, yeah?” She said quietly.

“Probably.” He concurred reluctantly, “But does it have to be now?”

“It does. When else will it be?” Hermione said.

“I was hoping it would be when I had been given time to figure out my argument.” Ron said.

“Why? Do you expect this to turn into an argument?” Hermione asked inquiringly.

“You don’t?” He replied back.

“Why should I?” She said growing ever more interested in whatever information Ron had that she didn’t. Ron should have relished the opportunity he had to win this argument, to come on top in a breakup fight. But he didn’t. She was his friend and he respected her and he hated the idea of hurting her, and more so he hated the idea of hurting Harry through her. He was in a rough place.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Was all he could choke out.

“What?” Hermione looked shocked and she was. Ron was declining to get in an argument with her, surely the very whim of the universe must be out of whack. Still she pressed, “Ron, you can’t make that call. This is too important.”

“I’ll decide when I want to talk about the why of it, okay Hermione.” He stood up and walked toward the door. When he got there a wave of exhaustion passed through him from the sheer weight of it all. He leaned against the door frame to disguise his sudden weakness, the stress was hitting him harder than he had thought. Perhaps he was losing too many nights of sleep over all of this. He covered his momentary meek behavior with his concluding argument, “But you’re free now. I’ll tell why we have to break up when it won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

He left her in his room staring shocked at the spot in the doorway where he had been. He hadn’t gotten too far down the hallway when his knee gave out and he fell to the floor with a groan. He swore silently under his breath when he realized he couldn’t stand up again. His body had apparently decided it was going to sleep regardless of whether or not he was on board with the idea. As things got black he heard Hermione approaching him, calling his name. He tried to explain to her what was going on but only passed out from the effort.

* * *

Hermione had floated Ron’s sleeping body into the bedroom after she had concluded that it was nothing more serious than exhaustion. She could understand how he had managed to get such a bad case of insomnia. To some degree they were all suffering from it, Harry as well. She had only managed to get two or three hours of sleep herself the night before. Ron seemed to be running almost solely on that amount for the last few days. He was worried but she didn’t know why and she was concerned that the information he was afraid to tell her would be detrimental to Harry.

Poor sweet Harry. He had to always be protective, he had to go out alone to find Fletcher. She wondered idly if she had made a mistake telling him that she loved him. It seemed such a natural a right thing to do at the time. Yet she had been beating herself stupid over it for the last week or so. She was so mixed up. She knew she was in love with Harry, she always had been since the day she met him. She loved Ron too. It had been such a strange part of their growing up, her trying to figure out who she loved more. The weird triangle forming between them and their confused feelings. Harry had never really shown the interest in her that she had desired him to, but her and Ron their was a right to that. Just not like her and Harry. When she had kissed him she felt alive for the first time in so long, she felt whole and happy. He didn’t argue over silly little things, like she did with Ron, he never lost interest in her conversation, and he always understood the bigger picture. She and Ron couldn’t see the bigger picture. Harry was already moving pieces on it in a war he had been fighting for years, he had something of a learning curve.

She loved Ron like he was her family. She would kill or be killed for him, as any one of the trio would do for the others. But she wasn’t in love with him. She thought she was, tried to convince herself she was, but those talks late night with Harry had been something. Something she didn’t understand completely at the time. There was a kind of warmth and compassion in him that she was sure he only let her see. A fear too. He had let her see him in a way that opened her eyes to who he was.

She had fallen more totally for him during those conversations than she had for any other person or thing in her life. It had been slow at first, small moments when his smile gave her heart pause, or the tingle of electricity that ran through her whenever they made accidental contact, the wonderful hidden things about him that she noticed for the first time. It was clear in her mind by Dumbledore’s funeral that Harry was the man for her. She cheered secretly to herself when he had broken it off with Ginny and felt terrible about her feelings when Ginny’s mournful letters had found her by owl. She couldn’t keep him from her mind and she knew from the flicker in his bright green eyes that he felt the same.

He was so different now though. He was so much darker. He would spend so much time in his own head, thinking about who knows what. He would talk less and he always seemed to have a weight on his shoulders that he couldn’t quite bear. He was angry more often and he would let it build up rather than act out on it. He would just clamp up and finish what he was doing before he left the room without a word. He only came to life when he had a lead on his mission. He was only Harry again when he was fighting his goddamn war.

This war was making him into some dark brooding monster. It was inevitable she realized, he would have to change to become the leader he would have to be. He would have to change to win, she just hoped that he would be able to find his way back to the charming man she was falling so deeply in love with.

* * *

The shadow from Gringotts tower had cast a pallor over the streets of Diagon Alley. An overcast sky gave the shadow, as it did the street, a death like feeling. The streets being almost totally empty did little to swing the mood up. Harry didn’t care. His mood was appropriate for the weather. This guy had stolen from him. Stolen from Sirius. Desecrated the memory of the only real family Harry had ever known. Then when the going got tough the little weasel had gone into hiding. The scamp was too cowardly to face Voldemort. He wouldn’t hide from Harry. He couldn’t.

Harry had been all over the Wizarding world in the past few days. Nowhere a success. He had turned over every back-water dive he knew of and a few he had only discovered on the trip. Fletcher was nowhere to be found. With each failure he became increasingly more desperate to find Fletcher so he could finally start out on his mission. Harry headed straight for the Leaky cauldron, passing a hooded witch or scared old wizard on the way. No one noticed him, no one recognized him, for once the terror of Voldemort was working to Harry’s benefit.

Harry walked through the doors and took a seat near the back of the pub area. He slid the hood of his coat farther down his face, obscuring the all too famous scar on his forehead. He scanned the bar for the ruddy face he knew had to be here. Harry had come here four days ago only to find that Fletcher wasn’t there. Tom, the bartender had looked sick and pale. His eyes had recessed into his head and he was slow moving. Today he was doing no standing and even less movement. He was confined to his chair and had left the bar in the hands of some young man Harry didn’t recognize.

Someone came over and took Harry’s order. Harry didn’t pay attention to who, or even what he ordered, he just pointed at something on the menu. Harry’s attention was on the patrons of the very empty bar. There were two old drunks by the window, nursing their fire whiskey with a protectiveness that spoke of their need. There was a young man, around his age, in black robes. He had a foreign accent and a sinister air about him. Death Eater if Harry had ever seen one. In the far corner was a small group of filthy men in the middle ages, each talking in slow circles around the others. Conmen trying to con each other.

Eventually Harry spotted his man. Fletcher was in the corner slightly obscured by a shadow lingering over the wall with the other conmen. Fletcher seemed to be having the worst luck of the bunch and was going largely ignored by his companions. He was a very unattractive shade of desperate and drunk. Harry waited. Fletcher ordered another round. Harry waited. Fletcher ran out of money as the night grew on and started to beg friends and passers by for change so he might continue to drink. Harry waited. Eventually Fletcher’s friends emptied out with the rest of the bar, leaving only the possible Death Eater and Fletcher. Harry waited. The possible Death Eater got up and walked upstairs, clearly he had gotten a room. Harry waited. Finally Fletcher stood and walked with a shaky drunken gate from the bar. Harry followed.

Harry kept within six feet of Fletcher’s retreating back at all times. He was waiting for the moment, he didn’t know what that moment was going to be, but knew he would act when he saw it. Fletcher turned a corner and went down an alley, Harry hitched his step his moment growing closer. When Harry turned the corner he saw Fletcher bent over some rubbish. The smell of vomit hung heavy in the air. Fletcher looked up and saw Harry walking fast toward him. Fletcher panicked and tried to run away, but fell after only a few steps. His drunken feet traitors at a crucial time Fletcher began to crawl.

Harry walked over and grabbed Fletcher roughly by the collar of his filthy shirt and slammed him against an adjacent wall. Harry was quick, but with Fletcher drunk Harry might as well have been moving at semi-sonic speeds. Harry had his wand out of his back pocket and jammed into the fleshy area under Fletcher’s chin in moments. Fletcher stammered out little apologies to people he thought Harry was but Harry only dug his wand tip deeper.

“Where’s the locket?” Harry barked.

“What locket?” Fletcher spit out.

“The one you stole from the House of Black!” Harry shouted as he flung back his hood to reveal his burning green eyes and the world’s most famous scar. A light rain had begun to pour over the darkening street. Fletcher’s panic was growing more and more with each passing second, his tongue swelling in his mouth making it hard to speak. Harry was growing more and more impatient by the moment. “WHERE IS IT!”

“I..I done. It..they took it from me Harry.” Fletcher stammered out.

“WHO!” Harry bellowed.

“Last year. They pinched me comin’ offa the street, down that way an they took what I had then, they did, I swear it to ya Harry I swear it.” He said almost begging Harry to understand.

“WHO GODDAMN YOU! WHO?” Harry screamed as he pulled Fletcher’s face closer to his own.

“Ministry lady what tried my case, Harry. Lady what did it, Harry. I swear it Harry, I swear it. He was my friend Harry, he woulda let me have the stuff, he woulda, he liked me he did, I know he did. He had stuff in common, Harry. I wasn’t tryin’ta hurt nobody.” He choked out.

“WHAT MINISTRY LADY?” Harry didn’t want Fletcher to keep going, he couldn’t stand to hear this monster say Sirius’ name.

“Little one with the kid’s haircut. Made a little cough noise. Looked like a toad I thought.” Fletcher said causing memories of Umbridge to cascade through Harry’s mind. He looked down at his hand. The raindrops failed to obscure the little red letters seared forever in his flesh. ‘I mustn’t tell lies’.

“Are you sure.” Harry asked with a cold complacency.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure, you know, sure. Harry look,” Fletcher looked imploringly at Harry, “I didn’t mean to make nobody mad or nothing like that, I swear it. I jus’ figgered that with Sirius gone an’ all-” Harry choked him out with his wand.

“You ever speak his name or come around me again and I will blow your head from your shoulders and sleep well that night. You understand me? Voldemort himself will grimace when he see what I’ll do to you. Nod if you understand.” Fletcher nodded slowly, “Go, crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and never peak your head up again.”

Harry threw Fletcher roughly to the floor and without a second thought Fletcher took off. Unfortunately Fletcher didn’t get far. A shot of red flew past Harry and hit Fletcher dead in the back. He hit the floor roaring in pain like he was being stabbed all over. Harry knew that curse. With nothing propelling him but sheer instinct he hurled himself over a pile of rubbish just as he heard a woman’s voice shout out “Crucio!” Harry peered over the garbage and saw a figure in a long black cloak holding her wand at him. He couldn’t see her face, but the voice was Lestrange. He’d know her voice anywhere.

Harry tucked his head in and rolled toward the lip of an outlet alley. As he righted himself he shot off a stunning spell and a few defensive spells in quick succession. Lestrange was flanked by two other members of the Death Eaters, on that Harry recognized from the pub. Harry fired a leg binding jinx and tripped up the Death Eaters with Lestrange. He could here counter jinxes being uttered as he tore off down the alley. How had they found him? He had apparated all over the world in the last few days and nothing. No Death Eaters in sight. He comes to Diagon alley and all of a sudden he’s swarmed with them. He thought about apparating away back to the house where no one could find him. But he couldn’t and they knew it. Fletcher was mixed up in all this. Harry was not the man’s biggest fan right now but someone had to save him. Tonight that someone was Harry.

## 4. Tactics and Tears

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the other characters or location in this story.

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to get up, and sorry for the short length of it. Someone I loved very much passed away recently and it’s been hard to dig the story back to the forefront of my over encumbered mind. As always reviews are appreciated (good or bad, constructive criticism helps artists grow) I appreciate all the feedback I’ve gotten and want to thank those of you out there that did. Believe it or not, your kind words helped to get me through one of the worst weeks of my life. Thank you all. And enjoy.

Somewhere in far away from himself Harry began to question his tactics. He always did, replaying his thoughts and plans again and again in some recessed portion of his mind. The part where he lives, Harry thought darkly. Still his mind was going to fast for the information to stick to anything important, and eventually he forgot the thought altogether. He raised his wand and shot off a stunning spell toward the big Death Eater on the right and without breaking stride he whipped out another in quick succession at the foreign Death Eater as well. His plan was dangerous, but it was the best he could come up with.

They were in an alleyway. Confined. Bottle necked. They could only go two ways. He could only go two ways. They would expect him to run. To grab the poor beaten and tortured Fletcher from the ground and make a quick get away. Harry had to send a message. They only way to do that was to be big and loud and totally unafraid. To do the exact opposite of what was expected of him. Which is how he had ended up running full out down the alleyway and straight for the people casting killing curses.

He was zigzagging to make himself harder to hit, but his sheer speed had caught them off guard. Fletcher looked on in terror at Harry’s apparent reckless abandon. The big Death Eater dropped to his knees and spit blood on the ground when Harry’s stunning spell made contact with his breast plate. The foreigner was thrown against a wall and slid down it very unconscious. LeStrange reeled her wand back and began to shout the first syllable of the killing curse when Harry had finally come face to face with her. With his free hand he pushed his fist forward in a powerful haymaker. His punch combined with the momentum from his run connected with LeStrange’s nose. A deafening crack rang out and Harry felt her nose break beneath his closed fist. She fell to the ground clutching her bleeding nose, wailing furious because without her nose she couldn’t utter words properly to cast magic.

Unorthodox, yes, but very effective. Harry’s knuckles burned from his contact but he pushed the pain away so he could concentrate on the moment. He stared back at Fletcher and waited for the older Wizard to whisk himself away. When Fletcher had finally gotten the clue and disappeared Harry grabbed the robes of the large Death Eater and told him very discreetly to pass on the message. The wizard nodded slowly as he looked on his beaten and defeated comrades. Harry left him with a simple sentence, “Tell him he can’t scare me anymore.”

* * *

Hermione was pacing in the kitchen. The days had become weeks and Harry was still gone. She would be lying to say she wasn’t worried. Her heart had pined for him in a way she thought impossible only a few years before. She had tried to distract herself by reading up on Horcruxs and how they’re made. Her stolen library books were set by her bedside for convenient access at the end of her days. The kitchen however was the one place she felt certain she could find her other mystery. Ron.

She was confused about him breaking up with her, pleased with the freedom to be with Harry, but confused. She was afraid that she had hurt Ron. She loved Ron very much, he was her friend and her brother. The very thought of brining him any pain was tearing away at her heart. She didn’t want him to feel like a third wheel, she knew that was his big fear, that one day he wouldn’t belong with her and Harry. He had to know that he always had a place, his place was with them always. He had to know.

She had to know as well. It was trite and she hated herself for caring so much, but he had not told her why he had broken up with her. Whatever the reason she was certain that it had some importance in the scheme of all this. Maybe he knew about her and Harry, maybe not. Maybe he had grown out of her, maybe not. Maybe he thought that he or they were going to die. The possibilities were too many and too varied. She just hoped he would be okay.

Her attention had turned suddenly to the cabinets by the stove. She had noticed a piece of paper there among Kreacher’s prized possessions that had not been there before. When she grew closer and examined it she saw that it was a small paper puppet. One of the ones Ron had been entertaining him with the other day. She picked it up to examine it better. It was a very crude rendering of Harry. After some digging she found others. One of her and one of Ron. He had been acting out a puppet show with them as the protagonists?

She examined the puppet that looked like her. Around the crudely rendered neck of her puppet she saw that Ron had placed a time turner. She smiled in recognition of the small artifact from their third year at Hogwarts. Just then a noise caught her ear. She turned to see Ron standing in the doorway.

“He likes that story.” Ron smiled, “Asks me to tell it all the time.” She tried to regain her composer. She was slightly embarrassed to have been caught snooping around in Kreacher’s things.

“I’m sure he does.” She said knowingly, “Harry is quiet the little hero.”

“So were you.” He winked playfully at her, “And I was too, matter of fact.” She was unsure of how to broach the subject, but needed desperately to know.

“Why, Ron?” She asked with force enough in the saying that he knew what she meant.

“Why? You unhappy with the decision?” He asked patiently.

“I’m..” She tugged listlessly on her hair like she does whenever she thinks, “I’m not unhappy, exactly. Are you?” Ron paused for a moment. Thinking of the best way to answer that question.

“I feel kind of relieved in a weird way.” He said finally.

“Why did you do it?” She asked imploringly.

“Because one of us had to.” Ron answered knowingly, “It was better for me this way.”

“Ron..” She had tears welling in her eyes, “I never wanted you to get hurt. I never wanted anyone to get hurt, I just wanted us to be like we always are.” Ron moved closer and placed his hand on her head to comfort her.

“For someone so smart, you can be so dumb.” He said with friend like warmth, “The three of us are set in stone. We can’t be separated. No harm can come to us when we’re together. Don’t worry so much.” She turned her head up and smiled at him.

“I love him, Ron.” She squeaked out meekly. Ron looked down at her with a smile growing ever wider.

“So do I. He’s my best friend.” Ron took his hand away but kept his smile warm and confident, “He can’t make it without you, Hermione. He loves you right back and let’s face facts; when Harry has love he has the best chance for victory.”

Hermione smiled through her tears and thanked Ron profusely for being so understanding, for being so smart, and for being such a great friend. Ron looked at her like she was daft and told her simply that “this is what you do. That’s the rules.” A small bout of laughter broke out between them, filling the cold empty house with a kind of life it rarely saw.

The moment was interrupted with a loud crack from the Hallway. The portrait of old Lady Black burst into a myriad of profanity and bigotry as it always does. A voice, gruff and in a hurry told the portrait where is could shove it’s ideas. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look before bolting into the hallway to see Harry.

He was dirty. His robes were torn and he had blood all over him. He also had a strange determination set in his jaw and a glimmer in his eye. He had a plan, they both knew it. As they ran forward to greet him after his long absence he uttered to them something so matter-of-factly to them that the fact that it was suicidal didn’t set in immediately.

“We’re breaking into the ministry.”

## 5. Rain stained love song

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or world, but it is fun to write in.

Author’s note: I know, I know, sorry for the long wait here. In internet time this thing hasn’t updated in six thousand years or more. There are excuses to be made, person tragedy and busy professional life and all the old sad songs, but I’ll spare you the boring details. Enjoy this latest installment, and sorry about the crude romantic scenes in there, it’s the first time I’ve written any kind of love story. Review if you’d like, it’s always appreciated. And thank you for reading.

Harry was standing in the rain. He was soaked through and freezing in the bitter cold of the London streets. The late hour was not helping to warm him. His watch read half past eleven. He had been walking around the Ministry for Magic entrance for hours before he stopped to stare. It seemed less and less people were taking the hidden entrance these days. The trio had been taking turns doing surveillance everyday for the last week. The security on the Ministry was intense. Far worse than any of them remembered from previous visits. Harry was still trying to work out how they were going to break in.

The rain washed down his hair and into his face. The flecks of it on his glasses made it hard to see out of. He thought for a minute about wiping them on his shirt, but knew it wouldn’t matter since his shirt was drenched too. He was out of options and his shift was over minutes ago. He had some degree of dread about going back to Number Twelve. There was an air about the place since he had gotten back. An coldness between Ron and Hermione had developed.

Harry found himself hoping that it had nothing to do with the moment shared with Hermione in the bathroom. When he appeared on the doorstep outside number Twelve he saw the Death Eaters walking up and down the street. For now those guys didn’t know exactly where the house was. They couldn’t see it by themselves. Otherwise Harry would have order them dispatched weeks ago. The thought triggered other unwanted things to pass through his mind. He wondered what had happened to him that he was comfortable ordering his friends to do these things. He discreetly opened the door and slid in while no one was listening.

He took a steadying breath before walking to the living room. He figured they would both be here. The last few days they had been badgering him to talk to them about what was going on with him. He thought he might as well get it over with. One of them had to go to the Ministry to take up his guard the other would be his interviewer. He hoped they had decided that Ron would stay. Harry could talk to Ron without the aching desire to claw his own eyes out. With Hermione he had to fight his own nature. He had managed to get away with few conversations alone with her, none of which lasted more than a few minutes at a time.

When Ron and Hermione saw him walk in Ron jumped to his feet and disappeared on the spot. Harry and Hermione exchanged a very small, very worried look. Both of them knew the energy floating in the room was palpable. They both knew that either of them was a single sentence away from embrace. The love between them had a kind of pull over him. Harry found himself sitting down in the recliner Ron had recently vacated. Hermione gave him a curious sidelong look. As though testing the waters. Since Harry had gotten home his reactions were getting harder and harder for her to read. If he had known that he would have been proud of himself.

Harry was working very hard to make himself seem unpredictable in moments when he is actually calculating. He figured the harder he was for people to read the better chance he had to keep his plans from getting out. He was trying to fight a war all of a sudden, he was taking strange precautions. Not that any of that was helping her. She was making a very strained effort not to stare off into his deep green eyes.

This strange mystery he had come back as was even more compelling than she thought it was. She wanted to understand him. To raid his bastion and come away with secret knowledge of her love that he hides away deep enough for only her to see. She dreamed of Harry telling her everything. She knew that he seldom told either one of the everything. Just enough to get them to speed. She some days couldn’t reconcile this leader they had with the delicate skinny little boy she had so long ago fallen in love with.

Harry sifted a little in his seat. His nervousness was far beyond anything he had ever remembered having with his other crushes. It should have been obvious to him before, but it wasn’t for whatever reason. It was different with Hermione because he felt differently about her. Those girls were little crushes and his feelings now were somehow more. That’s not to say it made any of this any easier for either one.

An unspoken battle had been played out over the course of the last few days. Harry had not asked what had transpired in the house while she was alone with Ron, she didn’t ask what he had done while gallivanting across the wizarding world alone for however long, and neither of them said anything about what had happened between them in the bathroom. The challenge was equal parts spite and nerves. The first to mention anything would appear the weaker one, however neither had the courage to actually bring anything up. Out of this logical paradox a war of the wills had commenced.

The silence was reaching fever pitch. Harry began to worry that if it continued he might actually explode from nerves. He thought he knew what she wanted to know, but he was unsure how to bring it up in a delicate way. There were only so many approaches that would lead to an outcome that didn’t end with him heartbroken over breaking her heart. He had come to a few realizations in his time traveling about looking for Fletcher. One of those was something so horrible it made his skin crawl. Not accepting Hermione’s love. How could he start this conversation in a good fashion? Luckily for Harry she brought it up first.

“What is it, Harry?” She said clearly at her wit’s end, “Is it Ginny? Do you still love her? Because for the life of me..I..I just can’t figure it out! I told you that Ron broke up with me, we’re free to fall in love. What is it!”

“I..” Harry paused and thought for a while as Hermione stared daggers into his face, “It’s not that I don’t… Christ Hermione! Can’t you for a second appreciate the position I’m in?!” He finally shot back to spite her chilling quiet. Hermione looked hurt for a few seconds before the expression turned to righteous anger.

“I appreciate your position perfectly well, Harry!” She shouted, “You don’t seem to appreciate mine! Okay! I get it, you’re the goddamn boy that lived, and a war crawled up and bite itself into your life without giving you mare than a few years to become the super wizard hero that the whole world expects and needs you to be. I know it’s hard for you, Harry, I know. But the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t have to be. This is not a cross you have to bear on your own. Take the weight of one shoulder and put it on mine. We can carry it together. It doesn’t have to be your beast of burden. It’ll crush you before it’s over, win or lose.”

“IT IS MINE TO BEAR! THE MORE PEOPLE I LET INTO THIS THE MORE BLOOD ENDSUP ON MY FUCKING HANDS!YES, OKAY, YOU’RE RIGHT!” Harry shouted so resolutely that Hermione was shocked into silence. Harry to the temporary lapse to continue, “This’ll kill me if I let it. I know that. But it’s my responsibility and no one else’s. And I know how this all sounds, I know I sound like some mewling martyr wannabe. I know. It’s just, if I caused your death… I would rather die is all.”

Hermione looked deeply touched and put her hand on Harry’s face. She caressed his cheek and on sheer instinct he let his face push lovingly against her warm palm. She stared into his eyes before leaning in and kissing him. He was dumbfounded by her action, and by the slow, sweet kiss that consumed most of his brain function. As the kiss deepened a soft groan traveled from her throat to his mouth and filled him with electricity. When the kiss ended she lingered her lips on his, brushing his bottom lip lightly with her top lip. This sent small tingles up and down both of their spines. She put her forehead against his and stared into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. Before I knew who you were, before I even saw the scar.” She whispered to him. He made a soft noise of acknowledgment, “It’s been so hard to watch you, encourage you to go after girls when I loved you all along. I’ve spent so many nights I spent locked up in my dorm room crying my eyes out over you. This, this moment, the fact that I can tell you feel the same… It’s everything I’ve wanted.”

A darkness crept into Harry’s eyes. So powerful a switch that it made Hermione recoil slightly, withdrawing her forehead from his. He stared into her eyes pleadingly, practically begging her to understand what had to come next. He knew she had his thoughts worked out, he also knew that he would still have to say it.

“Hermione, I can’t. I can’t do this.” He pushed her away slightly using her shoulders to push off of, “I can’t have this weighing down on me right now. I didn’t even want you two with me” He said solemnly acknowledging Ron’s part in the whole affair, “I thought that I was strong enough to… deal with, maybe losing one of you, but I can’t. And every time this happens to me, to us, every stolen little kiss… I remember that I’m probably dragging you two to your deaths.”

“Are you saying we can’t be together because you’ve got some half crazed hero complex?” She looked sad but still as fierce as ever. It was that fire in her that Harry loved most.

“I’m saying that when this ministry job is done I want you and Ron as far from me as possible. I have dangerous work to do.” Harry said turning his back on her.

“Fine.” She choked out. Harry turned to her in shock at her sudden surrender. Her eyes were filled with tears and the look on her face was positively murderous, “You want to throw everything away, you do what you want. Go get yourself killed, forget about me, about Ron, about what your heart tells you is true, forget it all. I’m done arguing with you. If this doesn’t feel real and natural to you then you clearly don’t feel the same as I do.” With that Hermione silently turned around and walked up the stairs leaving Harry cold, miserable and defeated in the living room.

* * *

Ginny watched as the rain poured against the windows in the small inn room she was sharing with Luna Lovegood. After Neville had managed to get the information of the Harry Potter sighting in Diagon Alley she had rushed the D.A. there. She was sure she was getting closer to finding them, she was almost totally certain. She had been asking everyone on the strangely bare streets that would speak to her about the sighting and no new information was coming out. She put her hood up and decided to go for a short walk in the rain. Just as she was leaving Luna traipsed in soaking wet and barefoot.

