I just know Regulus would have thrown a full riot if he knew James would also die young.

Like fully lose his shit at the mere thought of James dying, scratch that murdered at 21.

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

the idea of loving you | 4

Being in love is never easy. Especially with a certain blonde-haired Slytherin around.. /4th year, Voldemort not coming back/

pairing: Draco x Ravenclaw reader

word count: 2300

warnings: bad language, smut (kinda)

a/n: Uni is kicking my butt, but I finally finished chapter 4. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, I love you all <3

There was an awkward tension lingering between Cho and you as you were walking back to your dorm from the party. She was walking a bit ahead of you, so you didn't get to see the face she was making. You were scared. This was the worst possible outcome of the night. You wanted to talk it out with her, but you were too nervous to start speaking. You've already been through so much together the last few years, from small arguments because of your untidiness to full-on fights because her first boyfriend called you a bitch, and she did nothing. But still, you've solved everything. You've suddenly stopped walking when you realized that running from this was only making it worse. It was now only her footsteps that echoed on the empty stairs. When she noticed you stopped, she turned around to look at you. She didn't seem angry or mad. She seemed just as confused and scared as you did, and seeing that gave you the strength to talk.

"Cho... How are you feeling?" you asked sheepishly, fingers fidgeting with the rings you were wearing.

She took a long pause before answering. You felt your heart racing more and more with each passing second. "If it's about the kiss, it's all good y/n. You did what you had to do."

It was almost midnight. You figured your other roommate was already asleep, so you sat down on the top of the spiral staircase of the Ravenclaw tower. Cho immediately joined you .

"You know, I've always imagined my first kiss to be with Cedric," you started, eyes fixated on the cracks of the stairs. " I thought it's going to be in our garden on a summer afternoon with the blue sky above us while the sun warmed our skins. That we'd just lay there on the grass, and he'd finally steal a kiss. You have no idea how much I wanted this. I gave him so many opportunities, but he never took them. It hurt so bad, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't wished to feel nothing at all. I thought that I'm never going to get over him. But when we kissed it wasn't like I imagined it to be. It was disappointing, really. It's not that the kiss itself was bad, I-I guess I'm just changing." you said, finally looking up, to see her reaction. 

She looked at you, her tender eyes full of sympathy. "Telling me all this... I knew you're not a chicken," she chuckled softly, but her face turned serious as she continued. "I always wondered how much it hurts you that Cedric and me... you know, are dating. I was always so scared that you're going to break, even if you said it was okay. I live in constant guilt y/n." she said, trying to blink her tears away.

"I'm full of self-love, you've got to try harder if you want to break a person like me," you laughed, which made her smile. 

You've talked for a little while, before deciding it was better to get going. That night you slept together in your bed. She fell asleep quickly but your thoughts kept you up. It was dark, the only source of illumination was the moonlight from your tall windows. You stared at the ceiling as you listened to her breathing. Life really was unfair, you thought.

The next day was chaotic. No one cared about the classes, since everyone was thrilled about the upcoming ball that day. Even the teachers looked excited, and most of them gave you permission to read quietly or study for other classes. Not Snape though, he seemed like he was over this whole ball thing, so you brew potions. You didn't mind it, it was something you were good at. There was just one little thing that annoyed you, and it was a blue pair of eyes that burned a hole in the back of your head. You turned around in annoyance, not wanting to put up with this anymore. But your angry eyes were met with a playful wink from his end. You rolled your eyes and turned back in your seat, trying to concentrate on your potion when you heard him call your name.

"Psst, y/l/n." 

You let out an audible sigh, then turned to him. "What?" 

"Hope you're looking good for me tonight darling, I wouldn't want to hang out with Pansy all night," he said with a grin. 

Your blood was boiling at that point. Who does he think he is? Leaving you like that in the Three Broomsticks and making you feel like you're easily replaced as he's openly flirting with everyone in front of you, was not it. You're not even going to mention the fact that you were just a tool for him to get under Harry's skin. You seriously needed to do something about his cockiness. You needed to take the lead. And you needed to do it tonight.

Classes were finally over, so you ran to your dorm to meet up with your friends. You all decided that you're all going to get ready together. You were sitting on a chair, trying to put on your necklace as Marietta did your makeup. Or, at least she tried.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, y/n. Stop moving!" She said in a slightly annoyed tone. It was the fourth time she said that in the last 2 minutes. 

"Sorry," you said. You realized you were very bad at sitting in one place for a longer period of time. You also realized that it hurts a lot when someone pokes your eyeball with a mascara wand. 

After an hour of dolling you up, you were done, and you felt beautiful. Marietta did amazing on your makeup. It wasn't much, but it really enhanced your features, making you look the prettiest you've looked in a while. You did your own hair, and while you weren't the best at it, you've managed to do something presentable. Or so you thought before Cho offered to do it for you because she thought it was only half-done. You took her offer without hesitation.

"Merlin, look at us, we look so good," Cho said in awe after you were all done.

"Yeah, and look at our titties, we are full-grown women now," Marietta said while giving her boobs a squeeze. You agreed, looking at your own pair of boobs. All of you showed a little cleavage, except for Cho. She was a little more conservative in this field.

"Girls! You are intellectual women, and intellectual women don't talk about their tits," Cho laughed.

"Well, I guess we are intellectual women, who also love their tits," you compromised while trying to fix the strap of your dress.

When you went down to find Draco, you saw him already waiting for you. And Merlin, he looked immoral, with his perfectly styled hair and expensive tuxedo. When his eyes met yours you felt your cheeks heat up. No, you can't do this right now, you had to concentrate, you thought. But it was hard with him looking like that. 

When you got closer to him, he let out a low whistle as he looked you up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking you out. "You clean up well, y/l/n," he said, before taking your hand and kissing the back of it. Merlin, he made you so nervous, but you needed to loosen up for this to work. Tonight, you make him pay. 

Entering the great hall, your jaw dropped. It had never looked better. Everything was white and silver, and it looked so elegant. There were a few circular tables on either side of the room, and each table had its own ice sculpture in the middle. The first two tables from the door served drinks and food, and at the very back of the room stood 3 snow-covered Christmas trees. It was beautiful, you thought. 

The waltz went pretty well. Draco was a surprisingly good dancer, but the real fun started after the formalities. Luna told you, that some people mixed some Firewhiskey into the punch bowl. Some people being Fred and George. After hearing this, you quickly hopped to the table to pour yourself some. You've danced a lot that night, although you weren't sure if what you were doing could've been classified as dancing. You were mostly just jumping up and down and swinging your hip to the rhythm of the music. But the more punch you drank, you better you got at it. You were in the middle of slow dancing with Luna to a slower song when a hand grabbed your waist from behind. As you turned around you were met with none other than Draco himself. You kind of lost him after the waltz, since you went dancing with your friends, and he went off with his. 

"Where were you?" you asked him as he put one of his hands on your lower back and pulled you close to him, while the other reached for your hand. You were dancing with him now.

"With Pansy," he said simply, as he spun you around. " It got boring too quickly though." His voice was low, and you were suddenly aware of the close proximity between you two. 

"So you came back, to me," you drawled. "How noble." His hand on your back was dangerously low now.

He licked his lips "Don't worry, we didn't do anything bad. I'm all yours tonight." His voice hardly rose over a whisper. You wouldn't have survived this conversation if not for the alcohol in you. 

"Oh is that true?" you teased. Your faces were so close, that one small push could easily end in your lips pressed together.

"Want me to show you?" he breathed, eyes never leaving yours.

"Oh, I don't know, I might need a bit more motivation," you said with a smirk. Everything happened quickly. He gave you a grin, then guided your hands to the back of his neck before he raised your chin with his fingers, there was a pause, while he looked you in the eye with a serious expression before he kissed you. Your body reacted instinctively, and you opened your mouth a little, letting him deepen the kiss. It wasn't an innocent, sweet one. No, it was heated, and full of passion. Merlin, you hated how good it felt. He let out a groan as you bit his lower lip and you felt like the world was spinning around you.

"Was this motivating enough?" he whispered into your ear as he ended the kiss.

You bit your lips in hesitation. What you were about to do was very stupid and reckless, but this was your chance. He's made a fool of you several times before, but not today. This time it was you that wanted to leave him wrecked. "Let's get out of here," you purred.

So there you were, in an empty, half-lit corridor that echoed of your panting. This whole situation was so sinful. Red, swollen lips and hungry eyes were the only things you saw. You curled your fingers in the hair at his nape and jerked your hips against his, which resulted in a low groan from him. His eyes greedy as he snaked an arm around your waist, resting it on the curve of your ass, to urge you closer. You didn't waste a second, as you rolled your hips against his, feeling his hardening length as you sucked bruises on his delicate skin. He threw his head back to the wall in pleasure, as he let out a groan before he started fidgeting with the zipper on your dress.

You chuckled lowly as you snapped his hand away, "Eager much?" you cooed.

"You're such a fucking tease," he smirked with heavy eyelids.

"I'm not this easy, you might need to persuade me a little more," you purred. You'd definitely be embarrassed at your behavior, but the combination of alcohol and seeing the Slytherin Prince a desperate mess under your hands made you shameless. When you were with Cedric, you felt like a girl, and you liked that feeling. But with Draco, you felt like a woman. You felt dangerous and desired and it drove you crazy.

Your lips parted as he brushed his thumb against your lower lip before his fingers followed a trail under your jaw, hooking a finger under your necklace to pull you closer to him. "Is this how you want to play, y/l/n?" lips brushing against yours as he spoke before he snapped his hips forward. He was so hot, you wanted nothing more than to finish what you've started. And you were sure, you will at some point, but this wasn't that night. He looked at you, with confusion in his eyes as you took a step back and cleared your throat. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, in disbelief.

"Oh, I forgot I promised Harry a dance, and we certainly wouldn't want to make him wait now, do we?" you breathed, with a sly smile on your lips, before turning around to go back to the great hall.

He stood there in complete shock. He couldn't believe that this really just happened. You played him and left him with blue balls. He let out a laugh in disbelief when you had the audacity to turn around and send him a wink before disappearing into the hallway.

"Two can play at that game y/l/n," he said before he fixed himself, and headed back to the ball to find Pansy.

taglist: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @streetfighterrichie

Say You’ll Stay With Me Tonight (Draco Malfoy)

Y'all, I don’t know where the hell this came from.

