# A Brief Shining Moment

Calmacil20

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 10/08/2006
Last Updated: 30/07/2007
Status: Completed

A story that echoes through the ages is told again...A retelling of the Arthurian legends with our favourite Hogwarts students as the focus. Takes place after the seventh year at Hogwarts is over (essentially ignoring the events that took place in DH), and Harry and his friends thought that they finally had some respite. Harry and Hermione are together at last, and live with most of the Order members in small, secluded house, but there is a shadowy remnant of Voldemort's supporters - united under a new leader - who still want to plunge the world into darkness.

## 1. Prologue - The Mists and Stars

The stars glimmered brightly in the night sky, but their faint lights could not penetrate the mist s that were heavy on the surface of the river Brue, which gently lapped at the base of Glastonbury Tor.

The town and infamous hill that were responsible for the area's wide repute could not be seen, for the mists were thick, and seemed to bro il over the surface of the waters, like steam from a cooking pan. There were no birds, nor beasts of the dark out on this night. The only sound was the constant washing of the water on stone shores. Some of the villagers claimed that if one listened closely, the water whispered about the secrets it kept.

Most of the villagers ignored w hat knowledge the water offered; m ost were right to do so.

In the middle of the river, in the place that th e villagers said was enchanted and thus always sailed around the small spick of land that emerged from the glassy water, a voice began to speak, and was answered.

“I begin to forget a lready; how did it start?” asks the first voice; a younger voice, but on e that, beneath its surface, has the authority of one who has witnessed much. “Why do I forget all ready?”

The second voice answers. This one is deep and melodic, almost as if the very speech is a song waiting to be set to music. There is much wisdom in the voice, and compassion as well.

“You are yet new to this place. In time, it will come back - you must be patient, but you will also need a guide to help you remember. That is why I am here.”

There was silence as the mists c ontinued to spin around the Tor.

Finally, the first voice asked, “You did not answer my question - how did it start?”

There came a soft laugh from the second voice - a laugh that was rich in sympathy. “The way it started for me. The way it always starts. With a dream,” here the voice paused, and then spoke again, emotion thick in the words. “And with a love.”

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## 2. Twilight Reflections

The sun was just starting to sink behind the horizon, and from his second story view, Harry Potter was able to watch it and the deep oranges and purples the sun created as it sank. Its last light was mingling with autumn leaves on tree branches that were just a stone's throw away from the window.

The house where he sat was in the northern part of England, in a secluded bit of countryside that hardly anyone ever went through, which had been part of its appeal in the first place. There were old, sturdy trees surrounding the house, and behind the house's left side, several hundred feet off, was a large lake that seemed to be covered in gold leaflets as the sun set.

He sat in a rather large armchair in a drawing room, with an empty fire pit behind him and books and other odds and ends that had value to him lined the few shelves. This was his own private space in a house full of rooms: a place where he could sit in peace for a while and think.

As always, there was much to think about, and Harry briefly wondered if he would ever have nothing to worry over. Maybe that's life, he thought to himself. Certainly his seven years at Hogwarts, which had just ended at the beginning of the now dying summer, had given him proof enough for that.

Not that he didn't have things to be grateful for; at the end of his final term he had at last rid the world of Voldemort, which had caused a great weight to be lifted off of his shoulders. No more terrifying dreams, no more quests and adventures that put himself and his friends in more danger than they ever could have imagined, and no more worry that time was slipping away to stop the world from plunging into darkness.

Well, almost no more.

Many of the Death Eaters had disappeared when Voldemort had been destroyed, and the Ministry and Wizarding governments were so busy try to re-establish order to a system that was nearly fractured in the war, that the attempts to locate and capture these remaining Death Eaters were minimal at best.

And now rumors were being whispered that someone was trying to unite them, organize those who survived the war, and maybe even strike again. No clear information had been given on the validity of these claims, nor who the one could be, so they were largely ignored by the Ministry, but Harry had a feeling that the situation was going to have to be dealt with eventually. And despite his desire to lead a quiet life now that the war was over, he had a sinking feeling he'd have some part to play in that.

Things weren't all bad, though, and he switched his thoughts to something a little more cheerful. Point of fact, he started thinking about the best part of his life: Hermione.

That they had ended up together was still a source of surprise for him, but one for which he was extremely grateful. Of course, she had always been there for him from their first year, and had been key in practically everything he had done, but that she had been harbouring feelings of love for him was something he'd never imagined. In some small part of him that he had kept tucked away, he had always had feelings for her, but with what seemed like the inevitability of her and Ron getting together, he had kept them hidden.

It was during their seventh year that things began to change. The three of them spent almost all of their time hunting down the Horcruxes and dealing with Voldemort, that they barely had time for any personal life, yet Harry noticed Ron and Hermione drifting apart. It wasn't that they weren't friends anymore, but it was almost like some connection between them was just being lost. He initially just wrote it off to the amount of time and energy that they were putting into their work, but then he and Hermione started to get closer and closer, and he began -- in secret -- to hope.

And then all it took was one look at her face, as he lay recovering in the hospital bed after the battle with Voldemort, to know that there was more than just friendship in her eyes. When she was finally allowed to see him after a day or two in recovery, and she, without hesitation or embarrassment, walked straight over to him, laid down next to him and he wrapped his arms around her, he knew that nothing would be the same.

Nothing was the same, but in the best possible way. They were at last able to speak freely to each other, and he was shocked to learn she'd had feelings for him for years as well. He momentarily cursed all that wasted time, but he was so grateful to be with her now, that he didn't care. She was there with him every day he was in the hospital, and with her help, he weakly walked out when he was released. The following weeks, the first of the summer, were some of the best weeks of his life: nothing but being outside, the feeling of her hand in his, tender kisses and days that he wished would never end.

Of course, there was one thing that they had to take care of right away, but one that they were both nervous about: telling Ron. There had been no doubt, right from the start, that it was the right thing to do. Ron was their best friend, and especially given his history with Hermione, it was something that had to be done.

They had waited a few weeks, until everything had settled down, and then told him together. He was shocked, to say the least, and he admitted he was going to need some time to get used to the idea, but overall Harry thought that he handled it very well. Yet every now and then Harry caught a look in his eye that said pretty clearly he was not over it yet. Whenever he saw it, Harry just reminded himself that it was to be expected.

Of course, the fact that Ron was living with them despite this was a pretty strong testament to how much Ron values both his and Hermione's friendship. He also figured that Ron's decision was helped by the fact that the whole of Dumbledore's Army was living in one place. Here, in the house where he sat.

Clae r Anned.

According to Hermione, that was Welsh for Shining House, a name Harry thought was fitting, due to the ever shining waters of the lake behind them. It was in the weeks following the war that Harry first began to think about getting a place to live. Now that things were settled, there was no need to go back to the Dursleys, and he didn't really want to live in London, but wanted somewhere a bit more remote. That's when Lupin mentioned an old house in the north of England he had seen for sale, and Harry had gone to see it alone one day, and decided it was perfect.

He bought the house, and with the help of many of the Order members, like Tonks, Lupin, McGonagal and some of the DA, he not only turned the run-down two-story house into a brand-new looking building, but they also enchanted it, so it had more rooms on the top level than it appeared to.

As they were getting ready to move everybody in, Hermione had asked him why he wanted the DA to remain together, and Harry had to think about if for a while before he was able to give an answer. After all, Voldemort was gone, so the need to have this force seemed to be over, but something about the camaraderie that had been created among the group, especially during that last year, gave Harry such feeling of family that he didn't want to let it go.

Apparently he wasn't the only one, either, for more people than he thought moved into the house, and thanks to the spells, everyone got their own room. In addition to Hermione and Ron, Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus had all moved in, as well as nearly thirty others. Even Ginny stopped in from time to time, but she never stayed long. She had taken to Harry and Hermione pretty badly, and they didn't see her that often. Still, the hustle and bustle of all the people in the house, doing chores, working on spells, coming and going, gave Harry a sense of home that he thought he'd never find outside of Hogwarts. Everyone seemed to love Claer, as they called it, and Harry was happy to have them all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud CRACK and Harry turned in his seat to find Severus Snape standing behind him, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Enjoying the view, are we?”

“Good evening, Snape,” he said, enjoying the twinge on the former professor's face when he addressed him so.

That Snape would be free to come and go as he pleased was something that no one would have ever expected at the end of their sixth year, but it had been revealed in a letter that Dumbledore himself had left, that Snape had been acting on Dumbledore's orders. Not wishes, not hopes, but orders. Faced with such evidence, Snape had been cleared of the charges, and had virtually disappeared since. Except, for some strange reason, during the war he would suddenly appear give Harry some advice or news about the enemy's movements.

Harry initially didn't want to listen to a word he said, still considering Snape the cause of Dumbledore's death, but when Snape's information proved to be reliable time and time again, Harry was forced to admit the man had his uses, even if Harry didn't like him.

“So, Potter, how are things in your little Camelot going?”

Harry rolled his eyes, and stood up to face him. “Things are fine, Snape. I appreciate your concern,” he said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Very good. Nice to see you're keeping your house in order,” Snape replied, with a knowing look that made Harry uncomfortable.

“Are you hear to discuss domestic affairs, or is there something you want?” Harry asked, growing tired of this already.

“Patience was never your strong suit, was it? Well, since you asked, I've got word that the Death Eaters are going to be meeting tonight.”

Harry suddenly felt very excited. “They are! When? Where?”

“The time, I am not so certain of, but the location is at the Malfoy Mansion.”

The Malfoy Mansion, Harry thought. Well, I suppose that's as good a place as any for them to meet.

Harry was aware of Snape watching him, and he asked, “How did you get this information, Snape?”

“I never betrayed you in the war, Potter. Why start now? If you're worried about a trap, why would I have helped you in the war and then turn you over afterwards?”

Harry was about to frame a response when footsteps could be heard heading towards the door. With a flick of his wand, Snape Disapparated just as the door opened and Hermione entered.

“Who were you talking to, Harry?” she asked as she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Snape,” he answered, and she pulled back, a questioning look on her face. She was the only one in the house who knew about Snape, but she was a bit more trusting of him than Harry was.

“What did he say?”

“The Death Eaters are meeting tonight at the Malfoy Mansion. He didn't know when, but I think it's worth looking into.”

Hermione was silent in thought for a moment, before nodding and said. “We'll leave in the hour. I'll get a small group together and we'll…”

“Hermione, would you consider staying? I just think that it would be safer; we don't know what we're walking into here.”

She smiled up at him and said, “That's exactly why you need me.” Then she leaned in and kissed him and said, “And no, I won't consider staying. I'm coming along, Harry.”

He nodded in resignation, squeezed her hand and watched as she left the room. He knew she hated how protective he was of her now, but he couldn't help it; he'd finally found someone who filled the hole in him that his parent's had left, and he wasn't about to lose her, especially now that the war was over.

With one last look at the disappearing sun, he headed to his room to prepare for the journey.

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## 3. Interrupted Thoughts

The stars were just starting to make a faint appearance, and the sky was turning royal blue, but Ron Weasley wasn't ready to go inside yet.

He had been walking the grounds of Claer for a while now, sometimes stopping under a tree to enjoy the cool, other times drifting over to the lake that was behind the house, but he never stayed in one place for long. Despite his tranquil surroundings, his mind was jumping from one thought to another, and he was never able to concentrate on one thing.

Which has been happening a lot, lately, he thought to himself.

He was well aware that a great deal of his inner turmoil had to do with the house that he was circuiting - his home. Or, at least, what he kept trying to convince himself was his home. He stopped for a minute and looked up at the stars, which were growing brighter by the minute.

Once Harry had defeated Voldemort and the war had ended, he had a feeling things would change. As much as he loved the Burrow, he knew that he would have to leave it; he was at the age where it was time he started out on his own, but he wasn't sure where he would go.

Then Harry told him he had bought a house in the countryside and any member of the DA was welcome to join him there. At first, it seemed like the perfect solution: Ron now had somewhere to go, and what was even better than that was the fact that he wouldn't have to do it by himself. There would be all the friends he'd made over the years there too.

Of course, that also meant Hermione would be there, and because of that fact alone, Ron had almost declined Harry's offer. His feelings about her were still quite muddled, and he had no idea how to sort them out.

It had been a surprise, to say the least, when Harry and Hermione had come before him all serious one day several weeks into the summer and had told him that they were in love. He almost blurted out, “With each other?!” but managed to maintain as calm a demeanor as he could. He listened as they told him about the feelings they had kept hidden for all these years, and how they had finally realized how important it was to be honest with each other about them. Their reasoning all made sense, but it just didn't seem fair.

His more logical side said that he had no right to call it unfair or even be angry about it. Nothing had really been going on with him and Hermione, despite all the hints that someday it might, and he had to admit that he had grown apart from her during their final term at Hogwarts. Not because of any changed feelings on his part, but more because so much time was being given to finding the Horcruxes that they didn't really have time for a life outside of their quest. He always just figured that once the war ended, things would go back to normal, but it turned out, he was wrong.

The other side of him, the side that operated more on feeling and instincts, had felt betrayed from the minute Harry and Hermione had told him, and try as he might to bury the feeling, it was still there, lingering on the outside of everything; every thought and feeling he had towards the two of them now was tainted with it, and it made him sick, because he still considered them both his best friends.

He understood that it had taken a good deal of courage for them to be honest with him about it, so he had told them it was fine, but he had the feeling they both recognized he wasn't fine; they both knew him better than anyone, and they could tell it bothered him. Out of respect, Ron tried his best to act like it didn't bother him, and they did their best to not be too affectionate in front of him, although Ron knew, as he was sure they did, that one day, they were all going to have to deal with it.

This was the main factor that made him think moving into Claer would be a bad idea, but Harry and Hermione had both strongly insisted that he join them, and maintained that they were still best friends, until he eventually caved and said yes. Overall, it was not a decision that he regretted, because he really did feel at home here, but there were times when he'd overhear or accidentally see Harry and Hermione together that would make him think he should've chosen otherwise. Still, he made certain that none of the DA members caught on to how he was feeling, and he was pretty sure that outside of himself, Harry and Hermione, nobody knew what was going on.

I seem to have a problem making decisions, he thought bitterly. I waited too long to make a decision on Hermione, and now I can't commit to the decision I made in coming here.

“They're out of your reach - it's best to just let them go,” said the eerily quiet voice of Luna Lovegood, and Ron turned to see her standing behind him, watching him curiously. Of all the people living in the house, she was the one person he felt the most connected to, and the one person who could see through him the easiest.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, wondering if she had somehow gleaned what he was thinking about. She was ridiculously perceptive sometimes, and he wouldn't put it past her.

“The stars. You're looking at them like you want to pluck them right out of the sky. You can't, so it's better not to think about it. Some things you can't change,” she said, with a faint smile.

“Ah,” Ron said, breathing a sigh of relief. She could be perceptive, but other times, he had no idea what she was talking about.

She continued to look at him, and he began to grow anxious under her stare. “Is there something you wanted Luna, or did you just come out to do some star-gazing?”

“Hermione is looking for you,” she answered quickly, as if she had been waiting for him to ask. “Apparently, Harry's gotten word that some of the Death Eaters are meeting tonight at the Malfoy Mansion, and a small group is going to investigate.”

“Really?” Ron said, brightening up. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as I get you,” she answered with a grin.

“Let's go then,” Ron said, and together they headed to the house. Ron felt a calm descending on him as they moved, and he wondered it was the fact that they were actually going to do something about the Death Eaters or if, just maybe, it was Luna's presence.

Whatever it is, it's nice to have something to focus on, he thought as the entered the house.

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## 4. The Malfoy Mansion

There was a lot of noise in the Apparation Room as the small group Hermione had assembled to go to the Malfoy Mansion prepared to leave. Luna had finally come back with Ron in tow, and now it was time to make sure everyone was accounted for before they left.

As much as she hated the fact that there really were Death Eaters organizing out there, the fact that they were going to do something about it gave her a surge of adrenaline that had become a rarity at Claer.

Not that the restful life at Claer was a bad thing, by any means. After all that Harry and the rest of them had endured for seven years, it felt nice to have a bit of peace. Plus, she was finally able to be with Harry, a dream that she had never dared to think would come true, but beyond all reason and all hope, her dream had become a reality. The quiet moments that they shared together still caused her heart to skip a beat.

As if on cue, she saw Harry making his way toward her through the people, the smile that she fell in love with years ago on his face.

“Ready?” she asked, feeling the excitement of a journey about to be undertaken.

“Yeah, I guess we are. Is everyone accounted for?” he asked, surveying the people in the room.

“Everyone's here: you, me, Ron, Luna, Neville, Dean and Callum are all ready.”

“Callum?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Callum Taliesin. That dark-haired boy over there,” Hermione said, indicating a boy who was talking to Dean and Neville. He was a bit shorter than Harry, with short black hair and sky blue eyes. He was deep in conversation with Neville and Dean, and didn't notice Harry looking at him.

“Why don't I remember him?” Harry asked, clearly embarrassed that he didn't know who he was.

“He joined the DA in the middle of the seventh year. At that point you were so busy that you really didn't have time to go over all the new recruits, so I had to check up on everyone who wanted to join. He handles himself well in dangerous situations, and I've not seen him fall in a fight.”

Harry looked at her warmly. “Sometimes I wonder how I ever made it without you.”

She smiled in response and shrugged, “It would have been a lot more difficult.”

Harry laughed, but then his eyes turned serious. “Hermione, I really can't persuade you to stay, can I?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Harry, we talked about this all ready. You may need me, and I'm the one who picked all these people to go anyway. I'm going.”

Harry no doubt caught the irritated tone in her voice and held up his hands. “Very well, I just thought I'd try one more time.”

“You know, you were never this protective during the war,” she said, smiling kindly.

“I didn't have as much to lose,” he said, and he walked over to Ron, to him something before they embarked on their journey.

She took a deep breath and calmed her annoyed feelings. She knew that Harry just wanted to protect her, and she loved him for that, but she had proven herself more than able to handle a dangerous situation. He just needed to let it go a bit, was all.

Harry at last seemed satisfied that everything was ready, and said in a loud voice, “Everyone set?” and he was quickly answered in the affirmative by everyone there.

“All right, Hermione gave you all the location of the Malfoy Mansion, so let's go!” and with a BANG he was gone.

Hermione uttered the spell, and the familiar rush of a split-second blast of wind hit her before she was standing in the dark night, in the front lawn of a large house. She could all ready see Harry's form, and with a few other loud pops, the rest of the party was there. For a moment, they all stood and stared at the wreck that was the Malfoy Mansion.