“Hello, Ginny.” Luna said as she smiled her intoxicated smile, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a walk, I want to clear my head.” Ginny tried with every fiber to sound like a leader. She had decided to be strong over the summer. Her plan was to find Harry and join in the fight against He-who-must-not-be-named. Of course who could maintain any semblance of control with Luna around.

“It’s a fine day for it. The rain is heavy, it’ll keep the head flemgins at bay.” Luna continued her too-cheerful smile.

“Great.” Ginny hurried out the door. At the foot of the stairs she ran into Neville. He was soaking wet too, though not barefoot. Ginny thought he looked concerned and felt she should try to cheer him up. Neville had proven himself to be one of the most capable and dangerous wizard she had seen. She felt that with Neville on her side they could take Voldemort single handedly. The thought made her cheeks flush red. It was clear to her that other emotions apart from admiration had begun to sow themselves into her about good old Neville. “Hey, Nev! How’re you feeling?”

“Wet, cold and bloody pissed tired.” Neville said flashing his boyish grin. “I was just chasing down a lead, turned out to be nothing. Probably catch my death of cold like this.” He chuckled to let her know he wasn’t letting himself get too depressed. His smile was warm and charming, Ginny fought back a blush. In response to Neville she thrust out her chest slightly and batted her eyes. She had no idea how much restrain Neville was showing by not ripping the robes from her body and making love to her on the spot. Her beautiful deep eyes, her lush full lips, that bridge of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her pert but perky breasts had been all Neville could think of over the last few days. He was trying desperately hard not to let it show. He was never good with women, but he felt it would be insulting to her command if he told her how attractive he found her. Little did he know how far his restraint would be pushed by her next suggestion.

“I was about to go for a walk, if you’d like you could show me some of this dead end lead you found. It might still have some promise.” She said as she touched her hand to the hollow of his arm, testing his feelings with a touch. He gave a small and unnoticeable (or so he hoped) gulp before shaking his head and walking her out into the rain.

* * *

Harry stood outside Hermione’s door wanting to knock but unable to. He had been there for a few minutes now trying to work out what he would say to her, but everything sounded trite and overused and kind of selfish if he really thought about it. How could he explain that he loved her, that losing her would be the end of him? There weren’t words to use that would work. Nothing was good enough. Finally he decided to wing it and gave a soft knock on the door.

The door swung open giving Harry the undeniable impression that she had been sitting next to the door waiting for him to knock.

“What, Harry?” She glowered at him, “This had better be goddamn good!” Her curse was slightly amusing to Harry. He coughed out his weak response.

“I love you.”

A moment of silence followed. The tension in the air so thick that Harry had to avert his eyes. As he stared at the floor he began to wonder if she could ever understand why he had to do this. He felt her lush and plump lips once more press to his. He also noticed the warm tears streaking down her face. He had made her cry again, though this time they were tears of joy at the very least. He put his arms around her waist and she put her arms around his shoulders. They stood there for a half an hour sharing kisses and exploring the other’s mouth with theirs before Hermione became aware of Harry’s hand lingering over her rump.

She looked up into his eyes and saw a passion there. She blushed and kissed him ever harder. Harry took that as a go ahead and began to squeeze her buttocks. She moaned wonderfully into him and he let his hands move up her body in exploration. His hand found it’s way into her shirt as he caressed the hipbone that peaked out near her pelvis. He ran his palm across her stomach sending tingling shivers through her nerve endings. He ran his hand up her back and felt her begin to feel her way around his body as well. When his hand hit the clasp of her bra he paused and looked to her for allowance. She nodded softly and punctuated the silent agreement by undoing the button at the top of his pants.

Harry undid the bra and slide it over her ample bosom. He began to unbutton her blouse as she slowly lowered his zipper. He took her perfectly shaped breast and kneaded it lightly with his palm and fingers. Playing with her nipples before he could even see them. When he completely removed her blouse he looked to her face first. She had forced her eyes across the room in embarrassment. No one had ever seen the parts of her she was letting him have total access to. She had stopped caring how far they went tonight. She understood what even Harry did not; that this was his only gift to her. He could give her this night and she could have it for the rest of her life. Still her shame was paramount. He touched her chin and moved it to face him. He stared in her eyes and let her watch as his made their way down to the perky pink nipples swollen with passion on her heaving breast. She watched his eyes make their way back to her before she saw him mouth the words “you’re beautiful”. He kissed her.

Harry’s eyes went wide and the kiss stopped as he felt her hand wrap itself around his genitals. She started to move her hand up and down in a steady rhythm before he picked her up and slammed the door behind them with is foot. They discovered a world they never knew to the slow and steady drum beat of rain hitting the foggy bedroom window.

* * *

Neville was actively trying not to notice the way Ginny’s wet clothes stuck to his favorite portions of her anatomy. This was the toughest battle he believed he had ever fought. When they came to an alley Ginny had to repeat herself twice to get into Neville’s awareness.

“Nev? This is the ally?” She said, secretly glad that his eyes had lingered on her chest before making their way to her eyes.

“Yeah. This is it. They say that Fletcher had lost a fight and limped off down this alley where he vanished.” Neville rolled his eyes, “Of course that’s probably a propaganda story. I’m willing to bet Harry took out the Death Eaters and left. Why he was here though? I have no idea.” Neville shrugged and rain spilled off his shoulder and to the street. He shivered slightly.

“Let’s get out of this rain for a second.” Ginny said as she ushered Neville under the awning of a closed down shop.

They stood and watched the rain. Neither speaking to the other, each trying to find the way to make the first move. As the debate raged in Ginny’s head over what to say she felt a strange warmth enclose her hand. She looked down to see Neville holding her hand and looking away with a tremendous blush. She smiled at him and wiped the wet hair from his face. He smiled back at her, and with all the strength either possessed rapidly running out and turning to lust the kiss happened.

Neither saw it coming, neither one remembered moving into it, and neither one particularly minded it happening. The force of it was so hard that Ginny was backed into a wall. The kiss became more and more heated as tongues flew into tongues and hands caressed and groped every nook and cranny of each other through the wet clothes that hung from them. Ginny looked around at the totally empty street before deciding to open her shirt and expose her bare bosom to the rain and to Neville.

Neville didn’t bother to make sure no one was watching before sucking on her breasts and enjoying her body. He felt her undo his pants and he let them hit the floor. Allowing her to feel his naked member as it poked out of his boxer shorts. To his great surprise Ginny made a great sigh of approval at his size and girth. He threw her skirt up and tore her panties down before dipping his fingers into her. Her screams of ecstasy drove him wild. After a few moments of them playing with the wonder that was the opposite sex organ Neville grabbed Ginny from behind the knees. He lifted her up and sank himself deep in her. They both let out a sigh and a moan and began to thrust into each other in steady time. They let themselves get lost in this moment of joy, ignoring the consequences of their action. For a time putting the bitter war out of their minds, even forgetting Harry Potter and the frantic fight against evil.

They both though it but Neville said it.

“Tomorrow be damned.”

* * *

Ron stood in the rain as it beat down his spirits on this lonely horrible day outside the ministry. He let out a small sneeze before taking a seat on the bench that the muggles used to wait for the double-decker buses they used to get around. He crossed his arms and let out a bored sigh. He hoped everyone else was having a better night than him. He didn’t know that his hopes were right on the money. He just did his job and ran surveillance on a building he was terrified to break into. He hoped Harry’s plan worked as well as it sounded.

## 6. Rain beats like music on my mind

Disclaimer: I don not own these characters.

Author’s Note: Sorry it’s been so long since an update. You’ve probably gotten that life has been hectic for me lately, but if not then there you have it; it’s been hectic. I don’t want anyone to think I’ve given up on this story. You’ve all been so kind in your reviews, and I’m going to try and finish it for you guys, also I kind of like this old thing myself. As always; reviews are greatly appreciated. Let me know what I’m doing right, what I’m doing wrong, thoughts, opinions and things maybe you’d like to see. Believe me it helps to motivate me. Thanks in advance. Enjoy.

Hermione’s head rose and fell in a steady rhythm against Harry’s bare chest. He had only been awake for a few seconds and was rather embarrassed to note to himself that he enjoyed the view too much to wake her. The problem therein was as obvious to him as it would have been to anyone in his position; he couldn’t get up while she was asleep. Still, the way her hair would lightly bounce off her bare shoulders and the sound of rain was enough to let his lethargic mood stick with him for a little while. This was his moment. In time he would be locked in a battle for his life and the very fate of the world, he wondered if at that time he would recall this quiet, perfect moment.

Would it make him smile? Cast a quick lovelorn smirk at the face of his own death? Would that be enough to spite Voldermort? Or just confuse him? Still the rain pattered softly against the window pane. The relaxing noise making the room seem displaced in time, as if the whole of the universe melted away and had become this room and it’s two loving occupants. Harry had very little happiness in his life, what he got he cherished. His friends, his school, his life as a wizard with his fate removed.

This feeling was something else altogether. A new and fantastic feeling. He felt content, not elated, no, smaller than that. There was a natural warmth in his blood and a feeling of safety pressing in around him like a comfortable blanket. This feeling was new to him, he knew that when the moment was over he would long for the feeling to return. He wondered how this amazing witch, resting so peacefully on his chest could instill such a strong new emotion in him. He had loved her for a very long time, that much he knew, but not until now did the weight of it, the enormity of that feeling, really hit him. She meant everything to him.

What had happened between them was not what he had expected either. He certainly had no intention of it when he came to her door. He just wanted to explain to her… but that wasn’t quite right either. He wanted to see her. He felt cold and empty when she wasn’t there. His mind would race, strategy on top of lingering despair and regret all on top of more strategy with some rudimentary and ill defined tactics for battles unsought all floating around in his head, threatening to break free and send him quaking to his knees at any moment. Not with her there, though. He could only think of her. Her and the unexpected surprises she shored up in his life.

He had always thought that making love would be a sticky, messy, dirty kind of affair. This turned out to be inaccurate. With her it was awkward at first, but eventually so sweet and powerful. An image of her face staring into his eyes while he moved inside her floated to the top of his mind and stained his cheeks a light pink. He looked down to her. She looked content, as if she too had found the solace in his comfort that he had found in hers. He hoped she had.

He brushed some hair from her face, gently as possible so as not to wake her. She let out a soft moan and nuzzled her face against his chest, burying herself in his scent, in their scent. He noticed then that the room smelled of them. It was an odd smell. Two parts sweat six parts hormones but also something sweetly stale. It was not an unpleasant smell, just unique. He enjoyed it solely for the memories it conjured. The smell acted as a kind of tonic for his mind, focusing it on what mattered most: her.

He craned his neck and kissed her forehead. She began to stir. He wondered in that moment what the conversation would be, how it would start, what they would say. He became nervous about his own words, worried about talking to someone he had confided for years. Of course she was always the one to set his mind at ease, and intended or not, her first word to him did just that.

“Hello.” She said with a kind of awkward cuteness.

“Hello.” He responded in kind.

“Have you been up terribly long?” She asked as she stroked his bare chest.

“Only a minute or so.” He answered.

“How long were we out?” She asked as she rotated her head to look at him, exposing one of her breasts to his eye in he process.

“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.” And it was, everything before what they had done seemed a lifetime ago. Now they had a kind of trust they only played at before. She was so comfortable with her own nudity in his presence that it barely resembled the scared young woman who couldn’t look him in the face before. Everything had changed so fast, only it didn’t disorient at all.

Hermione began to get up. She shifted her weight to her right leg as she straddled his waist and crawled up his body. Her nipples brush his chest on her way up before settling down on his chest. Her face hovered over his as a wave of lighthearted passion washed over the both of them. She smiled an innocent smile, her bedroom eyes the only thing that gave away the sweet schoolgirl image she normally conveyed and pushed her look to womanly and seductive. She lowered her face and whispered sweet nothings his way. When he returned her smile she coyly batted her eyes and gave him a powerfully romantic kiss. The symphony of cascading rain a trumpet to announce their love to the room.

* * *

Ron sneezed for what felt like the hundred thousandth time as he sat miserable in his soaking clothes. His eyes scanned the heavens for some potential break in the rain. All he saw was the same horrid slate gray he had seen all day. His shift should have ended an hour and a half ago, but he knew that Harry and Hermione probably needed time to be alone. He hoped they would act on their love in the time he was giving them. He also hoped that he wouldn’t catch a cold out here.

He had watched people come and go for so long he began to envy the ministry officials their ability to get out of the rain. The one thing that had surprised him, and he’d check with Harry when next he saw him, was that the number of people entering the ministry seemed so much fewer. It was possible that so many witches and wizards were in hiding. Even if no one knew He-who-must-not-be-named was active once again anyone with any kind of brain had to realize the dark times they faced. Everything even felt vaguely funereal. Ron wondered how much longer the sickly feeling of being pressed could last.

The whole world gave him that backed into a corner feeling these days. He knew deep in his soul that Harry could free them of all this depressing darkness, he only worried what the cost would be. Ron didn’t know if he had it in him to weather losing Harry, or anyone he cared for when all was said and done. He hoped against hope that he could make it through these black days and live to see a comfortable bright day in the future. He would give Those two a few more hours before packing it in and heading back to the manor. He hoped they appreciated the sacrifice he was making for them. He knew they wouldn’t. He sneezed loudly into the street before sinking his head into the collar of his damp jacket for warmth.

* * *

Neville had said tomorrow be damned, but he hadn’t fully appreciated what that meant until the next day. He lay in bed looking at the ceiling, waiting for it to change as some kind of indicator that it was time to get up. Next to him sleeping soundly, and rather more naked than he remembered was Ginny. His gaze would linger on her for long moments at a time before he became nervous that she would catch him staring at her rather attractive parts through the thin sheet covering her form and let his gaze drift back to the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried he would find his gaze back on her round curvy hips, her firm supple bosom and the part of her anatomy he now knew so intimately. He had no idea how he would handle this.

He also didn’t know that she was grappling with the same mixed emotions. Her eyes only opened a liver so she too could look at the more attractive portions of his anatomy without him noticing. She noticed him doing the same and felt a swoon of warmth spread through her body and across her face. Her cheeks burned a scarlet color, and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She was even more concerned with the consequences of this decision. She certainly couldn’t show favoritism to Nev, she wondered if she should even share this information with the rest of her team. Would it even matter to the group? Would they be happy? Would it hinder their ability to find and aid Harry? Neville spoke up first.

“So…” He tried to find the right words to express to her his feelings for her, but was unable to come up with anything, so he changed tracks to cover, “…I think we need to try and think like Harry, if we’re ever going to find him.”

“Nev.” Ginny batted her eyes at him.

“No really.” He continued, “This following his trail seems to always end with us way too late to the scene. We need to be more proactive. Be there before him for once.”

“No, Nev.” She removed the thin covering from her body, and used her pointer finger to summon him closer to her. “It’s a great idea, sweetheart, but I don’t want to do much talking right now.”

Neville’s jaw dropped before he nodded in a dumbfounded but pleased way and inched closer to her form. Soon they were lost in the throes of passion.

* * *

Somewhere between Ron’s appearance in the house and the meal Kretcher threw together Harry and Ron had talked about the dwindled number of workers in the ministry. As Harry ate his egg-on-toast a plan was beginning to make it’s way up from the deepest part of his mind. He figured that by dinner he’d have something more concrete. He decided to temporarily suspend the duty of casing the ministry for the day so he could concentrate on his planning, on the facts and on something they could do to put both elements together.

Hermione would cast the occasional glance and smile his way now and then, making both of them blush furiously. Harry wasn’t dumb enough to think Ron hadn’t noticed he was just wise enough to keep away from him for the rest of the day. After breakfast, Harry excused himself to his room. He sat up there bouncing his bouncing ball snitch substitute off the bedroom wall nonchalantly while he let his mind wander.

Random images would float up now and then. He could see the walls of the ministry, open and marble. He knew from experience that if you aimed a hex just right it would sometimes ricochet off the polished marble. He also know that these days without the proper id and appearance it was impossible to gain entrance to the ministry. Hermione had begun brewing a fresh batch of Polyjuice potion days ago when she decided that replacing three employees would get them in. Harry knew Umbridge had the locket, he also knew that the Polyjuice potion had a small window of opportunity. Harry had picked out three people who worked on different floors to be the unwilling participants in the Polyjuice potion fiasco. Even managed to get hair from them on one of his shifts watching the ministry.

His plan began to take shape. All he needed was the right timing. He had to get

the timing right or it would all fall apart. Meanwhile downstairs Ron and Hermione

exchanged worried glances. They both knew that Harry planned to break up the trio once

the ministry mission was accomplished. They also knew that they both had too much

stake in him to let that happen. These were dark times indeed.

## 7. Let the them fall, he said, the walls of Jericho

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s note: Let me start by thanking all of you for your tremendous feedback to all this so far. So here it is, finally, the Ministry break in. I hope it’s not too late for you guys. It was so much fun to write, it may be one of the longer chapters so far come to think of it. Be far warned, there be action here. Once more thank you all so much, you’re so positive and accepting of a newcomer and his novice piece that it instills me with a great amount of confidence, and helpful too. Much of this would be so much worse without your great hints and critiques. You guys are just great, but I gush too much, you know how awesome you are! Well anyway, sincerely, enjoy this latest chapter. And as always comments and critiques are welcome.

Ron stood next to Harry, as he ever did, with Hermione flanking Harry’s other side. The rain came down in sheets. Ron racked his brain for a time recently that the sky wasn’t waging it’s wet lightning smattered war on the surface. It seemed like it had been raining for weeks now, perhaps it was an indication of the way the world worked now. Now. Now that it was under He-who-must-not-be-named ‘s rule. A bolt of hot white electricity lit up the world for just long enough to see the Ministry through the down pour. Today was the day. Today they broke in and took the first horcrux, and perhaps took one step closer to the end of the long strange journey they had been on since a little raven haired boy had chosen his compartment on the train all those years ago.

Harry’s plan was risky, but brilliant in a few ways the first of which was the sheer amount of preparation it took. The amount of time spent brewing so much Polyjuice Potion aside, he had them memorizing stolen blueprints of the Ministry until Ron was sure that if he closed his eyes he would still see the solemn corridors they were to burst through. The most risky portion was in the execution however. After drinking their potion they stood over the subdued Ministry janitors (who Harry assured them could go anywhere within the building without being noticed.) bound in thick ropes Harry had scared up somewhere in the manor. The tens had become the perfect clones of the three unconscious people. Next Harry began to prop the prone forms of the people up, tilting their heads back as he poured potion down their throats, massaging their necks to make sure they swallowed it all. Within the space of moments the appearances were shifted and the janitors now looked like them.

“That’s damn eerie” Ron said aloud to the other two. They both shook their heads in quiet agreement before Harry indicated with a movement of his hand that it was time to go. They were on the clock and it was ever ticking down. Not to mention that they were heading into the stronghold of the enemy all the while smuggling in three teenage bodies with them. How Harry had worked that out was kind of ingenious in it’s own right. Harry had determined that He-who-must-not-be-named must have his dirty fingers in the Ministry in order to cover up his own existence. The coup they were warned of at the wedding must have been a successful one for no one to have seen a word of it in any newspaper of note.

Rushing to the entrance and heading down into the heart of the Ministry was nerve racking. Ron shifted on his feet and looked at the ruddy skin covering the back of Harry’s transformed neck. He flipped the lid of his pocket Deluminator up and down in time with his own panicked heart beat. Harry displayed a kind of assurance in demeanor and stance that made Ron and Hermione seem like frightened children. But somehow Harry’s strength also flowed into them and made them feel less like they were heading into an obvious suicide mission. Ron knew what to do when the elevator hit bottom floor, he just wasn’t anticipating it.

When the door finally opened Harry stuck his head out and glanced around. Soon he gave the all clear and the three of them dragged their replica selves to a discreet broom closet just off the main entrance hall. They knew exactly where to put him thanks to Harry’s forethought and managed the task with loads of time and minimal effort. In their stronger new bodies their old bodies were much lighter than they had thought they’d be. Harry’s back up escape plan was in place. Ron hoped they wouldn’t have to use it.

He and Harry parted ways with Hermione. She was on another mission, one Harry didn’t even tell Ron. Ron could tell though. He had known them both far too long to not see them hiding something. After flashing their badges to the guard Harry and Ron boarded the elevator to go up to the floor they knew Umbridge’s office was on. Ron gazed around at yet another elevator. He had never felt so terrified of elevator doors until this very day. He knew that when they opened he would be in for a world of near death escapades. The anxiety was killing him.

* * *

After splitting off from the group Hermione made her way down to the basement levels. Where all the records were kept. Where any information could be found. Her mission was clear, she was to spend no more than twenty-five minutes digging for information before leaving to meet with Ron at the little diner Harry had picked out. Harry had no intention of being there, he just didn’t tell them that. She knew. She knew him. She had a plan of her own. At twenty-five minutes she was going to find Harry and drag him kicking and screaming back with them. She loved him, she thought that she could let their one night of passion be his parting gift to her, but she had grown greedy for his touch.

She made her way to the basement. She did what Harry had told them to do, “GO anywhere like you belong there, like you’ve been there for years, and nobody questions your being there.” She pushed the greasy hair of her new body from her eye and pushed her janitor cart down the long corridor leading to the Records room. One her way she passed several of the court rooms for wizard trials. She noticed on her way a much higher number of people there than usual. She tried to quiet her curiosity but this was not a part of Harry’s plan. He had figured a midweek day as a slow day for the Ministry, they usually were. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if this would effect the plan, and more so if it would put them all in danger.

Just as she was making her way past the courts one of the doors swung open rapidly nearly jamming her nose into her brainpan. She recoiled and said a polite ‘excuse me’ to the feet of someone she thought had very familiar shoes. She chanced a glance up and say the toad-like Umbridge looking annoyed and holding a clipboard with several pieces of pink stationary on it. The header of the pink paper caught her by surprise. It read

Ministry inquisition and deposition of Wizards and witches with unsatisfactory proof of pure genealogy. Case # 17147

That didn’t look good. It was fancy talk for Umbridge rooting out Half Bloods. She was forcing people to prove they were pure blooded. The only real question was, ‘to what end’. Was being Half blooded a punishable offense now? Perhaps Harry was spot on about Voldemort having his hand in the Ministry these days. Whatever it was she couldn’t dwell on it, she had a mission to accomplish she had to stop dawdling. She pushed herself past the horrid little imp of a witch without making so much as a disgusted face in her presence and continued down the hall. She turned down a new corridor and another farther on and came upon the Records room.

Once inside she checked the room for occupants before locking the door with her wand and setting to work. She removed dusty tomes from the shelves and poured into them. After several minutes of research she had a long piece of parchment filled with quick quill notes she had dictated. Hermione forgot how much she had missed this. She was alive when studying. She wondered if Harry had given this assignment to make her happy. She shook the thought from her head. She knew that Harry was well aware of how valuable she was in a fight. She had to remember that he gave her this task because they needed the information and she was simply the best person able to gather it. Though maybe Harry had put her on this mission to shield her from harm.

If that were true she really didn’t know how to take it. On the one side it was the truest expression of love that Harry wanted so badly to protect her from harm, on the other it was rude to assume she had to be protected to begin with. She pushed it out of her mind, she had a mission to accomplish. She had to put her whole mind to the task or she would never get what they needed.

Several more minutes went by and Hermione had compiled quiet a nice list of information. She checked her watch and saw that her time was growing dangerously short. She endeavored to hurry her work along but was interrupted by a loud noise. Suddenly the floor shook and books flew from the shelves. An explosion went off somewhere on the upper floors. It must have been incredibly powerful to have rocked the basement, Hermione felt a sick wave rush through her. She stuffed the parchment into her pocket and ran for the door. She ran through the corridors in a wild abandoned panic. She knew Harry was at the heart of all of this.

When she got upstairs she saw several guards blasting spells around the room at three franticly running teenagers. This was all wrong, and her frantic mind was having trouble putting it all in place. What she saw was Harry running wandless around the main hall of the room in his under things. Next she spotted Ron huddled, equally in his unmentionables, under a heavy desk. She spotted herself next, floating face down in the fountain. She dabbled with the idea that somehow time travel was in play before she was yanked roughly to one side by a man with ruddy skin.

* * *

Harry exited the elevator first. He didn’t do anything flashy or surefooted he just walked like he knew the area. When they turned the corner they saw Moody’s eye glancing to and fro on the door of Umbridge’d office. Harry felt a seething hate well up in the pit of his stomach. This, he felt, was the surest proof that Voldemort was somehow connected to the Ministry. If that withered old toad could collect the eye of their fallen friend . Harry steeled himself against the consequences of his actions and determined to take that eye from her door and bury it like Mad eye deserved to be. Harry took a moment to glance around the office and saw a single receptionist sitting off to the side of the office. He nodded to Ron and taking the hint Ron walked over and began to flirt with the pretty young witch sitting there. Harry hoped it was enough of a distraction to cover his entering the office.

Harry crept closer and closer to the wall making sure to land his steps from the outside of his heel first to muffle the noise. As soon as he was slightly out of sight he quietly turned the doorknob and with the softest steps he entered the office. Once inside he began to snoop around the drawers and cabinets in the office. After several long and laborious minutes he tried to think like Umbridge, as much as it sickened him to do so. He figured that it was shiny and looked nice and she would probably put it in some place of honor. Somewhere that people would notice it if they looked past all the cats she had splayed out on her walls.

Harry looked at the very top of her desk and smacked himself on the forehead. There the damned thing was just sitting on her desk. She must have been admiring it before she left the office. He should have seen it before. Rookie mistake, He chastised himself in his head. He walked over to the desk and pocketed the locket just in time to hear the doorknob begin to turn. He darted his eyes around the room all the while chastising himself further for not bringing the invisibility cloak. He saw nowhere he could easily fit his own frame. He turned on his foot and saw a guard barrel into the room.

“What are you doing here!” The guard bellowed. Behind the guard Harry could see several more and Ron being subdued by even more. Harry quickly ran through a dozen scenarios in his head, they were all suicidal so he picked the one that seemed the least impossible and bolted toward the guard. The guards eyes went wide at his recklessness. At the last second Harry hit the deck and slid through the guards legs and into the mass of guards around him. This was the tricky part. Tricky for many reasons, the first of which was speed, he had to do this fast, the second was that he was still uncertain how well he could perform his secret weapon.

“Ron! DOWN!” Harry shouted at the top of his lungs before throwing both arms out forcefully. He opened his hands out so they were flat palmed as the guards crushed in around him. He took in a huge breath of air and prepared for the worst should this fail him. He let out a ferocious roar that was only just distinguishable as a single incantation, “STUPIFY!”