I’ve been all up in my Draco feels, and this came out. It’s literally just an excuse for me to tell Draco that he’s not a terrible person. It’s funny, though, because Draco is the first person I ever wrote for years ago. Guess I’ve come full circle.

Also I love these two and want to write everything about them.

ALSO, I added in the deleted scene from the movie because fuck it, Draco deserved better and I’m giving it to him.

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, talks of death, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Slytherin reader. As always, thanks to @moresvuheadcanons.

Enjoy!

The war was over.

After years of fear, hatred, and death. After countless late-night, hushed discussions between your parents, strange men in black robes visiting your home and the rise and fall of Him, it was over. The wizarding world could breathe a collective sigh of relief as you all stood in the Hogwarts courtyard, overlooking while Harry Potter defeated Voldemort, once and for all. There would be no third coming of the great Lord Voldemort. He was gone, reduced to dust and a heinous memory. 

Most cheered the victory, while others looked on mourning the fallen. Some, mostly ministry officials, went right on to their work; rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and counting the dead. Students hugged friends in celebration, while others cried for the ones they’d lost too soon. You, however, had only one mission: finding Draco.

The two of you had fought the second half of the battle side by side. You had grown up together, it seemed only fitting that you would most likely die together in the carnage. Yet by some stroke of luck, you both had survived. At least until Voldemort came back from the forest, Potter’s limp body hanging from Hagrid’s hands. 

It killed you to see Draco walk to His side. Deep down, you knew he was only doing so because of his mother, but it hurt all the same. You wanted so badly to call out to him; beg him not to go, but the green emblem on your school sweater made you a prime recruit for Voldemort, so you forced yourself to stay quiet and hidden. All you could do was silently will Draco to stand up for himself, to stay and fight, but ultimately you had to watch as he walked away. However, just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Potter jumped from Hagrid’s grip, and you watched as Draco tossed him his wand. 

That was the last time you had seen Draco, and given that he had helped Harry Potter right in front of Voldemort, it was safe to assume Draco was dead. The thought alone filled you with dread unlike any you’d ever felt.

You roamed the corridors, ignoring the stares of passersby. You knew you were a spectacle; your fellow wizards and witches were judging you based simply on your House at the school you fought to protect only moments ago. Never mind the fact that you had fought a war primarily based on judgements and prejudice. You fought for the light, for Potter; you were even prepared to fight against your own parents, yet people still only saw you as a Slytherin, child of a Death Eater, a bad person. 

You forced yourself to stop thinking about that and focus on the task at hand. Eventually you reached the Great Hall, thankful you didn’t see his body among those that had been found. You looked for people you were friendly with; Lovegood, Blaise, but no one knew where Draco was. The feeling in your gut only worsened as you worked with your former classmates until late into the night, with no sign of Draco Malfoy. 

-

It had been a week since the battle. 

Countless hours listening to reports of bodies found in the wreckage at Hogwarts. Reading about Azkaban sentences and acquittals and how the school was rebuilding. Learning that the Malfoys were cleared of all charges and seeing their photo in the Prophet gave you some relief in knowing that Draco was alive, but you decided to keep your distance for a while. Let him decompress. Things had become strained between you since your sixth year, and the last thing you wanted to do was bombard him.

But, you were restless and needed to see him. 

After a week of hiding out in your home, you apparated to the manor. As you made your way to the huge double doors, memories flooded your mind of your time here. Learning to fly with Draco in the backyard. Studying constellations on clear nights. Dancing in the vast ballroom of the manor at a Christmas soiree Narcissa put on in your fifth year.

Your thoughts were interrupted by one of the large doors swinging open before you even made it to the door knocker and you were greeted by a house elf, who seemed to remember you. 

“He’s in the study,” you heard the house elf squeak out as he let you in, then quickly disapparate. It had been years since you’d set foot in the manor, but the memories of its long halls and hidden rooms were still clear in your mind. Following the dark hallway, you remembered running through these halls with Draco as children, playing tag without a care in the world.

Oh, how you’d wish to go back to those simpler times. Before all of the chaos and despair. 

You shook those thoughts away as you neared the entryway of the study. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint crackling of a fireplace. You crossed the threshold and saw Draco, or at least part of him. He was sitting on a large sofa with his back to the entryway, his platinum hair the only part of him you could see. You thought it best not to sneak up on him, given everything he’d been through over the past couple years, so you stood back and called his name as softly as you could.

“Draco.”

Before you uttered the last syllable, he was on his feet, wand pointed directly at you, with a look in his eyes that you could only describe as pure fear. 

“Oi! It’s only me, mate. It’s okay.” You held your open palms up in surrender, waiting for him to realize that you weren’t a threat. He slowly lowered his wand, shoulders sagging just enough to let you know he was okay. You stepped forward cautiously, until he set his wand on the seat next to his.

“How’d you get in?”

“Your house elf still remembers me.” He nodded once, just barely, and once again took his seat on the sofa. God, he looked thin. He’d always had a slender frame, but he never looked this sickly; not even when you had fought by his side only days ago. His cheekbones and chin were more pointed than ever, and the dark circles under his eyes has never been more pronounced. Even his hands looked thinner. 

Guess that’s what living with the embodiment of evil for a year does to you. 

“Where’s Narcissa and Lucius?” You asked, taking your seat in the plush armchair next to the sofa. 

“Left the country on holiday. They wanted to ‘get away from it all,’ as they put it.”

“And they left you here alone?” You questioned. Draco only shrugged, his eyes never leaving the flames of the fire across from him. 

You weren’t looking at the fire, though. Instead, your eyes were on him. This wasn’t the boy you’d known. The boy you’d loved since you were twelve. This was a ghost of him. You suspected the boy you loved had been dying a slow death ever since Voldemort had come to him with an offer he, quite frankly, could not refuse even though he’d wanted to. 

What do you say in this situation? 'How are you?’ 'What’s on your mind?’ Everything that came to mind seemed stupid and pointless, so you settled for staying silent. 

Thankfully, Draco broke the silence before you had to. “Have you heard from your parents?”

“No.”

“Are they alive?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“They would have murdered me without a second thought if they knew I was fighting for the light so no, not really.” Your eyes fell to his left forearm; he was fiddling with his sleeve and it had rolled up just enough to see the very bottom of the Dark Mark. 

Draco noticed you staring and lifted his sleeve even more, allowing you to see the mark in its entirety. It was an open secret in Slytherin that Draco had taken the mark. He never talked about it, but you all knew it was there. Still, to see it for yourself; to see that ugly stain on his skin made your stomach turn.

“I’ve thought about trying to cut it off, you know,” he said, so nonchalantly he could have been talking about the weather outside. However the weight of his words hit you like a freight train, and you felt the breath being sucked out of your lungs. You were at a complete loss for words. Do you tell him that it pained you to imagine a world without him? That even though things had gotten so strained between the two of you, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him like that? Do you tell him that, in spite of all the bad he had done, you had always seen the good he could have been, given the chance?

“Draco, what-”

“It’s-it’s not like I want to not be here anymore. I’m just tired. Tired of looking at this bloody thing and being reminded of all the pain I’ve caused.”

“I’m willing to bet you didn’t have a choice.”

His eyes snapped to you, and you noted the shine of fresh tears threatening to spill over red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t know what I’d been tasked to do. I let them into the school, I was supposed to kill Dumbledore, I-”

“So, why didn’t you do it? Kill him, I mean.” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him. 

He hesitated, trying to keep his voice steady while tears trickled slowly down his cheeks, “I never wanted this to happen. I thought I did, when I was younger. But, I never wanted people to die, I never wanted any of it." 

"Draco, you’re just a boy who grew up with an ego the size of the moon and a terrible role model for a father. You weren’t a bad person growing up, you were just an ass with a legacy to live up to. And as far as this death eater shit, I know you wouldn’t have done it if you had a choice. It was your father’s actions that brought you to that point, Draco. I’m sure of it.” You paused as a tear of your own escaped, but you continued on. “And, when it really mattered, you helped the light. Or did I just imagine you hexing Death Eaters next to me, or tossing Potter your wand?”

“So, you’re trying to say that I’m a good person, even after all of this?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

He chuckled, actually chuckled at your last statement. “Thank you.”

“You know I meant every word,” you replied, hoping he believed you. Once again, silence fell over the room, only this time it was a calm, comfortable one. You wanted to stay with him; hell, you’d stay forever if he would ask you to, but you weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted. You sure as hell weren’t going to ask to stay, so you stood to leave.

“Well, now that I’ve stroked your ego and raised your spirits a bit, I think I’m going to go,” you said, a test to see how he’d react. You stepped over his outstretched legs to leave, but he grabbed your hand, his skin icy even after sitting by the roaring fire.

“Stay, please?” He whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. The pain and loneliness he was feeling was evident in his voice, and of course, you weren’t going to say no. 

So you nodded and took a seat again, this time on the sofa right next to Draco. You expected him to let your hand go, but instead he laced his fingers with yours. You felt a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the two of you looked on at the fire.

In that moment, you felt peace, and for the first time in a long time, you felt that maybe, one day, all would be well.

Effective Deception

The room was dark, stale and there was a lingering stench of something, but it was comforting in a way that Draco couldn’t pinpoint.

“This is somehow your fault.”

Well, it would have been comforting if it wasn’t for Potter.

“I can barely hear the music from that God awful band the Ministry hired. Which means they can’t hear us.”

“I think you mean you,” Draco grumbled as he threw his cloak on the ground and sat on top of it.

Potter’s hands were on his hips as he turned around to glare. “And why is that, may I ask? Why am I the only one trying to get us out of this dingy closet?”

“Dingy, perhaps but this is not quite a closet.”

“I—” Potter frowned so harshly Draco wondered how anyone found him attractive. “What does that matter?”

Draco shrugged as he placed his hands behind his head and leaned back towards the wall. “Exaggerations are addictive and hide the truth.”

He could feel Potter’s stare, but he wasn’t sure he cared.

“I didn’t exactly lie.”

“Never said you did.”

The confusion in Potter’s voice caused Draco’s lips to twitch. It really had been a long time since he’d had a decent conversation.

“You are weirder than I remember.”

Draco closed his eyes as he chuckled lowly. “I promise you, I am nothing like you remember.”

The silence that followed was stilted and it was comforting in the way that he knew Potter wasn’t. “Is there a reason you are trying so hard to leave?”