The house was a menacing, two-story house that seemed to be a throwback to the old castles of England: it was made of dark stone and the slender windows seemed like the many pitch black eyes of a spider. It appeared to actually loom above them, and she had a brief memory of their visit to the old Riddle House during their seventh year, but pushed the thoughts away. If the Death Eaters were to meet anywhere, this certainly seems an appropriate place, she thought to herself.

The ruins of what had once been ornate oak doors hung ajar in the front doorway, and the wind blew tattered curtains through an empty window. The house had barely been abandoned for a year, but it looks like it's been empty for ages, she mused.

The whole story of the near-end of the Malfoys was an unpleasant one; one that had come to light in bits and pieces during their last year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy, who had been in Azkaban during their sixth year had been freed during the following summer, only to be killed by Voldemort's supporters. Most people seemed to think that it was because of the way he botched the attack on the Ministry, which would be more than enough reason for a person with a temper like Voldemort to have someone killed. Nobody knew which of the Death Eaters did it, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would ever know.

From all accounts, her husband's murder and Draco's disappearance after Dumbledore's death threw Narcissa Malfoy into a rage at Voldemort and all of his supporters. Hermione remembered hearing the story, barely whispered in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, of how she had gone mad with the hate and loss, and had attacked a meeting of Death Eaters, killing almost half a dozen before someone finally managed to kill her.

And that left Draco, which few knew anything about. He had vanished at the end of their sixth year and no one had seen him since then. Once he had been cleared of Dumbledore's murder, Snape had been questioned about Draco's whereabouts, but Snape had maintained that it had no bearing on the present affairs, and would not speak a word of it. To this day, no one was sure if Draco Malfoy was alive or dead.

As if they were all mired in the same thoughts, Dean suddenly spoke aloud, saying “Just a family with no luck.”

“Maybe they got what they deserved,” Ron said, bitterness heavy in his voice. Hermione found herself agreeing with both - certainly the Malfoy family had done its share of evil deeds, but she found herself pitying Narcissa's and Draco's fate.

Dean's voice in the quiet seemed to have shaken everyone out of their stupor and Harry lead the way to the door, his wand drawn. The group fell into single file behind him as he slipped inside the darkness.

Once inside the house, they all faintly lit their wands, and looked in amazement at the scene before them - it looked like the house had been ripped apart. There was broken pieces of furniture everywhere, holes blown in the walls, pages from books strewn about like garbage, and the very air in the house seemed weighed down by dust and stuck in Hermione's throat.

Directly in front of them was a winding staircase that led to the second level, and a door way to the left and right, as well as one behind the stairs. After taking their surroundings in for a minute, Harry said in a whisper, “Luna, Neville, Dean and Callum: you search the upstairs rooms. Ron, Hermione, and I will search this floor. Keep your wands ready and call out if you run into trouble.”

The four who were to go upstairs nodded and quietly started picking their way up the staircase, while Ron headed through the doorway to the left, and Harry, quickly giving Hermione's hand a squeeze, moved toward the door behind the stairs. This left Hermione with the right door, which she crept to on cat's feet.

She found herself in what must have been the dining room. There was an enormous table that had been cracked right in the middle, and the pieces of broken chairs laying everywhere. She took a step in and heard a crack, and froze. She looked down and found herself standing on a jagged piece of broken china - the floor was littered with broken pieces of plates, tea cups and glass from the shattered remains of a cabinet. Great, she thought as she began to carefully move into the room. The black wallpaper was peeling in several places, but she noticed that two portraits still hung on the left wall in the center of the room: portraits of Lucius and Narcissa, both with rather unpleasant looking expressions on their faces that could only barely be considered smiles. She shivered involuntarily under their dead gaze and moved on.

She found her way through two more broken rooms, both devoid of any sign of life, when she was forced to make a left into what was undoubtedly the kitchen. Utensils of all kinds, pots and pans were everywhere, and she gave the various knives a look of distrust as she entered. Harry was already standing their waiting, and shook his head at a questioning glance from her.

She came to stand beside him, and in a few moments Ron entered, looking equally disappointed.

“Nothing,” he said, walking over to stand next to them.

“Not even nothing,” Hermione said. “It doesn't look like anyone's been here for quite some time; there's dust over everything,” she said, running her finger along a cupboard and wiping its gray covering on her jeans.

“Maybe we're early, or too late,” Harry said, looking about curiously.

“Or maybe Hermione's right and no one's been here,” Ron said, not bothering to hide his frustration.

“Could be,” Harry admitted. “But if no one's here, I wonder why…” but he trailed off, looking sideways at Ron. Hermione knew what he had almost said, but she knew he didn't want anyone else to know he still received visits from Snape.

Ron looked curiously at Harry, but he just shrugged and said, “Well, let's head back to the stairs. Maybe the others had some luck,” but he sounded doubtful. The house had been completely silent, which probably meant that they hadn't found anything either.

Hermione led them out the way she had come, and soon they came to the dining room. As a precaution she pointed out the shattered porcelain and glass on the floor and motioned for them to step carefully. As they gingerly made their way across the room, they again passed under the hanging portraits on the wall.

As they walked by them, she heard Ron swear behind her, and turned to tell him to be quiet only to find him pointing his wand at the picture of Lucius, a look of disgust on his face. Before she could say anything, he muttered a small curse and an orange beam shot towards the picture and hit it right on.

Hermione cringed, awaiting the explosion, but there was only silence. She opened her eyes to find the portrait looking like it hadn't even been damaged. They all looked at each other in surprise, and she made sure to give Ron an annoyed look, when there was a sudden rotating sound, and a panel of the wall right next to the picture swung open, revealing the first steps of a wooden staircase that descended into blackness.

Again Harry took the lead, and they made their way down the stairs, which went down further than she expected, but at last they reached the bottom, only to find a large room filled with stacks of crates.

She went over and wiped the dust off of one, trying the read the writing the box had on it.

“Wine,” she said aloud, looking at all the boxes in disbelief. “This is just some kind of wine cellar.”

“Bloody family liked to drink, didn't they?” Ron muttered, making Harry laugh softly. Hermione gave them both an admonishing look, and they quieted.

They looked at all the boxes for a minute more before Harry shrugged and said, “We'd better get back. They could be waiting for us.”

As they all turned to go they heard, a dry, sarcastic voice behind them say, “Leaving already, Potter? Just when I was wondering if you'd have the brains to find this place.”

They turned back to see a very gaunt, grim Draco Malfoy step out from behind a stack of boxes.

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## 5. Escape from the Mansion

Draco could barely hide the satisfied grin on his face as he watched the three intruders into his home grapple with the fact that he was standing right in front of them. He really had been waiting quite some time for them to eventually decide his house was worth investigating, and it was about time they got here. He knew he didn't look like his old self, but this was his home, and he stood straight and proud before them.

“Malfoy,” Potter said, the surprise obvious in his voice. “We thought you were…”

“Dead,” Draco finished bluntly. “No, not quite yet Potter. No doubt that's what all of those trumped-up wizards out there are saying - the end of a family who was nothing but ill news to begin with. Fools - the Malfoy's aren't as easily destroyed as that.”

“But, no one's seen you since sixth year,” a young woman that Draco only barely recognized as Granger said. The Mudblood had certainly grown up since he last saw her.

“That's because of Snape,” Draco said, brushing some dust off of his black shirt. “He made an Unbreakable Vow to my mother that he'd protect me, and that's what he did. Admittedly, his definition of `protection,' wasn't quite what I had in mind. After,” here he faltered for the briefest moment, memories of that night at the end of sixth term flooding through his mind, “Dumbledore was killed, Snape took me into hiding in one of his old haunts. He basically kept me locked there for months, but the place must have been enchanted, because there was nothing I could do to get out.”

“Then one day, just like that, he was gone. All the doors were unlocked, all the spells lifted, and I was free to go. It was only several days later that I learned that was the same day my mother was murdered.”

They were all silent for a moment, until he spoke again, his voice cold as ice. “Since then I've been trying to kill those who killed my parents and nearly destroyed my family,” he said, feeling the white hot heat of rage course through his veins, and his face contorted in anger. “I've gotten close several times, but I'm still not certain who actually did the murdering, so I've been keeping an eye on the Death Eaters, hoping to find out.” He was practically shaking with the hate, and had to rein his emotions back into the calmness he'd been teaching himself ever since he'd heard of his parent's deaths.

Not until I find who did this can I let it go, he thought to himself. Maybe then the loneliness he'd been fighting against would leave to, but he cast that thought away. On a mission of revenge, solitude is part of the road.

The sound of Weasley's voice stirred him out of his thoughts. “It's great that you're alive, Malfoy, and all the best in trying to take on the Death Eaters by yourself, but what does that have to do with waiting here for us?”

He just sneered at him and said, “Very simple, Weasley, if you would use your mind for a minute: you've already missed them.”

He watched, very pleased, as they exchanged glances and Potter said, “Missed who, Malfoy?”

“Oh please, Potter, don't insult me. You know exactly who I'm talking about - the Death Eaters, and their new leader. The people you no doubt trespassed on my property to find.”

“Who is leading them, Draco?” Granger asked, but before he could say anything, the silence of the house was broken by the sound of yelling and a terrific crashing sound from upstairs. Suddenly the ground under them started to shift, and the roof seemed to sink down. Rumbling and the sound of snapping wood could be heard everywhere, and pieces of stone started falling down.

Draco realized what was happening before the other three and yelled, “The house is coming down!” which seemed to spur them into action. He heard Potter yell “Come on!” to his friends, and he started running for the stairs. Weasley was right on his heels and Draco fell in behind him, with Granger at the end.

They ran to the staircase, dodging all the debris that was crashing down, breaking everything. They hit the stairs and were almost to the top, when a large piece of timber hurtled down and crashed through the stairs directly behind Draco. He kept running until he heard a voice behind him and turned to see Granger hanging on to a stair, dangling over a hole that would lead to a long drop back to the cellar. She was calling Potter's name, but he was too far ahead and the house was making too much noise for her to be heard.

Without even realizing what he was doing, or why, he as flying back down the stairs, and pulled her up, ignoring the undisguised shock on her face, and practically dragging her by the hand the rest of the way up the stairs. They came to the top to find Potter and Weasley waiting, and as soon as they saw them coming, they took off running towards the front door.

Right as they were entering the main room of the house, where the stairs to the upper level where, they heard a voice shout “AVADA KEDARVA!” and there was a flash of green light from upstairs. Suddenly three more wizards were running down the stairs, all of whom Draco recognized: Longbottom, Loony Lovegood and another Gryffindor, Dean-something.

They all met in front of the door, but the sound of a huge chandelier crashing down urged them forward, and they hurtled out of the house and kept running until they were several hundred feet away. Then, all of them panting for air, they turned to see the house crumble in on itself. Draco balled his hands into fists as he body pulsed with anger as he watched his home fall apart, the sound of crashing and explosions getting louder and louder until at last it fell, causing a huge explosion of smoke and dust to erupt from the house.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch out forever, until Potter finally asked, “What happened?”

Lovegood answered, in that weird, far-off voice of hers. “We didn't find anything, and were getting ready to leave when we ran into three Death Eaters. They clearly didn't expect us to be there, but as soon as they saw us, they all cast some spell on the house that made it start to fall apart. We tried to attack, but once they had cast the spell, they just tried to leave.”

Potter nodded and did a head count. Suddenly, he froze. “Where's Callum?”

This time Longbottom spoke up, “O-one of the Death Eaters, they used the killing curse as we were running and…”

The whole group fell into a heavy silence, and Granger moved over to Potter and took his hand in hers. Draco could just barely hear her say to him, “It wasn't your fault, Harry. Don't blame yourself for this,” to which Potter only responded, “I didn't even know who he was until tonight, and I led him to his death.”

Granger sighed sadly, and suddenly looked at Draco. Their eyes met, and he had an uncomfortable feeling looking into those deep brown eyes of hers, like he and everything he thought had become transparent. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen the shook on the three faces of the new-comers when they realized just who it was that was standing in their midst, but he didn't.

He finally broke their gaze and shook his head. I've been out of the world too long, he thought darkly, to have someone like her make me feel uncomfortable. Still, the feeling of her eyes lingered, as did the feeling of her hand in his.

Suddenly, Potter spoke up, his voice hard as rock and his eyes afire with anger. “Malfoy, you said you knew who was uniting the Death Eaters. Who is it?”

Draco walked forward and looked at the ruins of the only home he had ever known and felt a wave of bitterness rise up as he answered, “The same person who destroys everything when its use is up.” He turned and looked back at them and said, “My aunt.”

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## 6. Mistakes and Opportunities

The room was almost completely black, save the lone white light that shone down on the mirror where Bellatrix Lestrange sat, brushing her charcoal-black hair, her dark hazel eyes lost in tunnels of thought.

On the table before her were only two things: her wand, and a long, curving knife. She sat on the edge of the chair, and even while appearing to relax, her body seemed tensed, like she was expecting at any moment to leap out of the chair and into action.

She had grown used to this kind of cat-like awareness. A stay in Azkaban would do that to a person, she remembered darkly. But I have gotten free of that cursed place, and at last was able to stand at the Dark Lord's side once again.

Until that filthy Potter brat and his friends put a stop to that, she thought, her thoughts broiling with anger. And now Rodolphus is in Azkaban, the Dark Lord is gone, and I'm forced to live here.

Here was on the rocky western coast of England, in the abandoned and crumbling ruins of an old castle. It was dank and drafty, but with some spells she had at least made it livable.

For the time being.

Until she was able to raise her army of Death Eaters and take revenge on Potter and the rest of the Wizarding world for the destruction of her master, the imprisonment of her husband, and forcing a pure-blood like her to live in a squalid hole of misery like this.

She was biting her lip so hard that she felt a small rivulet of blood run down her chin, but quickly licked it away. I will enjoy getting back at them for this, she told herself.

The completion of her plan was fast approaching. Daily, more and more Death Eaters filtered in, and most of them submitted to following her. After all, she had been one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants - who better to lead them? Some were less willing than others, but she eventually convinced them; if she didn't, she killed them, which she regretted for no other reason than she needed as many supporters as she could get. Were it not for that fact, there would be a lot more bodies at her feet.

The number of her supporters had swelled large enough that using the now empty Malfoy Mansion was no longer a smart move: it would be an obvious place to look, and she didn't want to risk anything, now that she was getting so close. So after the meeting that night, she had ordered three of her Death Eaters to say behind and destroy the place, just so no one would know they had been there.

Just as her mind picked up on this thread of thought, there was a hesitant knock on the door. She set down the brush, next to her knife and wand, and said, “Enter.”

She turned her chair around to see two the Death Eaters who were supposed to destroy the mansion enter, both covered in dirt and ash. That, at least, was a good sign.

She stood up, looking like a queen surveying her subjects, in her royal blue gown, and said, “I trust the demolition went well.”

The larger of the two men took a small step forward, his heavily bearded face looking down, his grimy brown hair falling forward and covering his eyes.

“Yes, mistress, the mansion was destroyed, as you requested…” he answered in a deep voice, still not looking up.

She sensed the hesitation at the end of his sentence and harshly asked, “But?”

“A few members of those miserable DA were there. Caused a bit of a row,” he said quietly.

“What?!” she shrieked, her hand flying to her silver knife as if on its own accord. The fiery hatred she felt for that whole pack of miserable brats rose up and threatened to consume her, and it was only the cool, calming feel of the blade in her hand that steadied her.

“We didn't know where the came from, mistress. We were in the second floor, doing a final sweep when they were suddenly coming down the hall towards us. We fired on them and they fired back, but we managed to destroy the place and get out.”

“And the brats?” she snarled.

For the first time, the man looked up, and she saw a hairline scar running from his eye to the corner of his lip. His silver eyes were almost expressionless.

“I do not know, my lady. We got out before we could see what happened to them. Hopefully they were still in the house when it collapsed.”

“Fool!” she yelled, taking a menacing step forward, and both men fell back. “Do you honestly think that the few you ran into were the only ones in the house. They were probably crawling all over the place like the vermin they are!” She kept reminding herself that she needed all the support she could get, else these two men would have already been dead.

“And where's the third one of you? Please do not tell me he allowed himself to be killed by one of those wretches?” She glared hard at both men, radiating pure anger.

The large men shook his head and said, “No, mistress. I killed him.”

Bella's eyes snapped wide in shock, and all thoughts of how much support she needed melted from her mind. She pulled the knife back and moved forward. These two would die, and she would savour it.

The man fell back and pleaded, “Wait, mistress, please! Let me show you why!”

Something about the desperateness in his voice stopped her, and she glared hard at him for a moment. She lowered the knife a little, and nodded.

The man nodded to the other, and he left the room and came back in dragging the body of a dark-haired boy she initially took to be dead, but then noticed the faint rising and falling of his chest.

She looked up at the man, and he said, “One of the DA, mistress. I had a chance to stun him and grab him before we left.”

She didn't say anything, just bore into him with her dark eyes, and so he continued to speak. “You see, if they knew he was captured, they would move or change the way they do things, but if they thought he was dead, there'd be no problem.”

She had sudden appreciation for the man, and studied the boy curiously. It was a brilliant plan - if those filthy brats thought that this one was dead, they wouldn't be looking for an attack or betrayal.

She let the corner of her lips curve upward in a small smile, and suddenly asked, “What's your name?”

“Morder Pendrag,” the man answered, clearly feeling proud of himself.

“Tell me Morder, why not just cast the spell at the wall? Why did you find it necessary to kill one of MY supporters?”

The pride quickly drained out of his face, but said in a steady voice, “Where's the fun in that?”

At that answer, she couldn't help but laugh. Here was a man after her own heart.

To the other Death Eater, she nodded to the boy and said, “Take him to one of the lower chambers. Don't give him any food or water. I'll deal with him in time.”

“Yes, mistress,” the man said, and picked up the boy and quickly made for the door, obviously glad to be out of her presence.

Morder was still standing there, and she said, “I'm making you my second in command for now, Morder. Return to your duties until I think up a suitable use for you.”

The man smiled, bowed and walked out of the room, closing the door.

She sat back down, traded the knife in her hand for the brush, and went back to her hair.

Oh yes, she thought. Things are moving ahead perfectly.

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## 7. Decisions to Be Made

The fire cracked and spurted as it blazed to life, and the six people in the room took some comfort in its warmth. There were no other lights in the room, and the shadowy forms of the figures danced around them; black and orange mingling on the wood-paneled walls.