Within less than a moment’s breath a huge wave of power shot out in a perfect circle hitting the oncoming guards dead in the chest. They flew back like rag dolls from the sheer force of Harry’s unexpected use of wandless magic. The guards that were holding Ron were caught up in the rush of magic as well. Their grip on him going totally slack. Ron, even though he was now free of his captures sat slack jawed on the floor staring flabbergasted at Harry. His mouth was moving in the shape of the word ‘when’ but no noise could get out. Harry, finally with a free moment, withdrew his wand from his back pocket and muttered a new incantation.

“Accio rope.” He knew that in a broom closet just off the main entrance hall to the building he had freed three captive teenager clones who were probably awake and struggling to free themselves at that very moment. Next he waked over and scooped Ron from the floor so they could beat a hasty retreat. The plan was falling apart so badly that Harry had to use his back up. He hadn’t anticipated this many guards in the building today. Something must have been going on somewhere. Something big enough to require a dramatic increase in guards. Harry swore aloud for not planning all this out better. He wouldn’t be able to split from his friends now, no time. He had to put them in worse danger than ever just to get them out of all of this alive.

You better get to be a goddamn good leader fucking quick, he thought to himself. He was going to have to become more than a warrior if he was going to save his friends. He could gamble with his own life as much as he saw fit to do in order to accomplish his task, but not their lives. They were as close as kin to him. That meant something. He grabbed Ron’s arm and bolted for the staircase. After a few steps Ron yanked his arm away and began firing spells and jinxes at a barrage of oncoming security Harry hadn’t noticed. Harry had been so caught up in his problems that he had let his defense drop. Thank Merlin Ron was one of the best damn wizards around in a fight. Still Harry couldn’t let it continue to happen. He had to be more alert. Harry began to submit hexes and spells of his own to the battle. Several hexes lobed by security ricocheted off the walls and toppled things from shelves and walls in the area.

Before long, based on sheer surprise tactics Harry and Ron had overcome the onslaught. Harry lead Ron to the stairs. They wouldn’t expect them to take the stairs, they wouldn’t expect them to know the lay out as well as they did. Finally something was paying off. When Harry put his first foot on the stair the whole area was rocked by the force of an explosion somewhere in the building. The aftershock of the thing launched Harry down several flights of stairs. Just in time he tucked his head back a rolled to his feet, sustaining minimal damage. Somewhere deep inside of himself he smiled, his back up plan was working.

By the time they reached the lobby the place was in utter chaos. It looked like a small war was being fought in the confines of the spacious room. The guards and Ministry Officials use of excessive force on the scattered decoys had very visible ramifications. In the chaos of it all Harry swept a quick glance around the room and saw the body Hermione was using glancing on the spectacle with shocked interest. She was too shocked for this to register. Harry should have seen this coming. They were not trained soldiers, just kids. Ron and he had come from small battle to small battle to this, she had come from a quiet room where she was reading. It was too much too soon, he would have trouble processing the rapid fire change just as badly.

“GO TO THE SPOT!” He commanded Ron, who nodded and made his way through the carnage as though he were a frightened employee looking to escape. Harry admired Ron’s solid deduction, that was the best way to get out. With Ron’s retreating back to his own he bolted across the room. He grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her roughly to his side before leading her quickly to the nearest exit. They would go to meet Ron and leave immediately. They had maybe fifteen minutes more use out of the Polyjuice and they had to be far away before it ran out.

## 8. When the thunder stopped

Through all the chaos one thing of astounding beauty withstood; a boy in love held the hand of a girl in love. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding it the act in and of itself was still something of remarkable circumstance. However all of this was something that Harry had to ignore if he wanted to survive all of this. An explosion rocked a pillar in front of them sending debris scattering through the air and hitting the floor forming divots. A large marble chunk flew fast across the side of Harry’s head. A large fountain of blood gushed from his temple and sprayed Hermione’s face with crimson rivulets of blood. She gasped in shock, worried that he would fall before her feet.

To Hermione’s amazement, and more so her worrisome nature, Harry didn’t slow down. His blood soaked through his shirt and he felt it trickle down past his waistline. He knew that he wouldn’t have much time conscious left, the pain in his head was way too intense and he could feel the blood seeping down his body way too quickly for the injury to be cosmetic. Something was going to happen to him tonight, something bad, he just had to hope, or perhaps push himself, to get Hermione to safety. With every spare bit of energy in his body he pushed himself across the floor, running full out.

Explosions rocked the ground all along the hall. Harry saw a jinx hit the floor before them. He threw himself in front of Hermione to protect her from the huge chunk of polished floor raising to meet them. He caught the piece of floor right above his right knee. The bruise he felt swelling there was a prelude for the fresh new injury. He felt the meat of his thigh tear as muscle loosened from bone and skin broke apart along a ridged line from his kneecap to inches from his groin. Blood was beginning to visibly seep into the fabric of his jeans, a long line of red wetness like a urine stain along his right leg. He tried to stifle a scream and managed to let out a low pitched groan. He caught the fear in Hermione’s eyes for a second.

She seemed so small to him in that moment. So worried about him, so caring and loving. He didn’t let his face fall, he didn’t let it move. He merely stoned his face and let no emotion cross. With renewed vigor he pushed himself past the pain in his knee, he ignored the scrapping sounds, he ignored the blood as it poured it’s steady stream from his head. He would hate himself more than he hated anything tomorrow. If he lived that long. He pulled her body closer to his and asked her very seriously.

“If you think for even one second about letting go of my hand we will both die.” He stared into her eyes as she nodded slowly. Her confidence in him was absolute. He pulled her closer still so he could he her warmth against him. Something in him knew now, more than when he had even when he spoke to her, that he would get her away from this hellish place. He turned on a dime and ran for the door. The world seemed to slow as fire and blood and screams perforated his world.

After what felt like years he finally made it to the doorway. He turned to face the carnage and extended his hand toward the people racing around. He raised his hand to the crowd, he had to buy time. Hermione glanced at him with an odd look on her face.

“Harry, what are you doing?” She had a weird mix of awe and fear rising in her eyes.

“Quiet down.” He winced, “I have to concentrate.”

Hermione went into a stunned silence when she saw a slithering energy crawling through his fingers. He never uttered a word but a shockwave of massive power flared out from his palm. Time stopped. Everyone in the room but them stopped dead. Hermione could barely speak when she saw it. This was something unheard of in magic. Wandless or otherwise Harry was inventing something unseen by the wizarding world. She looked at him and asked the question burning holes in her mind.

“What was that?” She asked, the scholar taking a short precedence.

“I don’t know.” Harry gasped out, “I couldn’t think of a spell. I just thought about what I’d like to happen.” A small smile washed over his face before he lead her slowly from the ministry.

She was filled with questions on the elevator ride up. Who was this before her? How had Harry Potter, brave but only a passing student, suddenly a Wizard with few peers? How had he done that? Wandless magic? Where had he become proficient at wandless magic? When she turned to ask him she noticed his leg. Suddenly all the wonder at his remarkable deeds was flushed from her mind.

“Oh Merlin!” She half screamed half cried, “Your leg.”

“It’s not so bad.” He grimaced.

“Harry, you shouldn’t be able to walk right now.” She ripped a shred of cloth from her robe and began to fashion a bandage out of it around his knee. As she twisted the knot in it she saw blood gush above it. The tear in his skin seemed to run up to his groin. Her bandage would do little more than speed his blood loss. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes as more and more his own features began to replace the foreign ones. The more she saw of Harry the more she could gauge his pain. She knew his face, she knew the contortions sever pain caused on it. Not even Harry in leader mode could hide his true feelings from her. Not now.

She stood up and hugged him. She was terrified to let go. She felt his blood soaking into her clothing and he felt her tears warming his shoulder. The two were one once more. Or perhaps they would be forever now. Neither could tell. They just embraced their unity with every part of themselves. Harry began to feel the fatigue hit him in great thundering waves. That last unknown spell he had cast was taking it’s toll on his wrecked body. He fought off the blackout he felt coming. He couldn’t hide it from her. He pushed her away from him just enough so she could see his face, read his expression.

“Dry your eyes, Hermione.” He implored her, “You have to be strong right now.” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and nodded. He kissed her forehead to show her his immense pride in her and her strength.

“I love you, Harry.” She uttered with the smallest break in her voice, “I love you so much. Please just hold on, I can’t… I can’t make it through without-” He cut her off.

“I know.” He said with compassion before continuing sternly, “I’m going to pass out. I’ll be fine. I don’t know when. I can’t keep fighting it off.” He paused as he fell back. He caught himself and pushed off the wall of the elevator. “You have to take us somewhere safe. Apperate us somewhere. Don‘t do it in front of muggles. Scan the area, make sure no one‘s watching and get us to safety” She nodded, but he wasn’t done, “Then leave me there.”

“NO! You need help, Harry! I can’t just let you die!” She interrupted in the heat of passion. He raised a hand to silence her. His leadership was commendable, his charisma enough to silence her momentarily. Just enough time for him to explain himself.

“Ron.” He said with waning strength, “He’ll be waiting at the dinner. Leave me where you will. Go get him. I’ll be fine. Just do what I tell you to. There’s no time for arguments.”

Just as she was about to debate the door opened and Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He fell face first onto the London pavement with a sickening crack. His nose was probably broken. Hermione had tried to catch him but he was too heavy. She lost balance when he fell but managed to stay on her feet. She didn’t even bother to scan the sidewalk like he had asked before she grabbed him and sidelong apperated him to a forest south of a hiking trail she had visited as a child. She had gotten lost in this deep forest as a child before her parents had found her. You couldn’t get much further away.

She began to tear at his pants to get a better look at his leg. She felt pressure on her arm. She looked and saw Harry’s hand holding her roughly on her arm. She looked to his face. His nose was definitely broken. His face looked like raw hamburger but his emerald eyes burned with hidden power. His scraped lips parted enough to make a raspy but audible word.

“Ron.” He said rough but forcefully. She looked at him pleadingly but his fierce eyes never wavered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and bit back the tears before once more nodding to his order. Within moments she was gone. Harry lay on the floor of the forest bleeding and broken. His eyes felt heavy and his breath was coming in an unreliable rhythm. He tried to look around to get a feel for his surroundings but when he moved his neck the effort was too great and he soon was met with a sudden and intense pain before darkness overcame him. He lay unconscious in a forest he had never been to, bleeding and drawing shaky breath.

* * *

The sun fell across Harry’s face and forced his eyes open. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s bright rays but found the effort to much. He tried to part his lips to call out for her, but was unable to. A tear escaped his eye and moved down his cheek. A tear formed half by the sunlight and half by his feeling of helplessness. Soon the world was black once more.

* * *

Harry couldn’t open his eyes. He screamed out to the world of darkness. He heard laughter in the distance. Cold, clinical laughter, like a surgeon’s knife. It raked across his face. The laughter enveloped him. It told him he had nothing. Told him he was nothing. The ground quaked below his feet. He reached out in the darkness, only dimly aware of his own flailing limbs. He caught on something. He forced his eyes open briefly and saw in the frail hand of an old wizard with Half moon spectacles.

The wizard pointed to where Harry had come from. Harry followed his mentor’s finger up to Voldemort pushing past a heavy wooden door with his wand held high. His forehead burned at the sight. The image wasn’t quite two dimensional but it seemed to be on another plane. Harry seemed to be drifting in a void underneath the image. He looked at Dumbledore with the hope of understanding. The old wizard smiled his wise smile.

“You can’t let him feel you watching, Harry. He doesn’t know what lives in you.” The wizard touched Harry’s face in a fatherly way, “Don’t lose hope. There is a greatness in you that even you do not see. Instead ask yourself.”

“Ask myself what?” Harry said.

“I told you once that Love would be your greatest weapon. Remember who was there when you were at your best and ask yourself how you can win a war by yourself.”

“I don’t understand.” Harry explained.

“Before now you could be a hero. Isolated incidents happen in a vacuum, Harry. A hero is what’s needed to win. A war is much too large to be contained. You need to be more than a Hero, young man. A war requires a general.”

“I miss you, sir.” Harry answered.

“And I you.” Dumbledore answered, “You will never know how much, but you mustn’t lose hope now.”

Suddenly everything went dark again.

* * *

Harry heard a fire crackle somewhere outside. He smelled food and caught voices he recognized. He couldn’t make out the words. He strained to hear and only managed to slip into the darkness again.

* * *

Harry felt his eyes open. He was hungry. He tested his arm. He was able to move his arm without blacking out. He tried to sit up and fell back. He narrowed his brow and tried again. This time he met with success. He slowly, inch by inch, managed to get himself onto his feet. He had clean bandages around his leg and his head. He felt his face, it had been repaired. He squinted around the tent for his glasses. When he finally found them it brought the tent into view. He saw muggle newspapers around the room. A few days worth at least.

How long had he been out? He peered through the tent opening. It was dark out. He saw light dancing against the tent flap. There must be a fire outside. He listened for voices and heard exactly what he knew he would. Hermione and Ron were talking in hushed voices outside. He made his way toward them. As he got closer Hermione saw him first. She leapt to her feet and ran to him. As she got closer she slowed to a more cautious pace before she pulled him into a gentle embrace.

She blushed as she pulled away and lead him by hand to a seat by the fire. Ron chimed in first.

“I leave you alone for ten minutes.” He smiled a sly grin.

“And to think I stage a coup and don’t get messed up until the last few seconds.” He returned Ron’s smile and they shared a laugh that even Hermione joined in.

“So what’s the plan?” Hermione enquired. Harry let a second elapse in deep thought when the tent flashed into his mind.

“I saw some newspapers in the tent.” He offered.

“Hermione was collecting them from the nearest town.” Ron chimed in, “She wanted to keep track of the days.”

“I feel like if we analyzed those papers we could read between the lines.” Harry began.

“And try to keep up with He-Who-Must-” Ron started before being interrupted by Hermione.

“Voldemort.” She said.

“Exactly.” Harry concluded.

“Not a bad idea, Harry.” Ron chimed in before directing his attention to Hermione, “You want to tell him what you found out?”

“What?” Harry asked with one raised eyebrow.

“The sword, your sword.” She said, “The one in the Ministry isn’t real. Gryffindor’s sword isn’t in the Ministry.”

“What?” Harry asked flabbergasted.

“It was in the research I did.” She said with a bashful smile, “I was going to tell you but..”

“I was busy trying to die.” He laughed. “ Where is it?” He asked. There was a slight pause before she answered. She knew where he wanted to go the most in the world.

“Godric’s Hollow.” She answered.

## 9. The Law of Unintended Consequences.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s Note: I apologize for the delay in getting this posted. I hope you enjoy this relatively short chapter. I hope to have more time to concentrate on telling this story when it settles down at work a little bit. Please let me know what you liked or didn’t (as always.) And enjoy.

Harry had trouble getting around most of the time. He would wince when he sat most days, no matter how careful he was not to. Something about his dreams while unconscious kept floating up to the surface. Dumbledore had said he was no longer in a vacuum that he was fighting a war now. Wars need leaders. He was not that guy, he was painfully aware of it. He had to get smart, and he had to do it fast. He would avoid eye contact with his closest friends, out here in the middle of some godforsaken forest in the middle of nowhere, whenever he had a wave of pain wash over him. He was useless to them now. A bad leg and a broken nose. Worthless. They would be out all day gathering supplies, stocking food and stoking the fire to keep it going. All the while Harry would sit in the tent doing the stupid exercises Hermione had told him to. Speed up his recovery.

Harry shifted uncomfortably against the tent wall sending a fresh spasm up his thigh. The pain was blinding as always. The skin was scarred up already, even now Harry was aware that his worst fear was likely a very astute possibility, that he would always have a bum leg. A lifetime of walking with a gait and an inability to run at full speed. He was in trouble here. He looked down at his leg before putting his hand on the magic induced scar. He would learn. He would learn to live with it, he would learn to function properly with the pain. This was his life now. Except the present and embrace the future. Harry’s eyes narrowed and his features went stern. He looked over to the branch Ron has transfigured into a cane for him. It was a nice gesture. It was a cage.

“Fuck it.” Harry uttered as he forced himself to stand without aide of the cane. His face rocked with tics and convulsions. A sweat began to build on his forehead. He soon found himself standing on his own with no cane. The pain was intense but the pride was overwhelming the pain. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk for the first time in what felt like forever. Then a giant noise like an explosion cracked outside. The shockwave from whatever it was knocked Harry clean off his feet. He dragged himself to the end of the tent where he kept his belongings. He needed his wand. When he had it he began to magic everything he could get in eyesight into Hermione’s bottomless bag.

The flap of the tent flew open and Ron shot into the room wild eyed. He was panting, his clothes were torn. He’d been in a fight. Before Harry could even ask where she was Hermione followed Ron into the tent. She was looking just as worse for the ware as Ron. Her clothes torn and her face and hands covered in dirt and fresh blood. They didn’t have to say it Harry already knew. Somehow the Death Eaters had found them. Harry forced himself once more to get to his feet, they needed to see him on his feet. He stood and barked out an order to ready for a quick departure. Suddenly a red flash shot through the tent flap. Harry saw Hermione and Ron’s face get splashed with blood. He felt an odd deeply sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to see a very large, deep bleeding gash, like a sword slash, across the area where his heart and lungs should be. Blood began to dribble out of his mouth. He must have a collapsed lung, he thought briefly.

The red light, it was a Sectum Sempra, Snape was bearing in. Harry knew he was losing too much blood. Way too much. He had to lead. He had to be a leader. He pointed his arm toward the tent flap, hoping to hit something, and fired a disarming charm. Then another. He looked down at Hermione and Ron, they were rushing toward him. Everything seemed to be moving slowly. He was sure that if he just turned to look out the flap he would still see his charms moving out of the tent. Time was slowing down. His perception was fuzzy. He was injured again. Fatally, possibly. He didn’t know. He couldn’t black out, and he couldn’t leave them here. He reached out to Ron and Hermione. When they arrived to his hands there was a loud crack and they were all gone. Harry had brought them both through with him.

They fell four feet onto a beach in the English countryside. Harry had been out here once. It was brief and he was largely in the car the whole time, but it was safe for now. They would do better when able. He passed out then and his world went dark.

* * *

Harry Potter is insane. Neville could think of no other excuse as he stood across from the Ministry of Magic on another overcast day in London. The plan was either absolutely brilliant or he was just lucky and brave. Having known Harry for as long as Neville had it was a tough call to make. Harry had always been intermittently genius and crazy brave. Neville watched as Muggles made their way up and down the busy city streets. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago the world was a very diferent place, and he himself a very different man. He finally ducked into a lonely corner of some London side street. He had places to be.

After several minutes of walking he found himself standing before the ginger headed dynamo who had lead the DA this far into enemy territory chasing after Harry Potter. He loved her. He knew he did. He just didn’t really know what or how or really when the right time would be to tell her, or if there was even a right time for them at all. It was a very confusing time to start a relationship with someone. He was very confused. When she noticed him approaching her skin seemed to glow and her smile widened. He fell in love with her again in that moment. He did a quick check to make sure that no one from the DA was around before sweeping her into his arms and spinning her around. She laughed in pure dizzied happiness as she spun. He pulled her closer and kissed her.

“I hope this all ends tomorrow.” He said against her warm flush face, “I’d finally have some time to show you proper how great I think you are.”

“You realize that once she’s mad about you, you can stop flirting with her, right?” Ginny replied with her characteristic humor.

“I’ll decide which rules I’m going to follow, thank you much.” He smiled before he kissed her once more, “Besides, can’t fault a bloke for getting mushy when he’s actually allowed.”

“If it helps, I’d like you to be allowed all the time.” She said with a hint of longing. He understood what she meant. The DA couldn’t know about them. Neville was afraid they would stop taking her seriously as a leader. She was one of the younger members, and Harry’s ex. She had certain expectations to live up to. They both did. The DA didn’t know anyone better to have her leading them, Neville was not going to rob her thunder from her. All the same, it hurt them to have to hid their blossoming feelings. A spot of light in all this darkness. Still the call had to be made, and they had made it.

“Harry was there.” He said to change the subject.

“The Ministry?” She looked hurt to have the light fade back to reality, but she overcame quickly, “He’s totally insane.”

“Or he had a hell of a plan.” Neville nodded, “Doesn’t help us much but he’s gone now. Some reports say he was killed racing through the main hall, others that he slipped away.” He shrugged, “Either way he’s not her now. I think if he was dead or captured, though it would’ve been all over the place by now.”

“As it stands, no one knows where he is.” She added to his line of thought. “That’s good news for Harry…”

“Bad news for us.” Neville concluded. “He’s not making it easy to find him, that’s for sure.”

She pulled herself close to his chest and nuzzled her face there. A chill breeze swept passed and he felt her shake slightly against him. He would face down Voldemort without a wand for this woman, he knew it. He loved her. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. Their love story had started with a bang, but like all great love it became something more honest and more pure. He wished they could stay this way forever.

He knew, however that what was coming up was likely a battle. He knew only one way to get the information they needed. He had figured it out. If the Death Eaters kept running into Harry they knew something. Neville knew Harry was running, that Harry was doing something behind the back of Voldemort. Running wasn’t Harry’s style. Harry would take the fight to them, it was just how his brain was wired. But the sightings were too erratic. Harry’s seen here and there and always under attack by Death Eaters. They were tracking him. They knew something Ginny didn’t. Had some way of finding him. There was only one way to find out. They had to capture a Death Eater.

* * *

Hermione had blasted rail after rail of stunning spells behind her before she hit the opening of the tent. Harry looked confused. She swept her eyes around and noticed how bare the tent was. Her bag was stuffed full of their supplies. She dove to her bedroll and threw her hand under it. Her fingers searched and eventually found themselves wrapped around the locket. She had put it there for safe keeping. She threw it over her neck and let it slip under her shirt. She looked up in time to see Harry throw spells almost at random out of the tent flap with a military precision. As he put his arms out to indicate that he was going to perform a sidelong with them a bright red light hit Harry square in the chest.

It sliced into him so deeply and so quickly that the blood went everywhere. Harry seemed to go pale. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. He was getting better. He was going to be better. She shouted out in rage to the very Death Eater she knew was out there. Snape cast that spell. Sectum Sempra. A cursed cut so bad it could actually kill. Her vision was clouded with the haze her murderous mindset populated. She stood on her heel and began to storm out when suddenly she was suspended a few feet above sand.

They hit with a soft thud. The smell sea salt flooded her nose. She ignored it. She raced to Harry and began to magically heal his wound. She did a very good job of curing and counter cursing. The scar could have been worse when she was done, but it was visibly not the work of a professional healer. One more scar for her love to carry. The burden of the goddamn war on his form. Physical manifestations of the hatred that spawned this sick clash.

She bent low to kiss his cheek softly. When she began to pull her head back his eyes were opening. Her eyes met his and for a minute the terror and the pain were clearly evident there in the emerald depths of his gaze. She could see the weight of it all as it pushed down on the poor man. He looked so frail and hurt. Like an abused animal. She longed to take his pain. To reach into his destiny and rearrange it. He deserved better than this. But as quickly as it had been revealed his wall made it disappear. She wondered briefly if she had even seen it at all. She knew that was what he hoped for, and that pained her even more. He may have been hurt and sad and lost, but more so he was jaded. He had become cynical.

“We need to get out of the open.” Harry commanded through his grunts. His leg wasn’t healing right. She could tell from the way he moved. She had to get him off of it.

“We need an actual shelter this time.” She frowned. “That leg needs attention.”

“There are hotels a few miles from her.” He said now without a hint of lingering pain in his voice. Ever the warrior god she thought bitterly to herself.

“Then we need to get there before nightfall.” Ron said. “We should probably stay a few days so we can all heal. We’ll drop dead of exhaustion at this rate.”

Harry looked down for a moment. He was clearly weighing the options of each decision. Was it better to heal or would it hurt the cause too much to lose that sort of time. Finally he nodded and began to limp off. She stood to follow him. Ron came up on one side and she the other. They nodded to each other before sliding moving closer to Harry and letting him put his weight on them. She felt his body give a relieved shutter before it stiffened up in reaction to the idea of appearing to weak to move on his own. She slid her hand into his and squeezed gently. After several long seconds he squeezed back. She loved this man. She would die for this man. She had to be sure that he wouldn’t die for everyone else first.

## 10. Who they are on the edge of war

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and have fundamentally changed the story.

Author’s Note: Here’s another quick update. I hope you enjoy it, as always let me know what you think and what I should work on.

They all knew Voldemort’s empire hadn’t reached this far outside London yet. For one thing the beach was not perpetually overcast and raining like so much of London was. Harry wasn’t sure how Voldemort had managed to control the weather for so long or why, and a more fanciful part of him believed it to be the Earth rebelling against the situation. Harry had spent much of the last few days working on his exercises. He was determined to get more than just healed, he needed to fix himself. It seemed like the bone had set wrong when they healed his leg. It made Hermione nervous but Ron had capitulated.

They had gotten a rough bit of leather torn from a chair in the hotel corner and had Harry bite down while Ron twisted his leg sharply. The leg broke on the weakened area again. This time Hermione had a more practiced spell to reset Harry’s leg. The pain was still intense but his limp was going away. They had managed to sneak into the room with magic, since the Muggles likely wouldn’t have taken Wizard money. While Harry did his laps around the neighborhood Ron and Hermione had found other ways to occupy their time.

Ron was working on making a map of all the occupied territory they had discovered throughout the Wizarding world. He planned to use it to help make tactical takedowns for the resistance he insisted was rising up even now. His map was getting better as he collect information from newspapers and the TV. He had some plans cooking in his head, but had some research he needed to do to pull them off. He was putting it off though. He told Harry that one of the unintended pluses of not going back to school this year was that he didn’t have to read up on musty magical history.

Hermione on the other hand had done pretty much just that. She had finished translating the book Dumbledore had left her and had moved on to the more complex tomes she had brought with her. Her work on Horcruxes was more and more promising by the day. She did this largely as a way to keep her mind of Harry and the pain he must be in. She wanted to talk to him, comfort him, be his pillar through this tough time. However it was difficult to get a moment. Harry had taken to avoiding her and ever the lapdog Ron had gone along with him.