“We’re stuck,” Potter said slowly, as if he thought Draco was stupid. “We are stuck inside a dingy closet inside the Ministry while everyone else is in the ballroom.”

“But we’re also away from prying eyes,” Draco countered with a slow stretch of his lips as the sound of Potter shifting could be heard.

“We’re away from the crowd, the people, the stares, the suffocating feeling of being surrounded and yet still alone.” He opened his eyes and revelled in the way that Potter’s widened.

“I—”

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? When you left the room to wander the corridors? You just wanted somewhere to think, somewhere to be alone, somewhere to breathe in peace.”

Potter’s eyes searched his face before he took several steps back until they were on opposite ends.

“How do you know that, Malfoy?”

When Draco’s grin turned feral, and his teeth poked through the smile, he heard Potter pull out a wand.

“Who said I was Malfoy?”

A lazy hand and a breath of air was all it took to dispel the magic in the room. “All you wizards think alike. Wizards hold the entitlement that they are better than Muggles but never stop to think that they are beneath other things out there.”

“Other things,” Potter whispered as his hand tightened around his wand. “What do you mean?”

“Humans are so insignificant, so tiny, so microscopic compared to the real wonders around them. Or in your case, the horrors.”

Fear was something he had seen many times over and the lack of fright in Potter was unique, it was enthralling in a way. He wanted to test it, to see what it would take to break, to see what would make the fear active.

“What are you?”

“It never is ‘who’, is it? Always what. I can’t say I have feelings, but if I did, that would hurt.”

Potter raised his wand high before taking a step forward and he couldn’t help but snort. It was either brave or stupid, and he had a feeling it was a cross between the two.

“I have many names,” he continued, eyes watching Potter in amusement. “None you would know and that’s tragic. You can call me Dolos. Just know that I sought you out specifically.”

“Why?”

“Because you lie. I told you, exaggerations hide the truth and you rarely tell the truth.”

Potter’s wand went lax and so did his face. The fear that he had wanted to see didn’t happen, only confusion, and that was tedious.

“Lie? What are you on about? I’m a good person. I brought down Voldemort, I spend my free time helping others. I have always done what other people expected of me.”

Dolos stood up and snorted when Potter’s wand rose.

“I’m not denying your merits, Potter. Good people lie and being good doesn’t save you.”

When Potter said nothing and the frown deepened, he felt a twitch inside him, a sign of the host fighting back.

“The boy who lived.” The whisper carried around the room and the uneasy atmosphere rose and that was truly comforting. “That’s a lie in and of itself. You didn’t live, did you?”

“I came back.”

“You died and that drew my attention.” Each step he took towards Potter echoed loudly, far louder than normal.

“I died and that’s why you’re targeting me?”

“I target liars, Potter. You lie when you say you are fine, you lie when you say you don’t mind helping others. You lie when you say you are happy, you lie when you say you are in love. You lie every waking part of your day. When you sacrifice your own happiness for others, you lie. You tell more lies than you do the truth and that is why I am here.”

Potter moved sideways in an attempt to get away, but Dolos just followed at a slower pace.

“Lying isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Potter said as he continued to inch away.

“No,” Dolos agreed as his nail elongated and the sound of them scratching against the wall reverberated around the room. “But lying is my thing. I created lies, I created deception, I am behind treachery. Each time you lie, no matter how mundane, I feel it. I hear it. I see it. And it’s mine.”

“What do you want?” Potter whispered, eyes closed and hands on the wall. “Why are you using Malfoy’s body?”

“This was the form that you wanted, this was the body that drew you in.”

“What?”

Potter’s eyes opened comically wide and Dolos tsked loudly in response.

“I didn’t want this, I didn’t want Malfoy.”

Dolos pursed his lips as he adopted a faux pout. “You can lie to yourself, you can lie to your friends, even your job but you can not lie to me.” He trailed a nail along Potter’s cheek and carefully nicked the skin on the downstroke.

“I deal in lies, Potter, don’t do me a disservice by insulting my intelligence.” Dolos let the drop of blood that pooled to fall into his nail. “You wanted Malfoy, you craved him but denied your emotions. You can’t stop lying even to yourself.”

“What does Malfoy have to do with this?”

“You wouldn’t have followed me if it weren’t for him. You have this fascination with Malfoy, and I know you don’t understand it. That’s okay, I do.”  

Potter jerked away when Dolos rubbed the blood into his forehead.

“Don’t worry,” Dolos whispered as he leaned forward into Potter’s space. “Malfoy is still here inside of me. I can feel what he thinks. He wants to break free, get out, save you even. He’s a fighter, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Potter said, quietly, barely heard. “I knew that.”

Dolos’ eyes narrowed when he felt another surge from the host. “Strange. You know more than you let on and yet you still lie.”

Potter closed his eyes tightly and there was anger, but Dolos couldn’t tell if it was internal or directed at him.

“What do you want?”

“I want a lot of things,” Dolos mumbled as more surges from the host continued to affect him. “But for starters, you owe me. Every lie you told, every exaggeration you let twist the truth is mine. I demand repayment for each and every one of them.”

“Repayment, how?”

Dolos hummed as he gripped Potter’s chin in his hands. “Do you know what made it possible to take over Malfoy? How easy it was, how simple.”

“Does he lie too?”

The surges of power were getting stronger with each passing moment and he knew he didn’t have much time.

“No, hardly ever,” Dolos whispered as his free hand drew a design in the blood. “He tells the truth so bluntly and with so little care that people take his words as insults. People find him distrustful despite the truth that leaves his mouth. Interesting that your society deems those that lie as sin but look at you.”

Potter’s brows furrowed as he inhaled sharply when Dolos leaned close to breathe a spell against the design. Light poured out of the sigil and illuminated the room.

“You can’t go a single day without lying to someone and that includes yourself. The saviour of the wizarding world can’t tell the truth to save his life.”

“I—”

“And that,” Dolos continued, ignoring Harry completely. “Is the price I seek. The lies you tell are mine and I do not give you permission. Tell the truth or your life is forfeit.”

“You’re going to kill me if I lie?” Potter fought against Dolos’ hold and the fight in him was admirable if not a little sad.

“No, I’ll take your soul. If you think you’ll come back a second time, you’re wrong. Not even the Master of Death can hide from lies.”

“Master of Death? I’m not—”

“Tsk tsk. You’re off to a bad start, aren’t you?” He grinned when Potter grew confused. Baiting humans was fun and far more entertaining than he remembered.

One last whispered spell and the light grew too bright for Potter to keep his eyes open. The tether of magic was complete, and he could feel the brightness of Potter’s soul. It was a soul worth having and he couldn’t wait to have it in his collection.

“Heed my words, Wizard. You lie, and you are mine. Exaggerations become addictive until you can’t help but lie. Remember that.”

The light left with him as he abandoned the host. Another lie to find, another soul to take.

----

There was only a split second between Harry opening his eyes and seeing Malfoy sway back and forth before he lunged forward in time to catch him. Low grumbling was heard as he lowered them both to the ground.

Malfoy’s eyes opened and he blinked rapidly.

“Merlin, either I’m still dreaming, or you’ve sullied your face Potter.”

Harry wiped at his forehead in the hopes that some of the blood would come off, but he was sure he looked a right mess regardless.

“What are we doing?” Malfoy asked as he sat up and shoved Harry away. “Why are we dressed up? Why are we in a dingy closet.”

“I thought it looked like a closet too,” Harry complained lowly.

“What’s going on?” Malfoy demanded as he stood up and dusted his clothes off with a wince. “Why have you kidnapped me?”

Harry snorted as he pushed himself off the floor. “I didn’t kidnap you. Nor would I want to.” He had to lean against the wall as the reality of everything that had happened hit him. Truth. No one was going to believe him, and he wasn’t sure how to explain any of it.

Lying was easy, so easy. Far simpler than telling the truth.

“Are you okay?” Malfoy asked with a tentative step closer. “You’ve got dried blood on your face and I’ve got to say, you’ve looked better. Well, sometimes.”

Harry looked up and took in Malfoy’s expression. He had always thought Malfoy was pretentious, a git, a right tool and at times an idiot; those might still be true, but he had never stopped to consider whether Malfoy was a liar.

“You tell the truth a lot, don’t you?”

Malfoy’s head jerked back slightly as his brows arched. “What’s the point of lying when the truth hurts more?”

When Harry said nothing, Malfoy stopped in front of him.

“You never answered me. Are you okay?”

Harry wanted to lie, wanted to say he was fine, more than fine but as he stared into Malfoy’s eyes and recalled Dolos’ warning, he couldn’t.

“No, I’m not, and I haven’t been okay in a long time.”

A bright light surrounded his body and Harry knew that he’d have to be like Malfoy if he was to survive.

He’d have to tell the truth, even if it hurt.

---------

This was the square “Demonic or Ghostly possession” for my Bad Things Happen Bingo Board that is run by @badthingshappenbingo  

I would like to thank @originalobjecttheorist for looking this over for me, much appreciated! 

Let me know which other squares you would be interested in seeing 

What are your favorite dramione fanfictions??

Ok, so I’ve been sitting on this Ask for over a month trying to think of favorites because I honestly haven’t read a dramione fanfic that wasn’t written by me or one of my besties in a really long time. But I’ve put together a list of those I have read, and those I liked enough to add to my “Favorites” list on FFN. I’ve included a bunch of my own stories, too, since I honestly do enjoy reading my own work and hope others will too. *shrugs*

Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie Bellatrix's torture of Hermione uncovers a long-kept secret. The young witch learns her true origins in a story that shows the beginning and end of the Wizarding wars as Hermione learns about her biological father and the blood magic he dabbled in that will control her future.

Howl For Me by Kittenshift17: The Ministry enacts a Marriage Law, magically pairing couples who'd never in a million years agree to even speak, let alone wed. Paired off with Malfoy, Hermione has to suffer the added indignity of the Ministry banning all contraception and forcing fertility treatment and aphrodisiacs on them all. Draco's secret makes it worse.

The Alkahest by Shadukiam The Marriage Law, once enacted, has the power to destroy Hermione's perfectly normal life. Luckily, she and Ron are already planning to obey the horrific law together as a team... Until a Malfoy-shaped wrench gets thrown into the works. Dramione. Cover by littleneko1923 (thank you!).