One of the figures stood, tall and proud, his back to the fire, while the other five stood like a jury in front of him. Hermione wasn't fond of the idea of being the jury for anybody, but something had to be done with Draco, and that's what they were here deciding.

After the Malfoy Mansion had been destroyed, they had all Apparated back to Claer, and had quietly taken Draco to one of the upper level rooms where they wouldn't be interrupted while they talked. Harry had sent Dean to tell the rest of the DA about Callum's death, and she could tell from the look on his face that Harry wanted to do it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Her heart went out to the one she loved, and hoped he would realize it wasn't his fault. He carried the weight of too many dead as it was.

It was silent in the room before Harry said, “I just don't understand how Bellatrix can be the one leading the Death Eaters. I could have sworn she was one of the ones captured after Voldemort's death.”

“No such luck, Potter,” Draco said, clearly not interested in endearing himself to Harry in the least. “She escaped and fled for a while, but from what I gather, she's decided enough time has passed, and the bloody Ministry is so tangled in its own affairs that she can start reorganizing without them paying much heed.”

“From what you gather?!” Ron said, speaking up angrily. He had been the most against bringing Draco back - the bitterness between those two families was something Hermione thought would never be settled. “Maybe you're actually working with them! How do we know...?”

“Ron,” Harry said sternly, giving him a warning look, and Ron bit his tongue, earning a chuckle out of Draco.

“It just doesn't make sense,” Harry said.

“Why not?!” Neville chimed in from her left. “Harry, can you think of any Death Eater more brutal than she is? She delights in causing pain and misery. The things she did to my…” he trailed off, shaking with anger.

Hermione put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. What Bellatrix had done to Neville's parents, torturing them to the point of madness, gave him more than enough cause to be angry. And he was right, after all. She couldn't imagine a more ferocious enemy than Bellatrix, and if someone was to lead the Death Eaters, she seemed the most obvious candidate.

Clearly still not convinced, Harry turned to look at her for a moment, and when she nodded her assent, he sighed.

“Very well, Bellatrix is leading them,” he said. “So what do we do about it?”

No longer able to contain himself, Ron spoke up again. “That's not the first question we need to be asking, Harry. First, we need to figure out why he wants to help us!”

Draco stiffened as all eyes in the room swung back to him. He gave Ron a haughty look before replying, “I have no desire to help the lot of you, Weasley. It just so happens that, as of now, we share a common goal.”

“But for different reasons,” Luna quietly said, speaking up for the first time. She may not always be easy to understand, Hermione thought, but she can see to the heart of things quicker than most.

“That may be, but the point is, as long as we both want the same thing, we might as well cooperate.” The way he said that last word made Hermione think that he expected more cooperation on their part than on his. “You need me for information as to what they're planning to do, and as for me, their numbers have grown too large for me to manage on my own.”

Harry looked thoughtfully at Draco for a moment, measuring the benefits of some kind of arrangement. Finally he said, “You stay here,” and motioned for the rest to step out into the hallway.

As soon as the door was closed, Ron said, in an angry whisper. “Harry, you can't honestly think of making a deal with him, and keeping him here, can you? He's a Malfoy!”

Neville added his agreement to Ron, saying “We don't know if we can trust him, Harry! And he's Bellatrix's nephew, after all.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, deep in thought, and so she spoke up. “But he has information that we need. He's been at the heart of the Death Eaters, and knows what they're planning. How can we give that information up?”

There were no answers from any of them, and then Luna said, “Now that he's here, we can't just let him leave anyway, can we?”

Again, silence greeted her words. Ron was practically seething, but he must have had a hard time finding fault in their arguments, because he was staying quiet.

“Besides,” Hermione said, “I don't think he's all bad anymore. Back at the Mansion, he saved my life.”

This bit of news was received with shock by all, and she quickly related what had happened on the stairwell. Harry looked horribly guilty for it, and she squeezed his hand. “It wasn't your fault, Harry. The point is, he saved me when he could've just let me fall. I'm not sure why he did it myself, but there must be some good somewhere in him.”

Hermione wasn't sure if Harry was looking at the logic of it, the fact that he now owed Draco for saving her life, or if it was both, but at last he said, “He'll stay.”

Ron sighed loudly and Neville looked extremely disappointed. “But, I don't fully trust him either,” Harry continued. “So, he's not to leave the grounds at all, and he'll need an escort all the time.”

“Do you really think he'll agree to that?” Ron asked, his voiced laced with bitterness.

“He'll agree,” Harry said firmly, and lead the way back into the room, where Draco still stood in front of the fire, waiting.

“So, do I get to join your little club?” he asked with a sneer.

“Malfoy, we've decided that you can stay here for a time, while we work out what to do about the Death Eaters. You'll tell us what you know, and if the information proves useful, then you'll have earned my trust.”

“Oh, I'll have earned your trust,” Draco said with a snort. “How fortunate for me.”

Harry took a step forward, the fire reflecting in his green eyes. “It will be fortunate for you, Malfoy, because if I trust you, then you'll find your stay here more pleasant.”

Draco arched his eyebrow questioningly at that.

“While you're here,” Harry explained, “you are not to leave the grounds for any reason whatsoever. And you will have an escort at all times.”

Draco looked completely shocked at these conditions. “And if I refuse?”

Harry looked around the room for a moment. “We all helped build this house, you know. And when we did, we made sure there were a couple empty rooms in the basement for…emergencies. You know where we are, so letting you leave is out of the question, but if you agree to these terms, at least you can move around, instead of being confined to a small, dark room your entire stay here.”

A wave of anger crashed over Draco's face, and his hand twitched to where his wand was, and like lightning, they all pulled out their own wands. Something in Hermione felt wrong in threatening him like this, even as she held her own wand out, but she understood what Harry was doing: there was probably no other way to convince him. Still, it didn't sit right.

Draco looked at them all for a moment before shaking his head, and laughing softly. “It appears I have no choice. I spent enough time with Snape being locked in a single room. I'd rather not go through that again.”

Harry nodded and turned to Luna and Neville. “You two can go, and Luna, would you find a room for Draco?” she nodded and they left. “Ron, I need to speak with you for a moment,” he said, and he led Rod aside and they began to whisper back and forth.

Hermione moved over to where Draco was still standing and said, “It won't be too bad, Draco. Harry'll make sure you're not mistreated, and like he said, if you help us out, then you won't be stuck here long.” Draco just snorted, clearly not believing a word she said.

They were quiet for a minute before she said, “I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving me back at your house,” and he looked surprised she would bring it up.

“How about you be my escort? All the time,” he said, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

She suddenly felt her face turn fiery red, and managed to say, “What?”

“You know, as a reward.” The way he said “reward” suddenly made her realize he was thinking of her as more than just an escort. She was completely shocked by this, because he had always seen her as some sort of lesser being, but this…this was unheard of.

Before she could even frame a response, Harry was standing next to her, and had slipped his hand in hers. “I understand that you saved Hermione at your mansion, Malfoy. I want to thank you for that.”

Draco looked incredulously from Harry's face to their clasped hands before she saw understanding dawn on him.

“It was nothing,” he mumbled darkly. “Don't even know why I risked my neck for her,” but Hermione caught something in the way he said it that suggested he at least had an idea.

“Regardless, thank you,” Harry said. “Ron'll show you where you'll be staying.”

Draco walked over to an obviously put-out Ron, and as they left the room, he looked one more time at Hermione, and she could've sworn she saw something akin to regret in his eyes.

As the door closed, Harry said, “I hope this was the right idea.”

Still tightly holding his hand and feeling more confused than she could remember feeling in some time, Hermione quietly added, “So do I.”

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## 8. Plans Set in Motion

The sun was starting to slowly lower itself into the sea, bringing about the blackness of night. Already the eastern sky was turning dark blue, and a few faint stars could be seen.

Tonight is an important night for many reasons, Bellatrix thought as she quietly made her way down the ancient stone stairs into the crumbling keep's lower levels.

Before she could deal with the important matters of the night, she had a new project to start in motion, which was why she was making her way down into the silent bleakness of the basement area, every now and then lifting her silk black dress as she stepped over a puddle or a missing stair.

Morder, who was working out well as her new second in command, had inquired if she should bring another Death Eater with her. She had laughed at the foolish question, and instructed him to stay and make sure everything is ready when she got back. She didn't tell him how long she would be, but she doubted what she had to do would take long.

At last, she reached the damp dungeon ground and made her way to the last door at the end of the tunnel. None of the outside light could penetrate down here, so she drew her wand and lit it up to give just enough light for her to see.

She didn't want the captured boy to know she was coming, until the right moment.

When she finally reached the door, she stopped and put an ear to the wood, but couldn't hear anything inside. Not that it was much of a surprise to her. They had kept the boy in the room without light and only with water for three days. No one had spoken to him or said anything at all in that whole time. That should be enough to make anyone a little weak, especially one of those DA brats.

She pulled the key out of one of the folds of her gown, turned the lock and opened the door. As she did this, she increased the amount of light that her wand was emitting, so when she stepped into the tiny chamber, she was practically bathed in light.

Laying on the floor was the same dark-haired boy that Morder had brought in, although he looked pasty-white and pale. His blue eyes were only half-open and he held up a trembling hand to shield them from the massive amount of light they were receiving, after being in darkness for so long. His voice cracked as he rasped, “Who are you? Where am I?”

She allowed herself a moment of relish, seeing that the boy had suffered so much. Oh, I do hope we haven't completely broken him yet, she thought. He needs to resist a little bit.

She dimmed the light on her wand, shut the door and turned back to the boy, who was blinking furiously, trying to get used to the sudden changes in light.

“What's your name, boy?” she asked without prelude.

His eyes seemed to have finally adjusted, and he looked at her in shock. Clearly he didn't expect someone who looked like she did to be his jailer, but life was rarely what one expected it to be.

“Who are y…” but he didn't finish, because she hit him with the Cruciatus curse before he could complete the question. He writhed and screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls around them to fall dead on the ground.

She only held him for a moment, before she released the spell, savoring the sound of his screams and the feeling of terror in the air. It's been too long.

“I asked YOU a question, boy! What is your name?” she barked, and he moaned before answering “Callum. Callum Taliesin.”

“Taliesin? What a pretty name,” she said, making her voice sweet as could be. She did enjoy playing these mind games with her victims. “Do you know why you are here?” she asked.

Still not looking up, the book merely shook his head.

“And here I thought you were so clever. Well, life is full of disappointments, isn't it?” and she gave him another, slightly longer taste of the torture curse. This time his body seemed to be shaking of its own accord, and she could see tears streaming down his cheeks.

So easy.

“You are here, because you are going to help me get inside and destroy that miserable `army' that your wretched friends have created. And you're going to help me kill Harry Potter.”

His body still racked with tremors, he managed to say, in a low voice. “I…won't…”

She smiled wickedly, and brushed a strand of her black hair behind her ear. So, he won't crumble so easily. Good.

She leaned down until her face was only a foot away from his. “Oh the contrary, I think you will help me.” She used the tip of her wand to brush some hair out of his eyes. “You'll help me, Taliesin, because I know how to define pain.”

In one quick motion, she was standing straight, and said “Crucio!” for a third time, this time holding it until she was satisfied. When she at last released him, the boy couldn't even scream; all the air was gone from his lungs. She, on the other hand, breathed in heavily and deep, like she had just tasted the most delicious thing imaginable.

In between racking sobs the boy squeaked out, “Please…stop…what do…want to…know?”

“Oh, no, no. That won't do at all,” she answered. “I don't want you to tell me. You're going to show me.”

She reached into another fold of her gown and pulled out a silver pocket watch.

“Do you see this, boy?” she asked, and he opened one eye to look up at what she was holding, then nodded and closed his eye again. “Good. Now listen carefully to me: as soon as I leave here, I will send one of my servants to give you food enough to give you some strength back. You're then going to go back to where you came from, and report to me, using this, on what is happening there. Do you understand me?”

The boy nodded, still curled in a ball on the ground, and she set the watch down, near one of the boy's outstretched hands.

“Good.” She paused for a moment, then, just to be sure, cast the Imperius curse on him, and repeated her instructions. This time he lay rigid as a board, but again nodded when she was finished.

She headed for the door, stopped and said, “Remember, you must act completely natural, so they don't suspect anything. If they ask, which they undoubtedly will, tell them you were trapped under the rubble of the Malfoy Mansion, and it's taken you three days to free yourself. You certainly look the part,” she added with a laugh observing his now ragged clothes and haggard look, and closed the door, not bothering to lock it. He wasn't going anywhere now.

She quickly headed back up the stairs to the main chamber, seeing the last light of the sun fading, and the darkness fast approaching. The time to move out was coming quickly.

She entered what used to be the castles' dining hall to see Morder and ten other Death Eaters, all cloaked in black, waiting for her. She smiled at the sight, the thrill of anticipation running hot through her veins.

She motioned for one of the Death Eaters who was standing guard by the door and said, “Bring some food and water to the boy in the dungeon, and then let him Apparate. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mistress,” was the quick reply, and the witch headed off down the stairs.

Morder approached her, a look of steely determination in his eyes.

“All is ready,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and said, “The scouts just returned. The lights are still on in most of the homes, and they saw shadows in the windows. People are still there.”

Bellatrix nodded and said. “Let us go to the designated spot, then.”

He murmured orders to the ten that were going with them, and they all drew their wands, waiting for her mark. She smiled wickedly and said, “The time of rumours and whispers is over,” and with a CRACK, was gone.

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## 9. The Ambush of the Death Eaters

The same sun that was sinking while Bellatrix Lestrange was torturing her prisoner continued to slide slowly towards the horizon as Harry Potter paced back and forth in the same room in which Snape had appeared and told him about the Death Eaters what seemed like ages ago. In truth, it had only been three days, but it felt longer.

Harry was going over the plan again and again, making sure there was nothing he had overlooked. The loss of Callum still weighed heavily on him, and he wanted to make sure that there would not be a repeat of that this evening. Something inside told him that was out of his control, but luck favoured the ready.

After Malfoy's first night at Claer, Hermione, Ron and Harry had talked to him about what he had overheard from the Death Eaters, and although Malfoy couldn't stop himself from being a sarcastic git, he eventually told them that Bellatrix was planning a raid on the small village of Emrys, not very far from where Claer was, in three days time.

It seemed that Emrys had been secretly established right after the War as a sort of resting place for key fighters who wanted to retire out of the public life, or who were still afraid that the remnants of Voldemort's followers would find them. It appeared that the secret was out, and they had every reason to be afraid.

Malfoy had heard Bellatrix telling her followers where the village was, and had established guards to come and check on it every two hours, which meant that whatever the DA did, it was going to have to be quick, and it was going to have to be quiet.

That same day, the three of them left Malfoy under Luna's watch and Apparated to where the village was. It wasn't much, just a collection of small cottages, and not more than maybe thirty witches and wizards. Still, Harry was surprised when he recognized some of the people he had fought alongside during his seventh year, and the brilliance of the Death Eaters striking at a place like this quickly became apparent.

When he saw Amos Diggory emerge from a house, he motioned to his friends and they quickly made their way over to him. He seemed pleased to see them, especially Harry, but when Harry insisted they talk inside and told him what they had learned, Amos' pleasure quickly melted into concern.

He started asking what the plan was, but Hermione brought up that they couldn't do anything until they knew the movements of the Death Eater scouts, or else it would be pointless. Accepting the wisdom in that, they cast a faint perimeter around the town that wouldn't do anything, but alert them when someone came close. Right now, they didn't need any alarms. They just needed to know how much time they had.

After waiting for about half an hour, the perimeter was breached for a moment or two, and Harry checked the time. It was one o'clock, which meant that they'd have two hours from there to make plans.

That they had to get these people away from Emrys was obvious, but how to do it? They didn't want to tip off the Death Eaters, especially if the DA was going to lay a trap of their own, so secrecy was a must.

Finally, after much discussion, they agreed upon a course of action: the inhabitants of the village would go about their business as normal until the day of the raid. Malfoy had said that the attack was scheduled for nine at night, when it would dark enough for the Death Eaters to approach unseen, so they decided that after the five o'clock scout sweep, Amos was to make sure everyone was inside, and they would all Apparate to a designated place, far away. To keep up appearances, twenty DA members would go to Emrys, go into the homes and make it look like the villagers were still there, and they'd all be ready to ambush the Death Eaters when they came.

Harry checked his watch, which read 8:15. He was supposed to be at Emrys at 8:30, to make sure everything was organized and lead the ambush. There was just one thing he had left to do, and he dreaded it almost as much as the idea of getting into a fight with the Death Eaters.

As if in answer to his thoughts, there was knock at the door, and Hermione entered. He stopped pacing, but she took a look at him and laughed softly.

“I'm surprised you haven't worn out a path in the ground yet,” she said.

He smiled faintly back and said, “I'll get there one day, I'm sure.”

Hermione knew him too well, and her face instantly went from laughing to concern.

“Harry, what's the matter?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

She's not going to like this, he sighed, and answered, “Look, Hermione, I've been thinking about this all day, and I want you to stay here during the ambush.”

She looked at him incredulously. “What?! Harry, you can't be serious!”

“I am, Hermione. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on Malfoy,”

“On Malfoy?” she echoed, clearly seeing through him. “Harry, there are still plenty of people here who can keep an eye on him, and he hasn't tried anything yet!”

“Listen, I just want to keep you safe, okay?” he said, hoping to calm her down. Unfortunately, the effect was just the opposite.

“You always want to protect me, Harry! I can take care of myself! I'm getting so tired of you being so cautious about me. I made it through the entire war, I can handle one night, especially when we're the ones who planned it!” her face was flushed and Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen her this angry.

“Hermione, you can't. I'm sorry, but I've lost too much that I care about, and I'm not going to lose you too!”

“I can't? Who are you to tell me what I can do, Harry James Potter?! I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and if you think that just because you're the head of the DA you can tell me what to do, you'd better reconsider that notion! And as far as you caring about me, if you really did, you'd let me come so I could help and not worry about what's happening to you! Did you ever think about that?”

She had to stop and catch her breath, she was so angry. Harry had expected her to be against the idea, but this was more than he had been prepared for. He took a step toward her, but she just stepped back, looking at him angrily.

“Look, Hermione, I know you'll be worried about me, but I'll be fine. I promise. And I really do need you to keep an eye on Malfoy. Yes, there are people here, but not as many as normal, and none that I trust as much as you. This is the real test to see if he's been honest, Hermione, and I need someone I trust to watch him and see what he does.”