Which is why one morning while Harry was out running his laps he was surprised to see her come up alongside him. Her speed was good, but more so she had managed to scare up some rather tight running clothes from somewhere. Harry tried to pull ahead but she kept up. He wanted to escape but she didn’t let up on him. After several moments he felt like risking it. His nose was busted up, his leg was still in pain most of the time and his chest burned when sweat hit it, but he was known for being crazy on occasion. So he let out a huge breath and pushed himself forward into a full run.

He ran flat out for several minutes, the wear and tear on his body a constant reminder that running full out was not a wise choice. He looked back to she her sprinting behind him. She was gaining speed. She was gaining on him. Harry reached deep inside himself and found something more. He threw his legs down double time, his feet slapping the pavement with painful force. He tore through most the streets, but regardless she was on his tail. He couldn’t lose her so he figured he’d shake her.

He made a sharp turn and vaulted over a low standing chain link fence and raced down the back streets of the quaint town they were staying in. She stayed on him like glue. He began to make dangerous turns all over the place. Jumping through back streets and hurling himself full speed through alleys and roads until finally he ran clear through the suburb and reached a forest on the far end. He looked back and smiled. He had lost her. Suddenly there was a crack nearby. Harry whipped his head around in time to see a blur slam into him. His legs buckled and his head hit the grass behind him.

He looked up to see Hermione straddling his waist. The sight was slightly overwhelming. It seemed so intimate to him, so sexual. Well except for how pissed off she looked. She stared daggers into his head. He turned his face so she couldn’t see him. He knew it didn’t matter but it was comforting. He needed something comforting because he knew what was coming.

“You plan on ever talking to me again?” She sounded far more hurt than he expected her to. He turned his head to see her face. She was crying. What had he done to her? She was always so strong but she came apart around and about him all the time any more.

“I’m not..” His excuse died in his throat, “I’m. I’m sorry.” He finally whispered.

“Why? Why Harry?” She was getting emotional, “Don’t you see how much this is hurting me? Don’t you care how I feel? Why goddamn you!”

“It’s just…” He searched the sky behind her head waiting for the answer to come to him. When it didn’t he went with the truth. “It’s just easier this way.”

“What?” She was confused. With confusion always comes anger, “Are you still trying to boot me out? Push hard enough on me Harry and you’ll push me out of your life! You have to stop trying to protect me!”

“IT”S NOT ABOUT YOU!” He shouted with his head pulled as far from the ground as he could manage while being pinned, “It’s easier for me.”

“I..” She stuttered. “I don’t understand. Easier for you?”

“You fuck it all up, Hermione.” He forced her off of him so he could raise into a sitting position. “You mess up my head, you spin me in circles and you goddamn confuse me! I need to see it all Herm. I need to see the scope of it.”

“How do I prevent you from-” She began.

“Because all I can think about is you!” He cut her off. “You don’t get it. You’re always on my mind. Always. I try to do something, I try to work it out and I go to this place in my head, the place where I think it all through. There you are. I go anywhere in my head, and there you are. I think about how you smell, how you laugh, I traced the curves of your face…your body. I think about that night. I think about us. I lose sight of everything else.”

“So…you’re ignoring me so you can concentrate?” She said flabbergasted.

“I know it sounds stupid. I know that. “ He closed his eyes, “But if I can just make it through this thing with you alive…it’ll all be worth it.”

“What?” She asked, “What’ll be worth it?”

“The sacrifice.” He answered plainly. “Everything I’ve been through. Birth to now. All the stupid shitty pain and anguish. All the death, all the..the..the fuck! Everything! Look at me! I’m beat to hell, my face is so fucked up I don’t recognize myself in a reflection. I’ve kept it. I’m risking the disfigurement.”

“So no one else will recognize you either?” She put forward.

“Yeah.” He took her hand in his, “If they don’t recognize me…it’s okay to be in love with you. You’re less of a target.”

She kissed him then. It was a moment so profound between the two of them that the passing time seemed to do so without notice of them. Sound blanketed to a muffle. The cool air got warmer and the two of them got lost in one another. She loved him. Everything he had done to protect the world. To protect her. Her love poured into the kiss. Every kiss they shared seemed like the first. Every stolen moment in the few weeks. Every missed opportunity. It was these moments when the two could be themselves. In each other’s arms they were never more free.

They recessed further into the woods. Their passions growing, the thirst for each other seemingly infinite. They moved deep into the woods, where they could scream and moan without drawing attention. Once to a place of safety they ravished each other. Loving physically the way they wished the could love all the time. Open and honest, pure and beautiful. Harry was finally at peace when he was inside her. She swelled with him there, clamped him in tightly, never wanting him to leave her. There in that forest as one for the first time since so long ago in that storm racked room in the House Black. She needed this, he needed it more.

When they were finished she rested into him. Cuddled him as he did back. Her skin glowed and his face had a smile on it for a change. He pulled her in close and kissed her. They both knew that they were done with words. They had no need for them anymore. All they needed was each other and the cool breeze on their naked skin. This was what he imagined heaven to be. Just him and her. Peace from the weight of his fate. Love. These were the best moments of his life. She, as was always the case with brightest witch of her age, knew all of this. And she loved him all the more for it.

* * *

Ron was reading one of Hermione’s books. She had told him that he could float off and die if he kept her from following Harry out this afternoon. He of course told her that he understood, and hoped she bed him well. Though he didn’t tell her that last part. He decided that since they would likely be out for awhile and he was once more alone he might as well finally crack the book he had been eyeing in her collection.

He had been thinking about how best to get around Godric’s Hollow since they were wanted fugitives. But more so about how to get away. They couldn’t rely on speed to get away from the Death Eaters. They were outnumbered and outclassed at every step and in every way. They had to be clever. Harry had seemed to figure it out before anyone else had. They were Guerilla warriors now. Resistance fighters. They had to rely on wits.

If they could get in with a good disguise and out with a better one they were all set. Only problem was they couldn’t rely on potions. Potions were great, but they had to be brewed. Brewing takes time. In guerilla warfare the only one with time for great weapons is the other side. They needed speed and trickery and they needed an ace in the hole. If they couldn’t rely on better weapons they had to rely on better skills.

Which is why Ron curled into a cozy corner of the stolen hotel room and curled up with a large dusty tome. A large dusty tome about Transfiguring. Ron had gotten the idea from Harry’s Dad and Sirius and from Tonks. If they could learn it, the three of them could. Three parts talent, ninty-seven parts pig headed stubborn. That’s how Harry and Ron did magic anyway. Hermione was more talented, but also an exceptional teacher. Ron was sure they could pull this off. They’d have to. The war effort depended on them becoming masters. Scary thought, he said to himself.

## 11. Shelter in the storm

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s note: I know it’s been awhile since my last update, and that’s partially because of writer’s block and partially because of how busy I’ve been. I won’t go into details, because those are boring, just enjoy all of this. Let me know what you think. Thanks if you’ve returned for the ride and welcome if you just got here. Thanks.

“Metamorphmagus.” Ron said to the blank faces of his two best friends. They stared back at him like he was crazy. With good reason he reminded himself.

“It’s not that it isn’t a good plan, mate it’s just-” Harry began.

“Totally impossible!” Hermione finished, “That’s not a skill, Ron. It’s not some learned ability, you’re born with it!”

“I know. Okay, I know.” Ron said defensively, his hands in front of him. “But, who says?” They stared at him in a quiet kind of empathetic awe, “Who says it can’t be learned?”

“Everyone. No one’s ever learned how to do it.” Harry said.

“And no one’s lived through a killing curse either, but there you are Harry.” Ron pointed out.

“I didn’t do anything, I don’t know how it happened.” Harry lied. He knew exactly how it had happened. It was a lesson Dumbledore had beat into him over the years. Love had done it.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is, something is always impossible until someone figures out a way to do it.” Ron said triumphantly.

“Which would be a remarkably good point if we had a few decades to work out a way to do it, but we don’t.” Hermione countered.

“Really? The-boy-who-lived and the cleverest witch of her age don’t think we can pull off something impossible? Need I remind you both that we pull off something impossible every few months! We can do this!” Ron exclaimed. They grew silent. The seed had been planted. Ron pushed ahead, “Metamorphmagi can change anything about themselves. They can become animals, they can switch genders they can change features and height. We go in and exit as different people. We wouldn’t be on a clock and we wouldn’t need to spend a month brewing a potion with hard to find ingredients. It’s not just the best way into Godric’s Hollow, it’s the best way to fight this kind of war.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Ron had put it a succinctly as he knew how. He had wrestled with the plan since the moment it came into his head, but there was no turning back now. He had put it before the only two people in the world who’s opinions meant anything to him and now he had to find out how it landed. Harry spoke first. He always did.

“I’m..” He paused and looked at Hermione for understanding before looking Ron dead in the eye, “I’m in.”

Hermione stared at her feet. Ron knew what this meant. She was debating with herself. The part of her brain that knew what they were talking about was impossible verse the part that wants to save her friend and her lover. Sometimes, even after all these years and all the times she’s proven otherwise, Ron fears she might just go with her reasoned and logical impulses over her heart. And there the three sat, for minutes. Awkward is not a word Ron was fond of, having gone through one of the most awkward puberties of any of those present but sitting in that room staring at one another, much less that the three members were made up of two exes and two lovers, was awkward.

Finally as the moment was beginning to feel as though it would never end, Hermione looked up at the two boys and slowly shook her head yes. Harry sighed in relief. Ron jumped up and hugged her. They laughed and screamed with joy, before realizing how odd the situation was. Ron quickly dropped his arms and with a downcast look to Harry he returned to his chair. The moment was even more awkward than before.

* * *

Neville was getting frustrated. Every time they got close to Harry it seemed to dead end. Now Neville stood in the middle of some god forsaken forest. The muggle newspapers had indicated some kind of unauthorized light show in the trees. Sounded like magic to Neville so he went out to check on it. He did a little research too. He wanted to be sure that there was a tenable connection to Harry. He didn’t find one. But he did find another connection.

Several years ago this stretch of forest was a camp site. It had taken some very good spells but Neville had managed to get the old campground receipts and logbooks. Sometime, years ago, this campground was visited by a family with the surname Granger. While there are many Grangers around the UK the coincidence was too much to ignore. Which is why Neville had found himself in this dreary place.

For once Neville was glad that Death Eaters were more soldiers than experts. The “clean up” was more than just sloppy, it was non-existent. There had clearly been a campsite here. Albeit not a terribly good one. Simple makeshift tent, evidence of a campfire at some point, cooking pots left over. There had been a battle here. Scorch marks on the trees, rushed packing, many things left behind, blood. Neville had found where Harry had been, but not where Harry was.

He had been running into this issue every time he got close and it was frustrating the hell out of him. Ginny had too much faith in him. She had put him in charge of tracking down Harry, but no one had expected them to move so quickly. They weren’t fighting, everyone believed they were fighting because of what they had seen. Battle scene after battle scene. What clearly went down at the ministry. But the evidence was not pointing Neville at an ongoing fight. They were running. At a good clip too.

Which would be great if it could possibly make a difference. It couldn’t and that only made it worse. He would tell them all that he found the last place that Harry had been and they would be happy. Then in private he would have to pull her aside and tell her it was yet another in a long line of dead ends. He would have to go from the crush of the celebrations to look his love in the face and disappoint her. Again.

The one thing he knew, beyond anything else he knew, he had to get ahead of Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry had to be absolutely certain that he couldn’t be followed again. Everyone had put a lot of time and effort into finding ways in and out of Godric’s Hollow or to helping him but no one had put much more thought into how the Death Eaters kept finding them. Sure the campsite was a part of Hermione’s childhood, that one could be rationalized. But the Diner in London? They had never even been there. How could the Death Eaters had found them there? It was frustrating Harry. The others had been careful at his request.

Harry was very insistent about laying low. They discussed their battle strategy in code words and practiced the transfiguring techniques Hermione had come up with only at night. Hermione had out done herself once again, as she always did. She had gone through all the tombs she had on this transfiguring idea. An idea she didn’t even really believe in, but she had figured out a rough training program anyway.

Of course Harry was becoming increasingly aware that when he was alone with Hermione she was all he could think about. He kept flashing on what Dumbledore had told him. What he had dreamed that Dumbledore had told him. He had to start making that distinction to himself. Regardless, Dumbledore had said that he needed be more than a hero. He had said that he should think about the events surrounding him when he had used before unheard of amounts of power.

Harry had tried to remember more about the incidents. But while he could recall much about the things he did he could recall very little of the why. He knew that for whatever reason he believed that casting these spells were necessary at the time. He knew that casting wordless, wandless spells was impossible but he didn’t know how he had managed it. If he could figure out what had driven him, he might be able to figure out how to do these advanced transfigurations. Because after all these days of work, none of the three had figured anything out. They had to get into Godric’s Hollow, they had to get that sword, and they had to do it right. But they were running out of time.

Harry was getting that feeling again, the feeling that they things were too quiet here. The skies were getting dark lately. The storm was coming. He knew he couldn’t outrun it forever, but he had to for awhile yet. He didn’t have the resources to fight head on, and he didn’t have the time to wait around. People were dieing every day he was in hiding. Harry couldn’t be here much longer.

## 12. What was forgotten

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters herein.

Author’s note: Here’s the next installment. I hope you enjoy it, and again thank you all so much for reading an responding. Many of you have given me comments and criticism that have helped this story to grow for the better. I appreciate it so much. As I said awhile back this is the first time I’ve ever written a fan fiction. So again, enjoy and let me know what you think.

Ginny looked at him dazed. Neville had just told her that as great as the news was it meant nothing. Sure they had found the campsite, and okay it was very likely that Harry had been there, but where was he now. It was great that Neville could always find where Harry had been, but they were never going to catch up with him that way. Neville hated to bring down her good mood, but what else was there? She was the leader and she had to make the calls. Neville stared at her with a strange mixture of love and pity.

“So, yeah.” He began, “Basically we need to do something better if we’re ever going to find him.” Ginny seemed to mull it over a little before finally she laughed despite herself. Neville furrowed his brow in concern.

“Are you okay?” He asked in his polite way.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.” She responded between giggles, “It’s just kind of funny, you know?”

“It is?” He really had no idea what she was talking about.

“He couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized for how many years? Now he’s somehow learned to disappear completely?” She shook her head, “How does someone learn how to fall off the grid like that?”

“Steep learning curve.” Neville said too seriously to not have thought about it more than once, “When we were in school, Harry had never so much as seen a quaffle or a seeker in his life, he had never thought anything about magic. He worried so much about his grades because of the learning curve he had…But he always did well. He adapted like few can.” Neville paused to let it sink in to her before continuing;

“Harry’s not like your normal wizard. He’s not content to follow the rules or keep his head down. If he’s told it can’t be done he finds a way. If someone had told you that one day you would have to face the world’s most powerful dark wizard what would you do?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny said. She had never really thought about it before. Like everyone else she just always assumed it was Harry’s job to save the world. She never thought about what that meant for his character.

“Well, we know what Harry did.” Neville shot back, not vindictively, “He rose to the occasion so well that no one ever questioned that anyone but him should do it. That’s why we can’t find him. He doesn’t want us to.” Neville knew that talking up his girlfriend’s ex was not the smartest move he had ever made, but Neville had a lot of faith in Harry Potter. He always had. This however, regardless of anything else, had to be said.

“So that’s it then?” Ginny looked lost, “Where do we go from here?” Neville gave her a long thoughtful look. If he could tell her he would, but there was a reason she was the leader and he was the detective. She was a damn good leader, and everyone followed her.

“That’s up to you, love.” Neville sighed. Ginny looked up at the beaten boards running through the rafters of the hotel the DA was staying. She knew the answers were not in the groves of the course wood, but she found some comfort in a lived in place. It reminded her of home. She missed home more then she let on. Slowly the tears building in her eyes began to fall down her cheek. She only ever cried in front of Neville.

He reached out and wiped the tear from her cheek before resting his open palm there. She leaned into the warmth of his hand and smiled so deeply it reached her eyes. She mouthed the words, “I love you.” to him. Their secret romance was wearing on them in public. With the DA she would always be determined to find Harry because she loved him. She did love him, but no longer romantically. She had thought Neville was a rebound but he had become so much more to her. She felt naked when he did not sleep beside her, she felt lost without his touch, she ached for him in a way that she now realized she never did for Harry. She put her small hand in his free hand. With a gentle squeeze she began to lead him back to her room. He knew where they were going and he never objected.

It wasn’t about sex for him, though that was a great bonus. He needed to be around her. He had loved her for so long from afar that when she began to love him back he questioned his sanity. He would always worry though. She had been Harry’s girl, they never talked about whether or not those two had slept together. He would always compare himself to Harry, who wouldn’t. He trusted her love. He had to, or he’d be totally lost.

* * *

Harry stood on the balcony watching the storm rolling in. He used to like the rain, now it had darker connotations. It didn’t just mean Voldemort it was more. His leg hurt when it rained. He had re-broken it in an effort to put it right, and it had improved his ability to move. He was almost back to normal, but the healed bone had a dull kind of pain when the weather went sour. He stared down at the couples in the area as they hurried to get out of the rain.

He had put several charms on the room, as well as the scary stuff Hermione had added, had made their activity in the room go unnoticed. One spell Hermione had cooked up had made the entire staff of the hotel forget the room even existed. Because of the new freedom they had to move about Harry found himself on the balcony more and more. He would people watch or he would just let the breeze hit him while he sat to think. Today he watched the couples. He envied them. He could hardly imagine a love story free of guilt or responsibility. He couldn’t picture being able to love Hermione as freely as these people did.

His nose had set incorrectly. It was now crooked and much wider than it used to be. It had changed his face dramatically. He hardly even recognized himself most days. He found it unnerving. The exercises that Hermione had given them weren’t panning out the way they were meant to. Harry wished he could figure out how to do it. He wished he could speed the process. He had so far only been able to control the way his hair grew. Never the style, only the length. Which Hermione said was promising, but not necessarily any indication that he was getting it.

Lots of wizards could do that sort of thing, Harry himself had done it once before on accident when he was very young. He sat back in the chair on the balcony and began to concentrate on his features. He had no mirror, but he had spent so much time in front of the mirror of Erised his first year that he had a pretty good idea what his basic facial features were. He thought about it as hard as he could. He thought he felt changes beginning on his face. But when he reached up to feel his nose it was still the mangled disaster it was only moments ago. Eventually he gave up and began to let his mind wander. He knew where it would end up eventually so this time he didn’t fight it. He let himself think about her.

The way her hair fell across her nose when she laughed. How the small of her back had a hallow that was the perfect fit for his hand. How her fingers would push slightly against him when they made love, like she was trying to find her way inside of him. She was all he could think of. He regretted the early arguments, he regretted making her cry, he wished it could all be different. But it couldn’t and everyone knew why.

Suddenly when his thoughts sifted something happened. He was no longer looking at the couples running through the coming rain. He was looking at a mirror. He knew the reflection better than he thought he should. He was seeing through the Dark Lords eyes again. He concentrated on his occulemency and felt himself slipping out of the dark lords body. He saw the back of Voldemort’s head and knew he was standing incorporeal in the room. He looked around. It was raining outside this drab place. It was always raining. Harry could feel the cool air on Voldemort’s skin. He knew the place was drab. It was also stone, and it was far away. Harry knew that Voldemort was conflicted. He had killed a man to find something that still eluded him. Harry smiled at the evil bastards predicament.

Outside the rain began to slow. Harry wondered if his happiness had changed the weather. As though he was truly equal to this evil creature. The very thought was both uplifting and totally repellent. Harry knew of the strange bond between him and this monster, but refused to except it. Harry was disgusted with himself and the rain began to pour again. Harry could no longer stand being in this place. He pulled himself back more until he was once more in the ethereal white space.

Voldemort floated as though in his flat screen somewhere behind Harry. Harry looked around. He had been here once in a dream. With Dumbledore. He instinctively looked for the old wizard before he remembered that Dumbledore was gone. Harry let out a long sigh. He instinctively spread his arms out and filled the space with many view screens. In each one a different mind was showing him images of their lives. He saw a man holding his son for the first time, he saw a teenager raging behind the wheel of a parked car because his girlfriend had left him, he saw an old man given to despair that no one really knew who he was. Hundreds of people living their lives were displayed before Harry.

He didn’t know how he had learned to do it but he had become a master of the art which for so long had eluded him. He smiled briefly. He had a feeling that his love for his old mentor had tapped him into his hidden power. Love. “The power that he knows not.” Harry moved his finger to rotate the screens. He was looking for something specific. The thought had only just occurred to him. He knew a way to figure out the new skill he needed to learn how to master. He rotated until he found her. The one person in the world that he knew could give him the kind of insight he desperately needed.

Then there see was. She was looking with unbound love at the man she loved. A middle aged wizard with too many stress lines. Lupin. She was looking at Lupin. Harry had found her, he had found Tonks. He pushed his face through the screen and began to sift gently through her memories. It wasn’t hard to find a moment when she had used her latent skill. Harry viewed the event through her eyes for the first time. He felt her reach for a hidden power in the back of her mind. He felt her access the information. The hidden code lines inside the human body that wrote DNA/RNA sequences. He felt what it was like to shift them.

Harry shifted back out of the screen. He swore he would apologize to Tonks for the invasion one day. He hated himself for doing it, but he had a war to win. He closed his eyes and reached for the pocket of information. He searched for minutes. The world around him faded and once more became the balcony of the hotel room. He felt the scar on his forehead burning and was vaguely aware that he was sweating and clutched in a fetal position on the floor. The pain of being dragged to Voldemort was physical so he hadn’t felt it while he was a specter in the void.

Harry pushed through the pain and continued his search for the codes. Ron and Hermione were huddled around him. He had missed that somehow. They were concerned for him. They were shouting questions and sympathy. They were trying to move him. Suddenly Ron jumped back and pointed at Harry’s face. Harry opened his eyes and saw the shock register on Ron. He shifted his gaze to Hermione. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Harry reached up and felt what he had hoped to. His nose was normal again. Harry had figured out how to become a Metamorphmagus. It was possible. It could be done.

Now all he had to do was teach his friends.

* * *

Neville felt her weight on his arm. She had been laying there since she had gone to sleep. He moved his naked chest into her naked chest. He could feel the soft contact of her bosoms against him. Her nipples, hard from the breeze through the window pushed into him. He had never felt better in his life. He moved some hair from her face and smiled at the face she made. He nose had scrunched up slightly before she became peaceful once more. Neville loved her.

He knew he would have to wake her. He knew that a plan had to be made. He knew a great many things had to be discussed. She would be the first to admit that he was her coconspirator in this madness. He made the points that needed to be made for her plans to become stronger. He contemplated waking her with a kiss. She had told him that was her favorite way to wake up. As he was leaning in to plant a soft brushing kiss on her lips a noise sounded across the room. Neville jerked his head up.

On the dresser where he had emptied his pockets he saw it going of. His DA communicator was changing. Neville threw himself out of bed and ran towards the dresser. Behind him Ginny stirred at the sudden movement. She sat up a croaked out something totally unintelligible. Neville reached for his fake galleon. His DA communicator. He had to check the engravings. He had to know if it was Harry.

On the fake gold surface of the coin the engravings were shifting until finally they stopped. The message was clear.

“V has me. Please help. -L.L.”

A light snow was beginning to fall outside. Winter had come. Neville had never known one colder. Choices were going to have to be made. They could use the DA to save Luna, but that would mean abandoning the search for Harry Potter. More so it would mean joining the war for real. Neville looked back at Ginny. Clearly she understood his expression was not good. She reached for her Galleon on the bedside table and looked at it without blinking for several seconds. Finally she opened her mouth.

“Shit.” She swore silently.

## 13. Battlefields and Bedrooms.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s note: I guess we can say writer’s block is over. (He said jinxing himself.) Well anyway, here you go. Enjoy! As always let me know what you think.

“Okay, first and foremost.” Dean said, “We don’t have clue one where Luna might even be!” The point was good. But Neville knew why Dean had lodged it. Dean was on the run. When Voldemort took over the ministry Dean couldn’t prove he wasn’t a half blood and couldn’t go back to Hogwarts. He had joined up with the DA as a way to fight back. Neville was certain that Dean was not willing, anger not withstanding, to face the government again.

When Hogwarts had started back up the DA took a serous hit. Many of the members were unable to convince their parents not to send them back. Others were now old enough to be members of the Order of the Phoenix. When the dust had settled on the beginning of the mission to find Harry and join the fight of the twenty three old members only six remained. The DA now consisted of Ginny, Alicia Spinnet, Parvati and Padma Patil and Neville himself. Though Lee Jordan and the twins were both Phoenix members they kept their galleons.

“We haven’t got a lot of options.” Ginny responded, “She’s one of us. They must’ve nabbed her on her way back for Christmas Holiday. We find out where the Death Eaters are keeping their prisoners and we bust her out. We can’t abandon her.”

The DA members looked about each other. They were growing more and more frightened as the days passed. They were fine to look for Harry but this meant joining the war and many were not prepared for that. Lee Jordan’s pirate radio show, The River, was reporting a revolt within the halls of Hogwarts. Even there, a place that always seemed so safe, was beginning to look like it would rack up some war casualties soon. The members looked slowly from one to the other. Finally Neville saw the first change.

“You’re right.” Parvati said with a look of solid determination on her face, “Luna would have risked everything for any one of us. We would be cowards or worse if we failed her now.”

Even Padma looked at her sister with a kind of awe. No one saw that coming, of course she was right and they all knew it. Neville was impressed. He looked to Ginny and saw that she was too. He smiled. He stood up next to begin his speech. He had practiced it all night with Ginny. He told them the plan.

* * *

Seamus had been taken to the torture room. Anthony knew beyond anything else that this was the worst blow the DA had received since their leader, Luna, had told them that she had to visit her Father over the holidays. Anthony hadn’t been to a single class since before she left. Him and Hannah Abbott had taken to planning out the tactical aspects of the revolt in the Room of Requirements. Anthony hadn’t even seen the Raven Claw common room in months. Hannah had made excursions to the kitchens now and then and would check in with the Huffle Puff common room when she went down.

Hannah would bring back dark warnings she got from her fellow Huffle Puffs. There was no safety, not even in these hallowed halls. The world was growing darker. Anthony could hear the rain hitting the side of the building but dare not conjure a window for fear of being caught. Anthony paced the room with worry growing with every moment in his heart. He couldn’t handle this anymore. The stress was killing him. He had even found some grey hair when he woke up that morning. He wished Hannah was there. He worried about her while she was on the food runs. He had insisted at first in going himself, but she accused him of being sexist. Hermione had mailed her the Marauder’s Map at some point during the summer and she now knew the school like few before her had. It made sense to let her do the food runs.