Lady of the Lake by Colubrina Hermione and Draco team up after the war to overthrow the Order and take over wizarding Britain. "I don't even especially mind belonging to you most of the time," he closes his eyes and just breathes for a bit, savoring not being in pain. Finally he adds, "Just… try to take better care of your toys." Dark Dramione. COMPLETE

Last Year by Canimal There's nowhere to hide when a victorious Voldemort sends his best tracker to find Hermione. Draco won't give up until he finds her again. A story of the unraveling of the lies we tell ourselves. (Dark!Hermione)

Give Unto Me by Kittenshift17: The Ministry is offering rewards for having children. They've got a list of unconventional pairings and their willing to give certain people the thing they want most. When Ron overreacts to the idea of Hermione being paired with Mafloy and does something stupid, Hermione's life is set on a new path. One that involves having a baby with Draco Malfoy.

Eros & Psyche by RZZMG Draco challenges Harry and friends to play EROS & PSYCHE, a scandalous card game with a dark, mysterious history. It's Slyth vs. Gryff, male vs. female, pride vs. desire in the ultimate game of hearts and amour! Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Ginny, Ron/Pansy, Seamus/Lavender, Theo/Daphne, Harry/Tracey. AU 7th yr. Secrets, romance, angst, and sex await the turning of the first card...

Summer of the Dragon by Lena Phoria 3 years after the war Hermione takes a break from Ron and accepts a summer job collecting supplies for Ollivander's wands. What she doesn't expect is having to work with Draco Malfoy, who's more haunted by his past than she ever would have believed. Together they will travel the world, fight dragons, conquer demons and maybe find exactly what they're looking for. COMPLETE.

The Silver Dragon by Kittenshift17: "This can never happen again," he warned quietly, waving a hand between the two of them indicatively. Hermione nodded emphatically in agreement, not daring to say a word lest she be terribly rude. Or vomit. Either was an option. Hermione wondered why she had a terrible sinking feeling inside to think that it still might.

The Green Girl by Colubrina Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE.

Stripped Bare by Kittenshift17: *COMPLETE* Dragged to Malfoy Manor, Hermione is tortured for information on Harry's whereabouts. When the Cruciatus curse proves useless, Bellatrix settles on a heinous course of action to loosen her tongue. Forced to come together under threat of death, Draco and Hermione are about to learn there is more to their relationship than hatred.

Ninety-Five Percent by HufflepuffMommy A new Wizarding Marriage Law has come into effect and Hermione takes her chance with the Ministry and lets them decide who would be the best match for her. Who would ever believe that Draco Malfoy would be her best match with a 95% Compatibility? (Hermione/Draco). Rated M for language and mature themes later on. COMPLETE!

Sang et Lumière by Freya Ishtar  *8th Year* Late one night, Hermione hears a sound that chills her bones—a howling from the Forbidden Forest, yet all werewolves fled at the end of the War. When she finds Draco stumbling back into the castle the next morning, she becomes his confidante . . . and something more. 

Tip of My Tongue by Kittenshift17 When Draco's wife is caught cheating and pregnant to another man, Draco must fight for custody of his son, Scorpius. Hermione, determined to ensure her son, Aurelian, grows up knowing his brother without Draco finding out, somehow winds up tangled into the middle of Draco's impending divorce. Can she help it if she also keeps finding herself tangled in his embrace, and liking it?

His and Her Bruises by lezonne "I congratulate your ability to leave a mark on me, Granger. Although I must make a point of it that my bruises on you are far larger than yours on me. When competing, you should always aim to win, yes?" Fractured timeline from fourth year up; will eventually look into their lives after school. Violent references. Sequel "His and Her Scars" is now up!

The Wayward Familiar (complete) by Freya Ishtar Returning for 8th year, Hermione unexpectedly winds up with a 2nd familiar when the one she buys for Ron as a gift—a ferret she jokingly names Draco—refuses to go to him. When she realizes the creature isn't what it seems, she goes further than she ever thought she would to get the real Draco back.

Addicted to You by Kittenshift17: An act of kismet whilst herb gathering sees Hermione interacting with an unknown werewolf. When he bites her while she is in her animagus form, he sets into motion a twisted destiny that binds them together as mates. With Remus and Sirius there to help her through, Hermione's biggest worry is finding out the identity of the werewolf who marked her.

Star-Crossed by HeartOfAspen Three years post-DH (EWE/Dramione). A prophecy handed down the Malfoy line for generations revolves around Draco, throwing a wrench into the life he's trying to rebuild. Even more perplexing, it somehow also seems to involve one Hermione Granger? Angst and murder, fluff and stuff.

Amuse Me by sloanwolves DMHG head boy and girl share a dorm. Draco walks in on Hermione doing something naughty then blackmails her. And Draco has been secretly been pining after the head girl all year! - Rated M for explicit sex scenes, language and lots of casual drug use.

Little Do You Know by Kittenshift17: Post-war, eighth-year marriage law fic. In a world where pureblood pomp collides with muggleborn sass not everything is as it seems. As the pairings unfold in the most peculiar matches, the current and former students of Hogwarts have a learning curve ahead of them. Little do they know that those people they called enemies might turn out to be their perfect match.

A Dangerous Affair by krissh Hermione was terrified. The rage in Draco's eyes was unmistakable; He looked like he was ready to kill someone. When she did not answer, he slammed her arms above her head, pinning her to the wall. "How dare you mock me like that," he snarled in her face. "You filthy mudblood."

Curls and Bruises by s l y t h e r i n d o l l  "When I'm done with you, I won't need your permission. You'll simply be begging for it."

Better Dig Two by Kittenshift17: Hermione never expected she'd fall pregnant with a lovechild fathered by a mystery man to get back at Ron for cheating. Her drunken revenge leads to the birth of her son. 5 years later she is confronted by Draco Malfoy with a photo she thinks is of her son. Things get complicated when he tells her it's not.

The Risk-Reward Ratio by MissiAmphetamine Set during TDH; a maimed, disillusioned Draco surrenders himself to the Order after he earns Voldemort's displeasure. Hermione's pity for him blooms into something more and he stops seeing her as just a mudblood, as they both discover there's far more to each other than they ever thought possible.

A Regular Life by acro acro Draco's mouth popped open. He'd seen hair like that before in his other life, all curling golden-brown madness, rippling and crackling with an intensity that matched the gold fire in its owner's eyes. Her eyes. Her…Mione. Draco stumbled forward on disbelieving feet. "Granger?"

Lost Images by EvilGu  MARRIAGE LAW Hermione must marry Draco Malfoy- the only wizard that (begrudgingly) petitioned for her who is not actively trying to kill her. If only there was some loop-hole... Can the unlikely pair survive marriage, in-laws, ghosts, murderous enemies, and their own traitorous feelings?

Unrequited Snowfall by Kittenshift17: Draco Malfoy has a secret. An Infatuation. An Obsession. '"I have to admit Granger, I was less than pleased with some of the things you drew in this book of yours" he said, pulling his hand away before he could do something crazy like sliding it into her hair and tugging her close so he could snog those pouting lips of hers.' Sequel: UNREQUITED SNOWSTORM.

Unrequited Snowstorm by Kittenshift17: SEQUEL TO UNREQUITED SNOWFALL. The trial of Draco Malfoy was the most controversial of the year. Most felt that he ought to be thrown into Azkaban for his crimes, the other half passionately believed it was wrong to lock up an eighteen year old boy for choices he'd been forced to make under duress. Hermione Granger never expected the trial to take a turn like this. DMHG.

Isolation by Bex-chan He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP.

Draconian Heart by camnz Hermione had known the bitter end was coming, but it still took her by surprise as their cottage was crumbling from the force of the Deatheaters' assault. There really wasn't any hope left, but she would fight none the less. The dark side had won and there was no place left in the world for the remnants of her side, so this is how it ends. Very DARK - contains non consentual.

Wrapped In Red by Kittenshift17: *COMPLETE* During a school wide Secret Santa, Hermione has the bad luck of picking Draco Malfoy, suspected Death Eater. When she tries to sneakily learn his secrets in order to get his gift, and Malfoy winds up trapped under some mistletoe, things get out of hand. Who said snogging a Death Eater wouldn't land her in a strangely addictive mess? A Christmassy Dramione tale.

The Switch by BackInBlack99 When Hermione and Draco wake up in each other's bodies, chaos ensues. Will they set out to make or break the other's reputation? And can they find something more along the way? Pride, pranks, and forbidden temptation...

The Boy in the Hammock by galfoy Hermione tugged at the string holding the hood onto the boy's head, gingerly pulling the fabric back to reveal his face. Lying before her, barely recognizable beyond the swelling and the blood, but still very much himself, was Draco Malfoy.

Seeds of Seduction by AnjaliMalfoy There is only one rule in the game of seduction...Never fall in love. Draco Malfoy is a prized Death Eater. Hermione Granger, a member of the Order of the Pheonix is sent to seduce him for information.

Fallen by cyropi What can you do when hatred is tearing your world apart? Can you survive when love is all you have left? And how can you win when you’re fighting your own reflection? DMHG, HPGW.

Mistletoe Masquerade by Kittenshift17: *COMPLETE* Hermione Granger receives a strange and beautiful gift anonymously, and is swept off her feet at the Ministry's staff Masquerade Christmas Ball. Caught beneath the mistletoe, Hermione finds herself snogging an incredibly intoxicating young man, only to be shocked when she learns with whom she had been locking lips.

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

Someone Saved My Life Tonight by JadedDragon4 COMPLETE! They didn't choose to be partnered together or for tragedy to strike. But now, lost, hurt, and together, they must choose to save each other . . . or die alone.

Bathwater by xXBeckyFoo It's their 7th year,the Dark Lord's dead and the Death Eaters are all rounded up. Nothing could go wrong, right? There's a sense of peace in the air, but how long can it possibly last when the Ministry's throwing people together for all eternity? Curse the new Marriage Law.

An Aversion to Change by Mel88 Sent back to Hogwarts with the suspicious title of Head Boy, Draco is forced to share a dormitory with none other than Hermione Granger. With a war looming on the horizon and another danger even closer to home, their final year is anything but ordinary.

A Marriage Most Convenient by AnneM.Oliver Hermione lost it all when she divorced. Draco would lose it all by age 30 if he didn't marry. Marriage to each other would be perfect, one would even say it was most convenient. Her daughter even looked like him, although, he wondered why that was.