She was glowering at him and he took another step to her, but this time she stayed put and he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Hermione, I know you don't like this, but I'm asking you to do this, please. You'll still be helping, just not there,” he said softly, brushing a strand of her wild auburn hair behind her ear. “Please.”

She stared into his eyes for a minute before replying, in a steely-cold voice, “Fine,” and before he could say anything, turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Harry stood looking at the door for a minute, thinking, please understand. He loved her too much to see anything happen to her. She might be angry with him, but at least she was safe.

He checked his watch, which read 8:27, grabbed his wand and headed for the Apparation Room.

***

The moon was barely breaking through the clouds, giving off an otherworldly light that shone done on Emrys. Some of the lights in the cottages and homes were off, but a few were still on, here and there, where the inhabitants hadn't gone to bed for the evening.

I hope that's what it looks like, Harry thought, looking out of the window in one of the houses at the end of the village's main, and only, road. He'd been scanning the trees for the past several minutes, but hadn't seen anything yet.

Ron was in the same house as he was, his wand in his hand, pacing back and forth. Harry knew the feeling, but forced himself to remain calm and keep a watch out.

His mind kept going back to Hermione and the hurt in her eyes, but there was really nothing for it. He would be able to handle it far better here if he wasn't worried about her. He had to keep repeating that to himself, however, and a part of him had a hard time believing it.

Suddenly he saw a shadow move from under the trees, and a hooded form detached itself from the black, heading towards the village. Soon he saw other shapes, and quickly counted twelve figures. He motioned to Ron, who stopped pacing and headed toward the door.

Harry tapped the one of the coins that he had given everyone with his wand, so they changed from silver to jet-black, signaling that the Death Eaters were coming. He put the coin in his pocket, and stood on the other side of the door with Ron, peeking out through the crack to watch the Death Eater approach.

The plan was to wait until the Death Eaters had actually entered the village before attacking, because that way they could surround them, instead of it being two opposing battle lines. They just had to pass the first two houses which were on both sides of the road, and then the DA would spring the trap.

Harry watched nervously as the Death Eaters quietly walked past the house he was in. No matter what, he knew the sight of those hooded figures would never stop frightening him. Too many bad memories.

They quietly passed the house and were moving quickly by the next. Ron looked at him and nodded, and Harry threw open the door and leapt outside, already casting a spell.

In an instant, the blackness of the night was gone, and lights of all colours started appearing from everywhere as everyone cast their spells. Harry could barely hear over all the shouts, but kept casting at the figures in black as he made his way toward where they had formed a ring near the center of the town.

There may have been fewer of them, but they were Voldemort's servants after all, and they fought back ferociously. If not for the surprise factor, Harry wondered how well the DA would be doing.

He saw one of the DA lying on the ground in front of him, and could barely see another on the other end of the town. He momentarily despaired, thinking they should have brought more people or that they attacked too early, when amidst the yelling and spells flying everywhere, he noticed that nearly half of the Death Eaters were on the ground.

Suddenly a woman's voice called something out, and Harry realized it must be Bellatrix. Whatever it was she said, all the Death Eaters stopped attacking, some grabbed the fallen ones, and they Apparated away.

There was silence that seemed to fall over them like a shroud after all the noise of the fight, and Harry saw three bodies on the ground, one near him. He ran over and checked, and the boy just appeared to be stupefied. He looked up to see Ron with a black-haired witch, who seemed to have a broken arm, but that was it.

He could see several people grouped around another body, and quickly went over to where they were standing. Neville was kneeling next to the broken body of a boy, and when Harry came over, Neville just sadly shook his head.

Everyone was looking at him as he stared at the body. Another one to add to the tally, he thought miserably.

“Cheer up, mate,” came Ron's voice from next to him, and he looked at his friend. “Only one of the three is dead, and did you see how many of them were down? I think we call this a win.”

“Yeah, a win,” Harry said in a dead voice.

He motioned for two pairs of people to grab the wounded, and he moved over to the dead body, Ron helping him pick it up.

“Let's go home,” Harry said, and they were gone.

-->

## 10. Left at Home

Her footfalls sounded heavy and loud as she walked down the empty hall. It felt like the house was listening anxiously for the return of the DA members who left for the ambush, and any noise was disturbing its vigil.

I should be there with them, Hermione Granger thought bitterly to herself. She couldn't ever remember yelling at Harry the way she had before he left, but it just made her livid. She had more than proven herself time and time again, and for him to still be so protective of her, especially when she wanted to help, was so infuriating she wanted to scream.

She heard a soft chuckle from her side and shot an angry glance at Draco Malfoy, who was looking at her with a smirk.

After she had stormed out on Harry she had gone to Draco's room, told him she was watching him tonight, and to follow her, all before he could even get a word in. Since then they had just been wandering the halls, neither saying anything.

Who does Harry think he is? He can't tell me what to do! I want to help him! I…

Again, she heard Draco quietly laughing and asked harshly, “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “You just better unclench your hands or you're going to break them.”

She looked down at her hands, which were balled into angry fists, and slowly let them relax, trying to get the rest of her to relax as well. It wasn't working.

Finally, Draco broke the silence and asked, “Why aren't you out with the rest of them, saving the world?”

“Someone had to stay here and baby-sit you,” she fired back, matching his sarcasm perfectly.

“And the High King Potter thought it should be you, did he? What's the matter? He afraid of his porcelain doll breaking?”

Hermione stopped dead and her voice took on an icy tone. “Watch what you say. I'm not in the mood for it tonight. Do you understand?”

He stared right back into her eyes and said in an even voice, “Understood.”

She broke his gaze and started walking, and he was at her side again.

“I just don't understand his reasoning. You've got more brains than him and Weasley put together, yet he makes you stay behind. Not the best battle strategy.”

She turned to him, and could hear her voice rising as she said, “I said be quiet! You don't understand, so don't pretend to.”

“Oh, right,” Draco shot back. “I don't understand at all what it's like to be left behind while others fight battles you should be in. I have no idea what it's like letting the people closest to you fight and die while you're stuck doing nothing.” She could hear the emotion in his voice, and there was a hint of vulnerability mixed in with the anger.

Hermione coloured, remembering that he had been forced to stay behind by Snape while his parents were killed and the War was fought.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “It's just frustrating.”

“No, what's frustrating is knowing that the people who took your life away are out there, and now they're almost within your grasp, but you can't do anything about it. You don't know frustration, Granger. Not yet.”

She felt the anger in her rising again, but pushed it down this time. She just tried to remind herself how much he had been through.

“I may not have been through what you have, Draco, but don't make the mistake of thinking I can't empathize,” she said, trying to keep her voice level.

He snorted but didn't reply, and they lapsed back into silence. She kept noticing how eerily quiet it was in the house with so many people gone, and shivered involuntarily. Hopefully, they'd be back soon.

“Potter's a fool,” Draco suddenly said, breaking the silence. They stopped in the middle of an abandoned hall, and she looked at him.

“A fool? He could've thrown you in a cell in the basement, and not let you out at all,” she said, but he cut her off.

“He could've taken you where you would have been of use, instead of wasting your talents here with me, but he didn't, did he?!”

She was quiet for a moment. She knew she should be defending Harry, especially to Draco of all people, but a part of her agreed with him. She knew she could have been of use at the ambush, instead of being stuck here.

“He's also a fool,” he said quietly, and took a step towards her, “for leaving you alone with me.”

She felt the heat rise in her face and her heart started to beat faster at his nearness.

“How does that make him a fool?” she said, her voice coming out softer than she would have liked.

He smiled and took another step closer to her. “I think you know why, Hermione.”

The way he said her name, her actual first name, like it was something new and exciting gave her goosebumps and she said, trying to maintain a calm voice, “No…no, I don't.”

“Really? Then why are your hands shaking?” he asked, closing the distance between them to just under a foot. A few strands of his blonde hair fell down into his eyes as he stared into her own, waiting for a response.

Something inside of her screamed for her to run, to move, to do anything, but she was rooted to the spot. There was something about him that she couldn't ignore. She had heard the vulnerability and loneliness in his voice several times, and now she actually saw it in his eyes. He wasn't the same mean, spiteful person she used to know, but there was real depth in him. A well of pain, and a need.

It doesn't matter, a voice inside her said. You love Harry!

But Harry doesn't need me, another voice answered. I haven't felt needed in some time, but here…

Stop! the first voice shouted, in response.

Draco was still staring at her, but he had started to lean in, and to her own shock, she found she was too. They were suddenly getting closer until they heard footsteps come pounding down the hall towards them.

Draco stepped back and his face took on the same hard mask it always had as Seamus came ripping around the corner.

“Hermione, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!”

“What is it?” she asked, her mind a wash of confusion.

“He's back! Callum's back!”

***

Hermione closed the door to the darkened room where Callum lay asleep. She couldn't believe the good shape he was in, but that he had come back at all was no small miracle.

She and Draco had followed Seamus down to the main entrance of the building where everyone was grouping around a very haggard looking Callum. His clothes were torn, he was filthy and his eyes were bloodshot.

“Callum, what happened? We all thought you were dead,” she said, coming up next to him and checking him for wounds.

“No, not dead,” he answered. “The spell missed me but it knocked some of the building down and I got trapped under the rubble when it collapsed. I think I must've been knocked out, because when I came to it was daylight and I was alone. My leg was trapped under a beam, and it took me days to get it out from under there.”

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Does your leg hurt? We can have someone check it to…”

“I'm fine,” he said sharply, surprising her. “I'm sorry. I'm just tired.” He was looking at something strangely behind her, and she turned to see Draco staring at him.

“When did he get here?” Callum whispered, still looking at Draco.

“We found him the night at the mansion. He's been here for a couple days, helping us with the Death Eaters. He told us about a raid tonight, so that's where Harry, Ron and most of the others are.”

“Oh,” Callum said, finally looking away. “I'll have to hear all about it.”

“Of course,” Hermione reassured him. “Right now I think it would be the best thing if you got some rest. You look exhausted.”

He nodded. “I'll walk you to your room, just give me a moment,” she said and walked over to where Draco was standing.

He looked at her curiously as she neared and she said, “Seamus, see Draco back to his room, will you please?”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her a little closer to him, and in a whisper so low that only she could hear it, he said, “Something's not right here.”

She pulled her arm away and tried her best to ignore the tingling sensation of his hand touching her skin. “Callum's been a good friend for a while. You're just being paranoid,” and walked back over to Callum as Seamus lead Draco away.

And now as she shut the door to his room, Draco's words came back into her mind. Why would Callum be lying? We're all his friends here, he wouldn't betray us, she told herself, and decided the uneasy feelings were due to the encounter between her and Draco before he arrived.

What had she been thinking, letting him get that close? She was in love with Harry, she knew she was. Yet there was that side of her, which had grown fainter but not disappeared, that grew excited thinking about Draco. He was so different from everyone else, and he actually made her feel needed and…

She was hit by a wave of guilt, and started walking to clear her mind. Harry's been everything to me for seven years and to think I would risk that for…Draco. She was angry at herself for even entertaining such thoughts, and it only made her guilt worse.

It hadn't been long before one Luna came running by her, saying, “They're back! They're back from the ambush!”

Guilt mixed with anxiety pushed her forward and she was running to the Apparation Room as quickly as she could. By the time she got there, there were already a mass of people gathered at the door, but it was most mostly quiet.

Oh no! What's happened? she thought with terror and she pushed her way through the people to get to the door. As she was moving forward, she caught a glimpse of three bodies on the ground. She thought she was going to be sick, and kept pushing through people until at last she stood at the entrance to the room, the three bodies on the ground and behind them stood all the rest of the people who had gone on the ambush.

She scanned the faces of those standing and didn't see Harry, and panic rose up to choke her. She couldn't bring herself to look down. If she saw him lying there, she didn't know what she would do.

Suddenly she heard her name and looked up to see Harry pushing his way from the back of the crowd moving towards her and in a flash she was throwing her arms around him and kissed him deeply.

He hugged her close and she closed her eyes, a tear streaming down her cheek.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” she said.

“So am I,” he said to her. Then he spoke up a little louder, but still not letting go of her, “Only one is dead. The other two are wounded and will need some healing.”

“We won!” she heard Dean shout, and there was some cheers, but she figured most of them couldn't stop looking at the bodies.

She finally opened her eyes to find she had been swung around completely when she had hugged Harry, and was facing all the people who had stayed behind. Sure enough, they were all staring at the bodies, Luna in front. Hermione caught a flash of blonde in the back and her eyes met Draco's for just a moment before he backed away from the group and headed back to his room.

It had gotten very quiet in the room, when suddenly the silence was broken by Luna's soft voice, singing something only barely audible:

Beware, beware,

The Twilight Road,

where stars come down,

and sun meets moon.

Beware, beware,

The Twilight Road,

where there's naught but darkness, choices made,

and loved one's left to carry the load.

The words and the voice sent a shiver down her spine, and Harry held her tighter in response.

Luna was looking at the bodies as she sang it, but as soon as she was finished she looked up and Hermione looked straight into the suddenly clear blue eyes.

As they gazed at each other, Hermione wondered who the song had been for: those on the ground, or her.

-->

## 11. The Aftermath

A mound of old stone and earth exploded in a fiery purple blast as Bella stormed through. She was outside of the keep, destroying whatever she could as release for her frustration.

“How did they KNOW?!” she screamed aloud, blowing a dead tree into a thousand pieces.

Maybe frustration was too gentle a word, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that those cursed brats had managed to trick her! The sheer gall of such an act sent fire running through her veins. A bunch of children tricked me!

A huge boulder disappeared in an explosion, which could only barely be heard over her rage filled scream. If she didn't need the numbers as badly, she would be to her ankles in blood by now, savouring every minute of it. Instead all she had were these lifeless bits of earth that didn't scream before they died, didn't show any terror.

As she destroyed another piece of what was once an ancient watchtower, she thought that she was going to have to find something living to ease her anger quickly.

Her eyes shot to where Morder was standing. He had followed her out here after they had returned, but hadn't said anything at all. Very wise of him. She toyed with the thought of killing him, but rejected it. He was still needed.

She finally stopped moving and looked out over the slew of rocks to where the angry ocean beat against the shoreline. She understood the feeling. Three dead, three more wounded, all by those brats. She felt her nails biting into her hands, and relished the searing pain that for a moment took her thoughts away.

How could they have possibly known? They didn't arrive at the Malfoy Mansion until after we h ad already left.

A thought dawned on her, and from the folds in her gown, she pulled out a silver watch, opened it, taped it with her wand while muttering an incantation under her breath. The reflective glass wavered for a moment, like water when a stone is thrown into it, and then it showed Taliesin's face in a darkened room.

It looked like he was sitting on a bed, and his eyes were filled with fear.

She wasted no time, and yelled, “How did they know we were coming, boy?! How did they know? Those filthy brats took away three of my servants, and I demand to know how it happened! Weren't you sent to tell me what was going on?!”

He was fumbling for an answer, and she shrieked “Answer me this minute, or I will end you right now, do you hear me?! I don't care how far away you are!”

Finally, he managed to get out, “I…I…I'm sorry, m…mistress. By the time I got here, they were already gone. There was nothing I could do.”

He paused, and then said, “But I think know how they knew: when I got here Draco Malfoy was here too. Hermione said they found him at the Mansion the night it was destroyed.”

So, my nephew is alive, is he? She should have looked more into his fate after the war. She had been the one to kill Lucius after he single-handedly destroyed the Dark Lord's plans at finding the Prophecy at the Ministry, and she knew someone had killed his mother, but she had forgotten about Draco with all that had been going on. Of course, he would want revenge against those who killed his family, even if he was betraying what his parents, and their bloodline, stood for.

She was about to yell at him some more, when she stopped and cursed. She had given the boy too much time to get back; she should have sent him away as soon as she had put the Imperius curse on him, but instead she had let him wait and…fed him.

Anger at her own oversight welled up in her, but it actually helped to calm her down. It was one mistake, she told herself evenly. One that I will remedy.

She turned her attention back to the boy staring nervously at her.

“I will forgive you this one time, Taliesin. Do you hear me? One time. The next time you lead to a failure of this magnitude you will die screaming, understood?” she said in a voice as cold and smooth as ice. She would not be making any more mistakes.

“Ye…yes, mistress,” he replied.

Her thoughts now turned to what was to be done next. She had a natural impulse to ask Taliesin where he was, and take all her supporters and destroy the miserable children, but she pushed the thought aside. The brats knew how to handle themselves in a fight, and she didn't have enough information to make adequate battle plans.

As long as that wretch Potter was there leading them, she knew the group would hold firm. She had seen it do so in the War, and did not want to make the mistake of thinking it would be any different.

United under Potter, the DA was force enough to be a real irritant, but if she could break that unity apart…

“Listen, boy, is anyone hiding anything there? Do your people whisper about anyone's secrets?”

The boy looked at her dumbly for a minute, before answering, “I don't believe so. At least, if they do, I've not heard it.”

“Well, then listen to me carefully. I want you to pay attention to what everyone is saying. I want to know everyone's secrets at that place, do you hear me? I want to know what people are hiding. You will report to me daily with what you have learned.”

She waited for the boy to nod in understanding, then snapped the watch shut and walked over to where Morder stood. He eyed her apprehensively as she drew closer.

“Well?” she asked, curtly.

A look of surprise washed over his face. “Well, what, mistress?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't take me for a fool. I know you could hear what I told the boy. I want your thoughts on it.”

His silver eyes didn't leave hers, but his voice was a bit unsteady under her gaze. “I don't understand why we don't just get the boy to give us the location and attack, to wait seems…”

She silenced him and said, “Just as I thought. Not enough imagination. You saw what those wretches did tonight. We're going to wait until we can rot the DA from within, then we'll sweep it away.”

“Yes, mistress,” he said, bowing.

She lapsed into silence. At least she had the beginnings of a plan, but she didn't feel any better. There was nothing for it.

“Morder, bring me the most grievously injured from tonight,” she said, drawing her wand. “Give him enough healing to last a little.”

He nodded and walked briskly to the castle. As she waited for her sport to arrive, she thought, I will deal with them yet.

The sight of Morder returning accompanied by a limping figure gave her the first smile she'd had all night.

-->

## 12. A Grey Area

The cool breeze was obviously blowing from the lakeshore, judging by the tiny drops of water that managed to make it all the way to Draco's cheek, giving off little stings as they slapped his cheek. With a quick hand he brushed them off, pulled a wool jacket that he normally wouldn't be caught dead wearing - it was at least two sizes too big and some sort of brownish colour - and glanced back towards the house.