While she was gone though Anthony would pace and let his mind wander. He would run the scar along his forearm. A gift from the Carrows. The Carrows were the sociopath twins Snape had brought in when he was made headmaster. Early on Anthony had defended a young Gryffindor girl from a jinx cast by one of the Carrows. The response had been a deep cut by a powerful magical curse. It had taken weeks to heal, even with Madam Pomfrey’s best magical cures.

Now it existed as a reminder of what was out there. The danger was immense and the worst part was the fear. Anthony had become more and more hardened as the battles wore on. He was terrified all the time, stressed out and worried. When his Galleon had lit up with Luna’s signal he knew the worst had come. Now he had to have the life of every DA member in this school hanging over his head all the time. Everyday he tried to force Hannah to agree that they should pull them out of class and live here. It was safer.

They were the few wizards in the world on the front line of this secret war. He only hoped he could get them out of this alive. He was shocked out his reverie when Hannah came in with the food. Anthony couldn’t believe how hungry he was until he saw that food. She put it down on the table and walked over to him examining his face. A wave of anger and pity dropped over her face.

“Have you slept yet?” She accused.

“I’m not tired.” He said, “I slept last night.”

“You slept for like an hour!” She yelled, “You’ll do no good t anyone if you drop dead from exhaustion!”

“You’re right.” He sighed. He was tired, but sleep wouldn’t help. He wished Harry was here. “I just have to… look, Hannah. We need to pull them out of classes. They need safety.”

“We can’t, Anthony. I told you.” She began her defense yet again, “If all the members of the DA mysteriously go missing they start looking for us. It won’t be long before they find this room.”

She was right. She usually was. Anthony was just so worried these days. And tired. Worried and tired. He looked at the bed the room had made for him. Hannah followed his gaze and nodded.

“Yes.” She said softly, “You can go to bed, soldier. You earned it.” He looked at her pleadingly. She knew why. Weeks ago when they had moved in her they had shared a night together. They hadn’t had sex. They just fell asleep cuddling. It was in their mutual weakness. They were both so scared and lost that they fell into each other. Since then Anthony had been avoiding sleeping around her. She thought it was because he didn’t like her that way, or wasn’t attracted to her. She didn’t know that it was because he was afraid to get attached. That he was afraid to let himself feel something for her. Because if he did it would destroy him to lose her.

She turned her back and let him get changed. When she turned around he was already fast asleep on his bed. She sighed. She stared for a few minutes before she curled up next to him and fell asleep. Even though he avoided sleeping around her they had woken up every morning holding each other. Finding each other in the night. To make sure that the other was safe. She had stopped fighting it. If she was to be honest with herself she would admit that the truth was that she was falling for this wonderful boy who cared so much for everyone else and nothing for himself. He, of course would admit that if he ever woke up without her in his arms he would be devastated.

All around the world people were finding that the only thing carrying them through this time was love. The world ran on love, people couldn’t live without it. Unfortunately war runs only on fear and death and sacrifice. Anthony worried that love wouldn’t be enough to win. Little did he know that hundreds of miles away Harry Potter worried the same thing.

* * *

So far Ron was sure that Harry was the only one that could do this. He had explained to them how to do it, but it was all too fanciful. They had to look for some hidden part of their minds or something. Which is part of why he had found himself so far from the hotel that night. Hermione wanted to talk to Harry about an idea of hers but needed to do it in private. Ron knew that when she asked for something like this it was best to just listen and go. The situation was only getting worse.

Harry was recessed into himself apart from trying to teach them to transfigure their faces. At all other times he was alone trying to think his way through a war he never wanted to fight. Ron was going crazy with this. Harry was so confident that they could figure it out but Ron was struggling. He tried not to show it. His confidence in his best friend was unshakable. He had to believe that Harry would show them how. He just couldn’t see a way.

* * *

Hermione on the other hand was doing no better but was trying a different track. She was trying to convince Harry to let them into his head so they could find out first hand the way he had. So far he was not letting them. She knew he was afraid to let them in. Afraid o let them see what he saw, let them into his secrets. She hated it, but it was his way now. He had become something different during the war. They all had. Aspects of themselves had come front and center as a method of survival. Harry’s had been the most profound. He was always a hero, but the difference between a hero and a war hero was not a subtle one.

Ron had become a tactical genius seemingly overnight. It had always been there, she knew from his wizard chess skills, but it had always been covered by his goofiness in the past. Her, she knew there changes in her but it was hard to tell objectively what they were. She wondered if she was going to survive too much and she worried about Harry and Ron all the time. She knew that the relationship she wanted with Harry had been sidelined to fight a war. The pain was sometimes over whelming. She and Harry had a sexual relationship but they couldn’t really be together, not if they were to survive.

She had to forget these things. She had to push them deep down and forget them. At that moment in time she could concentrate only on getting Harry to let her into his mind. His defenses were too good to try without permission. She had spoken with Ron and convinced him to leave them alone tonight. She saw Harry lying on the bed in the other room. This was her chance to convince him in a way that only she could.

As he lay there she came out in the skimpiest outfit she had. The slip that went under her dress for the wedding. The temperature of the room made her nipples show through the thin fabric. Harry noticed her and sat bolt upright. He looked nervous. She waved her wand and spoke several incantations. The lights went out and little balls of floating light popped up around the room. A deep blush spread over his face, but it was nothing compared to hers.

She was a deep crimson red and her eyes were looking intermittently between him and the floor by her feet. As she got closer and closer to him he jumped up and pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss. She knew she would need the pillow talk to try and convince him, but she refused to let that ruin this for her. When he kissed her it did things to her that nothing else could. The few times they could be together were the only highlights of her life these days. She had a responsibility but she refused to let it color this moment. She would let the war seep back in later. She let it seep from her mind and kissed him back. What followed was the most beautiful and passionate night of either of their lives.

## 14. Discovery and the world at large.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

Author’s Note: Okay! Here we go. Hope you enjoy it, this one is longer than usual for me, had a lot to squeeze in here. So, enjoy and as always, let me know what you think.

She was pressed against him so closely that he could feel the warmth from her body and the very slight dampness of her skin as it stuck gently to his. He marveled at the way the universe could be so telling. When the sweat, post coitus, on their skin had dried the two were stuck together. As though it was the intent of nature all along. A small smile lit the corners of his mouth. He looked down at her. He could see her hip bone making it’s subtle protrusion under the skin. The way her thigh met the small of her back and finally swerved into the arm that lay over his chest. Her cheek pressed firmly against him. Her face obscured, nose buried in the crook of her and the warmth of him. He bushy brown hair, curled more at the middle than usual from sweat. He let out an embarrassingly high pitched giggle when she began to draw lazy circles on his stomach.

“That tickles.” He offered as explanation. She giggled with mirth as she speed up her circles.

“Ticklish, are you?” She teased. He could feel her nose scrunch up at the bridge. She was smiling.

“Not normally. Only when someone tickles me.” He joked back. She laughed a little and began lightly brushing the tips of her fingers over his belly button.

“I found your weakness, Mr. Potter.” She said with overly false bravado, “Of course you realize I own you now.”

“Oh yeah?” He said eyebrow raised, “Well, two can use those tactics!”

He launched his own attack of tickling. His smile growing ever bigger as her delicate laughter filled the room. She squirmed reflexively into him. Her leg brushed his thigh and he clamped down lightly with his knees. Pinning her he continued his assault. Tickling her more feverishly than ever until finally she spoke out.

“You win, you win!” She squealed through her laughter. He smiled and threw in one final tickle for good measure. She lightly slapped his chest, “I said you won!” She added playfully.

“That? Oh that was just the occupation.” He chided her, “I claim this land in the name of Potter-dom!” He exclaimed in jest.

She pushed herself up on her hands and moved herself forward until her bare chest rest on top of his. She kissed his chin once, lightly before kissing him deeply. When their lips had parted she stared into his eyes with the kind of admiration that only love can cause. She saw the corners of his eyes perk slightly, the tell tale sign that he had his sheepish smile plastered on his face. She loved that smile. It was her smile, no one else ever saw it.

“I hope you excepted my gift.” She said in a whisper, “We of Potter-dom would like to begin our peace talks.”

He kissed her. She was expecting it, but it was different than usual. There was a kind of softness to it. It didn’t have the pent up longing for her it usually did. It wasn’t the kind of kiss they usually shared it the heat of passion. This was love. He loved her. The gentleness, the way it just brushed her lips, the way he didn’t let his tongue linger even though the kiss was open mouth. She couldn’t control the smile anymore than she could control the blush in her cheeks.

And with the same lack of control she let it slip out. It was an accident but it changed things.

“I love you.”

She had said it before, but never so sweetly. Suddenly it was clear that whatever else she had meant for this pillow talk to become it wouldn’t be. After that slip of the tongue this conversation could only ever be about one thing; Harry’s response.

Harry’s response wasn’t at all what she expected. She didn’t get chastised for saying it. He didn’t ignore it and look away. He didn’t change the subject. He didn’t give her the old Han Solo standby “I know”, and he definitely didn’t say it back. He did something she never thought he would do.

It started as warm and understanding smile. Then it turned into something so much more. He gently sat up and crossed his legs, freeing her to do the same. He looked her dead in the eye, the whole time smiling gently as though he would explain the mysteries of the universe to her. Then he closed his eyes.

The room shifted. They were now standing on a playground miles and miles away. It was modest. Small slide, a sea saw and four swings. She looked down instinctively. She was terrified of being naked in public. She saw herself wearing her gown from the Yule ball all those years ago. She looked over to Harry. He was wearing jeans and a hooded sweater a few sizes too large. He had on red trainers. But he was different somehow. Not older or younger or physically different just different. Wiser. And he was pointing.

She followed his finger. He was pointing to a swing on the far end. She saw a boy sitting there. He was younger than she had ever seen him, but there was no mistaking who he was. If the green eyes weren’t a dead give away then the scar definitely was. She was looking at Harry Potter. A very young Harry Potter. He was crying.

“Where are we?” She asked.

“My old hometown. I was nine.” He said. It seemed like Harry was speaking with two voices. One younger one normal.

“Why? How?” She asked.

“You’re in my head. In my memories.” He responded, not looking at her, “Don’t try to find anything though. The walls are too high. You can only see what I need you to.”

“What do you need me to see?”

“Him.” Harry pointed at himself.

“Why?” Hermione was a little confused.

“You said you love me.” He smiled, “I want you to get to know me. You can’t love me without knowing him.”

“Why are you crying?” Pity was welling in her voice.

“My Uncle had told me that my parents didn’t love me.” He cast his eyes down, then his voice changed. He was just young Harry, “That no one could.”

“You can’t possibly believe that?” Hermione said worry seeping into her voice with all the subtlety of a freight chain.

“That’s kind of the point though, isn’t it?” Harry asked with his ethereal double voice back in full swing, “I did once. That’s not something that goes away. It’s not a feeling you forget.” He stared up into where the sky should be, but there was only a vast darkness without clouds or stars. “It becomes a part of you. A sin you never committed that you never stop believing you own penance for.”

Just then the little Harry and the playground vanished. Replaced with a bright white nothingness. Hermione was totally disoriented. In this place there was no up or down, no ground no sky. She was unsure of whether she was standing or not. Harry seemed to float effortlessly in place. No panic and no worry. His wisdom seemed to permeate the area. The void had a feeling, a presence. It was Harry. This place felt and smelt and even tasted like Harry. She was floating in his consciousness. Then he spoke, never missing a beat between the transition.

“You see, Hermione.” His voice was no longer double, but it was more intense. His eyes more vibrant, “All strong emotions, like events leave a mark. Some good..” He raised his hand to point at his all-too-famous scar, “..Some bad. These things color our world. They make our responses happen. They make us who we are.”

A hundred thousand rough rectangular forms filled with moving images populated the area. They were all slightly different shapes. Some very similar while others were totally unique. Harry began to wordlessly move the images around in front of her. She would watch a few seconds and then they passed. She realized that these were the lives of thousands of people all around them. Including, albeit briefly, Ron.

“When I first saw this place I understood something for the first time.” Harry spoke softly, “No two people have the same shape, the same colors or the same perception. Everyone is tainted by experience.”

As fast as they had appeared the images were gone. Hermione realized that he was using occulemency to tape into all those people. Even for the best Wizards that should be impossible. She wondered where Harry had found all of this power, and not for the first time. As though he read her mind he responded.

“I’m not completely in control here.” He grinned, breaking his stoic demeanor for the first time, “I don’t even know why it happens when I can do it. I just do it. Like at the ministry, or in the tent. Some times I just have this power.”

She nodded slowly. This was all a bit overwhelming. She had wanted to ask him to let her into his mind, but this was something different. This was intense. It was too much. She stood in awe of his power. She had watched him struggle through school, harness raw talent into actual ability. She never thought he’d be able to do this. She never thought anyone would.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” She finally asked. At that Harry stood for a moment and thought. As though he was only dimly aware himself.

“Dumbledore told me that my greatest weapon, the power he knows not.” Harry blushed, “He told me it was…Love.”

“So, because you can love you’re powerful?” She asked, a glimmer of hope in her heart that this was all is way of telling her he loved her too.

“I, honestly? I have no idea.” Harry admitted, “This kind of magic.” He raised his arms to indicate everything around them, “There’s no rule book, you know? I can’t even get it all straight in my head, much less tell you the reason for it. The cause.” He shrugged. Clearly he too thought it was all to much, “I’m seventeen, Hermione. I’m a seventeen year old fucked up kid from a broken home.”

“Harry, you’re not-” She began, but he cut her off.

“I’m told to believe that love, love of all things, is my best weapon.” He was growing upset, “Love is a pretty feeling, it’s great to have when it can be found, but even I know it’s not a weapon. Love isn’t enough!”

The white dissipated replaced with darkness. Hermione could feel a desolateness in the air of the place. From below her she heard whimpering. She looked down and she saw Harry. Younger than last time. He was looked in a very small closet, probably the broom closet under the stairs. He had mentioned that once. He was whimpering. She felt him in the air as before, and in that feeling she knew why he was crying. He had been forgotten. They hadn’t remembered to feed him the night before and they had left without him that morning. She knew he was crying because he had to use the bathroom. She knew that it was hurting him, he couldn’t go in the closet because he slept there.

She began to cry. She had never known. He had told her that the Dursleys had never hit him, she couldn’t conceive that there could be something worse. Suddenly his resistance to the crucio and the imperio curses made sense. He had spent his life being tortured. He was just used to it. She wept for him. Her stomach felt like a sickening knot was working around inside and the back of her throat had constricted so tightly with her sons that it hurt to inhale.

Seeing her pain Harry darkened the scene. She looked up at him with sympathy, not pity, in her eyes. She didn’t know if it was possible but she found a way anyhow, she ran to him. She hugged him for so long and so tightly that she could let him know that this would never happen again. He had shared a painful truth with her. He had showed her exactly why he had said no.

She realized then that he wasn’t trying to protect himself and his secrets when he refused to open his mind to them. He was trying to protect them. Whatever else their childhoods may have been, they were good. Harry’s decidedly was not. She spoke without letting him go.

“That’s why you said no.” She could feel his chest constrict against her.

“Yes.” He finally said.

When she opened her eyes they were naked in bed again. She was still holding him. He gently reached down and lifted her face to his. He stared in her eyes with a determined glare.

“Everyone who loves me dies.” His voice shook a little as he spoke, “It’s not my weapon against him, it’s his against me.”

“Do you believe that?” She asked with panic in her tone.

“A part of me does.” He replied sadly, “A part of me always will. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She sobbed.

“So, do you still love me?” He said, she could sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to know the answer, he had to. She stared at him for what felt like hours. Taking in every aspect of him that she had just seen.

“Harry.” She smiled and kissed him, “Love isn’t even a strong enough word for how I feel about you.”

* * *

Ron was sitting in a small coffee shop down the street from the hotel. He knew they were closing up soon but had nowhere else to go. He sat nervously flicking the deluminator lid up and down. He was worried. He had come here to get out of the rain. It seemed to rain all the time now. He thought about his home. His family. He knew that so much had happened in the last few years, and that being away was unavoidable, but he missed them all the same. It was made worse by the fact that he couldn’t even see them, he couldn’t even know how they were.

Seemingly out of nowhere someone sat down beside him at his table. He turned to ask them to go when he saw who it was.

“Percy!” Ron said a little too loud. Percy nodded.

“I know you’re not happy with me, with the choices I’ve made but for the love of Merlin quiet down.” Percy said rapid fire, “The walls have ears you know.”

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked.

“Shacklebolt asked me to find you.” He said, “I have news.”

“How?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Did I find you?” Percy asked.

“That’s the million dollar question, yeah.” Ron shot back.

“I’d say skill, but it would be a lie.” Percy admitted, “I got lucky. I was out here ferrying a message for Dad when I spotted you in the shop. Red hair stands out you know.”

“What message? Is he okay? How’s Mum?” Ron fired off..

“Mum and Dad are fine, we all are.” Percy calmed him with a hand gesture.

“They’re talking to you again?” Ron asked.

“I came back with my tail between my legs. Scrimonger is dead.” Percy said quietly, “Has been for awhile, but you know that. I began to see the signs. You were right. I should’ve believed you. I told them about it all and they welcomed me back. Though I still live alone.”

“Thank Merlin!” Ron said happily, “I’d never’ve told you this, because you’re a git, but I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Percy answered with a warm smile.

“So, what’s this news?” Ron asked.

“Okay,” Percy began, all business, “First and foremost, they can track you. The Ministry made it illegal to say the dark lord’s name. Say it and they can find you.”

“That’s a good bit of information.” Ron added, “We’ve been scratching out heads over that one.”

“Good to be of help.” Percy smiled. He was enjoying talking to his brother again, “Next, Snape’s in charge of Hogwarts. It’s a hellhole now. There is a remaining contingent of your old DA friends still there. They’re staging a revolt. It’s all hush-hush of course.”

“You’ve been dieing to say ‘hush-hush’ again haven’t you?” Ron kidded. Percy smiled.

“Next up, Mr. Lovegood has offered to shelter you lot for awhile. He needs to discuss something with you.” Percy said in quiet tones.

“Right.” Ron confirmed.

“Also, the Order has reason to believe that Helga Hufflepuff’s cup is a horcrux.” Percy noted, “We aren’t sure though. We think it might be a solid lead if you can find something. It was last in the possession of an old witch called Hepzibah Smith.”

“We’ll look into it.” Ron said, “Anything else?”

“Just one thing, and you’re not going to like it.” Percy said.

“What.” Ron asked skeptically.

“Public opinion is beginning to sway away from the thought that the Dark lord id back.”

“What?” Ron was outraged, “Why?”

“Well, you remember Rita Skeeter, yes?” Percy asked.

“Of course. Stupid old bint, you ask me.” Ron opined, “Why?”

“She’s written a book.” Percy looked around, “It sheds a pretty negative light on Dumbledore.”

“What?” Just as Ron said it Percy put the book on the table. It’s title was insulting enough, ‘The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.’

“People have tied his honor to the truth about the Dark Lord.” Percy rattled off matter-of-factly, “Now the doubt is growing.”

“This is really bad.” Ron mused darkly.

“Yes it is.” Percy checked his watch, “I have to go.”

“When will I..” Ron stopped he knew the answer, “Be safe.”

“You too.” Percy said with a measure of pain. The brothers stood and hugged then Percy made a bee-line for the door and was gone. Ron sat down and took in all the new information. He dreaded having to tell Harry. Things were not looking good.

## 15. The sound the other shoe makes.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s Note: Okay! We have some more stuff with the Das struggle in Hogwarts, which I like. I hope you guys do too. And finally we’re getting back on track with the hunt for the Horcrux. I’ll try to put in some nice moments for H/HR (Because they deserve it), but we’ll see. Anyway, I’m going on and on, I hope you enjoy the story, and as always let me know what you think. The comments you guys leave really help me tell this story.

Anthony was pacing. Again. Hannah was sitting in a reading chair watching him. She would say something about how he needs to calm his nerves, but she had chewed her fingernails to the quick. They were nervous. It was hard not to be. They had Ernie skipping potions class to reinforce some of the older escape tunnels to Hogsmeade. He had been gone for too long. He had his Galleon and he was supposed to check in ever half hour. It had been forty five minutes since his last message.

Finally Anthony stopped pacing. Hannah watched closely, afraid of what he might do. He took a deep breath and punched the wall so hard his knuckles split. Hannah looked on shocked. She couldn’t believe how much rage was building in him. He looked down at his bleeding hand and punched the wall again. He left an ovoid spot of blood on the wall. He stared at that for a second before he began punching the wall repeatedly. With no real regard for his well being.

Hannah leapt to her feet and rushed across the room. She didn’t have any kind of plan and just let her self work on instinct. She circled to his back and put her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him close and held him there. When she moved without thought to protect she had ended up hugging him. She worried, in that abstract way that young people do, that he would realize that this hug meant something.

He didn’t. He just leaned his head into the crook of her arm and started sobbing gently. She held him all the more firmly. Pressing him to her. She would refuse to let him go if the walls around them began to crumble. He collapsed onto his knees and she followed him. He hunched his back and shook from his tears. She pulled him gently, as if to suggest that he turn towards her. She wanted him to rest his head against her and be at peace. He didn’t shrug her arms away, but he didn’t turn either.

They both feared the worst about Ernie. They both reeled from the notion that the very small resistance dwindled every day. There they sat. Not looking at one another. Not speaking. Just racking themselves with too much guilt for young people to handle. She knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Ernie. It was his idea to send him down there.

She saw his head turn slightly. As though he had heard something she didn’t. With no warning he jump from the safety of her arms to his feet and raced over to the door. She stood up and followed him, and sure enough she began to hear the noise to. Pads hitting the polished stone floors in the hall outside. Ms. Norris was walking nearby. Anthony took a quick step back to clear the entrance and in so doing bumped into Hannah. They didn’t have time to be worried. He just helped her to her feet and summoned a bed.

They both knew that Argus Filch would never come to the Room of Requirements unless something bad had happened. Sure enough within moments their fears were justified. Filch stormed into the room holding a very limp, very bloody person in his arms. Filch had a look of pure rage boiling on his face as the door shut behind him. He made his way immediately to the new bed and deposited the person on it. Anthony came quickly to the bed side and began casting healing spells and counter hexes.

Hannah ran to the other side. It was then that she got her first look at him. She knew it was Ernie, but not because he looked like Ernie. There was so much blood. His skin looked like hamburger meat in spots and burnt leather in others. His hair had been badly burned away on massive areas of his skull. Hannah cast a glance over to Filch.

“He came up behind him.” Filch said with his head hanging low, “Carrow did. Slipped by me and Ms. Norris.” There was a tear working it’s way down the old man’s face, “Carrow said he was dead. Said I would be if I took him to the infirmary. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

Hannah nodded and moved to put her hand on Filch’s shoulder. In the last year this man who had tortured them had become so different. He had become an ally. He had done what he could for their war effort including lying for them on several occasions. He had taken some of them under his wing. He had begun to truly care for many of the children. Ernie, though, Ernie was Filch’s favorite. Hannah felt compelled to comfort him. Anthony had no such compulsion. Anthony was fighting a war.

“Were you followed?” Anthony barked out never once turning around.

“No, I don’t believe so.” Filch answered shakily, “Carrow went back to his room before I could find..ehem..’scuse me. Before I could find Ernie.”

“Hannah.” Anthony barked out, “Check him for anything suspicious. Just because he wasn’t followed doesn’t mean the old fool wasn’t tracked.”

“Anthony, Don’t you think you’re being a little too harsh here?” Hannah tried to smooth the situation.

“Harsh?” Anthony repeated, “Harsh?” He turned around, “I’m leading! I don’t goddamn lead and people die! Look at him, Hannah. Look!” He pointed at Ernie, “I go easy and people get hurt! It’s over this time. The Carrows will pay for this!”

Anthony rushed from the bed to his dresser. He pulled out his wand and stomped toward the door. Hannah ran to block him. He was being careless. She couldn’t let him.

“Where are you going?” She demanded. Anthony had something dangerous burning in his eye and she had to set him straight before he got himself killed.

“I’m going to kill those two miserable shits. Then I’m going to get Seamus back.” He said too calmly.

“I really don’t see how you getting yourself killed is going to help the cause, Anthony.” Hannah reasoned. If there was one thing she loved about Anthony it was that he listened to reason. Of course he had never been this upset before.

“Some times a war needs a martyr.” He said darkly, “Now get out of my way.”

Hannah did just that. She let him by her and a few steps closer to the door.

“Langlock!” She shouted as she cast the Locomotor Mortis hex. Anthony’s legs buckled under him and he hit the floor. His wand spun out across the room before hitting a wall and stopping. Anthony lay on the floor screaming his outrage.

Filch stared at her with an odd mix of pity and pride. She stuffed her wand back into her sleeve where she hid and walked over to Anthony. The walls were soundproofed, but nothing is perfect. If anyone was walking close enough to the wall they might hear him screaming. She knelt down and put her hand on his forehead. He stopped screaming and looked up at her with venom.

“Why.” He asked in a cold whisper.

“You would’ve died.” She explained herself.

“We’re all going to die.” Anthony spat out, “We don’t all get to go out heroes.”

“Stop sulking.” She scolded, “You know perfectly well what an ass you were being. Now apologize to Argus and stop acting like a git. We need a plan, not a temper tantrum.” Every ounce of HufflePuff poured out of her in her words. They were a nurturing, paternal group of people.

“You’re touchy feely stuff is irritating.” Anthony responded, “But it’s also right. We need a plan.” He was finally sounding like a RavenClaw again, his cool logic winning out. He dropped his voice then, clearly speaking only to himself, “Better be a damn good plan too.”

* * *

“You ask me, the plan hasn’t really changed.” Hermione said, holding the locket, “We still need the sword from Godric’s Hollow.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s changed.” Ron countered, “We have a list of tasks ahead of us, not to mention a good lead on another Horcrux. We have to decide what to do.”

“My reading suggests that the only way to destroy a Horcrux is with a very powerful magical item. We need the sword and we need to go to Godric’s Hollow.” She cut in, “We can’t ignore that issue. We’ll have to make time for everything else along the way.”

“Yeah, but why go to Godric’s Hollow now?” Ron asked, “Why don’t we get as many of the Horcrux as possible then get the means to destroy them?”