What A Difference A Night Makes by Kyra4 DHr prefects, top students in their year and Houses. Makes sense that they'd be chosen by the faculty for an honors project that requires them to be locked in the astronomy tower all night. Will they fall for each other or rip each other apart? COMPLETE!

Soooo.... Yeah.... Lemme just fling these 42 recommendations at you. *laughs*

All I ask in return is that if you read the works by these talented authors, please, please, please, make sure to leave them some kind and encourgaing reviews in return.

xx-Kitten

Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness.

Chapter Two

The rest of the school treated him... oddly after that.

Everyone was still staring at him, but the looks were wary and hesitant. The Slytherins, especially, were all giving him strange looks. They weren't taunting him nearly as much though, and for that he was grateful. The Hufflepuffs still glared angrily at him. He figured it was a mixture of them not trusting someone with such a blatantly dark talent, combined with the fact that his near-perfect performance only put Cedric's performance that much more into the shadows of obscurity.

The fact that every time one of them scowled at him, he responded by smirking smugly at them, probably didn't help much either, but he liked goading a reaction out of them. Anytime one of them actually got the guts to try and say something obnoxious to him, or show off one of those idiotic Potter Stinks badges, he'd hiss at them, and they'd practically wet their pants trying to get away.

Harry laughed at how ridiculously terrified the children at school seemed to be of parseltongue. He also delighted in his new discovery of the parseltongue magics he had access to.

It was a wonder to him that he'd never realized he could do it before. But he acknowledged to himself that before very recently, he had tried to pretend with all his might that he didn't possess the strange dark skill at all. He had wanted so badly to just be normal that he had completely ignored the powerful skill.

But he no longer feared it. It was a dead useful ability. The most remarkable thing he discovered about calling on his magic using parseltongue was that he had no need to use a wand when he did it. A quiet hiss and a little wiggle of his fingers and he could direct the ebb and flow of his magic in dozens of different ways.

Harry realized that his new knowledge and awareness of the parselmagic had undoubtedly come from the dark presence in his mind, and it got him wondering. Was the dark presence the source of his ability to use parseltongue?

If it were, he realized that the prospects were mildly concerning. The headmaster had told him at the end of his second year, that Harry had gained some of Voldemort's powers the night the man had given him his scar. Was the dark presence those powers that he had gotten from Voldemort?

It would certainly explain why he might have been afraid of the power when he was younger. If the dark presence was associated with his parent's murder. But there didn't seem to be anything about it to fear now. It was his power now. He didn't care where it had come from originally. He wasn't going to be afraid of it any longer. He wasn't going to hide from it, or exert all his energy fighting against it when it wasn't even a threat.

Embracing it was so much easier and it made him so much stronger. He felt better. Happier. More confident. His magic came to him with incredible ease, and it was so much more powerful. His mind worked better and he understood things so much faster.

He refused to give that up just because the power might have originally come from Voldemort. So what. It was his power now. It was his and he wasn't going to give it up. He liked it too much. It felt too good.

Still, when Harry went to bed that night and wrapped himself in the presence, he told it of his concerns. His theory on where it had come from. His assumption that the power had once been Voldemort's before it became Harry's. The presence didn't respond much. It seemed hesitant, and Harry almost got the impression that it was worried.

The presence didn't want to be separated from Harry again. It was afraid that Harry would build the walls back up and it would be left alone again. Harry could just sense that this was true and quickly assured the presence that he had no intention of rebuilding the wall.

His assurances seemed to calm the presence's worries because it embraced him with even greater warmth. It almost seemed that the presence was thanking him. It didn't want to be abandoned. It didn't want to be alone again, and neither did Harry.

– –

The next day the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had joint DADA and Harry trudged out of bed and dragged himself to class, after skipping breakfast. He wasn't really avoiding breakfast because he felt he needed to hide from all the hushed whispering and questioning eyes. All self-conscious hesitancy in him was greatly over-ruled by a powerful irritation and anger at anyone stupid enough to confront him on his use of 'dark' magic, or anyone idiotic enough to publicly mock him. So no - he wasn't avoiding breakfast to hide; he was avoiding it to keep himself from hexing someone and ending up with a detention.

But now he was sitting in Defense class, surrounded by curious, questioning, and even fearful eyes. He sighed in frustration and refocused on Professor Moody's lecture.

"In our world there are three magical affiliations. The light. The dark. And the neutrals. Most magic is neutral, and can be used easily by just about anyone. Most wizards are neutral-focused wizards, but some wizards feel a powerful tug, pulling on their magic and calling them to one of the two outer sides. These wizards will have a natural affinity for the magic of their chosen side and will find performing spells of that nature easier.

"Anyone can cast any type of magic if they're powerful enough and bother to learn it. But a wizard's affinity for certain casts of magic will make it easier or harder for them to learn and perform certain spells.

"A dark wizard finds the casting of dark magic natural to them. It feels right to them, and the spells come to them with great ease. This means that they can cast dark spells faster and without exerting a lot of energy. Their magical energy reserves last the longest when they're casting dark magic.

"A neutral wizard will have a much harder time casting specifically dark or light spells. when a neutral wizard casts dark spells, those spells will cause a much greater drain on that wizard's magical reserves and will take longer to cast.

"So if you're a neutral or a light wizard, dueling against a dark wizard, and he's throwing dark hexes and curses at you, even if you know those same dark spells, he will be much better and faster at casting those spells than you. You're much better off sticking to neutral spells, if you have an affinity for neutral magic, or light spells if you're affinity is for light magic. You'll be able to cast faster, and it won't drain your magic nearly as fast.

"Certain shields and defensive spells are specifically light in nature. If you're natural magic state is neutral, you'll have more trouble with these light spells than neutral shield charms. The Patronus is a prime example. It is a very powerful light affinity spell. It's one of the reasons that it's considered so hard to learn. Some people's magic simply doesn't want to cooperate with the spell." Moody said as he stood at the head of the classroom, leaning slightly against his desk to better support his wooden leg.

"Does that mean that most dark wizards can't defend themselves against dark creatures like dementors?" one Ravenclaw girl asked with a surprised tone.

"Not necessarily. The spell is harder for a dark wizard to learn and perform than a light wizard, but like I said, any wizard can learn any spell if they're powerful enough, and dedicated to mastering it. And having to spend any extended time around dementors is a great incentive to master the spell," Moody said giving them all a rather pointed look.

Another Ravenclaw girl towards the back rose her hand and Moody nodded and called to her.

"How does a person's magic get aligned with light, dark, or neutral?"

"Good question," he said in his gruff voice. "As young as you all are right now, chances are you're all still pretty neutral in your magics. You're magical affinity is developed over time due to a combination of different factors. First is your birth. Everyone is born more likely to go one way or another based on the affinity of their parents, but this can be overpowered by the other factors. One of those factors is the way your raised, and the other is free will. You consciously choose what type of magics you use and practice more often than others, and the more you work on spells that lean towards one side or the other, your affinity for that side will increase."

Hermione raised her hand and Moody nodded towards her.

"So... it's a battle between nature versus nurture?" she said, and the old wizard raised a single eyebrow and motioning for her to continue. "Well... it's like, if a wizard was born to a dark family – everyone in their family before them had always been dark, but say, this wizard was raised differently, or personally chose go light, they still could."

Hermione's comment made Harry instantly think of his godfather Sirius and he sighed. Harry hadn't heard from Sirius since the interrupted firecall several weeks earlier.

"Correct, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. The truth could be said for someone who comes from a light family, but is raised by someone else. Say, for example, an orphan. It may be in his blood to be light, but if he's raised a certain way, or simply chooses a certain path, he could easily end up with an affinity for dark magic. In any case, at your current stage in your magical education, it's unlikely that many of you have much of an affinity for either light or dark."

"I bet some of the Slytherin's already have an affinity for the dark," Ron muttered quietly to Seamus who was sitting beside him. Harry rolled his eyes at the redhead's comment and sighed. He felt the prickling sensation on the back of his neck that suggested someone was staring at him. He glanced around and saw that there were several sets of eyes looking at him in varying degrees of wary concern. He realized suddenly how they were interpreting Moody's comments as a direct relationship to him and scowled at them.

He didn't exactly appreciate his Defense teacher fueling the already blazing fire of speculation on his potential status as a dark wizard.

However, most odd was the realization that being accused of being dark didn't nearly horrify him as much as it once did. People were just ignorant sheep. Let them think what they wanted. It didn't matter to him. He had survived the first task, and came out of it with the best time and the highest score. What business was it of there's how he chose to do it?

The same Ravenclaw from earlier rose her hand again and Moody jerked his chin towards her.

"Um... is there a way to tell what a person's affinity is? A spell or something?"

"There is, but its difficult to cast. Takes a lot of focus. If cast properly, a colored aura will appear around the person. White for neutral. Blue for light, and red for dark. The color can be a light-blue or pink-ish color if the person's magic is more neutral than not, and the slight coloration will denote the strength with which their magics lean towards one direction or another."

– –

"Harry, we want to talk," Hermione said as she came up behind him just after he came in through the portrait hole that evening after dinner.

Harry scowled but quickly mastered his expression into a blank mask and turned to face Hermione, and Ron behind her. "What?" Harry asked sharply. Ron and Hermione both flinched at his harsh tone.

"Um, maybe we could talk somewhere more private?" Hermione asked timidly as she glanced around at all of the sets of curious eyes, currently trained on the once-golden-trio. Harry huffed in annoyance but did a quick sweep of the room, spotting Dean, Seamus, and Neville in various spots around them.

"Sure," Harry said with a jerk of his chin towards the stairs. He hurried his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back and make sure they were following. He could tell they were without looking. Their magical auras pushed against his own, telling him exactly where they were in relation to himself.

Harry walked straight towards his bed, but sat down in the desk chair beside it. He casually relaxed back in the chair and crossed his left leg over his right knee, waiting with false patience as the other two scrambled in behind him. Ron sat down on top of his own bed, which was directly opposite Harry's, while Hermione pulled out Ron's desk chair and sat down in it. Neither of his once-friends could meet his eyes. He wondered if they had finally caught on.

"You wanted something?" Harry asked with an air of annoyed impatience. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, and neither seemed to quite know what to say, or which one of them should say it. Finally Ron spoke. Harry was honestly surprised. He had expected Hermione to have to be the one to drag Ron in. "You didn't really put your name in that cup, did you?" Ron mumbled as he kept his eyes down.