He was standing outside in the backyard area, completely alone. Under any other circumstances he would not call this an achievement, but after several days under constant surveillance, a little time to himself, outside, did not go unappreciated. He found, after all that time Snape had kept him locked up after his sixth term that he had never thought about being outside the same way. He was grateful to be out of doors.

And there his mind stopped, and automatically switched to the anger that he had grown so used to. It was his constant companion and, sometimes, enemy who never let him rest. Maybe it was inborn, maybe it was the result of what he had endured during his time at Hogwarts, maybe it was what had happened to his family. There was no solid answer, but it was there, and he could do nothing but accept it, and more often than not, embrace it.

Right now, though, his anger was mostly due to the fact that he was actually feeling grateful to Potter and the rest of them for allowing him some freedoms. That someone of his birth should be allowed anything by anyone in that house left him with the bitter taste of ashes in his mouth.

How the mighty have fallen, he thought bitterly.

It had three days since the Order had ambushed the Death Eaters, based on his information, and Potter had been extremely grateful for the aid, and he didn't bother to hide the fact that he was happy that Draco had told the truth.

Like it isn't within my capacity, he thought and rolled his eyes. Potter had never lost that arrogance that Draco had picked up on the first day on the Hogwarts Express, though Draco knew he was the only one who saw it. Potter walked around like he knew everything, like his word was law and he personally carried the weight of any all death that he was even remotely connected to. He was the “boy who lived” and he may have defeated Voldemort, but his feet still touched the ground when he walked, last time Draco looked.

What bothered Draco the most was the fact that he felt a certain pull towards this place that Potter had built, and that it had even meant something when Potter had demonstrated trust in him. After all the years of animosity, for this to happen was almost more than Draco could stand. Surely he had not fallen so low that the spell of the “amazing Harry Potter” would finally work on him, but he didn't know what else to do or think.

He'd be gone right now, if it wasn't for two things: in the first place, he had not lied to them on the night he found them - he did need help if he was going to get revenge on his aunt and those who had killed his parents and stripped him of his family and place. It didn't mean that he was in it for the same reason as the lot in the house, but these kind of temporary alliances were useful when getting what one desired most - he knew enough history to see that.

The second reason he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet was far more difficult to admit, and stung him just as much as the situation with Potter: Granger. What had happened on the night of the raid, the closeness between them, the fact that he had been the one who had been closing the gap and the fact that he couldn't get those brown eyes out of his head drove him mad. She, who he had mocked, taunted, even gone as far to hate over six years; that she should have some kind of hold over him now made him simultaneously angry and yet brought up some other feeling that he couldn't identify or understand, and thus, didn't trust.

He grudgingly gave her credit that she was a capable witch; had his pride been less, he might even had admitted more than capable, but his pride was what it was. That was why it didn't make sense to him that Potter so underused her talents. He could not understand why she had been kept from going on the ambush, and clearly she was at a loss as well. Oh, she claimed to know, saying it was just Potter protecting her but when he had leaned in and asked her if she was sure, he could read the confusion and unease in her eyes. He also read the loneliness, an emotion that he had been winning the battle against until recently.

There was some connection between them on a subtle level that he was loath to admit, but it was there. Half of winning any battle, he knew, was accepting the realities, and he hoped that by accepting this reality, he could deal with it and push it aside, but this feeling was proving to be more persistent than he had expected.

He really felt he had to get out of here, but he was held now by bonds that he didn't want, didn't create, but a part of him didn't want to break, either.

As he stood, casting his thoughts to the lake in the distance, he heard the bang of the kitchen door behind him and turned to see Granger walking toward him. She wore jeans, and a tan jacket, and her brown hair was instantly caught in the wind, giving her a…Draco gritted his teeth to shut off his mind before it went any further, and turned to face his new companion.

Her mind must have been elsewhere, because she was looking at her feet and she was halfway to him before she looked up and realized he was standing there. She started, and her eyes momentarily scanned her surroundings, almost like a trapped animal would when looking for a way out. Whatever she was thinking was beyond him, but after the briefest of seconds she was continuing toward him, and stopped, several feet away.

“Going somewhere, Granger?” he asked, with a small smirk.

“No. Just needed some air. I didn't notice anyone out here.”

Draco half chuckled at that. “Becoming invisible, am I? Then maybe I can get out of here.”

“Oh, please, Draco,” she said, her tone more biting than he'd ever heard. “If you were going to leave, you would've done so the moment Harry let you go around unescorted. You're here because you want to be, or need to in order to get your revenge, and don't pretend it's any other way.”

Her tone surprised him, and he looked at her curiously.

“What's the matter with you? Potter ground you again?”

She shot him a look of pure death but he held up his hands before she could open her mouth.

“I have no interest in getting into another argument with you about who deserves to be angry here for feeling useless or frustrated. If you want to pick a fight, go find Weasley. You two fought enough in school, I'm sure you're both pros at it by now.”

Granger looked at him for a minute, took a deep breath and said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick a fight. I was just expecting to be alone.”

“I know the feeling,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes but laughed a little.

“So?” he asked.

“So what?”

“What about that Callum bloke? Something about him still doesn't feel right, though I can't put my finger on it. I told you the night he came back. It felt wrong then, and it feels wrong now.”

“You're just being paranoid, Draco. Callum is lucky to be alive, and we're all glad he's safe, especially after losing three people in the ambush.”

“So, you haven't noticed that he's been acting strangely or anything?”

“Well…I'll admit, I have caught him sneaking around a little, and being extra jumpy, but after being stuck under the rubble of your house for three days, I think I'd be a little jumpy too. Still…I do think there might be something there. Why he would be sneaking around looking for something doesn't make sense; he's been here long enough to know how things work.” She looked at Draco with a look of resignation, “He is one of us, regardless, and has been for a while. I hope whatever this is, it'll just pass in time.”

“Right,” Draco said, not bothering to hide the disbelief in his voice.

They stood in silence, looking toward the lake, when Draco suddenly spoke, without really thinking about what he was saying.

“The way I see it Granger, we've both got reasons to be angry here. The only thing I don't understand is why you bottle it up. Potter orders you around and keeps you here while he's out fighting the same cause you are, and you let him. I couldn't take it.”

“No one needs reminding of your inability to maintain your temper, Draco, especially me, thank you,” she replied, annoyance running heavy in her voice. “Tell me why it is you and I can't have a conversation that doesn't somehow return to Harry and me?”

Draco was a little surprised by the bluntness of her question, but answered, “Well, it's a hard topic to avoid, try as you might, when you are always walking around being affected by him and the decisions he makes. It's hardly my fault if you can't do a better job of managing your emotions.”

“Look, Draco, Harry's only being so overprotective of me because he loves me, and he doesn't want me to get hurt. Plus, he's been so busy planning the next step in dealing with the Death Eaters that he hasn't been himself. Once this is over, it'll pass,” she said, but he could hear the lie in her voice as clear as day, and he knew she was aware of the lie as well.

“Why do you lie to yourself, Granger? If there's one thing I've learned about you in all these, you are anything but passive. It'll pass?! That's ridiculous! You can't even admit that you're angry about it! Can't you see he's just caging you in? He's not getting the help from the person of this entire rabble probably most qualified to aid him, and you're just going along with it!”

Granger's face was red and she started to say, “Enough! You don't know near as much as you assume you do, Draco, and if you knew…”

“Do you really love him?” he cut in, not even fully aware of why he was asking the question. It was out of his mouth before he was aware of it.

She stopped in mid-sentence and starred at him. “What?”

“Do you really love him?” he asked, a little quieter, and took a step toward her.

She looked at him, emotions flying so fast across her face he could barely keep up. “How can you ask me that? Of course I do, and what business is it of yours anyway?”

“Do you?” he asked, still in a quiet voice.

“I'm going inside,” she said, anger thick in her voice, and turned and marched back through the kitchen door.

Draco remained outside for a moment, felt the cool breeze around him, momentarily questioning just what the bloody hell he was doing, but before he could even answer his own question, he was marching resolutely after her.

-->

## 13. Spinning Wheels

Wheels are always spinning. Most are as old as time, so me are just starting, but everyone is caught in one. The best one can do is break out of one wheel, into another.

Luna Lovegood briefly wondered why this idea had been so present in her mind the past couple days, but as she quietly wandered through the upper halls of Claer, she found it didn't matter. Or, at least, she wasn't going to get the answer anytime soon.

She was used to being alone, and even though she had gained a great feeling of camaraderie once she had joined the Order, and even more so when she had moved into Claer, most kept her at a little distance. She normally didn't mind, but lying to herself and saying it didn't bother her every now and then would solve nothing.

She glided over the ground, not making a sound as her feet only lightly made contact with the floor. Her mother had always said she had dancer's feet, but the rest of her body apparently never agreed with that notion. Still, she liked the idea, and thought about it when she needed a little cheering up.

A little cheering up was something seemingly everyone could use these days. Claer, which was usually bustling with activity and sound, had been very subdued as of late, and she figured that was what was most responsible for the wheel thoughts that kept rolling through her brain. She had the definite feeling that something was coming; some change, though whether it would be for good or bad, she didn't know. One thing she was sure of was that the person that this change concerned most didn't sense it, and that worried her.

How long this heaviness had been in the air was easy to pinpoint: it had started the night of the ambush. While this timing made sense to her, something about it felt wrong. All the DA members had seen death, especially during the last year at Hogwarts, but one never really gets used to death, and the fact that it was three of their own might also contribute to the tension in the air as well.

She knew that this was partly correct, but there was more to this story than she was yet aware. There always is.

She turned a corner, still immersed in trying to puzzle out this riddle, and nearly ran right into Ron, who jumped back in surprise.

Always so fidgety and nervous, she thought with a small smile. Just like weasels in the wild.

“Oh, er, sorry Luna,” he said, looking a mite embarrassed. “Didn't see you there.”

“Your last name suits you,” was all he got in response. She had to choke back a little laugh at his confused reaction.

“Right. Er, thanks for that.”

“Care for some company?” she asked in the quiet voice she knew bothered some people. “You've been wandering these halls so often lately, might do for a change of scenery.”

A grimace slid across his face as he said, “What, have you been keeping any eye on me?”

“Too hard to keep an eye on something that's always moving,” she answered. “I've just not seen you around.”

Ron shrugged and allowed her to fall into step next to him. As the walked, she glanced up at him. His eyes were completely focused directly ahead of him, and it was no wonder he didn't see her. People teased her about it all the time, but here was someone in a different world entirely.

She remained quiet on the subject which she knew to be bothering him the most, even if he wouldn't admit it and did his best to hide it. Practically everyone had expected something to happen between Ron and Hermione eventually, so when word spread that Hermione was with Harry, “shocked” had been a very kind description of most people's reactions. She knew that it had hit Ron especially hard, not only because she could tell there was a part of him that had expected to be with Hermione, but also because it totally changed the dynamic of his friendship with Harry. The well of bitterness she sensed in him ran deep, but she hoped that his loyalty to his two friends would win out in the end.

Of course, nothing is certain.

Ron, clearly not enjoying the silence, suddenly broke it. “The house seems so quiet. Has for the past couple days.”

“Yes, I've sensed it too.”

“You don't need to sense it, for heaven's sake! You just need to listen.”

“Explain the difference to me,” she asked. He shot a look at her and shook his head.

“I think it's the deaths from the ambush the other night. They were three of our own, and that's hard, even if we've al seen death before.”

“No, I suppose no one does. But don't worry, the dead are aren't always dead. They may be spun out again.”

“The dead aren't always dead? Of course they are, Luna! Once you die, you die. There's no middle ground there.”

“So the ghosts in Hogwarts are what exactly?” she countered quietly. “Or what about the people in the portraits? Some of them were real people, and they're no doubt long dead by now, but they still move and can talk. Yet they're not gone, are they?”

Ron was quiet for a moment. “I supposed I hadn't thought of that. Still, that's not every person who dies. Some are just gone.”

Luna shook her head. “No, some you just have to look a little harder to find.”

Ron chuckled a little and said just barely audibly, “If that makes me feel a little better, am I crazy?”

She smiled a little at that.

They were walking past a window that overlooked the houses back yard, and both glanced out in time to see a figure quickly disappear into the kitchen, and Draco standing outside, watching it go.

“Who the bloody hell was that?” Ron asked, peering through the window. Luna wasn't sure herself, but she could've sworn she had seen a mess of brown hair. Suddenly, she had Goosebumps all over her skin, and felt a little lightheaded.

They watched as Draco lingered a moment longer, than followed the figure inside.

“I'm going down there,” Ron said. “I don't like the idea of Draco letting some stranger in here. I don't care what Harry says, I still don't trust him.”

He moved to go, but like lightning she reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm. She turned and looked straight into his eyes.

“Don't go, Ron. I, it's getting faster all of a sudden. No good will come of this. Just let it be.”

Ron looked at her, and at her small hand around his arm, and for a moment seemed lost, before he shook his head and freed himself from her grip.

“I don't know what you're talking about, but we can't have him letting people in here.” He started off down the hall, pulling his wand out of his pocket. “I'll take care of this,” he said as he disappeared.

His voice hung in the air for a moment, but it was too late. Luna had a sinking feeling that whatever wheel they were all caught up in, it was about to change drastically.

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## 14. Betrayals Come in Threes

The back door slammed shut as Hermione flew into the kitchen, her mind a swirl of irritation, confusion with a dab of fear thrown in for good measure.

How dare Draco have the gall to question her love for Harry? Her fists clenched angrily at the mere thought of it. Sure, they had been going through a rough patch lately, but that didn't mean she cared for Harry any less. She had been waiting years for Harry to realize that it was her who had always cared the most for him, so how could it be possible that she didn't really love him?

Yet, if Hermione was completely honest with herself, which she always attempted to be, she could not deny that there was some kind of…pull towards Draco. This, (need a comma) of course, made absolutely no sense at all, and the reasonable side of her railed against such feelings, but they were there, and ignoring them wouldn't make them disappear. How could she have any kind of feelings whatsoever for someone who had vocally regretted her presence on the Earth for more than seven years; someone who had even wished her dead, during the quest to find the Chamber of Secrets.

People change, a voice inside her said. Nothing human is constant. Be that as it may, did it really have to be Draco of all people?

She would certainly not classify whatever feelings these were as attraction to him, but rather an underlying similarity that allowed them to connect on a level she couldn't with anyone else. To be sure, Harry did understand what it was like to be left on the sidelines while others went out, which is what made the whole situation so infuriating; he should be able to understand how she felt and not put her through the same thing. Even if his motives were chivalrous, he was quickly crossing the line between protector and prohibitor. She knew she loved him, she did, but she was a free witch, and leader of the DA or not, she didn't like being told what to do.

So the fact that Draco had been forced to hide while the fate of his family, and the world at large, was being decided, and was now being forced to wait to earn the trust of the members of the DA was something she could understand.

There was also this undercurrent of needing someone that Draco did his absolute best to hide, but she picked it up, even more now that he seemed to trust her more. It wasn't neediness, or any rubbish like that, but rather the result of an immense wellspring of loneliness, and he sometimes appeared to be reaching out to someone to help him. Why it had to be her, she guessed was based purely on the common frustration they shared, but she wished it was otherwise.

She also wished she was able to stop thinking about him so much, but that wish was quickly smashed as the back door opened and Draco stepped in.

Her anger flared up again at the sight of him, and she lashed out before he could even speak.

“What are you doing, following me, Malfoy? I told you I wanted to be alone!”

Draco stared at her, not saying anything, merely weathering the storm of her rage.

“I can't believe that after all he's done for you, you would dare question my feelings for Harry. He's treated me like a queen, while all you've done is spent years and years mocking me.”

“The thing about queens is, they rarely get to do anything they want to, do they?” he asked quietly, his eyes boring into hers.

Feeling a kind of rising dread, she answered sharply, “Don't get clever with me. You know what you're saying is wrong; it's just in your nature to try to make everyone hate you. I don't know why, if it's because of your upbringing or family or whatever bullocks it is, but I've had enough! If you want to be hated, go ahead.”

“You don't hate me,” he said simply.

She was about to speak, when she stopped short. He was right; she didn't hate him. She was angry and frustrated, but she couldn't summon up any hate for the blonde man who stood before her.

“Just leave me alone, Draco. Please.” She turned her back to him, taking a deep breath and trying to collect her thoughts.

When she heard Draco coming towards her, she whirled.

“What are you, deaf? I said…” but she didn't get to finish the sentence because before she even knew what was happening, Draco's arms were around her and he brought his lips crashing into hers.

There was none of the tenderness that was always present when she kissed Harry. This was all fire and heat. She knew she should pull away, slap him, anything, but to her utter surprise, she found herself not only letting him kiss her, but beginning to kiss him back. There was a strength and a desire she felt in him that she hadn't felt with Harry in some time. Her arms, seemingly of their own accord, moved up and wrapped themselves around his neck.

They were like this for a moment only, though Hermione would remember it as feeling much longer, before some voice of reason finally broke through the mess of emotions and feelings and she pushed Draco back so hard he nearly tripped.

She simultaneously felt heated and like a terrible chill had descended upon her. She looked at him with what she could only guess was totally, unabashed shock, but he stared back, with nothing but longing in his eyes.

“Why…why did you do…” she tried to say, but the words jammed in her throat. She had nothing to say, and stared at him.

“For the same reason you let me,” was all Draco said in reply, and Hermione felt herself flush in reply. What have I done?

She must have looked as if she was about to bolt, because Draco pleadingly put up a hand and said, “Wait…don't go.”

“I have to,” she muttered. “I have to get out…”

Draco looked at her a minute longer before saying, “Fine, go and collect yourself or whatever it is you need to do, but you need to know there's no taking back what just happened. It's done, and feeling guilty, or going crying to Potter isn't going to make it disappear.”

Oh Merlin, Harry, she thought desperately.

“Look,” Draco said, trying to sound a little less severe. “I want you to come to my room tomorrow night.”

Hermione looked at him as if he had just suggested they try to fly without brooms.

“You want me to come to your room alone, after that?!” she found herself almost yelling.

“Just to talk, Granger, and keep your voice down, for Merlin's sake!” He stepped closer to her, and she momentarily flinched. “We don't have to do anything, but I need to know what this means.”

“What it means? Why? It was just a mistake; something that should have never happened!”