“Because it’s too dangerous.” Hermione answered, “As long as the Dark Lord doesn’t know we’re hunting them we’re safe. He just thinks we’re hiding. The more we have and the longer we hold on to them the greater the risk becomes that he finds out and we lose them. We have to make sure they’re destroyed as we go, it’s the only safe way.”

“I don’t know.” Ron scratched his chin. Her logic was sound, but somewhere deep in his tacticians heart he saw the potential to use the Horcrux as a threat as well as a weapon. He knew it was risky, but war is won on risks, “What do you think, Harry?”

Harry barely responded. He had been sitting in the chair reading the book about Dumbledore since Ron had shown it to him. The thing clearly bothered him. He looked out of it. Ron repeated himself. Harry looked up. He blinked twice then shook his head. He looked at them both sternly. Considering his next words very carefully. Ron had thought he wasn’t listening, but this wouldn’t be the first time Harry Potter had surprised him. Finally Harry spoke;

“You’re both right.” He said diplomatically. They looked at him confused so he continued, “Hermione’s right. We need the sword. It’s safest to destroy them as we go.”

“We could use them as a bargaining chip.” Ron said betraying one of his thousand of plans, “We tell the Death Eaters that we’ll hand over the Horcrux in exchange for the release of the imprisoned students of Hogwarts.”

“That’s not a bad plan.” Hermione nodded approvingly. Ron smiled. Harry shook his head again.

“No.” He said finally, “The risk is too large. Besides-” He paused. His defense left him vulnerable to questions he didn’t want to answer. However he had no choice, “The Dark Lord wouldn’t have told the Death Eaters why the Horcrux are important. He wouldn’t have even told them that they were important.”

Ron and Hermione stared at him in confusion. They didn’t expect a deep personal insight about Voldemort from Harry. Harry seemed to have not noticed.

“He’s paranoid.” Harry’s eyes narrowed, “I wouldn’t be famous if he wasn’t. He’d never leave himself open like that. He can’t trust the Death Eaters, he never could. RAB had to figure it out all on his own the way Dumbledore did.” Harry paused, lost in thought, “They aren’t barging chips to the Death eaters. They’re just old junk.”

Ron nodded. He should have seen that himself. He ran some quick scenarios through his head and confirmed for himself that if the objects had no meaning to the Death Eaters they were just liabilities. One more damn thing to get done before he had to watch his best friend march to what could be death. Ron hung his head.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He turned to Hermione, “Okay, we go to Godric’s Hollow.”

“Then you better get back to practicing your transfiguration.” She reminded him.

“It has changed though.” Harry interrupted.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“You said the plan hadn’t changed, it has.” Harry answered, “We know how they were tracking us, which is great.”

“It really is a load off.” Ron agreed.

“But now’s not the time to rest on our laurels.” Harry spoke with his command voice. They listened, “We can’t get lazy and we can’t get sloppy. We’ve already done that. Percy found you.” He pointed to Ron, “We got too comfortable here. We have to back into hiding.”

“Why? This place is hidden, and Percy’s on our side.” Hermione argued.

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry said far too quickly to have been really listening to her, “Someone found us means others could too. We know how not to be tracked, now we have to get off the grid again.”

“What about practice?” Ron asked.

“We’ll find a safe place.” Harry assured him, “We’ll never stay anywhere for more than three days from here on out. We leave no evidence we were there. I’ll go into town for supplies alone since I’m the only so far to master Metamorphmagus. We’ll take turns keeping watch and sleep in shifts.”

“We had a plan, Harry” Hermione insisted, not the least of which because if they went off the grid again it would be impossible to get a minute alone with Harry. He still hadn’t said if he loved her or not. It was selfish, she hated herself for it, but love is selfish in it’s way.

“Plans changed.” Harry said. All three of them knew that it was finally. They packed in silence. Harry went out to get a map of Europe to find spots to hide. Ron had gone into to bathroom to practice in front of a mirror, he said it was his best hope so far. Hermione just sat on the edge of her bed and allowed herself to cry. It had all changed. She just didn’t know yet if it was for the worst.

## 16. What they left behind.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.

Author’s Note: Here’s the next installment. I went with something quiet here. It doesn’t really move the story along, I just thought it would be nice to take a look at something that I always felt should have been covered in a greater context. Hope you enjoy. As always, let me know what you think.

“There’s a trick to it.” Ginny said as the hex she had just cast sent the wooden dummy across the field into hundreds of pieces.

“Must be one hell of a difficult trick.” Neville said back with frustration. He was never particularly good with wand work. He was always more interested in plants. Many had said that he was the only case in recorded history that the sorting hat had picked the wrong house for a student. He would’ve made an excellent HufflePuff. He knew that. It had driven him mad for several years. It was Luna that had set him straight.

She had told him after they broke into the ministry in their third year that Gryffindor was the only house for him. He had been sitting by the edge of the lake. The lake always scared him. Always. Sometimes he would sit by the edge and defy his fears. His little victories. Luna had found him there. The others were dealing with the night in their own ways. He had told her that he didn’t deserve to be a Gryffindor. He wasn’t like Harry or Ron or Hermione. He wasn’t a fearless leader. He wasn’t a white knight. He was a clumsy kid that could barely keep his act together.

Luna looked out over the water. She seemed like she wasn’t even listening, it was her way. She never looked at him, she just spoke. She said she was jealous of the truly brave in this world. She then sighed and stood up. She asked if he would walk her back to the school. He agreed. She then told him she was jealous of his bravery. Gryffindor was the only place for him. It was where the bravest of people went.

That’s why he was trying so hard to learn some of the advanced hexes and spells Ginny offered to teach him. He was trying really hard, and was even more frustrated. Neville cast yet another hex at half power and let out a tremendous scream. He threw his wand down and started kicking things around him. Ginny rushed forward and pulled him close to her. She pulled his head down and looked deep into his eyes. She stayed there waiting for him to calm down. Eventually his breathing slowed and his eyes softened. Ginny smiled up at him and he cast his eyes away. She pulled his chin so his eyes were back on hers.

“I love you.” She said sternly.

“I love you too.” He said back before sighing, “I can’t do this stuff.”

“Of course you can.” She answered back, “You cast a Patronus and that is some really difficult magic.”

“There’s nothing to that!” Neville pulled back as he shouted, “Harry used to tell me that if he could do it anyone could.”

“But sweetie,” Ginny said as she once again pulled him close to her, “Harry can do these spells. He taught me some of them.”

“Great! Great for Harry.” Neville said with some outrage, “But see, I can’t! I can’t do these things. I’m not like you guys.”

“No you’re not.” She said sweetly. He looked at her a little surprised, “You’re the kind of guy that can track someone through records at a closed park, or plan a battle tactic in the middle of a disaster…”

Neville stared at her as he waited for her to continue. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. His fingers flexed instinctively against her as she let out a slight sigh. His touch tingled the skin beneath her clothes. She muscled through and stared up at him. She spoke quietly;

“…You’re the kind of man that can mend a broken heart and fix a damaged smile.” She kissed him then. It was long and it was sweet. When it was over Neville removed his hand from her bosom. She pointed to the wooden dummies at the other end of the field, “Now, try again.”

* * *

Harry was setting up the large tent he and Hermione had Transfigured from Harry’s dress suit. He was breathing in the mountain air. They were in the Scottish Highlands, a place Ron had taken a family vacation once. Harry was against going to anywhere they had already been, but Ron had argued that it would be safe and he already knew all of the exits. Harry may have been against it but the mountain air was a cure all for worry. He thought that should he survive all of this he would build a house up here. By himself.

He would live in the city. But he would use his family money to travel the world and build a house in the Scottish Highlands. He imagined he would enjoy the physical work. He would enjoy the pains and the difficulties and being alive. Just being alive. He would bring Hermione up here. She would enjoy that. Just the two of them. They could raise a family together. They could…

He pushed it out of his mind. He couldn’t let himself go to that place. He couldn’t let himself think about the future. He might not have one. He sighed and went into the tent. He had to do his stretches. His leg was doing much better these days, but the pain came and went. He had learned to ignore the pain, he was determined to get his mobility back to a hundred percent. He would concentrate on that goal. Fill his mind with it, and his mission. It would become his life. He would have to ignore his desire to run form all of this and settle down somewhere with her. He couldn’t let himself think about it.

Instead he did his exercises and waited for Ron and Hermione to come back. Ron was gathering information in a town hundreds of miles away while Hermione had decided to gather food. Harry glanced over to the book dangling out of his bag. He had read through most of the book, more and more disgusted by it with every page. It claimed that Dumbledore had abandoned his family and carried on some clandestine relationship with Grindelwald, the very wizard whose defeat rose Dumbledore to fame. The book both disgusted and captivated Harry.

He refused outright to believe the accusations but was morbidly fascinated by the notion that he might be getting a glimpse into his late enigmatic mentor. Harry had begun to wonder what he didn’t think to ask him about. There was so much Harry didn’t know about a man who had played such a pivotal role in his life. It made him wonder what he might not know about some of the other important people in his life. He tried to contain it, what he didn’t need in the midst of war was unfounded paranoia.

Harry finished his exercises and reached over once more for the book. He stared at the picture of Dumbledore on the cover and sighed. He wished he could ask him about some of this. He sometimes felt like he was going out of his mind. Dumbledore always knew what to say. Harry really felt like he needed that now.

* * *

Anthony had been upset with Hannah when she had stopped him from marching to certain death, but with time came clarity. He saw her point and he wanted to thank her, but it was difficult for him. He had been raised in a family with much love and little talk of it. He wasn’t used to talking so openly about his feelings. He had been staring at her for over an hour. She was practicing with her broom. She flew very well.

There were many things he wished to tell her she did well, but it was too much. He was in the middle of a war behind closed doors with more than enough missing leaders. He had found himself in charge with Hannah. He still didn’t know how well they were doing at the job. Every morning they woke up and could see it in each other’s eyes. They were losing this war.

Every day the noose tightened. The sky darkened and the world got worse. Snape and the Carrows were an ever present threat. Anthony found himself staring at a place he had always loved. A school that had been his escape. It was a prison now. His prison. He loved this school, and with each passing moment he thought he might die here.

* * *

Ron saw a family passing by on the streets. He hadn’t been in a wizard town since they left the Burrow. He had missed wizarding life, but what he saw was unquestionably not what he remembered. Everyone walked as though they were in a hurry to get some where, glancing over their shoulders. These people were scared. He couldn’t blame them. He knew that if he was in there place he would likely do the same.

The world was scary all of sudden. He wondered if this is how it had been for his parents when Voldemort first rose to power. He took a minute to think about his parents. He didn’t let him self indulge in it most of the time, but now and then he would let himself remember how much he missed them. How much he missed his life.

He worried about his family. He worried about his friends. He even kind of missed school, which he would never admit to anyone. He had been starving for months. He had stopped into a café some time ago. He ordered a full English breakfast. He was enjoying every bite of it. He was feeling pretty confident. He had actually beat Hermione to something for once. He had figured out how to do some Metamorphagus things. It had been a necessity.

So he sat eating his full English breakfast with black hair and no freckles. He didn’t stand out. It was a great moment for him, poisoned slightly by the atmosphere of the place. He had hoped to gather information, but no one would even stop long enough to give him the time of day. So he figured he buy some food when he was through eating breakfast. When he got back to the camp he may have no new information but he would have the food as a peace offering.

He wanted to get out of here. This town was choking him. Everything seemed gray here. He missed the old world and his old life, but he knew it would never come back if he didn’t help Harry. Which was a great way to motive himself, if saving his best friend ever wavered. He wondered idly if he would ever get Harry back the same, or Hermione and in the dark places in his mind that forced him to think about an uncertain future, he wondered if he would ever be the same.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the woods. She had gotten some food gathered and had decided it was time to take a break. She knew she shouldn’t. Not because she was on a time table, and not because there were more pressing matters, but because it was dangerous to be alone with her thoughts any more. She missed Harry.

It was an odd thought since he saw him everyday, but she missed him. Like an addict misses a drug. She missed his hands on her skin and the feel of his lips. She blushed a deep red when she admitted to herself that she missed the feel of him inside her as well. She let her mind linger on the dirty thoughts. Savoring them in way she rarely got a chance to do anymore. Girl’s are entitled to fantasize, and she was never alone without male companions long enough to do it.

She missed isolation in a way as well. She missed having time to herself. To think or to day dream. She missed not having someone complain when she tried to tame her hair. She missed having a room to herself when she had a particularly bad PMS cramp. Girls, much more than men, needed alone time. In a way she needed this quiet moment more than she knew she needed.

She gazed off at the mountains. She was glad they had ended up here. She thought the mountain air would do them all good. She hoped it would at least. They were all getting a little edgy lately. If not Harry would never have agreed to let them all split up like this. They had been in spitting distance for days. It was getting strained. As much as she missed the alone time she missed blue skies more.

It was harder and harder to find places that weren’t over cast. She wondered if Harry noticed it too. If he missed the sky… If he missed being inside her. She forced the thought away. It was one of those things. One of those deeply personal things that she had to ignore these days. The greater good was robbing her of a life she longed for. A life with Harry, a life with happiness. She didn’t have a choice. It was the way things had to be. They were at war.

* * *

Hannah thought Anthony was getting depressed. He was prone to worry, but he rarely sat for so long without speaking. He seemed to avoid her most of the time. She worried that he was bottling his anger. She worried about him because he never did and she didn’t who would. There was a place in her that pined for him. She wanted nothing more than to be able to fall in love, to let herself get swept away by it.

She missed quidditch too. She enjoyed taking a moment to fly her broom around the room of requirements. But there was nothing like touching the sky. Feeling the wind whip through her hair. She missed the outside world. She missed so much.

She missed smiling. Anthony could still make her smile, but they didn’t smile these days. She sighed as she landed on the floor. She fought back the urge to walk over and slap or push or kiss Anthony just to snap him out of his funk. She missed him too.

* * *

Harry closed the tent flap and went to sleep. He slept light these days. He heard her when she came in, but he let it slip. He pretended to sleep. She bent down and kissed his forehead. He thought it was amazingly sweet, but he still pretended to sleep. He heard her disrobe in the background. He then felt her warmth as she slid into the bed beside him. He felt like he needed to do more than ignore her at this point.

He moved his shoulder and pushed her hands from him. She only put them back. He shoved them off again, trying hard to make it seem like he was just doing it in his sleep. She put her hands back again. He moved to repeat his action and she pinned him down with more force than he expected. She spoke softly and with determination.

“I love you, Harry.” She said, “There is no force on this Earth that will keep me from sleeping next to the man I love.”

“It isn’t safe.” He said after the silence had grown unbearable.

“Forcing us away isn’t healthy either.” She whispered, “A house divided cannot stand.”

Harry closed his eyes. He knew she was right. But he couldn’t let it break him. He knew where his story ended. He couldn’t let her join him in the grave that was waiting.

“I can’t give you what you want from me.” He said.

“Then give me what you can,” She whispered silk in his ear, “I’ll take it all. I’ll never ask for more. I’ll love you more than ever even as you try to love me less.”

“Why?” He asked with sympathy.

“Because I know you love me.” She spoke, “I don’t care what you say, or if you say it, I know. I realized today that if we have to deal with all of this loss, we should try to create things. I’ve decided to let my love blossom, you do what you need to.” A long moment passed before Harry let his voice, rough with emotion choke out.

“Okay.”

## 17. The building powder keg.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. You can tell because I’m flat broke.

Author’s Note: Seems writer’s block struck me down there for awhile. This chapter is mostly just about getting back into the swing of the story. I also tried to do some setup for the next chapter, which was supposed to be this chapter originally. Oh well. Hope you enjoy this. As always feedback is appreciated.

Hannah was running her finger down Anthony’s scar. It was flat and blunt and covered much of the young man’s forearm. Hannah hated the scar. She hated that it had happened to Anthony. She felt like so much had fallen on him. Like too much responsibility had been dropped on him in too short an amount of time. She worried that the pressure was building and something terrible would happen because of it. He was thinking the exact thing about her.

Their relationship was complicated. Which was putting it delicately. Imagine if two generals with slightly different methodologies were forced to live together while planning a war. They spent the vast majority of their time arguing. Yelling back and forth about what was better for the war effort. The rest of the time they spent apologizing for the things they had said. They seldom got to sit and relax as they were now.

They were sitting together on a big comfortable chair warming themselves by a magical fireplace. They had finished a meal, which was spent largely glaring at each other in anger over a previous argument. Somehow they had begun laughing and collapsed in the chair. They sat there quietly for a long while before Anthony finally spoke. He knew he had to do it, he always did. She was strong. Too strong for an apology.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. Hannah continued to feel the huge scar along his arm. She was silent. Suddenly she rested her head on his chest and let out a great sigh.

“Look.” She began, “I think this game of ours has to stop.”

“You’re right.” Anthony said. He didn’t know but he had misinterpreted her, “We just have to accept the fact that we’re going to argue. I should be more mature.”

“Oh.” Hannah said shocked. She had meant to tell him something far more personal. She was totally unsure how to take this new development. Their former argument was so far from her mind it was like it hadn’t happened. She decided to just play it off, “Yeah. It’s big of you to admit that.”

They sat there for a long time in awkward silence before they finally got up and decided to turn in for the night.

* * *

Neville was upset. He had no idea how to control the more complicated jinxes that Ginny’s plan had called for. He was a good detective, he was a passable wizard. It was the story of his life. Good with plants, bad with magic. Neville Longbottom: Real close to total failure, but not quite. He threw his wand across the room and slammed himself into his chair. He was annoyed. He was feed-up with practicing these spells. He wanted action. He wanted to get Luna to safety. He was upset because his idea got shot down.

He knew a great way to find Luna and the other captives. It was an idea he had fostered for some time now. He wanted to kidnap a Death Eater. It was the only way. Ginny had disagreed because of the danger. Dean had refused because he didn’t want to lose the element of surprise and everyone had agreed with one or the other. They were scared. It pissed him off. Everyone was so busy making sure they were okay that Luna was becoming a very real casualty of this war.

As though on cue Ginny walked into his room and silently closed the door behind her. She gave Neville a furtive glance and pulled a seat up in front of him. She rested her hands on his knees and looked into his eyes. He became bashful, like a child caught in the midst of messing up the living room. She spoke softly, but decisively.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“These spells.” He pointed at the list atop his dresser, “Spells are not my strong suit.” He admitted.

“A lot of us are working outside our comfort zones, sweetie.” She responded.

“I’m not saying we’re not.” He argued, “I’m saying that we’re going about this wrong.” They stared at each other. He had never questioned her command before.

“You don’t like the plan?” She asked, barely disguising how hurt she was.

“It’s not the plan.” He tried to clarify, “The plan will work. It’s just that it doesn’t actually matter.”

“How so?” She was somewhat relieved that he was fine with her plan. She trusted his opinion.

“Because unless we know where to look, we’ll never be able to use the ruddy plan!” He hollered. She knew what was eating him. He still wanted to capture a Death Eater.

“Is this about the Death Eater thing? Nev, it’s impractical.” She countered.

“It is not!” He released, “It’s the only sure fire way to get what we need. Ask the questions to the person who knows!”

“How do you plan to get him to talk?” She asked. She was going to try to poke holes in his argument. She knew what capturing an enemy would mean, she just didn’t know if he did.

“Torture.” He answered stone faced. “I can get him talk. No one else has to get their hands dirty.”

“And when he answers you? What then? Let him go back to the Dark Lord and give up our names?” She was frustrated. He had to get it. He had to know the cost.

“I’ll kill him.” Neville answered too quickly. There was a resolve in his eye. All at once Ginny realized that Neville always knew the cost. He was prepared to fight a war. She worried that the rest of them weren’t. She also worried about how easy it seemed for Neville.

“Satisfied?” He asked before he got up and left her alone in the room. She was not. She had never seen the dark side of Neville. She had never known the lengths he would go to. But what was worse, what really threw her off balance and made her sick. What she knew was going to keep her up nights. She agreed with him.

* * *

Hermione had said that she was going to let her love grow. That she couldn’t ignore what she and Harry had any longer. She had not been lying. Harry was finding it harder and harder to get some time to himself. She was everywhere. He thought letting her into his demons would scare her off, but it didn’t. He needed her to give him some space. He needed time to think. He wished so much that she was annoying. He felt like it would make his life easier.

She wasn’t though. She was around all the time and he couldn’t think. He liked having her around. He liked talking to her. He liked looking at her. He liked her personally. It would be better if she bothered him. If he could grow to not like her. Then he wouldn’t spend so much time thinking about her. He asked her to keep away. She had even capitulated. She had gone off on her own for awhile and Harry thought he would finally have some time to think.

But he screwed that up. He went looking for her. He began to miss her and he went looking for her like an idiot. He knew he was an idiot. He hated himself for doing it. But he couldn’t keep away. Days later he decided to try manual labor. He went off into the woods to chop firewood. They didn’t really need it but he had to find something to take his mind off of her.

Firewood did the trick. Harry liked working. It was one of the few things that calmed him down. It let him vent his rage. It let him get so tired he couldn’t think and he couldn’t worry. He would chop for hours, way more firewood than was needed. He would take short breaks to breath in the mountain air. Then he was right back to work. Chopping and thinking. Finally battle plans jumped through his mind again.

He had one that he particularly liked. It was an ambush. Real guerilla style. It had some meat on it. He spent most of his day fleshing it out in his head. The only real problem was that it required the other two to master metamorphmagus skills. They still hadn’t gotten up to snuff on that. He was beginning to think he would have to enter Godric’s Hollow alone. He found it strange that he dreaded that. It was anly a month or two ago that he was insisting on leaving them behind. Now he couldn’t imagine a fight without them. Life was strange that way.

* * *

Hermione watched him chop firewood. He had his shirt off. She couldn’t help but stare as his muscles flexed under the skin and his sweat dripped down his taut form. She really did love him. She had figured out that it wasn’t a passing fancy, it wasn’t because she couldn’t have him. She actually loved him. She stressed out over what this war was turning him into, and if she could love the man he would become. But when she saw him chopping the firewood with his concentrated stare and his slow smile, she knew the war could never change him enough.

Her, however, seemed totally unable to change. Ron had made some leaps with transfiguring his hair color. He had even managed to get rid of many of his freckles. She could do almost nothing. She was having such a hard time with this. It seemed like it came so easily to Harry. She wished he would let her into his head so she could see how he did it, like he had with Tonks. So far he wasn’t letting them. She knew why.

He had shown her some of his darkest moments. She knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want them seeing what he had done, what he had been through. He didn’t want them to know what he planned to do, what he planned to go through. He had never been such a closed book. They had shared everything with each other growing up. The three of them. They never talked anymore. Not about their fears or their plans. About their dreams for the future.

They didn’t have any. It occurred to her like a lightning bolt. Harry and Ron didn’t really expect to survive! How had she missed that? She looked over at Harry as he chopped wood. He seemed so normal. So peaceful. Was he really having these dark thoughts? Was Ron? The group joker. The funny but brave Ron. Was he entertaining a notion that he would die before all was said and done. She felt badly for them, scared for them. She resolved to talk about it with them.

* * *

Ron wondered how they were going to start destroying the Horcrux. He knew Dumbledore had attempted it to disastrous effect. Harry had told them that Dumbledore believed he would die that year regardless because of his grievous cursed hand. Ron certainly didn’t want them cursing themselves. They had enough problems.

He sat by the food as it cooked. He was watching it. It was his night to cook. Harry had gone off to chop firewood, Hermione was trying to figure out how to at least change her hair color. Ron just sat by the fire flicking the deluminator against his leg. Just opening and closing the cap over and over again. A nervous tick he had picked up somewhere.

The food was really starting to smell good. He hoped it would be done soon. His mind wandered off. He thought about Hogwarts. He wondered if they were playing quid ditch that year. It didn’t seem likely. He knew dark things were afoot there. He had a real deep desire to return there and save everyone. He felt like it was their obligation. He knew also that he had to meet up with Mr. Lovegood as well as a handful of other things.

He knew more so that they would have to get into Godric’s Hollow first. He knew that Hepzibah Smith was the last person in real actual possession of both the Huffle Puff cup (he had done his research) and the Slytherin Locket. She seemed like as good a place as any to start. He wondered if she had house servants. If they could make themselves look like house elves, they could go practically anywhere in the wizarding world.

He tucked the thought away and called the others over for dinner. He was famished. It turned out so was Harry. Hermione didn’t eat much and she kept looking at them as though she was concerned. Ron decided that he would never understand her.

## 18. Teetering on the very sudden edge.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s Note: Okay, here we go. New chapter is up. This one took awhile to get out. I’m pretty much a novice writer, which I think is pretty clear. So to write quiet character moments and a great big action sequence all in one chapter was something I really had to prep myself for. Like I said, totally amateur. Well, anyway, there you have it. Hope you like it. As always let me know what you think.

Harry was packing. They had been here for three days and it was time to move on. The rules were set down. They were not allowed to get comfortable. They couldn’t afford the luxury, not in times of war. Hermione was packing her things a few feet away. There had been an argument. She thought that constantly moving was just as dangerous as staying in the same place for awhile. Harry had disagreed, Ron took Harry’s side, and suddenly they were all screaming. Hermione had a point. One way of thinking said that a firm and established head quarters was how you fought a war. The other way of thinking says that there is no safety in war. Anything can happen and we must all be prepared for the worst.

Harry and Ron had adopted the second mentality. It was hard for Ron and Hermione. They had such a stable concept of “home”. It was rough for them to have to keep abandoning these warm safe places. Harry hadn’t been home since he had last left Hogwarts. He had been prepared even to never go back. This was much easier for him. He tried to understand where they were coming from. He tried to be sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, guys.” He said loudly enough for both his friends to hear him, “I know this is hard on you.”

“It’s okay.” Ron said quickly. He, more than Hermione, had adapted to war. He had left his family behind and found a way to push them from his thoughts. Hermione had sacrificed her family in a far more profound way. They wouldn’t remember her if she walked before them. It was a devastating blow to know that if you died no one would miss you. She was having a terrible time. Not the least of which was that Harry had just about mastered the Metamorphmagus skills needed, and Ron was real close behind him on the learning curve. Hermione just couldn’t get it to work. She was unable to find the stupid pocket of information locked in her head. The stress was getting to her. They waited silently to see if she would accept the apology.