"Finally wised up, have you?" Harry bit out in a harsh voice. "What brought on the change of heart?" "Well, I just figure, no one in their right mind would really want to go up against a dragon like that," Ron mumbled. "You wanted to," Harry pointed out instantly, and Ron's ears went pink. "You wanted the fame and glory. You wanted it so bad that you forgot that I didn't want it." "I know, Harry. I'm sorry!"

"No Ron! No. I'm sorry just isn't enough this time! Your were supposed to be my best mate. You're supposed to know me. How could you possibly believe that I would put fame, glory, and money over our friendship!"

Harry paused then and turned on Hermione. "And you! I know I have an 'unhealthy disregard for the rules' and tend to ignore them and put myself in danger because of it, but when have I ever done that for some sort of 'so-called' personal gain like this stupid tournament?

"Every time I put myself in danger and ignored the rules, it was to save someone else who was in trouble! The fact that either of you could honestly believe that I would put my name in that cup and put my life on the line just for fame" he sneered the word with loathing, "just proves that neither of you know me, or trust me!" "Harry! I'm so, so, sorry!" Hermione said, jumping to her feet.

"No! You two abandoned me when I needed you more than ever! Do you realize why I probably got entered in this stupid tournament? Someone wants me dead! Someone is hoping that I'll end up getting killed during one of the tasks and they'll be rid of me and it'll look like an accident! Give me one good reason why I should forgive either of you?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry! We weren't thinking!" Hermione said and there were tears coming down her cheeks now. "Yeah, that much is obvious," Harry said with a hard glare. Ron and Hermione shared a desperate look before turning back to Harry beseechingly. "What can we do, Harry?" Hermione said in a small desperate voice. "What can I say to make this up to you?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a long hard look. "I don't know." he said in a cold voice. "I really don't know." "I'm really, really sorry mate!" Ron said ducking his head and shaking it sadly. "I was a real git and an idiot. I should have believed you when you told me you didn't do it. I was just... I was stupid. I was so angry that you got one more thing to be famous over while..."

"While you just sit in my shadow?" Harry finished for him. His voice was strangely cold. It wasn't something that either Ron or Hermione were used to hearing in Harry's voice. Ron looked up, startled, but eventually he nodded his head.

"You know I don't want my 'fame' right?" Harry bit out rhetorically. His voice was still flat and cold. It was... wrong, somehow. "The only reason I'm famous is because I didn't die. How stupid is that? Every time I hear the phrase 'boy-who-lived' all it does it serve to remind me that I'm alive, and my parents are dead. I'm famous for something I don't even remember, and I despise every minute of it." he ended with a frightfully hard hiss.

He sat back and let his leg lay relaxed, crossed across the other. "If you really knew me like my best friends should, you would have realized that. You should have known that I don't revel in fame. I already have so bloody much of it, and I hate it. Why the hell would I go seeking more of it? No one I care about is in danger because of this tournament. I don't need to save anyone, or protect anything, or stop anyone from doing something. I could have just sat back and had a boring, simple school year for once, but no! No, someone stuck my name in that damned cup, and instead of being there for me, you two DITCHED ME!" he ended with a harsh raised voice that made them both flinch.

Harry closed his eyes and locked his jaw. He let out a slow breath, trying to release the anger that was boiling just under the surface. He could feel his magic swirling menacingly and he suddenly became aware of there being something more to it. It wasn't just his magic that was angry.

His eyes popped open and he felt his heart racing slightly as he became aware of just how familiar the extra presence he felt was. It was the dark presence that existed deep inside his mind. But it wasn't deep inside anything at that moment. It was out on the surface and swirling angrily around him. He got a protective vibe from it. It was defensive and angry.

He was stunned. Had the dark presence come out to try and protect him? Defend him from whatever it was that was making Harry so angry? Harry started to forcefully calm down and he felt the dark presence retreating immediately. This was something he was going to have to examine in more depth, and soon.

He stood up and the movement was so sudden that both Hermione and Ron jumped slightly. "Go," Harry said, shortly as he turned away from the pair of them.

"But Harry!" Hermione began to plead but he held his hand up and finally met her eyes. Instinctively, he skimmed through her surface thoughts and found that she truly was repentant. She felt horrible for how she had treated him and truly felt like she had abandoned him. But she was also worried about his recent behavior and wanted to confront him about his use of parseltongue in the tournament. Harry scowled.

"I'll think about it. I need time. Leave me alone for a while, alright?" he said, trying to mask the anger that had flared up at her thoughts. Sadly, Hermione nodded her head and turned to go. Ron hesitated for a moment before sighing and following behind Hermione.

Once the pair of them were gone Harry walked over to the side of his bed and sat down. He was conflicted. He knew deep down that he would probably never trust the two of them ever again. He just didn't think he could. He couldn't trust that they wouldn't find some other reason to abandon him when he needed them most. He couldn't rely on them. If he did, he would only be disappointed and left high and dry when most desperate. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

His mind wandered to the strange flare up of the dark presence's magic. Had he somehow called upon the magic? That thought almost excited him a bit. If it really was a bit of Voldemort's power, deep inside him, and he could control and wield it...

He paused. He shouldn't be excited about that. He knew he shouldn't. It should disturb him. Scare or confuse him. This was something he should be cautious about, not excited! This was a bit of Voldemort's power! Voldemort was evil! He was a psychotic lunatic murderer! Right?

Yes! He murdered Harry's parents. He killed and tortured hundreds, maybe even thousands of people! He started a bloody war for Merlin's sake! Didn't it used to scare Harry when he worried that he might have anything in common with Voldemort? The idea that he and Voldemort might be alike in any way had horrified Harry, and now he was excited at the prospect of being able to wield some of the Dark Lord's power?

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

Had he changed so much? It had only been a month, but Hermione's thoughts showed that she had noticed a difference in his behavior.

Of course he was acting differently! He wasn't nearly as self-conscious or miserable as he used to be, and he had stopped letting what other people thought dictate his actions! A little confidence can go a long way in changing a person's outward behavior. And just because he wasn't afraid of his own shadow, or cowering from his own power didn't mean he was going to end up an evil megalomaniac like Voldemort!

It didn't matter where the power had come from. It was Harry's now. If he could learn to wield it, then he should!

He nodded his head in determination. He wanted to lay down and escape into his mind right then and there to go investigate the dark presence, but held off. It was still early in the evening, and he tended to lose track of time when he went into his mindscape at night, and he usually fell asleep that way. He had homework to do so he sighed heavily and got back up off the bed and grabbed his bag. He'd get his work done and out of the way with plans of doing his investigation as soon as it was all done.

– –

Harry was frustrated by how long it had taken him to finally get to bed that night. Seamus had needed to borrow his notes from Charms, and then Neville had actually asked him for help on his Defense essay. It wasn't very often that Nevile actually asked for help. The quiet boy was obviously stressed that he had been having so much trouble with the spells they were covering and had seen how Harry had performed them with such ease in the class practicals.

Despite the temptation to blow the other boy off, Neville had always been generally kind to Harry and even when the whole school was in the process of shunning him, Neville had still been nice to him, and partnered with him in classes, so he sat down and helped Neville as much as he could.

Finally he escaped all of his dorm mates, drew back the hangings around his bed and sunk down into the mountain of overstuffed pillows and comforters. He closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and instantly slipped into the depths of his mindscape.

It felt warmer and more welcoming there than it used to. It had been slowly growing more and more comfortable as time had progressed. He liked it there. The small dark mass wasn't quite so formless anymore. It had once been blurry and vague. Now it was more like a mist surrounding something more tangible. Small strands of darkness stretched out from the base of it like vines climbing along the ground.

Harry cocked his head to the side and examined the changes curiously. Some part of him thought he should probably be disturbed by this new development and he was honestly a little unsettled on how very non-disturbed he was. He didn't mind that it had changed. He wasn't even bothered by the very obvious growth it had sustained. Rather, instead he was curious about it. He made his way closer and examined it more in depth.

It still had aspects of the formless 'cushion' that he had relaxed in for the last month, but there was more to it now, and it was larger; more spread out.

He knelt down and reached out, caressing against it in an oddly affectionate gesture. It felt so... nice. Comfortable. It felt like home... whatever that felt like.

Harry used to think that Hogwarts felt like home, but he wasn't so sure anymore. The Dursley's house had certainly never felt like home. He knew that for sure. But here... he felt like he belonged here. Of course, here wasn't really a physical place, so it couldn't really be home, but it felt more like home than anything else ever had.

Harry leaned back into the dark mass and relaxed. He felt all of the tension of the day melt away instantly and he sighed happily. He stretched his hand out along the 'ground' and ran his fingers along one of the dark tendrils that had extended out from the mass and spread across the white, ambiguous, floor plane.

It twitched slightly as he touched it. A surge of warm glee shot through him at the contact. The tendril inched closer to him and he wrapped it around his finger. Bursts of electric tingles shot through him and his breath caught in startled surprise at the pleasing sensation. The presence was pleased as well, and they reveled in the shockingly glorious joint experience. He felt whole with it in that moment. Connecting with it in this more direct way filled him with such a strong and wonderful feeling.

He reached out his other hand and found one of the other tendrils. He wrapped his hand around it and was filled with another powerful jolt of pleasant tingles. He released a slow, shuttering breath as the warmth surged pleasantly through his gut.

Merlin, it feels so good! He mentally gasped.

He sank back into the presence and pulled the tendrils up with his hands, crossing his arms across his chest and wrapping himself up in the dark inky form. He gasped and moaned out at how glorious it felt as he literally wrapped himself with the dark presence.

He never wanted the sensation to end. He never wanted to let go... He melted into the wonderful feeling and slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

– –

"My lord, if we could simply do it without the boy –"

"No!" he hissed angrily. Insolent fools! How dare they question him? "I want the boy! Barty, Report!"

"Yes my lord," the man ran forward and knelt down, bowing his head and then looking up through his eyelashes reverently. "The boy survived the first task and our plans are moving along."

"Good, good. What did you have to do to guarantee the boy's survival? It was dragons, was it not?"

"I did nothing sir. Actually, something quite surprising was revealed during the first task."

His curiosity was peaked. He hadn't expected the boy to make it past the first task without some sort of intervention. But then again, the damned Potter brat did seem to have Felix Felicis running through his veins.