“But it did, and there are few things in this world that mean nothing.” He gave her a long, sad look before continuing, “And I need to know, because that'll be the deciding factor in if I stay here or not.”

She gaped at him, finally at a loss.

“Eight o' clock, in my room, alright?” he said.

With her mind a total blank and nothing else to do, no words or reason to fallback on, she merely nodded.

Draco nodded in return and left the kitchen.

Hermione remained for a moment, rooted to the ground like a statue, before walking back outside in a haze that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to penetrate.

Her question kept ringing in her mind: What have I done?

***

When he was sure Hermione and Draco weren't coming back, Callum Taliesin began to breathe again.

He'd spent the past three days doing as Mistress Lestrange had ordered, sneaking around, hiding in places for what seemed like ages, searching for some kind of secret that she could use against the DA.

It appeared he had found it.

The thought that he was going to report this to her, that he had to, made him want to sick up right there in the pantry closet where he had been hiding during Hermione and Draco's entire confrontation.

He had heard all the words, and more importantly seen the kiss. Harry's girlfriend kissing someone else, especially Draco Malfoy, was just the kind of thing that Mistress Lestrange was hoping for. With this kind of information, she could easily sever the ties that bound her enemies together.

With everything in him, he tried to resist his mind, which told him to take out the watch and contact her. He hated this; hated what he had become, hated what he was doing. He wished that she had just killed him instead of making him struggle on in this hellish torment, but he knew she got a sick pleasure out of it, and she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

His hand was moving to the pocket where the watch was, when he heard the front kitchen door open, and Ron Weasley walked in. The redhead looked like he had seen a ghost; his face was utterly pale, and looks of revulsion, anger and betrayal played across his face as clearly as clouds upon a full moon.

Callum suddenly realized that Ron had also witnessed the scene between Hermione and Draco, and just as quickly, he knew, with absolute certainty, something else; Ron still had feelings for Hermione.

It had been no secret at Hogwarts that while Hermione and Ron were constantly bickering, everyone reckoned they were just too stubborn to admit their own feelings and it was only a matter of time before they ended up together. So when the news broke that Hermione was with Harry, it had struck like a shockwave. Ron had played it off as no big deal, and the fact that he was living at Claer attested to that, or so everyone thought. But the look of complete rage on Ron's face could not be mistaken for anything else. Not only was he angry about the betrayal to Harry, but he was livid that Hermione should have done that with Draco.

For a while, Ron surveyed the kitchen in silence, like he was looking out over the aftermath of a battle, until finally his face became resolute, like he had made some kind of decision.

“I'll show them. Both of them,” he muttered, just barely audibly. “I'll tell Harry exactly what's been going on right under his nose.”

Please no! Callum thought desperately. Don't make it worse! Don't give this to her! But there was nothing he could do or say.

Ron's face clearly showed that his decision was made. “At eight tomorrow night, this'll all be over,” he said darkly and left the room.

Callum didn't even bother to fight the hot tears that sprung into his eyes. It, all of it, was so bloody unfair. It was over.

The tears leaving streaks down his cheeks, he pulled out the watch, opened it, and tapped it with his wand.

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## 15. Tightening the Noose

If Bellatrix Lestrange were ever to consider herself giddy, tonight would be the night. Adrenaline pulsed through her entire body, making it hard for her to stand still at all the entire day. This actually worked out in her favour, because she had quite a bit to attend to before dark fell.

Tonight is the night we bring them do wn, she thought to herself with glee.

She still hadn't gotten over the excitement from the previous evening, when that Taliesin boy finally proved she hadn't spared a life needlessly when she could have enjoyed toying with it before ending it. The news that that filthy mudblood Granger was with her coward of a nephew behind Potter's back was such a stroke of beautiful luck that at when Taliesin first told her, she almost couldn't believe it. And if that fact alone wasn't enough, Potter was going to be made aware of it by his best friend, the red-haired blood-traitor.

The sheer magnitude of the betrayals, and the fact that they just dropped into her lap without her having to do anything, was more than she could find the words for. Just further proof of what happens when one gets mixed up with mudbloods.

Just think, Potter's being betrayed not only by the one he loves, but also by one he's trying to save and his closest friend. The wave of joy that came from witnessing friends betraying each other was almost more than she could handle, and she kept bursting into hysterical laughter all day, merely by thinking about it. She was truly going to savour this.

As soon as Taliesin had reported the news, she had sent for Morder and told him to gather all her supporters first thing in the morning.

“We're going to wipe the Earth clean of those filthy brats,” she told him with a wicked grin she didn't bother concealing. “They will come to understand the true folly of crossing me.”

She hadn't slept at all, but had spent the evening planning what would be the ridiculous Army of Dumlbedore's last night alive. She took great relish in the planning, making particular plans for Potter himself.

In the morning, when all the Death Eaters were assembled, she told them that they had learned the location of Potter and his friends, and that evening, an opportunity had arisen that was going to leave them hopelessly distracted and confused; the perfect fodder for her army to wreak its terrible vengeance. She could practically feel the waves of anger and maliciousness that radiated off her soldiers, and it left her panting.

She had made good use of all the energy she had, bustling around the ruined castle all day, making plans and giving out instructions. Now, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, the excitement was almost more than she could bear.

There was a knock at the chamber door, and she swung the door open with her wand, already knowing who it would be.

“What do you have to report, Morder?” she asked as she turned to face her lieutenant. His lanky brown hair hung in front of his face, almost covering it entirely, but his silver eyes shown with excitement.

“The scouts have just returned, mistress. The house and the defenses are exactly where the boy said.”

She smiled, twisting a lock of her raven hair through her fingers.

“I know the boy wouldn't betray me. He knows what happens to those who do.”

“Of course, mistress.”

“And what else?” she asked.

“All the troops are assembled, mistress. They've been given all of your instructions, including making sure that Potter is left for you. Everyone else is fair game.”

“Good, good. Any complaints?” she asked, picking up her silver knife off the dresser, and running her finger along the edge.

“No, mistress. A few wondered if we were supposed to bring your nephew alive as well?”

Bellatrix thought for a moment, feeling the faintest twinge of regret for her sister and the life she had foolishly given up by failing the Dark Lord. Not only had her son failed him as well, but he had also joined up with Potter's lot. The idea that one of such noble lineage could fall so low made her blood curdle.

“He is no longer my nephew, Morder. Whoever finds him has free reign to kill him.”

“Very good, mistress. And Taliesin? You promised you'd let him go.”

She smirked. She had promised the wretch that, if only so he would actually speak coherently last night, instead of blubbering away like a baby.

“I see no special need to hunt him down; we certainly have more important things to do. However, should one of our own come across him, I see no need in denying them a little fun.”

Morder grinned at the response. “I'll make sure everyone is aware of both facts, mistress.”

“Good,” she said. “Taliesin said that Weasley was planning on revealing everything at Potter at eight tonight, so we need to be there early, while he'll be too confused to do anything to save him, or anyone else. The defenses start about ten minutes away from where the house is, correct?”

Morder nodded. “Yes, mistress, but they're not particularly complex ones, and we should have no problems getting through, especially if things at their headquarters are in disarray.”

“I quite agree,” she replied. “It's seven now. Have everyone prepared to leave in fifty minutes. Tell them this is the moment we have been waiting for.”

Morder bowed, and left the room, his excitement at the coming massacre almost palpable.

Oh yes, she thought to herself, as she fingered her knife, this will be a night everyone remembers.

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## 16. Revelations

As the sun slowly sunk behind the horizon and night fell, Hermione Granger began to feel like a weight had been lifted. After a day of torture, she knew what she wanted.

Ever since Draco had left her alone in the kitchen, trembling with the magnitude of what she had done, she had felt like she was going to be sick. This sensation wasn't unfamiliar to her; she had vivid, horrible memories of feeling completely miserable and afraid during the war, when one could never be sure who was going to die next, or what awful turn of events would occur.

And here she was, having those same feelings all over again because of two men, and a mistake she had made.

She couldn't even put into words exactly what it was that had happened yesterday. She knew in her heart that what she had done was not only extremely wrong, but was a total betrayal of Harry, the one person in the world she loved the most. All last night, she had tossed and turned in her bed, going over and over how she could have let Draco kiss her if she loved Harry so much. The rational side of her and this other, more emotional side, couldn't be reconciled on the issue, no matter how much she tried, and by the time the dawn broke, her brain was utterly spent from all she had put it through.

She had stayed in her room until she was sure most everyone would have eaten their breakfasts, snuck down to the kitchen and grabbed something quickly, but not having much of an appetite, she ended up chucking most of it.

The rest of her day had been spent in misery. She didn't leave her room, except briefly and didn't seen Draco at all, for which she was extremely grateful. Harry, however, had been looking for her. Neville came knocking on her door, to see if she was there, but she told him she didn't feel well, and just needed to rest in solitude.

Of course, knowing Harry, as soon as he learned that, he came bursting in the room, fussing over her, checking on how she felt and if there was anything he could do. He gently chided her for not telling him sooner that she didn't feel well, but she assured him that it was nothing that a little rest wouldn't fix. He finally agreed to let her be, and with a gentle kiss on her forehead, left her alone. As she turned over in bed, she wiped away the hot tears that sprung to her eyes.

She couldn't understand why she had agreed to meet Draco tonight. She honestly couldn't come up with a reason that made any sense. Everything in her told her to just stay in and not go, but she feared that if she did that, Draco would come to her, and the last thing she wanted was him in her room. He had assured her that all they would do was talk, but after his unexpected kiss, she seriously doubted she could trust him to keep his word.

For someone who had to make sense of everything, the fact that she couldn't straighten this all out in her own mind was infuriating.

The thought that truly terrified her the most, however, was that Harry would find out. Once she informed Draco that there was going to be nothing else between them, she wouldn't put it past him to tell Harry, out of revenge. As misunderstood as Draco thought himself, she knew that when he was scorned, there was nothing he wouldn't do.

She was also very afraid of herself. She had quite the guilty conscience, and the idea of keeping something like this from Harry made her cringe. She didn't want to lie to the man she loved, but there was no way of telling how he'd react. If the kiss had been all Draco, that might have been one thing, but she had to own up to the fact that she played a role too. She knew that it would break Harry, and she could hardly bear the idea of doing that to him, especially after all he'd been through. A part of her knew that she would have to tell him sometime, and she would accept the consequences, but she knew Harry loved her as much as she loved him, and she trusted his heart completely to forgive her in time.

So, she had finally decided, what Draco did tonight mattered very little. The second she had pushed him away the day before, the second that she had realized just what it was she had done, it become as clear as day that whatever it was between them was nothing. Yes, there was a connection there, she wasn't going to deny it, but connection or not, it didn't warrant giving up Harry, which was all she had ever wanted. As she watched the sun sink, it felt like night was falling on whatever this whole debacle with Draco had been. It was time for a new day.

She would meet Draco at eight as promised, but she had to stop this, no matter what his reaction would be. She would just have to tell him she loved Harry, and that Draco had better stay away from her. She doubted he would take this well, but that didn't matter. She knew who she wanted, and she was doing what she had to do, just as she had always done.

Harry was her everything. She had made a mistake, and wouldn't deny that, and so she would not let this continue.

As the clock finally struck eight, she left her room and walked resolutely to Draco's, feeling like this was all so close to being over.

***

Ron, Luna, Neville and Harry all sat in the same fire-lit room that they had brought Draco to after his manor had been destroyed, gazing over a mess of maps and papers Harry had spread out on the ground.

Harry was pouring over the plans he had written about stopping Bellatrix and her Death Eaters. He was visibly excited, laughing every now and then at what he thought was a particularly good idea or strategy.

Neville was paying close attention, Luna seemed to be listening as intently as was possible for someone who sat, staring off into space, but Ron only barely heard a word he said.

He was still white-hot with rage at what he had witnessed in the kitchen yesterday. Hermione kissing Malfoy! The idea was totally inconceivable, but he had seen it himself. He wasn't certain what made him angrier; the fact that Hermione was betraying Harry, or that she had passed over him completely in favour of Malfoy, one of the people Ron hated most.

Even though Hermione was with Harry, Ron couldn't escape this overwhelming feeling of personal betrayal, like she had done something to him as well. He reckoned it was residual feelings he had for her, and the fact that she was still able to hurt him, made him ache inside.

All he could think about now was revenge - against Hermione, but mostly Malfoy. He would finally see that arrogant twit get what was coming to him. The idea of what this revelation would do to Harry only briefly flicked across his mind, so all-consuming was his desire to get some retribution for what had been done.

He checked his watch, which read eight o' clock. He had decided to wait a few minutes before taking them to Malfoy's room, because if they went at eight, all they would see was Hermione showing up there, which would be strange, to be sure, but nowhere near enough to achieve Ron's aim. He had to wait a little, and then move.

He was broken out of his reverie by a familiar name.

“Where's Hermione, Harry?” Luna asked dreamily. “Shouldn't she be here for this?”

Harry grimaced. “I wish she was, Luna, but she's not feeling well today, and I thought it better to let her rest. I'll fill her in on this when she's feeling better.”

She's feeling sick, Ron thought with disgust. She's lying right to his face, now.

“Oh, Harry, I forgot to mention,” he suddenly spoke up, trying his best to sound casual. “I ran into Malfoy earlier, and he mentioned that he might have some more information that could help us. I would've mentioned it sooner, but you were talking so much about your plans that I completely forgot it.”

“Really?” Harry said, standing up. “Excellent. I had a feeling he'd prove his worth, if only given a chance. Let's go see him, and see what he knows.”

They all stood up and Ron took the lead, as they headed toward Malfoy's room. Nobody said anything, but Ron felt this prickling on the back of his neck, and turned to find Luna staring at him with more intensity than he had seen in her eyes in some time. The look unsettled him quite a bit, and he tried to shrug it off.

They finally reached Malfoy's room, and Ron went for the doorknob.

“Shouldn't we knock?” Harry asked, but Ron acted as if he didn't hear him and threw the door open.

Standing mere inches apart were Hermione and Malfoy, who whirled at the sound of the door opening. Malfoy's startled gaze settled on the four people standing in the doorway, but Hermione saw only Harry.

***

Harry stared dumbly at the two of them, completely stunned.

What is Hermione doing in here? She's sick; I saw her earlier, and she didn't look well then, so why…

Certainly, she wouldn't have lied to him to be alone with…Draco, would she?

Why would she lie to be alone with Draco? Surely not…

He couldn't seem to complete any of his thoughts and continued to look at them both like he had never seen them before.

Hermione's eyes were fixed on his, trying to garner anything of what he was feeling, but it must have been hard for her to see through the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

Harry was suddenly extremely aware of Ron, Luna and Dean standing behind him. He felt the heat of embarrassment at the situation, and he knew that he should do something, anything, but his mind couldn't seem to wrap itself around what was happening.

Finally, in a voice so low he was surprised anyone heard it, he managed to get out, “What's going on here?”

“Nothing, Harry, I promise!” Hermione said, the desperation in her voice clearly indicating that whatever it was, it was anything but nothing. “We were just talking.”

Harry searched her eyes for a moment, before he flicked his gaze over to Draco, who hadn't even reacted yet. Draco merely stared back at him, but he could've sworn he saw a flicker of regret.

“Talking?” spoke up Ron, suddenly, from behind him. “Talking like in the kitchen yesterday?”

Hermione's gasp was audible to everyone, and for a moment Harry swung his head back to look at Ron, who seemed surprised he had spoken. He turned back to look at the two, and now Hermione looked absolutely petrified, and Draco was looking pure daggers at Ron.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked quietly, though he knew the answer already. He knew it the minute he had walked into the room, and seen the look of sheer terror on Hermione's face. It could only be one thing, given how Hermione was acting. He knew her better than anyone, and he knew what she was going to say, though some part of him prayed that he was wrong.

“Harry…I…yesterday, I was just so frustrated with being kept in the dark about what you're doing, and being left out, and I ran into Draco, and we…just…” she faltered, chocking on a sob. “We kissed, Harry.”

Harry felt the world buckle underneath him, and for a moment he feared that he would just fall into the blackness that seemed to be surrounding him. Just hearing Hermione actually say the words made him feel like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He knew with a desperate certainty that this is what having one's heart broken felt like.

When he didn't say anything, Hermione kept talking, “It was an accident, Harry, I swear, it only happened once! It meant nothing! I was just upset!” She took a step toward him, and he fell back a pace. “We weren't kissing when you came in, Harry, we weren't! I came here to tell him nothing could ever happen between him and I, Harry! I promise you!”

Harry just held up his hand, and her voice fell into silence, although the sobs she was trying to fight were anything but silent. Everyone in the room fell into an oppressive quiet that seemed to bear down on him like an enormous weight. He wanted to fall to his knees, the weight of the pain was so heavy.

“I'm the one who kissed her, Potter,” Draco said, the first sound to come from him.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was pleading for him to believe it, and said in a hollow voice, “You think I don't know her better than that, Malfoy? You can't force her to do anything. Never could. If you two kissed, it's because she wanted it, too.”

Hermione recoiled as if she'd been struck. Harry knew that what he just said was unfair, but it was the truth also. Seemed like now was the time for it.

The room fell quiet again as Harry tried to decide what to do. He knew that he should be doing something: yelling or throttling Malfoy, or anything - Merlin knows he'd learned how to express his frustration during his last years at Hogwarts, but this….this was out of his experience. The pain was so great, he felt he didn't have the strength to do anything.

Suddenly footsteps could be heard pounding down the hallway, and Dean came skidding into the room.

“Harry, where have you been! I've been trying to find you! The Death Eaters are here! They're breaking through our defenses as we speak. I don't know how many there are, but they're coming fast!”

“Death Eaters?” asked Ron, aloud. “How could they know where we are?”

“I've rounded up everyone to defend Claer, and Callum's missing,” Dean said with a heaviness in his voice.

“I knew it!” Malfoy said, but Potter shot him a look, and he shut up.

“So, Harry, what should we do?”

Everyone looked at him, and for a moment Harry was lost. He had no doubt that him finding out about Hermione and Malfoy and the attack at the same time were no coincidence. He was betrayed.

“You've assembled everyone downstairs?” he asked Dean, who nodded quickly. “Very well. Ron, you, Luna and Neville go down there, take everyone out front and prepare to defend the house. Go to where our defenses end. We don't want them attacking the house if we can, and the defenses end almost a quarter-mile away from here. Perhaps we can hold them.”

“What about these two?” Ron asked, indicating Hermione and Malfoy.