She just kept packing. She was upset with them. She hated when they both teamed up against her. She didn’t like to feel outnumbered. Specifically with both of them. They didn’t do arguments the way she did. They didn’t assume that they had to change the other persons mind with evidence and speculation. They just assumed they were right and you were wrong and they didn’t want to hear it. It became very frustrating. She wasn’t speaking to them. If they wanted to move camp then she would move camp. Didn’t mean she had to listen. Sure it was passive aggressive, she knew that, she just didn’t care. They were unfair to her, she thought of this as revenge.

Harry knew what she was doing. He had known her for too long not to. When Ron cleared his throat and started to say something to rile her Harry had cut him off. They finished packing in silence. Hermione would never say it to his face, but she appreciated that Harry understood. She was still upset with him. Harry moved them closer to the portkey he had set up. They each looked at each other. There was a real feeling of dread over the three of them. They knew where the portkey would drop them. They were going to drop into real danger. They were going to be less than a mile into the woods around Godric’s Hollow. They each took a gulp and made contact with the portkey.

Instants later they were standing in the woods. The breeze was getting fierce. It was a much more bitter winter in England. They made haste to set up the tents, if only to escape the cold. If they were feeling low before they were only feeling worse now.

* * *

“We need to get Seamus.” Hannah said aloud. Anthony jerked his head up. She had broken the silence. Ernie had recovered and was back in his common room and Filtch had stopped in an hour or so ago to give them his report. Since though they had been sitting in silence.

“I agree totally.” Anthony mused, “I said the same thing before you magic-ed my legs out from under me.”

“I know.” Hannah said, “You were right then, you just went about it wrong.”

“I’ll give you that.” Anthony agreed, “So you have a plan then?”

“I think so.” Hannah spit out, the idea still only half formed in her head, “We can get to the dungeon from the house elf barracks near the kitchens.”

“Great!” Anthony said excited, “What then?”

“I… I have no idea.” She admitted crestfallen.

“I think…” Anthony rubbed his chin, “I think I do.”

“What?” Hannah questioned.

“Patronus.” Anthony said as if it were all so obvious, “And confounding charms… maybe a howler…defiantly going to need Ernie...and one of the house ghosts, maybe all.”

“What is your big beautiful brain up to, Anthony?” Hannah said with a kind of wonder that did little to hide her adoration for the boy.

“We can free the prisoners.” Anthony responded, “We’re going to haunt the dungeon.”

Hannah laughed as the idea formed in her head as well. It was risky. It was silly. It wasn’t how wars were fought, and maybe, just maybe that was why it would work. They began to prepare. They summoned to the room to get them the supplies they needed and sent out a call through the galleons for the DA members to round up the Hogwarts ghosts. Within a few hours Hannah and Anthony were dressed all in black and making their way down the secret tunnels toward the kitchens.

* * *

It took only minutes for Anthony to find the passage way. They had flipped a coin to determine who was going to set off the commotion. It was the safer of the two jobs required for the trick to work. Anthony had lost the coin toss. So he would be setting off the commotion. He worried for Hannah. He always worried for Hannah. She was too willing to throw herself in danger’s way if it meant protecting him. He hated feeling so worthless. He didn’t wallow long, he had work to do.

From the kitchens he had followed a venting shaft down to the dungeons. There was a Carrow there. He was performing a Cruciatus Curse on a student. He was clearly trying to get information from him.

“We are not dumb young man.” The Carrow said to the boy that Anthony realized was Seamus, “We know that you students have some half-baked rebellion brewing. We know you think you can over come the Dark Lord. We just have to know where the generals are hiding out.”

“Fuck you.” Seamus grunted out.

“Crucio.” Carrow muttered seemingly without passion. Seamus began to scream and writhe on the table he was tied down to. He looked like he was in fatal pain. Anthony swallowed a sob that was threatening to expose his position. He hated that man more than he knew he could. Carrow continued,

“Such language you man. Crucio.” Seamus screamed in mortal agony, “Now, this has been going for how long? Weeks? Months? Who can tell when you’re having fun.” He mused, “But it’s coming to a close. We do much more of this and you’re liable to die.” He flicked his wand around to indicate the walls. Anthony noticed several kids chained to the walls. They looked bad. The had become skinny, clearly they weren’t being feed often. Their skin and waxen and pale and their lips were cracked and bleeding. They were breathing shallow breaths. The wind rattling out of them as though it was difficult to contain. They were doing much better than the poor kids on the floor. It took several moments before Anthony realized that the students laying on the floor were not breathing at all.

“So once more I have to ask, and be careful here young man.” Carrow warned Seamus, “Because if you don’t answer correctly I will use the killing curse.” Carrow got within inches of Seamus’ face. He let his breath spread over the young man’s skin, “Where is Harry Potter?” It was then that it occurred to Anthony what was going on. They thought Potter was in the school. They thought he was hiding somewhere on school grounds. Yet they hadn’t checked the room of requirement for him. Anthony was sure Snape knew about the room. Why had they not looked there. Something was going on here. Anthony just had to figure it out.

He didn’t have time for it now. He cast confounding spells one after another at Carrow before casting the room to cover in smoke. Finally he ripped open the howler he had prepared and through it into the room before he jumped into the fog and began to unchain the prisoners. The howler was working like a charm.

“HOW DARE YOU DEFILE MY SCHOOL! THIS BASTION I BUILT TO PROTECT! YOU ARE UNWORTHY, YOU ARE WEAK, YOU WILL DIE IN THESE HALLS TONIGHT CARROW!”

That was the signal. The door, behind which Hannah was waiting blew open. The Hogwarts Ghost blew in and began to fly around. In the doorway stood Hannah. She was dressed as a ghost. There was fog surrounding her. She looked every bit the specter she was meant to. She even scared Anthony Slightly. She was mouthing the words of the howler. Like it’s voice was hers. Anthony stood and watched her gothic beauty with admiration before remembering he had work to do. He set back to freeing the students.

Carrow was badly confounded. Anthony’s spells having done their work. He was clearly scared out of his mind. He began to panic and cast spells wildly. Anthony knew this would happen. While she had the upper hand and a clear mind, Hannah would still have to be in a wizards duel with the Carrow. She set to work swiftly. She began casting counter jinxes as well as offensive spells herself. It was clear that Carrow was the better dueler. Even in his state he was out casting her. Anthony was going to watch her die.

He couldn’t let that happen. He just couldn’t. He stood up and raised his wand to Carrow’s back. Hate was flowing through him for this man. This child murderer. This evil monster. This Monster that was attacking Hannah. His Hannah.

“CRUCIO!” Anthony shouted. The spell hit Carrow in the crook of his back. It washed him in red light. He curled up. He hit the floor reeling in pain. Anthony ran over and kicked him as hard as he could muster. His foot landed square on the bridge of Carrow’s nose. The nose folded. Blood flew out and Carrow’s eyes went dark. He was unconscious, though not dead. Anthony wished he was dead.

Anthony quickly ushered the prisoners outside. Once out the door Filtch lead the students through the passages to the Room of Requirement. Hannah grabbed Anthony’s hand on his way out. He looked at her. She was shocked. She was taken aback by his actions. But there was something else there in her eyes. Something warmer. She mouthed a thank you. He nodded and took her hand in his. Hand in hand they raced with the other refugees back to their place. Their Head quarters, their home. They never let go of the other’s hand.

* * *

Neville knew which Death Eater he wanted to grab. He had known for years who he would torture or kill if he had a chance. The thought frightened him. Not as much as the knowledge that he would never get his chance. The other DA members had voted against him. His plan was too dangerous. This much he knew. He hated it, but there was nothing else to do. He could go against his orders or he could just sit around and hope for a break.

He didn’t want to go over Ginny’s head. He didn’t want to keep secrets form her. So for now he waited. Waited until it became obvious that it was his way or no way. So far no one was even close to ready to admit he was right. That mostly came out of the fact that no one was ready to face down the Death Eaters at all. They needed something. A catalyst to get the ball rolling. To show them that there was no way back. That this was war time and that normal was gone.

Suddenly the door to his room burst open. Ginny burst into his room all red hair and excitement. She was carrying a radio. Neville looked at her with a mixture of amazement and confusion. She threw the radio down and brought her index finger to her lips to shush him.

“Quiet.” She said in a hurry, “Just listen.”

She flipped the switch on the radio. The report buzzed in. It was a wizard station. That much was instantly clear. It had the dreamlike quality of all of their stations. The bulletin announced was brief as though it had been reported several times over the last few hours. The announcer barked out,

“-And now with another update on the condition of Professor Amycus Carrow, we have Bertrand Smith on location at St. Mungo’s.”

There was a small static noise.

“Thanks, Olivia, I’m outside St. Mungo’s now. It seems that the newly appointed teacher of Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts is recovering from his wounds. As I’m sure we all know now that the Press release by Headmaster Snape states that Carrow incurred injury while performing his duties. Apparently the job is very dangerous. Of course it can be said that truth seems to flow from those words. It is widely recognized as the most frequently open position at Hogwarts. The new Professor is said to be doing fine, but resting according to the healers here.”

The static noise came to life again.

“Thank you Bertrand. Professor Carrow spurred controversy when he and his sister were appointed by the new headmaster at the beginning of the year. Many wizards have questioned appointing former Death Eaters to positions-”

Ginny turned the dial to the off position and the radio shut down. She stared at Neville with excitement.

“So?” She said with a giant smile.

“Good for him.” Neville said confused, “Sounds to me like the bastard got what he deserved. Hope he’s hurt bad.”

“Oh he is.” Ginny answered, “They’ve been on about it all day. He’s going to be in care for awhile.”

“This means what to us?” Neville questioned.

“He’s a Death Eater, sweetie.” She said humoring him.

“Holy shit.” Neville said wide eyed,

“We’re going to go to St. Mungo’s.” Ginny smiled.

“We’re going.” Neville agreed. They laughed for a while. This would be so much neater than grabbing a random Death Eater. Plus they wouldn’t have to torture him to get him to talk. They just had to get their hands on some truth serum. They laughed and rejoiced in the notion that they wouldn’t have to kill anyone. They kissed sweetly and set to work on preparing. They would go just the two of them. Neville was excited that he wouldn’t have to disobey her. He loved her. He was glad he had waited for a situation to present itself.

* * *

“We can’t wait for a perfect moment!” Harry bellowed.

“We can’t go in unprepared either.” Ron blurted. He had been on Harry’s side for so long that it shocked them both when he spoke out against him. They stared at each other in shock.

“Of course we can’t.” Harry finally said, “But we won’t be. You and I are fine here. We’ve got this down.”

“But I don’t.” Hermione interjected sadly.

“Well that’s the draw back.” Harry countered, “We can disguise you though.”

“Disguise works. Whatever.” Ron began, ever the tactical one, “That doesn’t magically grow a plan. We need a plan. We need surveillance. We spent weeks watching the Ministry and we have spent no time at all with the Hollow!”

“What do you want me to do?” Harry asked, “We have no time.”

“We make time, god damn it!” Ron shouted surprising everyone, “We have to find the sword and the cup and god knows what else will go down? We have to infiltrate the home of a batty old dead witch to see if we can find evidence of whatever it is we have to find evidence of!”

“And look, mate, I get it that you’re from here.” Ron continued, “I get it. I know that that goddamn book you’ve been reading about Dumbledore leads back here, I know this Harry.” Harry began to ask him a question but Ron answered it in a hurry, “I know because I’m not stupid!”

“You’re right.” Harry said ashamed, “I’m sorry.”

“No look.” Ron looked up, “Shit.” He dropped his head back down, “It’s not like that man. We all have something drawing us. We all have a personal connection to Dumbledore, not like yours, but we do.”

“It’s okay.” Harry cut him off, “We don’t know where the sword is, we don’t know whose down there, we don’t know enough.” He looked at the two of them, “We’ll start to sort that out in the morning.” He then wished them a goodnight and retired to his tent.

Hermione walked in shortly after. Harry had heard her chastising Ron for his outburst before walking in. She crossed the room and saw him looking at the book Ron had just mentioned. He looked up at her. There was a sadness in his eyes, like something was broken deep down inside of him.

“I’m sorry.” He said almost in tears. She rushed over and hugged him but he continued, “I’m so sorry. I know how hard this is, I know. It’s not what I thought it was going to be.”

“It’s not what any of us thought it would be, Harry.” She said gently as she stroked his hair, “It wasn’t fair that this all had to be on you.”

“It’s not.” He mused wisely as he looked up at her.

“I..” She was shocked by his honesty, “I guess so.”

They looked at each other. A warmth spread around them. Very rarely these days was it so clear to either of them how much they had been through together and how much they meant to each other. They got up and decided to go to bed. Harry had gotten used to the idea that she would sleep next to him. That she wanted more than he could give her. He went to bed with her in his arms and dreaded the next day. They all did.

## 19. So close the finger tips graze it.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Author’s Note: Phew. Sooner than I thought it would be, here it is! Hope you enjoy. This one is really introspective, with some action in the middle. Just figured I’d warn you. As always let me know what you think.

“The crazy thing is, and take this how you will.” Harry said, “Is that when you called me out like that… I hadn’t realized what a mess I was making of it all.”

“No. The crazy thing is,” Ron countered with a smile, “Is that I listened to you up to that point.”

The two boys began to laugh the deep hearty laugh that friends share. It wasn’t exactly and apology, and it would never be one, but it was enough for them. Hermione would never understand them. The relationship they shared, at times, seemed so much more than friendly. They were brothers. They were two halves of the exact same coin. She sometimes envied their relationship, though she would never admit it. They had such an easy grace about them. Years of behaving like reckless adventurous had molded them into a family. A family she was a part of, but not like them.

To her best estimation, it was the tri wizard cup that had made them so inseparable. When Ron had stopped speaking to Harry for that absurdly long time they had both realized how hard they had it without the other. Everyone laughed at Ron’s jokes, but Harry laughed the loudest. Everyone envied Harry for his unwanted fame, but Ron understood why they shouldn’t. She loved both men. It was deep and primal. Like a mother bear for her cubs or a lobster for her mate. She loved them in a way that only family could love each other.

But she loved Harry in another way. She wanted to know all of his secrets and share in all of his triumph and all of his pain. She wanted to be best friend, and confidant, and secret keeper, and drinking buddy, and lover all wrapped into one. When she saw those two together, never apologizing, always speaking to each other in the same lazy, practiced and comfortably friendly way she felt a pang in her heart. She could never be to Harry what Ron was.

Ron wasn’t just Harry’s best friend, and partner in crime. Ron was Harry’s salvation. The first person in all the world that saw Harry not as a burden or as a savior, but as a fun guy to be around. There was something special about being the first one there. She had spent so many years wishing it had been her. That she befriended him first. That on that long exciting train ride she had been more than the brainy girl. She didn’t regret how they had met. It was probably then that she fell in love. It was hard to say. Harry had stormed into that bathroom and saved her life when he could easily have run.

She came to find out in the intervening years that that was who Harry was. He never thought twice about throwing himself into the line of danger for other people. As if the thought that he could just walk away never even occurred to him. But to have been the first would have been wonderful. She would always remember the look on his face at the Yule ball. The way his eyes lingered on her figure as she descended the grand stair. The way that one look sent shivers up her spine and filled her stomach with a queasy tension. How different would that have been if she had known him, really known him first? Would he have been waiting there for her?

She shook her head. Nonsense. No point in dwelling on nonsense. She thought briefly about joining the two of them at the fire. Sitting down and telling jokes and making plans. She decided against it. They needed alone time. They needed time to kid and joke and enjoy what little of their youth they had to enjoy. Besides lately it felt like Ron and her were vying for Harry’s time. Like the group was falling apart. She thought maybe the reason was that Harry and Ron didn’t have time to make their ridiculous jokes all night. Maybe it was the way she barely let Harry out of her sight.

She wandered closer to the tent she and Harry shared. They had not made love in some time. Harry wasn’t exactly pushing her away, but he was keeping his distance. He was okay with them sleeping in the same tent, he had even begrudgingly accepted that they would hold one another, but he was by no means getting attached. He let her have little things to pacify her. She knew this. She just decided not to care. He had never really told her that he loved her. He had said the words once in the house of black, but not the way she meant for them to be said.

He had told her that he loved her the same way he had told her that he loved her a hundred times. Of course he loved her. He loved Ron too, but she wanted more than that from him. She knew he felt it for her. She knew that his love for her was with out boundaries. She also knew that it was chained. He was unwilling to feel it. Afraid of the consequences. Everyone Harry cared about died. His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore all dead. Harry was emotionally scarred. He always would be. You didn’t go through that and come out clean.

She was too, she realized. She had given up her life to go on the run with him. She had let go of the woman that used to stroke her hair when she woke up from a nightmare. She had let go of the man that held the back of her bicycle seat when she learned how to ride. She had given up her parents. They weren’t dead, just gone. In a way much more profound than dead. If she died on that spot that night they wouldn’t even care. They didn’t know her anymore. It would take a lot of magical therapy and time before they would even remember her favorite food again.

So much pain. So many broken homes. They all had a sob story. Everyone who fought Voldemort had a reason why. Neville and Harry fought for their parents. Ron fought for his family and his best friend. Luna fought for peace. Sometimes Hermione wondered what it was exactly that propelled her. What she fought for. Harry was predetermined to fight. It was his destiny to kill or be killed and save the world. Hermione was muggle born. She didn’t grow up in the aftermath the way many of her classmates had. She only knew of the horrors in the same way that she knew of the horrors of Hitler. From books.

But no that wasn’t right. She had felt Voldemort’s evil far closer than many of her classmates. She had seen the strangle hold he had put on Harry’s freedom. She was a target in Voldemort’s way. She always had been. Since the troll her first year. She may not have been the first person to really know Harry, but she was one of the first to put her life in his hands. She was one of the first to see him in action. She was the first to really love him. To her that counted for something. She knew why she fought. All she had to do was see those wonderful emerald eyes and she knew. She always had.

* * *

The dirty red brick building loomed in front of them. It looked derelict. It had a sign that was weather beaten and sagging. The sign said Purge & Dowse LTD. But once one entered the window of the run down shop it would become St. Mungo’s. The foremost Hospital for the wizarding world in London. Neville and Ginny stood by this window. They had to prep. Under their clothes they had concealed the lime green uniforms of the Healers inside. Their plan was simple. Pretend to be attending Healers. They quickly ducked inside and the fabrication of the outside was never more obvious.

Inside the hospital was neat and sterile. Healers rushed about here and there in a hurry to help the next patient. As soon as they were in Ginny followed Neville’s lead. He was far more familiar with the place than she. On a floor above them his parents were still being treated for the torture inflicted on them by Belatrix LeStrange. Neville had been here often to visit them. He knew where the closet restrooms were. They moved normally. Walked with confidence. It was a trick Harry had taught them. Go anywhere like you belong and everyone will assume you do.

Ginny strolled casually into the girl’s restroom. She gave Neville a quick glance before she disappeared behind the door. She knew how upsetting it was for him to infiltrate this place. She knew how risky it was too. Some of the Healers knew him. Once she was safely inside Neville hurried to the men’s room. He withdrew a plastic bag from his robes and stuffed all of his clothes inside. He tied the bad shut and carefully removed the back of the toilet. He let his clothes sink into the water inside the tank and hoped that the bag was airtight. The last thing he needed was to try and make an escape in soggy clothes.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He was garbed as all the attending Healers are. His lime green uniform was both comforting and ugly. He pulled Ginny’s kit from his back pocket. She had had Fred and George rig it up. It was a disguise kit. It came with a wig and mustache, as well as several very realistic moles. He applied the kit and marveled at how different it made him look. He slid on a pair of wire framed glasses to hide his eyes. He then closed the kit and shoved back into his pocket.

When he exited the restroom he found Ginny waiting in the hall. He walked over to her and made casual chit chat. They wanted to seem like attending Healers so they had to really sell it. Finally she suggested that they check in on their patient. Neville agreed and they made their way. Neville wasn’t sure of the actual room that he would be in, but he knew where.

They made their way through the hospital with the same haggard expression the other Healers had. Neville could see why they looked so run down. As they passed room after room they noticed that they were all full. It seemed that not a single bed was unattended. The influx of injuries was alarming. Neville and Ginny knew there was a war on but it was preposterous that so many people should be effected. As far as they knew it was still a secret war. Voldemort seemed to be trying his had at infiltration rather than invasion. Perhaps growing a littler wiser from his previous failure. But the amount of injuries seemed disproportionate to that tactic. This many people should not have been injured.

Finally, when it seemed that they could bear the sight of these poor people for no longer, they happened on the right room. Amycus Carrow was lying in his bed and bandaged. He was twitching. Neville knew the twitch. It was what happened when a particularly powerful Cruciatus Curse had caused nerve damage to a wizard. It wasn’t terribly bad though. Likely Carrow would recover fairly soon, though by Neville’s estimation he would probably still flinch a little when it rained. He wasn’t asleep, but he was staring off into nothingness. He had obviously been tranquilized by the staff. He must have been in really bad pain because he didn’t look that coherent at all. Neville smiled to himself. Death Eater incapacitated by one of their favorite curses.

Ginny and Neville moved closer to the bed. Ginny made sure to close and lock the door before they got into the room too far. Neville waved his hand in front of Carrow’s face to see if he would react to stimulus. He did.

“Alecto?” He moaned, “You came to visit, dear sister?”

Neville shrugged and looked at Ginny. Ginny shook her head. Neville crossed his arms. Finally she rolled her eyes and spoke softly.

“Yes, brother.” She said in a way meant to disguise her voice and hide her age, “I’m here.”

“The well back home.” He said almost incoherently, “The water is cold, sister. Please help me.”

Ginny looked to Neville with a quizzical expression. Neville just shrugged and indicated that she continue.

“Yes.” She tried to hide her confusion, “But it is dry up here. Come join me.”

“Of course.” Me muttered dreamily, “Where are you?”

“I’m trying to get to the place where we keep the prisoners for our Lord.” Ginny gambled, “But I’ve forgotten where it is.”

“Oh you were always so forgetful.” He laughed a little and closed his eyes before saying in a tired voice, “It is at Malfoy Manor as always.”

“Thank you.” Ginny said flabbergasted at how easy this turned out to be, “Get some sleep brother.”

He had already passed out. Clearly his healing session were tiring. Neville indicated the door and Ginny nodded in agreement. As they walked over the knob turned but since the door was locked it didn’t turn all the way. They froze. Ginny began to scan the room for somewhere to hid. If they apparated it would make too much noise. From outside the door they could hear someone making the alohamora incantation. They didn’t have much time. Ginny saw a closet. It was very big but it would have to do.

She grabbed Neville’s hand and raced for the closet. They had gotten inside and pulled the door closed just as the door to the room opened. They could hear footsteps outside the closet door. Ginny was in the back of the closet with Neville squeezed in practically on top of her. Every time he let out a breath she would feel his chest move against her. The noise of several people walking around inside the room could be heard. The faint voices seemed to be talking about how the last person in here must have accidentally locked the door. Then she heard them start in on more healing spells.

After what seemed like hours but was likely only forty-five minutes or so she heard the last of the footsteps leave the room. They waited for several more minutes to be sure before very slowly opening the door and peeking out. It was clear. With the utmost confidence they walked back to the bathrooms and changed back. They let several minutes go by before reemerging to meet with one another in their normal clothes. They calmly walked out into the busy English Streets and as soon as they found a darkened alley they Aparated back to their hotel to deliver the news to the rest of the DA.

* * *

For several days in the aftermath of the daring break out Anthony had DA members casting Patronus toward the dungeons. The shimmering white animals and the house ghosts combined made sure that most of the students and staff thought that the break in was in fact a haunting. The Death Eaters were likely not fooled however. It bugged Anthony. For some reason no one had barged into the Room of Requirements blasted them all away. There was something going on there.

He knew for a fact that Snape was likely aware of the room. The DA had been using it since fifth year. Something was going on and Anthony didn’t understand it, nor did he trust it. Snape had to have a good reason not to turn them over to Voldemort. He had to. The only solution that Anthony had come to was that Snape knew Harry wasn’t there. No point in telling Voldemort that he couldn’t handle a student rebellion. That was admitting uselessness. Useless Death Eaters met with bad fates. However if Harry were here Snape dropping dime would be a blessing for the Dark Lord. So Snape had to have information about Harry that Anthony didn’t. These thoughts had been keeping him up nights.

Of course the sudden influx of residents didn’t help either. Madam Pomfrey had setup a ward in the room to care for the students, and the room itself had grown huge. It had made rooms for all the students there as well as the new clinic. It looked like a little village and a hallway at the same time. Most nights Anthony spent going over plans and whatnot in the war room they had conjured. The other students didn’t know about how Anthony and Hannah were falling asleep holding each other. They didn’t know about their pseudo relationship either. Hannah and Anthony had been careful about it.

They didn’t want to appear to be weak. Succumbing to emotions might seem weak. They also didn’t want it to seem like the chance for playing favorites could be presented. So while they didn’t really hide what they had, they didn’t go out of their way to announce it either. Partly this was because they themselves weren’t totally sure. They knew that when they had fled holding hands it had meant something to both of them. They knew that the other one knew. They knew that something was different in the way they looked at each other. They just didn’t know what it all meant.

The Room of Requirement seemed to know better than them. When it had conjured all the new rooms it had made Hannah’s right next to Anthony’s. They shared a wall, which it happened was fake. It looked solid, and could be so if so desired, but it wasn’t most of the time. They each had their own door and bathroom and bed, but they could easily move from their room to the other’s without going into the “hall”. It had turned out to be a blessing. The first night they tried to sleep without the other had been miserable. They tossed and turned before finally they pushed their beds into the center of the room and fell asleep hold one another.

All of this was weighing on Anthony’s mind. He was certain of nothing and worried about everything. He found it weird that in some small way he had achieved his one biggest goal. He had managed to get most of the remaining DA into the room with them. They were, at least for a time, safe. However Snape was the thorn in his side. How long would it be before the old bastard would come in here and kill them all? Would he even? Anthony had asked the loyal faculty members to snoop a little on the new head master. See what they could find.

So far it was nothing. The guy took his meals alone and never seemed to venture to far from his office. Filtch said he had seen him in there talking to the portrait of Dumbledore once. Hannah suggested that that might indicate guilt. Maybe Snape was starting to feel like he had picked the wrong side again. Anthony was less optimistic. Still he had a burning need to know what was going on. This school kept many secrets, Anthony just needed to uncover the ones that would help them all survive.

* * *

Harry walked into his tent. He saw her there huddled against the wall looking as frustrated as ever. He guessed that she was likely still struggling to get her transformations down. The intelligence on Godric’s Hollow she dug up in her books was helpful, but it didn’t form a complete picture. He worried about her. He knew how she was feeling. Every time he had been forced to stay in the tent or hotel room because of his injury he had felt the same way. Guilt was a mire that was hard to dig one’s way out of.