"What, exactly, was revealed?" he sneered curiously.

"The boy... he is a parseltongue."

He blinked in shock and disbelief.

"What!" he hissed.

"He... he made it passed the dragon without so much as a single scratch on him. It was as if he commanded the beast to stand down. He hissed at it in parseltongue, and walked right past it, grabbed the golden egg, and walked right back to the exit."

A parseltongue?

How was that possible? How could the boy, possibly, be a parseltongue? He was positive he knew of all the lines that had retained any trace of old naga blood, and the Potters most certainly weren't one. He had a Black as an ancestor, but the last of the Black line to show any signs of it died over 300 years ago. The boy's mother was a muggleborn, so it wasn't from her...

"Apparently the boy has always had the talent – or at least he has had it as long as he can remember. He even used the skill to gain access to the Chamber of Secrets in his second year."

Stunned shock consumed him. The boy discovered the chamber? And in his second year! He hadn't discovered it until his fifth, and that was after years of dedicated searching. But... surely the boy couldn't have gained control over the basilisk?

"The Chamber! Did you hear any word of a basilisk?" he hissed out angrily.

"Dead. The boy killed it."

"WHAT!" he screamed. Fury raged within him. How could all of this happened and he had heard nothing of it? The Chamber had been discovered? The basilisk, destroyed? "The boy did this in his second year?" he said with stunned disbelief. Surely it wasn't possible. A mere boy of twelve could never hope to defeat Salazar's great basilisk. That creature was more fearsome than...

He growled in frustration and anger.

He was so weak right now! He hated how weak he felt. How helpless he was. How much time he had wasted. He had things to do! Important tasks that only he could accomplish, and instead he had to waste his time and efforts on a child! To make matter worse, was reduced to depending on the likes of Wormtail. It was disgusting!

Barty was better, at least, but he was often gone.

This pathetic vessel he had created contained him, but his connection to his magic was still so weak, and erratic at best. The simplest of spells would leave him exhausted. He needed the boy's blood!

If he could just get the boy he could be restored to his former glory and resume his work.

Harry blinked his eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight pouring in through the small part in his bed hangings. He felt oddly... tingly. Sort of... giddy. It was weird. At first he didn't remember anything odd, but then the images flitted through his mind and he remembered the dream.

He went over the images and frowned. On one hand, he was almost positive he'd had a vision... what he had dreamed about was the same as the visions he had had at the end of the summer. It was in the same house. The same room. And it had Wormtail and that other man who he didn't recognize. What had Voldemort called him?

And yet the feel of the vision was entirely different too.

Harry had never had a vision that he didn't wake from in agonizing pain. His scar would always hurt horribly after a vision. He would always wake up from one with his head on fire and pounding horribly, and he'd feel sick in every way possible.

But right now he felt fine. Great, even. Well rested and energized.

He reached his hand up and brushed his fingers gently over his scar. It tingled pleasantly.

That was... weird.

He couldn't ever remember his scar feeling like that. It had burned and itched and throbbed, but it had never felt good.

The skin around the scar felt warm to the touch, but it didn't feel inflamed like it usually did after a vision.

Perhaps it hadn't been a real vision? Was it just a dream? Just his subconscious putting together familiar things and piecing it into something new?

Harry didn't know.

– –

Another week came and went. Harry had opened the egg that he had gotten from the first task several times, but had no idea what to make of it. It screeched horribly when opened, and the noise was entirely unintelligible.

During the first week after the task he had considered visiting Hagrid at some point, but the half-giant had been a bit skittish around him in class since his performance with the parseltongue. He hid it well and still made friendly conversation with Harry when he approached the large man in class, but Harry could see the change in Hagrid's posture. Harry saw the way Hagrid looked at him out of the corner of his eyes sometimes with concern and worry.

Harry wanted to believe he was just being paranoid and reading too much into things, but he couldn't entirely convince himself of that.

He wasn't getting on any better with Ron or Hermione either. They had both tried to speak with him from time to time, but he just wasn't ready to let either of them back in yet. He wasn't sure if he ever would feel ready. Harry was sure that if he had actually been feeling as alone as he actually was, that he probably would have gone running back to them by now, but he just didn't feel the need. He didn't feel alone. He spent every night wrapped up tight in his shadowy companion. And it's presence in his day to day life was growing. Literally.

The shape and size of the dark presence in his mind had increased slowly in size each passing day. The tendrils reached out for him now when he sunk down into his mindscape each night. They wrapped around him on their own and he felt... he felt wanted. He felt... needed. And being in it's embrace felt so... good.

As the days passed, he began to feel it's presence even when awake. He didn't have to sink into his mind to reach out to it, he could call it it even when conscious. And he did.

It was small at first. Tiny pin pricks of awareness in the back of his mind during classes or meals; but it was enough that he didn't feel alone. He felt like there was always someone there with him, keeping him company in the back of his mind.

In the beginning, he would only get tiny inklings of it's feelings. Impressions of it's thoughts. It's support of him. It's encouragement. The frequency and duration of it's presence grew as the days passed, and so did his perception of it's thoughts and feelings. It's awareness was increasing and he could feel it. By the end of the second week since the first task, it was keeping him company during the majority of his classes.

It gave him hints when he struggled with things in class. It empathized with his anger when his fellow students would confront him or openly mock him. It agreed with his anger. At times, it even stoked it, and it would snicker at his snide mental remarks. He had developed a running commentary of dry sarcasm, fueled by his own bitter resentment that festered inside him, and his companion reveled in his snide sense of humor.

The interactions between Harry and his dark companion had not been verbal in any literal sense. The presence merely communicated through ideas, emotions, and impressions. Or at least, they had been up until this point.

It was now December 9th and Harry had Potions. Harry's performance had improved drastically in all of his classes since he had taken down the barrier that had been holding back his dark companion, but his practical performance in Potions had still been rather abysmal.

A better connection to, and increased understanding of his magic had helped him in most of his other classes, but it did not aid him in brewing potions. His mental clarity and his increased capacity to read, understand, and retain his textbook information had helped with the theory, and at least his written work had been better. But since Harry had continued to avoid Ron, he had been partnering with Neville the last six weeks, and any advantage Harry's improved understanding of potions was destroyed by Neville's nerves.

Because of this, Snape had banished most of their in-class work during the past month, and they'd gotten no credit for it. It was something that Harry found entirely infuriating. He was sick of the greasy git always singling him out.

He arrived to class alone and took the seat beside Neville that he had taken every class for the last 6 weeks. Ron shot him a sad look and sighed before he started to dig into his bag for some of his supplies.

The chimes sounded and Snape strode quickly into the room, black robes billowing behind him and came to stand at the front of the class.

"Exams are just around the corner," he began in a quiet, deadly, voice. "I dare say I doubt many of you dunderheads are even remotely prepared for them."

His hard black eyes trailed across the class, piercing each of them with their icy glare. He sneered disdainfully before taking a few steps forward. "Shall we see just how prepared you are?"

The class sat in utter silence waiting for it to begin. It was never a good thing when Snape spontaneously decided to 'test' them.

"Goyle! What is the antidote to the swelling solution?"

Goyle jumped in his seat and looked utterly lost. Snape sneered in frustration as the large boy sputtered and glanced desperately at Malfoy who was sitting beside him, looking mortified.

"Bulstrode, can you help him?" Snape drawled.

"The deflating draught, sir."

"Correct."

"Finnegan! Name one potion armadillo bile is used in."

Seamus's jaw dropped and floundered. You could see his mind desperately searching for something, anything, but he just sat there stunned. Hermione's hand was in the air, of course, but Snape ignored her.

"Pathetic. Close your mouth, Finnegan. Malfoy, answer the question."

"The wit-sharpening potion, sir," Malfoy said with a smug grin on his face.

"Good. Name two other ingredients used in the potion."

Malfoy's brow furrowed for a moment but he seemed to find an answer in his memories. "Ginger root and ground scarab beetles."

"Good. Ten points to Slytherin," Snape said and Malfoy's smirk widened.

"Potter!" Harry sighed internally but held it in and sat up straighter, trying to prepare for what was to come. "Name one use of ashwinder eggs."

Harry's lips parted as he tried to search his memory for any mention of ashwinder eggs from his text book, but honestly couldn't recall. He was about to sigh and admit that he just didn't know when the presence whispered to him.

At first he wasn't sure what it was. He felt like he heard words in his head, but they were so quiet and soft that he almost instantly convinced himself he had imagined it. But then he heard it again.

Eaten whole... cure ague...

"Um, if they're eaten whole they can cure ague," Harry responded quickly, having already sensed the potion master's impatience.

Snape's brow rose minutely and you could see some surprise grace his features for a moment before it was quickly masked.

"Correct. Name three ingredients in the Befuddlement Draught," Snape said an instant later.

Harry almost scowled. He knew for a fact that the Befuddlement Draught wasn't something they had covered yet that year. He opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn't now yet, and if he had in fact let it come out, it probably would have warranted a detention, but instead the words were cut off by more whispers.

Sneezewort...

….Scurvy-grass...

..lovage...

The voice sent shivers down his spine and he had to hold back a gasp. He quickly collected himself and resumed eye contact with his professor. "Um, sneezewort, scurvy-grass, and lovage?"

"Are you asking me Potter, or telling me?" Snape drawled sarcastically, but Harry could still see the surprise on the man's face.

"Telling, sir."

Snape eyed him for a long moment before nodding his head. "Correct. What are the effects of eating Alihosty leaves and what is the antidote?"

Ah! I know that one! er... well, I know half of it. Harry thought.

"Alihosty leaves cause hysteria when ingested," Harry said but his voice slowed at the end of the sentence since he couldn't quite recall what the antidote for it was. He had read up on Alihosty at the very start of term, and hadn't revisited that chapter of the text book since his mind cleared up.

Glumbumble... causes melancholy...

Harry blinked and bit his lip as the voice slithered through his mind again and he had to hold back another shudder. The words were breathy and brief, but it was enough to trigger his memory. He grinned.

"The fluid secreted by the glumbumble is used to make the antidote. It usually causes melancholy, but it counters the hysteria caused by the alihosty when properly brewed."

Snape was looking at him with narrow suspicious eyes now and Harry quickly pulled on a mask of calm innocence.

"Name two potions that jobberknoll parts are used in." Snape said sharply.