“I'll handle this. Go. NOW!” and with that everyone disappeared from the room, leaving just the three of them.

Harry turned back to face the two, and for a moment stared at Hermione in silence. Here was the girl he had loved for years, though it took him much longer than it should have to realize it. The girl who had been there every step of the way and never given up on him, no matter what obstacle he faced. He had sworn a long time ago that the only thing he wanted for her was happiness. Did that mean he had to give up what he wanted, too?

“Harry, please,” Hermione pleaded.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at them. He didn't bother to stop the lone tear that slipped down his cheek as he said, “Go. Out the back kitchen door.”

“What?!” Hermione said, incredulously.

“You heard them,” Harry answered in a voice so dead he barely recognized it as his own. “They're attacking the front. We'll draw them off, you two get as far away from here as you can.”

In a flash Hermione was directly in front of Harry, grabbing onto his hand. “Harry, please, I don't want to go. I can help. Don't make me leave.”

For the briefest of moments he tried to memorize what it felt like to feel his hand in hers before he gently pulled it away.

“This is how it is. Go,” he said and walked to the door. He stopped and turned to look back at Hermione, who seemed rooted to the ground, a look of total anguish on her face.

“I never thought I'd have to know what I would do without you,” he sighed. “I reckon `never' is too long a word.”

Harry walked out the door, closing it behind him, as Hermione, tears streaming down her cheeks, ran after him, only to have the door shut firmly in her face.

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## 17. One Man Wounded in Love...

Harry headed down the stairs of Claer, each footstep feeling heavier than the last. People were jostling past him, encouraging him to hurry up and get outside before the Death Eaters broke through, but something held him back from joining the rush that was going on around him. There was a battle coming, and he knew that he should be focusing on what he needed to do to make sure that the DA didn't sustain any more losses, but his mind wasn't there at all.

It was back in the room he had just left, with the woman he loved.

Letting her go with Malfoy had been one the hardest decisions he had ever made, and there was a large part of him that kept screaming that he was a total idiot for doing it. She said she loved him, and he wanted to believe her, but as he had said in the room: something like a kiss between her and Malfoy would only have happened if a part of her wanted it too. How large that part was was too painful for Harry to contemplate.

Yells from outside brought Harry back to the present moment, which presented its own set of problems. He couldn't believe that Callum would have willingly betrayed the DA, but he had to admit that the fact that he had disappeared at the same time as the Death Eater's attack couldn't be mere coincidence. Maybe he'd been taken by one of the Death Eaters before anyone knew what was going on? Of course, for that to have happened, he would have had to be way outside of the houses' defenses, which raised a whole other set of questions. At this point, it didn't really matter, anyway. He had to deal with what was in front of him.

He walked down the main hallway, passing room after room on his way to the front door, towards the yells he could hear, when he suddenly heard a loud CRACK! from a room he just passed by, and looked back in it to see Snape standing there, with a smirk on his face.

With a heavy sigh, Harry walked into the room.

“Never did pay close enough attention to your history, did you, Potter?” Snape said tauntingly.

Harry stared at him for a moment, anger fierce in his eyes. “You think this is my fault, do you, Snape?”

“You need to learn to pay closer attention, Potter. That's always been your problem. You don't think I called this place Camelot in jest, did you? Never much for subtlety.”

“What are you doing trying to play Dumbeldore, here?! Dropping off hints and clues that I'm just supposed to pick up on?! I'm so tired of everyone playing games with me, instead of just bloody telling me!”

Snape weathered the storm of Harry's rage silently. They were both aware that Harry's anger wasn't really directed at him, and after a moment it subsided, and Harry lapsed back into the deadness he'd been feeling since he had entered Malfoy's room. Something crashed in the hallway outside as a pair of DA members knocked over a table in the hallway in their rush to get outside and fight. He could hear Ron and Dean shouting orders to people outside, and the urgency of the situation slowly started to creep into his mind. He really didn't have time for any more mind games with Snape.

“Do you have anything helpful to contribute, or are you just here for sport, Snape?”

Snape was silent for a minute as he looked at the broken man before him.

“You know why I looked after you all those years at Hogwarts, Potter. It was out of love for your mother and the respect I had for Dumbledore. It was as his behest that I did what I could to make sure you made it through to do what you had to do against the Dark Lord.”

“Well, you did a brilliant job,” Harry replied sarcastically.

Snape smirked at this. “Always like your father, then. He was never the grateful type.”

Harry ignored the jab and waited for whatever Snape was going to say next.

“I helped to fortify your defenses, so the Death Eaters will have bit of a harder time getting here. I also created a fog right before the defenses end that should give them a few surprises, and allow your members to get an advantage. You're out-numbered, though not by a large amount, but the enemy that comes now is powered by revenge and hatred. You're going to need all the help you can get.”

With a muttered thank you, Harry stood up. The screams outside were quickly getting louder, and Harry knew he had spent enough time here. He had to act, and act quickly.

He drew his wand and headed to the door, but stopped and turned back to Snape, who stood there staring at him.

“We'll not see each other again, will we?” Harry said, more of a statement than a question.

“No, Potter, I doubt we will.”

Harry nodded once, in confirmation not only of the truth behind what Snape said, but also in a kind of acceptance of all that had happened to him. Dwelling on the past would do him no good now. All he could do was use the anger and energy he had from being in this horrific situation to save as many people as he could.

He left the room and headed to the front door to do the only thing he had left.

***

Bellatrix and her Death Eaters stood outside, looking at the glimmering lights of the house where the brats had been hiding all this time. The wind caught her long black robes and hair and tossed them about.

We're so close, she thought, feeling a surge of savage joy at the thought.

The thirty Death Eaters that made up her force had broken through the ground's defenses with relative ease. If these filthy children hadn't been against her, she would have admired their skills in protecting themselves.

Unfortunately for them, it would do little good now.

She signaled for her followers to move forward, and suddenly a murky fog sprang out of nowhere, making it practically impossible to see anything over a foot away.

Bellatrix laughed bitterly. Is this all you've got now, Potter? she thought as several Death Eaters muttered Lumos and lit up their wands.

That was when the shadows came, screaming and wailing straight at those with light coming from their wands. Some of her soldiers yelped in fear and shot spells at the coming forms, but the spells passed right through them and the figures continued soaring towards the light. In fact, the more light that the Death Eaters' wands emitted, the more shadowy forms appeared.

Some of her followers started to fall back, but she screamed at them to halt.

“Put out all the lights, you fools!” she screeched, and they were suddenly alone again in the fog. “It's only a trick! Stay where you are! Morder!”

She felt movement beside her and turned to see her lieutenant standing next to her.

“Yes, mistress?”

“The brats will have known we're here for some time now, and I expect they'll be waiting for us. You got a good look at the house, didn't you?” she asked, daring him to answer in the negative.

“Yes, mistress, just before this cursed fog obscured everything.”

“Good. I want you to take ten soldiers and swing around to the back. If they're trying to flee, you should be able to catch some of them, and if not, we can use it to attack from ahead and behind. Oh, and Morder, in this case I'm going to skip my usual appetites, so no prisoners are required.”

“Very good, mistress,” he answered, and called out for ten soldiers to follow him, and she watched as his form disappeared into the fog.

Soon, everything was silent again.

Nothing for it but to put an end to this now, she thought, and called out for them to march forward and keep their wands ready.

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## 18. ...Another Man Wounded in Hatred

The only sounds in the room were Granger's sobs as she leaned against the door that Potter had just closed in her face.

Hearing her in her grief brought to mind Draco Malfoy's own sadness that he had been fighting back ever since she had told him it was over. It wasn't an all-encompassing sadness like hers was at losing Potter, but more of a dull ache that he had grown familiar to over the past two years.

When she had appeared at his door, Draco he knew what she was going to say before she spoke the words. There was this determined look on her face that he remembered being so irritated by back at Hogwarts. She wasted no time in telling him that despite whatever similarities they had, she loved Potter and the kiss between them had been an absolute mistake, and nothing more. She looked completely ready to fight it out if need be, but there was no need. He had stepped close to her and asked her if she was certain, and without any hesitation, she answered that she was. That was when Potter and his lot burst in.

In the ensuing confrontation, Draco had only said one thing, because he knew that nothing he or Granger said was going to make a difference. The minute that she admitted to him what had happened, nothing he said would alter Potter's mind. It didn't matter that she had come there to stop things with Draco; all Potter could see was them kissing.

So why the bloody hell did he let us go? Draco wondered to himself. He had half expected Potter to lunge into some kind of attack on him, but the bitter resignation with which Potter met the whole situation was a surprise. But not near as surprising as his letting them go.

Draco was not used to receiving any kind of sympathy from anyone, and that it should come from Potter at a time like this was completely beyond his realm of understanding.

It was of course, unfortunate that Potter's sympathy was wasted, he thought as moved to pick up his wand. With or without Granger, it appeared that his whole reason for being here in the first place was fast approaching the house, and he would not miss it.

Granger, finally pulling herself together, noticed his movement and asked, in a broken voice, “What are you doing? You're not actually going to do what he says, are you? We have to fight!”

Draco shot her a dirty look. “Of course we have to fight. I always thought you were cleverer than that, Granger. Do you have your wand?”

She nodded, and he noticed that a new strength seemed to come over her. Giving her something to do and fight for was seemingly all she needed. With unusual clarity, Draco knew that she was going to fight to the death to get back to Potter.

“Let's put an end to all this,” he said and opened the door into the hallway.

The house was mostly quiet, except for the sounds of a few people still making their way to the front door to join the fray. As they reached the house's main stairwell and started to rush down, they could see eruptions of multi-coloured light from the front windows and the sound of curses being screamed.

Draco fought the urge to rush out and join the main battle and led Granger back to the kitchen.

“What are we doing, Draco? The battle's started out there,” she said, pointing with her wand back the way they had just came.

“Exactly,” Draco answered. “If we can get behind the Death Eaters we can trap them between two groups.”

She nodded in understanding and they passed through the back door into the night. As they did, Draco thought with a grim sarcasm, At least we're doing what Potter asked.

The wind had picked up and was moaning as it passed through the ground's trees and grasses. It was difficult to see anything clearly in the backyard, because a mist from the lake had blown in, obscuring everything.

He was about to move around the house when he thought he heard something. He motioned for Granger to be silent, and they both tried to listen over the howling of the wind.

Suddenly, shadows appeared in the mist, heading right for where they were standing. Draco couldn't make out anything specific about them, but all it took was the huge black cloaks they were wearing to tell him who they were. The fire of revenge for everything that had been done to his family rushed through him and he shot a blood-red curse at the one closest too him, hitting him dead on and sending him spinning off into the night.

He heard a deep voice call out “Attack!” and lights and curses flashed all around them.

He was dimly aware of Granger leaping to the right, but he had his mind on one thing only, and dodged a curse that flew at him and sent his own back, hitting whoever had attacked him.

The fight was like a lightning storm, as the two of them fought against the Death Eaters. Draco was rolling away from a curse while he caught sight of Granger deflect one that was sent her way and quickly firing back. He had been right; she was fighting with a determination that clearly said she there would be no stopping her from getting what she wanted.

Another curse missed him by mere feet and exploded into the ground next to him, causing him to leap back and fire in the direction the curse came from. His red beam of light was deflected and it flew back into the lake, causing a red explosion of water when it hit.

He heard a sound behind him and whirled to see a Death Eater who had been trying to sneak up behind him, and with no time to think, punched the figure in the face, sending it slumping to the ground.

The sound of someone yelling out the killing curse rang out, and Draco dove out of the way as the spell just missed him and crashed into the house, creating a jagged hole in the kitchen. Draco leapt to his feet and sent a counter curse to the source and heard the scream as his enemy was hit.

There was another explosion to his right, as someone else's spell took out a piece of the house. He turned to see Granger rolling to her feet and she shot a blue curse in at a Death Eater who was running towards her. He dropped to the ground like a stone, Stupefied.

Draco wasn't sure how long they'd been fighting, but as he dispatched another opponent, he realized that a quiet was seeping over the scene. He looked around and saw only the mist and only Granger standing in the mist.

Was that all of them? he wondered.

“You all right?” he called out to Granger, who answered in the affirmative.

Something doesn't feel right, he thought. He hadn't counted the number of Death Eaters before he began to fight, and he reckoned that between the two of them, they had taken down a good number. And yet, it didn't feel like they'd got them all.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly rose, and acting purely on instinct, he dove away from the spot he was standing on as a powerful, venom-yellow curse sent the ground flying into the air.

He landed and rolled to his feet to find himself facing a tall Death Eater. His hood had been thrown back, and Draco stared into the merciless silver eyes of a cruel face, with a hairline scar and lanky brown hair.

The Death Eater stared at him for a moment, before breaking into a grin.

“Malfoy, is it? I was hoping I'd be the one to find you,” he said with a laugh that sent ice down Draco's back. “It's sort of a new tradition I'm working on, see; killing people in the Malfoy family.”

Draco felt his blood turn to flame as he stared at the man.

“That's right, Malfoy. I'm the one who brought down your loony mother when she tried to stop the Dark Lord. Put up quite a fight, she did, but those who know they're going to die usually do,” he grinned at the look of rage on Draco's face. “She went out screaming your name, boy.”

And Draco snapped. He let the feelings of rage that he'd been dealing with these past months take over completely, and fired a curse as red as his lust for revenge. The other deflected it and returned fire, but Draco was already moving out of the way, firing again. This time the man leapt out of the way while sending a spell at him, just missing Draco as he moved.

They dueled with such ferocity that after several moments, the ground around was nothing but smoldering craters. Months of living off of nothing but revenge were starting to slow Draco down, while his enemy, clearly experienced in battle, was holding steady.

In a desperate attempt to gain an edge, instead of moving away from the Death Eater as he fired a spell, Draco charged right for him. He managed to deflect two spells that were sent his way, and was just about to fire a counter-curse when the Death Eater aimed a spell not at him, but at the ground before him, causing it to explode and sending Draco into the air.

For the briefest of moments he had the feeling of being weightless before he crashed back into the ground, his wand still firmly clutched in his hand. He heard something snap, and a bolt of pain ripped up his right leg. Debris rained down on him, and he did his best to shield his face as the flaming pieces of earth cut and burned his body.

He was faintly aware of Granger's voice calling his name as he lay on the ground, but that was quickly forgotten as the sound of footsteps drew closer to him, and he found himself looking up at the man who had a hand in taking everything from him.

The man pointed his ash-black wand at Draco and said with a smirk, “Give your mum my regards, won't you?”

Using what was left of all the hatred he had as a catalyst for motion, Draco attempted to roll away, so the spell didn't hit him at its full force, though it hit him hard enough that he screamed in pain and rage.

Before the other could react, Draco raised his wand and shouted, “ADAVA KEDAVA!” and hit the man straight on. For a moment, there was look of complete surprise on the man's face as his silver eyes clouded over and he slumped to the ground.

A surge of victory washed through and Draco and ignoring the screaming pain he was in, managed to pull himself weakly to his feet and look down at the motionless body of his enemy.

I've done it, he thought, feeling relief for the first time that he could remember, and then, giving himself up to his wounds, he collapsed to the ground.

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## 19. The Redemption of the Purebloods

The sounds of the battle started to fade as Ron and Luna made their way around the house, heading for the back.

Ron had been in the thick of things just moments before, casting spells and deflecting the ones fired at him with all his strength. Harry had come rushing out just as the first spells were cast, and was fighting alongside Ron, fighting with a fury that Ron had never seen in Harry.

And even though fighting for his life should have kept him occupied—body and soul—Ron Weasley knew full well that Harry's total abandon in battle was due in part to his own actions.

The moment that Hermione had admitted to Harry that she had kissed Malfoy and Ron had seen the look of complete wretchedness on Harry's face, Ron knew he had made a mistake. He should have told Harry in another way, not breaking his heart and embarrassing him at the same time. He had failed his best friend in such a horrible way that it made him sick. He also knew that he had also failed Hermione, the disappointment that he also felt coming from Luna stung more than he understood, but the sad way in which she looked at him totally wrenched his heart.

So when Harry had joined the battle, dueling with total resolve, Ron knew that he had to do the same, to make up for all the people he had hurt.

As they had fought, it felt like they dueled atop a volcano, the ground constantly erupting beneath their feet, lights of all kinds of colours flashing everywhere and people on both sides dropping to the ground. Ron stayed with Harry through the thick of it. He was surprised to find that Luna was with him too, and together, the three of them did their best to blow a hole in the advancing enemy. There were screams everywhere, not only of spells, but of pain and fear as someone was hit.

The DA seemed to be holding their own, though the ground was strewn with more than a fair share of their number, when - during a brief lull - Ron heard the sound of an explosion come from the back of the house. He and Harry both whirled at the sound, and without Harry having to say anything, Ron pelted towards the back, Luna close behind him.

He looked behind once as he ran to see Harry dueling some Death Eaters with Neville and Dean.

Now, as he and Luna made their way to the back of the house, the sound of a tremendous fight could easily be heard. A sudden explosion rocked the ground, and Ron saw pieces of earth go flying into the air.

Who's fighting back here? Ron wondered to himself. He didn't recall stationing anyone to guard the back, but he got his answer as they rounded the corner and came into the back yard.

The back yard looked almost as bad as the front. There were holes in the ground everywhere, and he could see several bodies laying motionless on the ground. Only a few feet ahead, with her back to them was Hermione. She was completely oblivious to their arrival and stared only at a huge Death Eater who was standing over the bleeding body of Draco Malfoy.

Ron couldn't believe what he was seeing. What were they still doing here? Had Harry told t hem to stay?

He had no time to ask anything, because before his eyes he saw Malfoy take the brunt of a curse as he rolled away from the Death Eater, and then scream out the Killing Curse. It hit the man right in the chest, and the he slumped to the ground. To his surprise, Ron watched as Malfoy managed to pull himself to his feet and look at his enemy before falling back to the ground.

At that moment, several things happened at once. Two Death Eaters suddenly lunged forth from the mist. One charged right at Hermione, and she leapt to the attack, deflecting his curse and sending back one of her own.

The other Death Eater rushed over to Malfoy's body, ready to finish him off, but just as he was getting near the body Ron shot an orange spell right at him which knocked him off his feet and sent him flying backwards into the night.

Hermione jumped at the sound of the spell being cast behind her, but only glanced backwards quickly to see who it was, then sent a curse at the Death Eater she was fighting which dropped him to the ground in a senseless heap.