“You okay?” He asked gently as he sat beside her.

“No.” She answered, “I’m not.”

“You want to talk about it?” He inquired.

“I feeling useless.” She said softly, almost sounding totally defeated, “I can’t get this down. I can’t help. I can’t make you love me. I can’t do anything.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” He comforted, “You’ve never been useless a day in your life. Me and Ron knew next to nothing about any of this stuff until you showed us.”

“Whatever, Harry.” She sulked.

“Stop it.” He patted her back, “We couldn’t do any of this stuff without you.”

“I’m so important, huh?” She said mockingly.

“Of course you are.” He answered firmly.

“Then why don’t you love me?” She shot back coldly, “I’m not pretty enough? I’m not good enough? Maybe you deserve better!”

“Of course I love you.” Harry answered matter-of-factly.

“Shut up, Harry.” She almost screamed, “You know what I mean. You don’t love me the way I love you. Like I’m broken or defective.”

“You’re not broken or defective.”

“Then why!?” She half cried half demanded.

Harry was silent then. He couldn’t let this wall fall. If he submitted to his feelings for her that would be it. He would be over. He would be totally lost in her. She would know all of his truths and lies and all of his darkest secrets. She would be his pillar in a storm. She would be his forever. His life and his soul and he would be hers. Then she would have to watch him die. Or he would have to watch her die. They weren’t in a place where a love like their’s could become. They were in a dark world fighting to survive. Their love called for blue skies and green grass and deep jewel like ocean. It called for peace and tranquility and beauty. What they had was rain and war.

She glared at him with need. She so much wanted an answer and her stomach was sick over it. She had never felt so bad in all her life as she did waiting for him to tell her what was wrong with her. She knew she was being unfair. She could guess his reasons for not wanting to commit. But she needed this from him. She needed to feel like she could do something right for someone. She needed him to tell her that she was loved. She needed something from this man that she knew he was not in a place to give. It was selfish but she didn’t know how much longer she could stand off to the side. How much longer she could hold his hand and let him into her without him letting her in. It was maddening.

“You’re perfect.” He said finally, “There is nothing wrong with you. There never was.”

“Why then, Harry?” She almost begged, “Why, just tell me why.”

He paused again. As if putting it all together himself for the first time. He had to phrase what he meant to say without it coming off like a bad cliché or worse. He never found the right words. He never could around her. Lead a hundred thousand people to war and likely death? Sure any day. Make his dream woman understand one thing from his heart with screwing everything up? He would need lifetimes to think of the right words.

“I’m damaged goods, kid.” He finally uttered. He looked so broken to her in that moment. So defeated and worn, “I’m too messed up to function like a normal human being. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’re what?” She inquired, “You’re saying I can’t have you because you’re broken and I’m perfect? That makes no sense, Harry!”

“That’s because you’re not the broken one.” He smiled darkly, “There may be a time for us, Hermione. There may just be. But today? It’s not today.”

They sat in silence for a time. Just staring straight ahead as though in a trance. She rested her head on his shoulder. They were too worn down for tears. It wasn’t exactly what she had wanted from him. It wasn’t an admission of love. Of deep and resounding love or any other kind besides platonic. As always. But like his apology to Ron it was all they had needed. It was hope. He had not denied the possibility for them, just the timing. She knew it was a pipe dream, but it helped. He had not told her he loved her. She would live. He had proved something else.

Regardless of when she met him, or under what pretenses, she and he did share a special relationship. It was as deep as the one he shared with Ron but totally different. Their was a different kind of love at the core of her relationship with Harry. A different kind of moment that didn’t need concise words or actions. In the heart of all of this darkness they may not laugh off disagreements by fireside, but they could settle a lover’s spat by falling asleep holding one another. As they had at that very moment. It was different in almost everyway from his relationship with their mutual best friend, but no less pure and no less magical. Hermione didn’t feel quiet to jealous of Ron anymore, and she didn’t feel so useless anymore either.

## 20. The powder keg bursts.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.

Author’s note: Okay, brief chapter, which focuses solely on the Golden Trio. A lot happens all at once and I tried to present it in an interesting way. Let me know what you think, as always. Sorry about the wait, and sorry to say that the wait for the next chapter could be a week or more. I have a lot on my plate lately. Well anyway, please, enjoy!

Harry was sitting in the dungeon. Luna was there, as was Olivander and Dobby. He was shackled to a wall and wondering how everything had managed to get so out of hand. He knew it had started when he had the idea to split up. He had no idea it was going to get this bad. Luna moved over next to him and put her arm around his shoulder. She said it would be okay. He envied her optimism. She had an inner strength that he knew would help her to get through this. Dobby was just as optimistic. He had said that now that Harry was here they were sure to escape. Everyone had so much faith in him. He just sat back against the wall and sighed. He had gotten himself into this. All he ever did was make a mess. But this time Ron and Hermione weren’t around to clean it up.

* * *

Twelve Hours earlier He had been sitting around the fire watching as Hermione failed yet again to change her shape. She was distraught over the whole thing. Ron motioned for Harry to walk with him away from the fire. Harry patted Hermione on the back and said he would return before following Ron out into the woods. Ron put his hand against the back of his head and sighed.

“She’s not going to get it in time is she?” He muttered.

“Honestly?” Harry answered with a pained expression, “No. She isn’t. I don’t know if she ever will.”

“Yeah.” Ron kicked the tree, “She’s always been the best of us and the one time we need her to outdo us, this happens!” Harry put his finger to his lips to quiet Ron. He didn’t need her hearing this, she was having a tough enough time.

“Look.” He turned his head back to her, “I think we should split up.”

“What? Not this again.” Ron shook his head upset, “We’re with you till the end, Harry. We’re not going to just skate off because it’s too hard.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Harry retorted in good nature, “I couldn’t do any of this stuff without you two, I get that now.” He patted Ron’s shoulder reassuringly, “What I mean is, how many people do we really need to gather information?”

“That’s actually a pretty good point.” Ron rubbed his chin, “But what would the other two do?”

“They would wait at Mr. Lovegood’s house for whoever to get back from the hollow.” Harry asserted, “We planned to go there next anyway.”

“That’s true.” Ron shrugged, “So who stays and who goes?”

“Well.” Harry smiled sheepishly, “I figured I’d go into the town and you two would wait at the Lovegood place.”

“Yeah, no offense mate.” Ron started, “But that’s not going to happen.”

“I’m the best Metamorphmagus in the group.” He said plainly, “It makes sense.”

“To you it does.” Ron pointed at him, “And I get it, man. I do. Here’s the thing though; You think your job in all of this is to play hero and win the war. Which, I’ll admit, is not exactly an absurd assumption.”

“Thanks?” Harry quipped.

“But see my job, Hermione’s job, in all of this is you, Harry.” Ron pressed his finger roughly into Harry’s chest, “Watching your back and trying to walk away from this with you is the only reason I fight, Harry. I came out here, to this godforsaken hole because end of the day, I have your back. I always have your back.”

“I..” Harry tried to squeak out before Ron interrupted him.

“So no. Absolutely not. You will not roll down to that town alone. You don’t walk away from this war, I don’t walk away from this war. Get it?” Ron said with no softness.

“I..I..” Harry looked down. Suddenly a warmth filled him. No one had ever said anything like that to him. Him and Ron had always shared a very close friendship, but not one they talked about, “I get it.” He smiled.

“I’m going down there.” Ron said finally.

“Okay.” Harry said, “I’ll tell Hermione.

“You do that.” Ron said victoriously.

Harry stalked out of the forest and sat down beside Hermione. Ron could see them talking. At first she seemed reluctant, but Harry argued logically and he saw her nod her head slowly. Ron swallowed hard. It hadn’t occurred to him until he saw the plan in action the risk he was taking. He hoped it all panned out. He hoped he’d see them again. He walked over and clapped his hands. They looked up as he informed them it was time to get a move on. When they had gathered all of their supplies in Hermione’s bag of holding they hugged him and wished him luck. With a loud crack they were gone.

Ron looked down at the town and closed his eyes. He felt his mind go to that place. The hidden cache of information in his mind. Suddenly the changes set in. He kicked off his close and thanked Merlin that no one was around to watch him changing from a naked boy into a house elf. He rummaged for awhile before he found the spare table cloth Hermione had left to act as his clothing. As soon as he was dressed he walked into town.

Since it was a half Muggle town Ron made sure to stick to the shadows until he reached the wizard portion of town. He had rummaged for a time until he had found the ruins of the Smith Manner. He began poking around, but found almost nothing. After several hours he found the diary that the old witch had kept. It didn’t tell them much. Ron had finally given up and left for the woods. As soon as he was there he found his clothes and changed back, making sure that his hair remained dark and his freckles were gone. He then apparated to the Lovegood house.

However when he arrived the house stood in tatters. A great battle had taken place there. He could tell. There were scorch marks on the walls that still stood. He began digging frantically through the rubble. He had to find Harry and Hermione. After a few more hours of digging he stumbled on Hermione’s leg. It was moving. Thank Merlin was all that ran through his mind. He unburied her. She was shaken. She was frightened. He asked her what has happened.

* * *

Six Hours earlier Harry and Hermione had arrived at the home of Luna’s father. He had ushered them in quickly after they had knocked. He made them tea. Hermione had gotten up to look through his library. He asked few questions of the two of them. Harry was getting a weird feeling from Mr. Lovegood. When Hermione returned she had a copy of Beetle Bard under her arm. Harry raised an eyebrow. She explained that she wanted to check her translations. As soon as she drew the book from her bag Mr. Lovegood changed completely.

He regaled them with a story. He told them about the Deathly Hallows. Three magical items of great power granted to three wizard brother‘s by Death. Harry nodded along and Hermione sat at attention, soaking it in as though it were a lesson at school. The items described where the shroud of invisibility, the elder wand (a seemingly unbeatable wand with a very bloody history), however when the third item was mentioned Harry sat up in attention as well.

The resurrection stone. It hadn’t worked for the brother, not in the way he had hoped. But the ability to bring loved ones back from the dead. Harry could wish for nothing more wonderful. The cloak didn’t interest him, he already had a reliable invisibility cloak, which turned the head of Mr. Lovegood. Harry was interested in the wand, it would certainly be a great weapon to have against Voldemort, but the stone. The stone was what had him.

Harry had stood up excited. He had a glint in his eye that Hermione remembered. He was the strong confident Harry that she would have followed to her death again. He spoke quickly and lively. He spoke of all manner of plans. He paced the floor boards before he saw something and dashed off. When he returned he had the sorting hat. He asked how Lovegood had gotten it. Lovegood had told them that before he Died Dumbledore had sent it over with Fawks. Hermione looked over and saw the beautiful phoenix perched by the window. She went over and began to pet it.

As she was petting it she noticed Harry rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He muttered something about great need before plunging his hand into the hat. She cocked an eyebrow at him before realizing what he was trying to do. When he withdrew his arm from the brim of the hat he held a long golden sword. The sword of Gryffindor. She marveled at it. She had seen it only once or twice before. She forgot how wonderful and horrible it looked in person.

She asked why Dumbledore had sent it. Lovegood claimed he didn’t know. Harry looked over at here, as if to say “I told you I got a weird vibe off this guy.” Hermione asked if a note was present. He said there was but that he had been told to destroy it. He confessed that Dumbledore suspected the dark lord was looking into the Deathly Hallows. And if that was a fact that it meant dark times were in store. He said that Dumbledore wanted to make sure that the hat was not in the school in case. When he pressed Lovegood for more information on the items Lovegood fell apart.

He had alerted the Death Eaters of their presence there. He had betrayed them. They had Luna. Harry’s heart sank. He began to shout orders and formulate a plan when the building started to come down. He ran over and shoved Hermione and Lovegood under a felled book case. Hermione reached out to him. She tried to convince him to hide. He shook his head and ordered her to come after him. He told her there was only one way to make sure that she and the elder Lovegood got through this alive. As soon as he had said it he was gone. She could hear the fight outside. It sounded as though Harry was doing well. Then suddenly the noises stopped and the house caved in. She was buried alive with no idea how the fight had ended.

It felt like days that she was trapped there. She knew it was only hours. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t find Lovegood to see if he was okay. She couldn’t cast to free herself. It wasn’t until Ron had dug them out that she saw the results of the battle. The walls were scorched. There was blood, but not enough for someone to have died. She told Ron what had happened. What Harry had said. Ron closed his eyes and nodded. They would have to find Harry. But how?

Hermione sat thinking before it occurred to her. She told Ron to find her bag and together they dug through the rubble to find her bag. It took awhile, and she was in no condition for the digging but eventually Ron found it. She dug through it and pulled out a little golden coin. She held it up to Ron so he could see it. It was the DA galleons. Ron smiled. That was how they would find Harry. They needed information and they needed back up. They didn’t have time to muck around. Voldemort would want Harry dead. They had to get there before that happened. The only advantage they had was that Ron was sure that Voldemort would insist on doing the deed himself. They had to hope that he wasn’t nearby. Hermione sent a signal through the galleon before she got a response. The location of the DA. With that they were gone.

* * *

Right now Harry was locked in abasement at Malfoy Manor. He had never been there before, but somehow it was just as he imagined it. Horrible. The others were huddled around him. Waiting. They knew that Harry would be plucked from them and that when he was they might not ever see him again. When the door swung open they all saw Bellatrix LeStrange. Harry smiled slightly when he saw her now slightly crooked nose. His handy work. Then he looked down and saw her hands. In one had was his wand, but when he saw the other a wave of anger washed over him. She had the sword.

Two Death Eaters walked in and unchained him. She signaled for them to follow. They picked up Harry and dragged him off. The dungeon seemed emptier to those remaining. Luna looked at the spot where once one of her best friends had sat. She began to weep as even her optimism was failing to win out. Dobby walked forward and patted her back, but tears were falling from his eyes as well. They worried for the boy-that-lived. They worried for the world, and what this death would mean. They worried for their families and for themselves, but most of all; They worried for Harry.

## 21. They stand united.

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long to get this out, the holidays and everything just sort of snuck up on me. Took awhile to write this one. Well anyway, hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.

She had the sword. He had to get it away from her, it was his only hope if he was going to defeat Voldemort. He had to get the sword and get away. She would have summoned her master by now, he didn’t have a lot of time. He had too much to figure in. Too many things to do. She had put the others in manacles. Too much to do. Still she walked so quickly, jabbing her wand in his back. She was leading him away from the dungeon and through a long hallway. She seemed panicked, nervous, off balanced in a weird way. Harry knew that something was bothering her, something much more than her poorly mended nose. He just had to find a way to use it. He had to find his wand as well.

While he had preformed wandless magic in the past, it wasn’t something that came easily to him and he found it very draining. Not to mention it was as reliable as the weather on the news. Sometimes he could do it, but only sometimes. She threw him against a wall after opening a door along the hall. He adjusted his glasses with his cheeks and his nose and swept his eyes across the room. It was dark, but not dank. This house was cared for. It was likely still in use as a home.

There were shelves with books on them in the corner and a smallish oak table with two chairs in the center of the room. LeStrange sat at one of the chairs and indicated he sit in the other. He spit on the floor and glared at her. She whispered ‘crucio’ and red hot pain shot through him. He knew this curse. Hermione had said he was immune to it. She said she envied his ability to do it. That however was a lie. He wasn‘t immune. It was torture in magical form. It hurt him as well it would hurt anyone. He simply resisted it. His head hit the brick wall behind him as he writhed in pain. Her spell was cast with malicious. Maybe more than she thought she had used.

Harry smiled his slow, cruel smile. He knew she hated him. She wasn’t used to being pushed around, let alone by a boy. She indicted the chair again. Harry slowly shook his head from side to side and laughed. She hit him again. The red light spread around him, it was a warm kind of pain. Like pulled muscles but increased in intensity a hundred fold. Harry threw his head back and allowed himself to scream so he wouldn’t bite his tongue off. The pain made it hard to think. It made it hard to concentrate.

When the pain stopped Harry’s smiled was gone. He stared at her with contempt. With the reckless abandon of pain, and hate and the sense that one’s lot in life isn’t fair. He stared his anger at her. She never smiled. Suddenly shock came over his face. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t laughing. The shear mad delight of torment and misery were not brightening her spirits. Something was definitely wrong.

“Have a seat, boy.” She said venomously.

“I don’t see why I should give you the pleasure.” Harry said with a smile that turned into a beaming grin, “Except you’re not amused. Are you?”

Her face flashed white hot anger for a moment before she consciously hid the expression. It wasn’t fast enough, Harry had seen it. He was getting to her. She had a strong will and a twisted mind. However something was off with her that day. Something was wrong, maybe something he could use. If he could he but nudge her a little closer… He didn’t let the realization dawn on his face, but suddenly, as though the war leader inside him was finally winning out, he had a plan. A real plan.

“But wait. Why would that be?” Harry continued, “I though you liked to be in power. I thought you liked the torture. Anything to please that creature you love.” Harry chided her. She grew silent. Distant. She turned her head away and stroked the fabric over her forearm. Her dark mark lay underneath. Harry’s face lit up.

“He won’t reward you.” Harry said, “Because he doesn’t know I’m here.” Bellatrix snapped her head forward and drew her wand.

“Crucio!” She shouted. Harry fell onto the floor in racking convulsions. It had never been that bad. His whole body hurt and so too, he imagined, did portions of his soul. He shook as though suffering a seizure. A foam of spittle mixed in with blood collected at the corners of his mouth, “Never question me again, you filthy goddamn mud blood!”

“He doesn’t know!” Harry’s screams had turned to laughter. LeStrange looked puzzled, then shocked, then angry, “You didn’t tell him!” Harry grabbed his sides from the laughter.

“The sword!” She screamed, “You’ve been in my vault! In my family vault!”

“I haven’t.” Harry said through his laughter, “Oh, Merlin.” He wiped a tear from his eyes, “Do you imagine he’ll be happy that you didn’t tell him?”

“The Dark Lord will understand.” She said calmly, her hand once more idling over her Dark Mark, “I do all of this for him.” Harry began to laugh again. Louder and stronger than ever.

“Do you.. Do you think he LOVES you?” Harry laughed, “Do, do you think he even cares?”

“You know nothing of the Dark Lord!” She shouted, “Now tell me where you got the sword!”

“He doesn’t even care if you die.” Harry’s smile had faded, “He doesn’t care about you at all. Because, see, Bella” His eyebrow shot up, “Can I call you Bella? Bella, I do know him. I’ve known him for years. He only cares about himself.”

Harry rose suddenly and crossed the room in three very quick steps. He slammed his hands against the table and looked into her eyes. He stared her down like one might a disobedient dog. When he spoke he was angry. Spit flew from his mouth and landed on her face.

“He’ll never care, Bella. Never.” His eyes were cold, piercing, “Not about you. Privileged little you. Daddy was always so hard on you. Pushed you to believe in the old ways. Forced you to marry a man you didn’t love. Forced so much on poor little you. Sad dark little princess in her lonely castle.”

Bellatrix LeStrange did an odd thing then. She went pale. The boy, he had no wand. No power source and yet he knew too much. Far too much. She tried to feel him in her mind. Tried to see if he was there, poking around inside her. Raping her mind. She felt nothing.

“How?” She asked.

Harry moved quickly. She hadn’t even seen it coming. He had grabbed her wand from her while he was talking. She was disarmed. He threw his arm forward and shouted three spells. One to stun her, one to bind her, and one to unlock the door. He looked at her as she lay dazed on the floor. He smiled his slow cruel smile.

“I guessed.” He answered her.

He left the room and rushed down the hall. He had very little time to get everyone out before someone found out he had escaped. He threw open the dungeon door and noticed first that no one was chained up anymore. Standing in the middle of the room was a tall boy he recognized. A boy that once had blazing red hair. Harry’s face burst into a smile and he ran forward and pulled Ron into a bear hug.

“You’re alive!” Harry thundered happily.

“In the flesh.” Ron responded as he pulled away from the hug.

“Thank Merlin” Harry laughed.

“The bands back together.”

“What?” Harry asked. He hadn’t looked around. He just assumed that Ron was alone. He had thought Ron was taken prisoner.

Ron smiled back at him and indicated that Harry look behind him. Standing there was Hermione. At her feet was an unconscious Draco Malfoy. Harry beamed at her and she stared back at him. Love mingling with her adrenaline she ran forward and planted kiss on him.

From behind them they eventually noticed that Neville was making a slight coughing noise. They jumped apart and looked down to hide the blush rising in their cheeks. Ron smiled as Neville and Ginny exchanged significant glances. The rest of the DA looked excited about the event. Luna smiled at Hermione and winked at Harry.

“Secrets out.” Ron mused. Harry raised his head and shocked everyone.

“We need to leave.” The room got very serious all of a sudden. Harry had made something brilliant into something deadly serious. He was the leader again.

* * *

Ginny was reeling. Hermione and Ron had found them. Harry was gone. Kidnapped. Taken to Malfoy Manor most likely. Ron had drawn up a battle plan and Hermione had insisted that they execute it immediately. The plan was so good for being done off the top of his head. The DA were so willing to follow. She had walked from the hotel room and sat down on one of the chairs in the hall.

Is this was happened with Harry Potter? Somehow the gentle boy she once loved, the boy who would risk everything to save anyone. The boy who could never willingly hurt another human being had turned everyone he knew into soldiers and his two best mates into generals. He had made them warriors and no one had noticed. She hadn’t noticed. Neville flashed into her mind. The sweet, if not slightly klutzy young man with an innocent face and a lopsided smile.

He had told her to fire in a strafing pattern. He had made a call that one a battle. He made ruthless decisions every day now. He was once so sweet, so pure. Now he was the same kind of monster they all were. She too had changed. The silly little red haired girl infatuated by her older brother’s friend. She had become a woman of war. A leader with few peers and a force to be reckoned with. She felt the hot wet tear drop hit her hand.

She touched her fingers to her face and felt that she was crying. She didn’t know when it had started. She sunk her head into her chest and began to shake. Crying for the loss of innocence, for the things left behind, for the people they once were and would never be again. She felt his warmth before she noticed his arm around her. She looked through her tear distorted vision at Neville. He pulled her close to him.

She sobbed in his embrace. Welcoming the comfort of love that enveloped her. He patted her back and kissed her head and she loved him. She needed him. He was her rock, as she knew she was his. As she sobbed she became aware that he was singing to her. Soft words in a slow voice. She couldn’t really understand but she loved it. She let it out, all the pain and frustration, all the concern and fear. She let it pour from her. She was finally safe. Finally free. He was hers and he always would be.

“Promise me.” She sobbed.

“I promise.” He capitulated.

“Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise.” He squeezed her gently before kissing her forehead, “Now come on. We’re going to Malfoy Manor.”

“Okay.” She nodded as she wiped her eyes. When the tears had been brushed away her face was hard again. She was in command again. She had soldiers to lead and friends and savior to free. Neville stood up and followed. He had not asked why she had been crying, he never would. He only cared that she was.

* * *

It was raining outside Malfoy Manor. It was always raining. Ron knew it meant that Voldemort was close. He reached into his pocket and squeezed the locket he had there. It was his bargaining chip. He would exchange Harry for the Horcrux. He closed his eyes for only a second before he set his jaw and lowered his eyebrows. He turned his head to his troops and issued the order to storm.

They moved in quietly and quickly. It wasn’t difficult to incapacitate the guards. No one thought that anyone would be suicidal enough to try to infiltrate the prison. Surprise, Ron had learned that surprise was the one element that he could use to win. Ron planned to use it to the fullest. It took a couple of minutes to get inside. It took a few more to find the right dungeons. Hermione rushed to the front of the group and magically undid the lock on the door.

There was an uneasy silence when the door swung open. Standing near enough to Luna to be a threat was a tall thin Blond boy. He looked gaunt now. A pale shade of the boy they had once known. Draco Malfoy stood sickly and wan. His wand was in his hand and she looked terrified. He opened his mouth to say something, Hermione wasn’t going to let him fire off a spell at anyone. She was not going to lose anyone. Not now, not ever. She fired off three spells before Malfoy even had time to speak a single word.

The others all stared at her with admiration. Ron clapped his hand on her back. She looked back at him with vengeance in her eyes. He stared back with a look of total understanding. She had been so worried about Harry. She had been a nervous wreck. He had looked around the room. Harry was not there. She was clearly torn up inside. Racked with pain. He put his hand on hers and forced her wand to point to the ground.

“It’s okay.” He said comfortingly. She narrowed her eyes.

“Where is he?” She said in a soft, broken whisper, “He’s not here Ron. He’s not here.”

“I know.” Ron said back, “I know. We’ll find him. We will. But for right now, right this second, kid. We have to get these people out of here.”

Hermione paused for several long seconds before a single tear dropped down her face. She wiped her cheek and nodded her head before she silently walked away from Ron and began undoing the cuffs on the prisoners. The rest of the DA stared in awkward silence. Unsure of what had transpired in front of them. Hey knew Ron and Hermione were close to Harry, but they also knew that Hermione was Ron’s girl. She seemed so upset about Harry not being there. Ginny looked on puzzled for several seconds before a slight nudge from Neville brought her back to her senses.

Ginny made a noise and the other DA members suddenly went to work. She gave Ron a look which almost said how badly she felt for him. He made a dismissive nod. She looked away and made a mental note to talk to him about it later. Her heart went out to him. She understood how hard it was to be Harry Potter’s friend. He was the boy-who-lived. The savior of all wizard kind. Plus he was attractive and charming. Girls fell for him. It couldn’t be helped. She had found Neville, and she knew that he felt inferior on occasions. She bit her lip and hoped Ron was doing okay.

Suddenly the sound of the door swinging open again could be heard. There he stood. Weeks and months of fighting and searching had lead to this moment. Harry Potter was standing at the doors. She had found Harry Potter. It was at that moment that the war began for her. That moment of triumph was something she had been waiting for. Now though, she was looking around at the room. Once students, now soldiers. Once children, now warriors. It was then, in the throes of her concern that Hermione rushed across the room and something beautiful happened.

In front of everyone, in the middle of battle, two people who loved each other embraced. Kissed. Love was still present in the world. Still part of their lives. She could stomach it all, if only for love. She squeezed Neville’s hand and envied Hermione. She had yet to tell the world what Neville meant to her. She caught Ron’s eyes on her. He smiled and nodded and she blushed and returned the nod.