She quickly made sure that the Death Eater was down, and then rushed over to Malfoy's body, Ron and Luna right behind her. When they reached him, Hermione kneeled down near his head and looked at him.

It was obvious to all three of them that Malfoy was dying. Not only where there cuts and burns all over his body, but he was bleeding profusely from the spell he had taken right before killing the other Death Eater. As they looked at the wrecked body, Ron felt Luna's small hand slip into his, and an intense wave of comfort washed through him.

Malfoy must have known in too, but looked up at the three of them with only a small amount of fear in his eyes. What was clearest was a look that could best be described as release.

“I did it,” he said, in a feeble voice. “I killed the man who killed my mother.”

Nobody said anything, and he looked at Hermione and said, his voice getting harder to hear by the word.

“Get out of here, Granger. Do what you've been wanting to and get rid of these people.”

Ron saw a single tear come to Hermione's eye as she tenderly touched Malfoy's cheek. She took Ron's offered hand to help her up, and didn't let go.

“Go help Potter end it,” Malfoy said, and they all nodded. With a faint smile, Malfoy closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

“Come on,” Ron said, pulling Hermione away from the body. “Let's go finish this.”

Hermione nodded once, squeezed his hand and let go. The three of them moved away from the back yard and started running back to the front of the house, Luna's hand still in Ron's.

As they neared the front Ron was surprised to hear how quiet it had gotten. He could still hear the sound of dueling, but it sounded like it was only two people.

The three of them came skidding around the corner to the front of the house to see both the DA and the Death Eaters standing aside, watching as Harry Potter and Bellatrix Lestrange faced each other.

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## 20. Two Kinds of Tears

Harry Potter easily deflected a curse that was shot his way and sent a retaliatory curse back at one of the cloaked figures, which sent the Death Eater stumbling back into the fog that Snape had created.

Ron and Luna had just left to see what those sounds from the back were, and for the first time since Harry had entered the battle, he was afraid. Certainly not for himself, since he had thrown himself into the battle with a frenzy that even he was startled by, but for Hermione. He had told her and Malfoy to go out the back door, and he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to her.

An explosion of purple light blew the ground to pieces a few feet away, and Harry had to dive out of the way of the raining debris. The curse had been aimed at Neville, but he had managed to dodge it as well, and was busy firing back.

Harry and the rest of the DA fell back, and were now practically at C lae r's doorstep. Harry used the brief respite he had to asses the situation. The DA had been holding their own extremely well, and he was proud of all of them, but the Death Eaters had more experience than they did, and the DA were slowly being worn down. Just the thought of the number dead sent Harry charging toward another Death Eater, blasting him back with a spell before the Death Eater had a chance to turn around.

He stood panting for a moment when a voice he would never forget cooed from behind him, “Ah, so there you are, Potter.”

He turned around slowly to see Bellatrix standing there, her black robes a whirl around her. There was both amusement and hatred in her eyes as she surveyed him.

“Your little band of brats is holding up better than I expected, but I don't think they'll last much longer once you're gone.”

“Dumbledore's Army isn't about one person, Lestrange. That was something your lot could never understand: self-sacrifice.”

She scoffed at the statement and looked at him like a scolding teacher. “Don't preach to me, Potter. I won't take it from a rebellious little brat like you.”

The people fighting around them noticed what was going on, and the fighting slowed to a halt. Everyone was starring at the two of them, waiting for what was to happen next. An eerie silence fell over the battlefield as Harry clenched his wand tightly.

“How wise do you think this is, Lestrange, challenging the one who destroyed your precious Voldemort?”

Anger flashed across her face, but she managed to control it and said, in a taunting voice, “Oh, I don't know, Potter. You seem to have trouble these days keeping your own house in order. Something tells me I can handle this.”

Harry felt himself colour at the idea that she would mention Hermione, but determined not to give her the satisfaction of a response.

She held her wand loosely, waiting for him to do something, but he just stared at her, anger welling up in him at the woman who had killed Sirius and had brought down all he had worked for.

She smiled at him and said, “I know what you're thinking, boy, but don't worry, you'll see your precious godfather soon enough,” and fired a silver-blue curse at him.

Harry jumped out the way while firing his own counter-curse, which narrowly missed her and exploded in a flash of red behind her.

They went back and forth, sending spell after spell at each other, and Harry was aware that he was slowly being beaten back towards the house. She was just so fast with her wand; every spell he shot at her, she deflected like lightning and just a quickly returned fire, causing him to scramble out of the way. Between the two of them, they were creating a veritable fireworks show as their duel wore on.

As Harry came within feet of the house, he realized that he was losing, and there was nothing he could do about it. She was too quick, and he had given up all his energy in the earlier fight and in saying goodbye to Hermione.

Suddenly Bellatrix shot two quick spells at him, and while Harry was able to deflect one, the other hit him square in the chest and he was sent spinning backwards. He crashed into the wall of the house, before dropping to the ground. Pain rolled through him in waves, and he was dimly aware of Bellatrix laughing manically.

He managed to pull himself to his feet, and faced her again. They circled each other, and Harry made sure that his back wasn't to the house anymore; one more hit like that and he'd break his back. They finally stopped, his back to one of Claer's few trees that wasn't on fire. The ground under it was littered with twigs and branches that had broken off during the battle, and Harry couldn't help but notice that many of them were wand-sized. If only they were wands, and he had the numbers, he thought ruefully.

They stood facing each other, Harry taking great gulps of air, and noticed with a glimmer of satisfaction that Bellatrix was breathing hard as well. At least I won't make it easy for her, he thought grimly.

He was just about to launch an attack when he heard his name and turned to see Hermione standing at the corner of the house with Ron and Luna. Seeing her standing there, when he told her to leave, momentarily struck him dumb, and he looked at her like she he was just meeting her for the first time. He briefly wondered where Malfoy was, but when his eyes met Hermione, nothing else mattered. In that moment, as if some kind of gift, he saw all the love he had felt for her reflected back at him. She did love him, and it was so clear in her eyes that it took his breath away.

This only lasted for the briefest moment, but it gave Harry a whole new sense of strength and power. He realized there was only one way to finish this, and thanks to Hermione, he had the courage to do it. He felt tears of joy springing to his eyes, and turned back to look at Bellatrix, who was looking at him like one looks at some strange animal never before seen.

“Like I said, Lestrange, your lot could never understand,” and he launched a fierce attack at her, momentarily driving her back, before she countered, sending spells that exploded all around him, making him dive everywhere to dodge them; he just wasn't fast enough to deflect them all. The time had come, and Harry knew what he had to do.

The next spell that hit close sent him rolling backwards to the base of the tree, and as he rolled, he grabbed a twig, and as another spell exploded where he had just been, he was able to slip his real wand into his jacket pocket.

He stood back up, facing a raging Bellatrix.

“ENOUGH!” she screamed, and aimed her wand at him.

Hermione was the only thing he thought of as he dove out of the way. As he had hoped, Bellatrix had caught on to this tactic of his, so when he dove, she anticipated and hit him as moved, sending him crashing into the trunk of the tree. The twig flew out of his hand as he hit the ground.

Again, pain ripped through him, this time worse than before, and he knew he wouldn't be getting up again. The grass below him started to feel wet, and when he touched it with his fingers, they came up red.

He could hear the gasps of the DA, the shouts of victory from the Death Eaters, and just barely heard Hermione screaming his name.

He craned his head and saw Bellatrix coming slowly towards him, her step light and gloating, a malicious smile on her face. Making sure no sudden movement caught her eye, he slowly reached into his jacket pocket at grasped his wand.

She finally stood over him, smiling down at him as the branches above her swayed with the dying wind.

“This is how it ends, Harry Potter,” she said win a wicked grin.

She was just about to say the curse when Harry pulled out his wand and yelled, with all the strength he had left, “STUPEFY!” She flew high into tree, and as she came down with a screech, her long hood got caught on a branch, and with a loud snap, broke her neck.

She stayed there, hanging in the tree like some kind of macabre Christmas ornament, for a moment before the branch broke and she crashed to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Harry laid his head back and closed his eyes. It's over, he thought, smiling.

***

With a terror she had never thought she could feel, Hermione had watched as Harry was hit by Bellatrix's venom-green spell, sending him into the tree, and then sprawling to the ground, his wand flying out of his hand. She had screamed his name and tried to rush over to him, but Ron held her back as her cries were drowned out by noise made by the DA and Death Eaters.

As Bellatrix stood over Harry, taunting him even in death, a rage so all-encompassing that she thought she would drown in it rose up, and she thrashed against Ron, and now Luna.

Bellatrix had her wand ready, and was just about to kill him, when to everyone's surprise, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and sent her flying into the tree. The sound of Bellatrix's neck snapping made her flinch, but when the body fell to the ground, she felt herself go limp in the arms that were holding her. Harry and tricked Bellatrix, and won, but he wasn't getting up.

Hermione could hear the rest of the Death Eaters shout in panic, now that their leader was gone, and she was aware of people fleeing and members of Dumbledore's Army chasing after them, crying out in victory.

All she could see was Harry lying on the grass, which was rapidly turning red with his blood.

She suddenly felt Ron take her hand and he lead her over to Harry. The whole world suddenly seemed to have turned murky; her eyes were so full of tears.

As she followed Ron and Luna to the body she noticed that no one else seemed to be paying attention, so intent they were in catching the fleeing enemy. She noticed a ragged looking Neville emerge from a group and head towards Harry as well, a look of anguish on his face.

At last she arrived where Harry was lying, and without realizing how it happened, she's on the ground next to him, taking his already cooling hand into her own, trying desperately to call out his name through the sobs that were constricting her throat. In response to the touch of her hand, he turned to look at her and gave her that pure smile that she first fell in love with all those years ago and she felt her heart start to crack.

“H-hharry, I'm so sorry,” she finally managed to get out, but before she can finish, he raised a hand and put it to her lips, then let it rest softly on her cheek.

“It doesn't matter now, my love. I was as much a fool as any. I was so focused on trying to make sure you were safe that I stopped paying attention to you, and what you needed,” he coughed, and blood flecked his lips, but he spoke in a firm voice. “Hermione, I want you to listen to me. This is not your fault, and I will not have you going through the rest of your life blaming yourself. It was not your fault, do you understand? You gave met he courage to do what needed to be done.” It was all she could to do is nod; the power of speech had been torn from her.

“I love you Hermione, and I always will,” and suddenly she was leaning down, kissing him softly for, what her heart said and her brain rejected, will be the last time. “I love you too, Harry.”

He smiled faintly and said, “I'm so lucky that your face is the last thing I get to see,” to which, she couldn't help but smile, “and the last thing I get to feel is your lips. That's how I always wanted life to be. I'm so lucky…” and he looked at her one last time, and closed his eyes.

She called his name once, twice, three times, before her hearted shattered like glass, and bowed over by grief, and completely unaware of the rain of tears that fell from those standing around her, laid her head on Harry's chest and wept like a child: a child who lost the thing she cared for the most.

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## 21. Goodbye for Now

The setting sun made the surface of the lake look like it was painted with gold, as the gentle waters lapped at the lake's edge, where Hermione Granger stood, robed in black.

Behind her were Ron, Luna, the fifteen or so remaining members of the DA, and array of people who had all come to say goodbye to The Boy Who Lived. McGonnagal was there and so was a sobbing Hagrid from Hogwarts. Mad-Eye was there and Lupin and Tonks - her hair a raven black - were present, their hands clasped tightly together. The entire Weasley family had also shown up.

Hermione knew they were all there, not only for Harry, but for her as well, but she just couldn't seem to feel it. She hadn't been able to feel much of anything in the two days since Harry died.

She knew that what was left of Bellatrix's Death Eaters had either been captured by the DA that night, or scattered to the wind, and that the Ministry was finally hunting them down. Strange, she thought, how in life they wouldn't listen to Harry, and it's only in his death they understand.

Today wasn't solely about Harry, but about everyone who had died fighting the Death Eaters. They had laid to rest ten of their own, including Seamus who had died fighting alongside Dean and Neville, and also Callum Taliesin, who was found dead with two unconscious Death Eaters. The truth of Callum's role in the attack would probably never been fully known, but whatever the role was, there was a comfort in the fact that he had died on the side of the DA.

They had also buried Draco with the others. Some had been resistant to this idea, but Hermione contended that he had died defending Claer just like the rest, and he deserved the same honour. She didn't say it to anyone, but she knew Draco would have rather been buried with his family, but since that option was not available, he would be buried with the closest thing to a family he had, at the end.

Now, as she stood alone by the lake, all she could think about was Harry. All the things she was going to miss; the look in his eyes when they talked - that look that said how completely he loved her, the feeling of his hand in hers, the way he tasted when they kissed, and the warmth she felt whenever she was in his arms. She clutched these and a thousand other memories like precious gems, and swore to herself that she would never let them go.

She'd spent most of the time since Harry died with Ron and Luna, who have been the only ones able to give her any feeling of comfort. Otherwise, she'd stuck to herself, lost in thought and memory.

She heard the rustling of grass behind her and turned to see Ron coming, tears sliding down his cheeks. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “It's time. Everyone's here.” She nodded in response, and together they walked to where the water met the land, where a small boat was floating with the body of Harry Potter laying in it. Her heart broke again at the sight of him, and though she thought she had no more tears to cry, tears come again.

She and Ron got on opposite sides of the boat and gently pushed it out into the lake. It floated gently along, the waters welcoming it like a long lost friend.

When at last it gets to about the middle of the lake, she and Ron both drew their wands and together murmured the incantation that they had spent the last two days working on. The ground all around them started to shake and rumble, and the water where the boat was floating started to bubble, hiss and steam, obscuring the boat from view.

This lasted for a moment, and when everything settled down, instead of the boat in the middle of the lake, there is now an island with a single tree sapling growing. The final monument to Harry Potter and all he gave the world.

She and Ron stepped back, and watched as everyone paid their tearful respects to the island from the shore. It wasn't long before just Ron and Luna, who were holding hands, and Hermione were left standing at the lakeshore.

“Well,” Ron said, breaking the silence. “What do we do now?”

The question was greeted with silence for a moment, before Hermione spoke up.

“I'm going to leave for a while, do some traveling. I can't stay here now. Maybe someday, but not now.”

Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind.

“Ron, that leaves you in charge of the DA. Take care of them,” she said. Ron nodded and she gave him a long hug, and kissed his cheek.

“Luna, this leaves you in charge of Ron. Take care of him,” she said with a smile, and Ron couldn't help but laugh through the new tears he was crying.

“I will,” Luna answered and hugged Hermione.

Hermione took a step back, and with one last look at the island where the only man she will ever love rested, walked away.

***

Luna watched Hermione's slowly disappearing figure, and she couldn't help but think about the wheels of life that are always spinning. Things begin, and things end. That's the way of it, but it doesn't make it any easier.

She felt the warmth coming from Ron's hand as he watched Hermione disappear from view.

“We'll see her again, won't we?” he asked.

“Yes, we will, when the wheel spins her back out again.”

Ron turned and looked at her with a faint smile, and before she knew what was happening, leaned in gave her a tender kiss. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, “I still have no idea what you're talking about sometimes.”

She couldn't help but laugh at this, and hand-in-hand, they started heading back to Claer. As they did they stopped and took one look back at the island, where the last ray of light caught the tree and the single, white blossom on its branch.

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## 22. Epilogue - The Twilight Road

“And that was the way of it,” said the deep, second voice and the world fell into silence again. The dawn was coming quickly; already, the spr ead of orange and the beginnings of blue could be seen on the horizon. The stars resigned from their nightly vigil as the sun began its own.

Finally, the first voice spoke up. “I remember it now. What happened after? To everyone?”

“With the death of Bellatrix, her remaining supporters were quick to surrender, and the war was finally ended. Peace returned to the world, but for a time, for such a state the world can never maintain for long.”

“The rest of the DA and the world went back to the way it was. The heroes were remembered, and honored, and then the people moved on. It does no good to dwell on what was past, especially in a war.”

“Ron ald Weasley survives and is living a happy life with Luna Lovegood. He is a different man from the one he had formerly been: grimmer, some might say, but more decent for it.”

Quietly, and with a hint of nervousness, the first voiced asked, “And what of Hermione?”

“She disappeared.”

“Disappeared? What do you mean?”

“After the funerals, she simply vanished. People say they see her, appearing when someone's need is great, or a great injustice is committed, but she never stays anyplace for long. She does great things for people, but asks nothing in return. Th ere are rumours that she visits Ronald and Luna regularly, and they alone ar e her contacts with the world, but one can't believe every rumour that one hears,” the voice clearly showing that this was one rumour that was true.

“She always was the brightest witch of her age,” the first voice said, and the smile could almost be heard in the words.

“Many attempts at finding her failed, and eventually they gave up, knowing that if she wanted to be found, she would be.”

***

A lone monk left the Abbey at Glastonbury and headed down to the Brue just as the sun was starting to rise in the east. The shore and river was covered in mist, but that was certainly nothing new. He wrapped his cloak closer about him, and made for the boats at the shore.

Today was his day to do the fishing for the Abbey, a duty that was loathed by almost all the monks, for it meant spending a day on the Brue - a day on waters that many considered cursed. However, he didn't mind it; he didn't believe in that type of thing anyway, and he enjoyed the quiet.

He found the small fishing boat that the Abbey owned, and started to push it into the water when he looked up into the mists on the waters. As they moved about, seemingly with a mind of their own, for a second the small isle in the middle was revealed - and on it sat two figures.

The monk rubbed his eyes, but the figures remained. Then the sun peaked over the horizon, throwing its light all around. A beam hit the pair on the island, and the priest gasped - they seemed to be transparent, for he could see the mists swirling behind them. They both looked at the sun for a moment, before a cloud of mist obscured his view. By the time it had passed, they were gone.

The monk shook his head and pushed the boat into the water, jumping in and rowing out. The mists were breaking up with the approach of day, and things were becoming clearer.

That's what I get for waking up so early, the monk though as he rowed. He thought it best not to mention to anyone what he saw. Who would believe a young boy with glasses and bearded man with a crown had been sitting on the isle anyway?

***

“Do you suppose I'll ever see her again, Sir?” the first voice asked, hope and sadness mingled in the single question.

“Master Potter, I think after what we've both been through, you have earned the right to call me Arthur. And yes, I do think you shall. When the time is right, she will be with you again.”

“How long will I have to wait, Arthur?”

“Does it really matter, lad?”

“No,” Harry Potter said, a new lightness in his words. “I suppose it doesn't.”

Fin

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