Harry was starting to get irritated that he was still being questioned and considered suggesting to his professor that he ought to let the other students take a turn, but he wasn't stupid or suicidal so he didn't.

Truth serums... Memories...

The corner of Harry's lips turned up a fraction as the sweet breathy voice spoke in his mind.

"Veritaserum, and several memory potions," Harry answered easily. Veritaserum was not on the forth year curriculum. In fact, it wasn't even mentioned until 7th year. Jobberknoll parts were used in a few simpler, weaker truth serums, one of which they had covered earlier that term. Harry knew the ingredients to Veritaserum because he had specifically looked it up.

Snape's suspicious eyes were boring holes into Harry now and he was sneering in obvious annoyance at the fact that Harry had actually answered the damned questions.

His expression suddenly shifted and he smirked rather evilly. Harry frowned slightly, not liking what was likely to come of that expression.

"What is another name for the 'false pennyroyal' plant, and name one potion it is used in," Snape ordered.

Harry wanted to sneer right back at the man. The 'false pennroyal' plant? What the hell is that?

The presence smirked and Harry felt a grin spread across his lips. He may not have had any idea what it was, but his companion did. The whispers came quickly and he repeated the words right back to his teacher.

"Isanthus brachiatus, or fluxweed. It's used in the Polyjuice potion, but it has to be picked when the moon is full," Harry replied easily and grinning rather cockily. He couldn't help it. He was enjoying this far more than he would have expected to.

Snape's eyes flashed with fury for a moment before he squashed the reaction. "Correct," he growled and looked out over the stunned class. "Well, why aren't you taking notes!" he spat angrily and everyone began to quickly scratch away on their parchments.

Harry had to fight to hold back the giggle that tried to bubble up from his chest. It was like his first day of potions class, all over again. Except this time he had the answers.

And Snape was furious.

Harry was stunned he didn't get deducted points for his 'cheek'.

– –

Harry was disappointed that he didn't hear the voice again for the rest of the afternoon. The presence only lingered in his awareness for a few short spans of time during lunch and then later in charms, and it's emotional and imagery commentary had been limited. Harry almost got the impression that it was tired, and he worried about it briefly. Harry was eager to slip into his mindscape that night to check on it so he rushed through his homework and quickly left the common room.

Ron had been looking at him funny every time he ran off to bed early, but he didn't give a damn what Ron thought and ignored it. He raced up the stairs, stowed his bag and supplies in his trunk, quickly disrobed down to his boxers and climbed into bed.

With a flick of his wrist and a hissed §close§ the hangings around his bed were drawn closed. He felt the magic curling around him deliciously and he smiled. He was really beginning to adore parselmagic. It was just so easy and it obeyed him without any effort. He also loved the idea that it gave him such an incredible advantage over those around him. With it, he didn't even have to rely on his wand. He still used his wand for normal magic, of course, but thanks to his parselmagic Harry wouldn't be defenseless without it, like every other simpering weakling in the school was, when disarmed.

He lay back in the mountain of pillows, enjoying the luxurious comfort of them, and the fine quality of the comforter and sheets. He couldn't even fathom going back to the stiff mattress, worn sheets, and thin blanket he was left with at the Dursley's when summer would come. He would have to buy himself some decent bedding and find a way to stop the bloody muggles from stealing it from him. He would have to find some time when he could get to Diagon Alley so he could have some of his wizard gold exchanged for pounds. Maybe he could finally buy himself some decent clothing too...

He didn't want to wait till summer for that though. He was growing more and more disgusted by Dudley's castoffs. He'd transfigured a few of his shirts and pants into something presentable, but he needed to buy some clothing. Perhaps he would do that at the next Hogsmeade weekend...

Harry sighed and cleared his mind. He was wasting time.

With practiced ease, he sunk into his mindscape and went directly to the dark spot where his companion resided in his mind.

Harry came up short when he saw the dark spot he spent so much time in. It had changed form again. The large dark amorphous mist was still there – although it was covering more ground – but that had been happening slowly for a while now. The dark tendrils were still shooting out from it in all directions, crawling further and further outwards, and the white nondescript ground plane was tinged gray and speckled lightly. Again, this change had been happening gradually, so it's growth wasn't much of a surprise. What was a surprise was that there appeared to be a figure sitting in the spot where Harry always rested.

The figure wasn't entirely solid, and it was merely a black silhouette, but it was undeniably a figure.

Harry approached slowly. His heart was racing with excitement. He knew that this should seriously concern him. He really did. There truly was a rational voice in the back of his mind screaming that this was bad, but the part of him that was strangely ecstatic was so much stronger.

Harry came to stand directly before the silhouetted black figure. He was holding his breath in anticipation. He was excited, but he didn't know what to do. The figure's head was ducked, but as Harry came to a stop it raised his head and looked at him. Harry could feel a thrilled sense of eagerness rolling off his companion and he smiled back.

The figure was male, and it was not just a copy of Harry. He could tell that much. His companion was notably taller. Thin and lanky, but with broad shoulders and a powerful stance. The figure was nothing but slightly translucent blackness, but Harry could still tell that he was grinning at him.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out to his companion. His hand came to the figure's shoulder and came against solid mass. Harry's smile spread even wider. Touching the figure sent wonderful tingles through his fingers and hand. His stomach felt like it was full of eager butterflies. He let his whole palm rest upon the figures shoulder and gasped as the figure's opposite hand came up and clasped gently atop Harry's hand.

His stomach did wonderful flip flops and his knees felt weak with the force of the sudden sensation.

He heard an echo of a gasp and looked up to see a faintly surprised expression gracing the dark, translucent features of his companion.

His eyes met the black abyss of his companion. Most of the figure was sort of misty and was lacking solid form, but the irises of his eyes were solid black and shiny. Harry's eyes locked on those black-onyx orbs and he felt as if he could get lost in their depths.

"Beautiful..." Harry breathed out the words, without even meaning to.

The figure smirked, cockily and Harry felt a tinge of embarrassment for a moment before he, himself smiled, and chuckled at his own words.

The figure's free arm rose up slowly. A black shadow trailed the movements, like a time-lapsed echo. Harry watched in wonder as the hand rose up and the knuckles brushed gently over his cheek. He gasped and his head fell back slightly as his eyes closed of their own will.

It was such a surprisingly intimate gesture. It was so small and simple, and yet the feelings it filled him with were so profound. He almost felt like he would cry from the force of it.

He pulled himself back together and opened his eyes once again to find those deep black abysses staring back at him and smiling.

Harry...

The whispered echo of a voice vibrated through the vast open space of his mindscape and it sent chills down Harry's very soul. It was such a beautiful voice. He wanted to hear more. He wanted it to be louder, and more clear.

"You spoke to me today," Harry said in a whisper as if he were afraid if he spoke too loudly, it would break some sort of spell.

The figure nodded and smiled. He could feel it's amusement. Harry grinned.

"Thanks for that, by the way," Harry said with a chuckle. "It looked like Snape was about to have a coronary, he was so offended I was able to answer his questions."

Laughter echoed through the space and filled Harry with glee and made him feel lightheaded.

When it calmed down the pair of them stood there, touching each other and looking into each other's eyes. Harry realized he lost track of time at some point and blinked. He ducked his head, feeling slightly embarrassed at how easily he had let himself be mesmerized by those eyes.

"You... you have a form now. How?" he asked, finally.

...because... you wish it. You... want me.

It was your... desire.

...you power me. Give me strength.

You share yourself with me. ….allow me access to... you.

Access to your magic.

You have such... wonderful magic, Harry. So beautiful. So powerful...

I take just a little bit of it, and it... fuels me... so much. I must adjust... I need time... I will grow... accustomed. You have so much.

...so surprising.

Harry blinked in surprise at his companion while the words echoed through the space around him.

"So..." Harry began hesitantly as he thought over the words. "You've tapped into my magic and it's given you the power? That's how you have form now? And why you can talk?"

Yes...

but only because... you wish it. Only because... you allow it.

The magic is yours... Harry. I cannot touch it... without you.

Without your permission.

Harry nodded his head and looked down, thoughtfully. He hadn't explicitly given permission, since he honestly had no idea any of this was even possible, but he had to admit that he really had wished that his companion was more than an amorphous misty cloud. He had loved having it's tendrils wrapped around him and had wished, on more than one occasion, that they were arms that were wrapped around him.

He had also greatly enjoyed it when his companion had begun to communicate with him, and had wished that he could communicate with more than just ambiguous emotions and images.

Now he could speak to Harry using words.

He.

Harry had to admit that even before this point, he had thought of his dark companion as male, but he had generally avoided labeling him as such in his thoughts. The time he spent wrapped up in his companion sometimes felt exceedingly... intimate, and now that there was no denying the fact that his companion was a man, he was afraid that he might somehow feel awkward.

As if he had read Harry's mind, the figure stepped back, releasing his hand from Harry's, that had remained on his shoulder this entire time, and stretched his arms wide, as if offering himself to Harry.

Harry's breath caught slightly. He felt mildly self-conscious. It was harder to allow himself to do this when there was no denying that it was a person he was with. It wasn't just some portion or representation of himself either. But he had already known that for a long time. He knew that his dark companion wasn't just some other portion of his own psyche. His companion was a foreign presence, inside Harry's mind.

Harry pulled in a deep breath, mustering his courage. He wanted this. He wasn't going to let some stupid, unwarranted embarrassment stop him from doing it. His companion had gained a form because Harry had wanted this so badly.

He stepped forward and slowly wrapped his arms around the figure's waist while it wrapped it's long arms around his shoulder. He held Harry close and their chests pressed together. A startled whimper escaped Harry's lips at the surge of acceptance and need that he felt reverberate through his whole body at the glorious contact.

A long, content moan slipped through his lips and he wrapped his arms around his companions waist, tighter.

He had never hugged someone before. Not really. Hermione had hugged him, but Harry had always stiffened up and simply stood there uncomfortably until she let go. He had worried that he would have no idea how to properly hug someone, but now that he was wrapped up in his companions arms, it was as if everything was alright. Everything was just as it should be.

His companion tiled his head down and rested his chin atop Harry's head. His hands began to slowly rub soothingly along Harry's back and Harry felt himself melting into the gentle touches. It felt so good. He felt so complete and content. One of his companions hands slid up and made it's way into Harry's messy black hair. His long, slender finger's combed through the disheveled locks and massaged Harry's scalp in calming circles.

Harry almost felt as if he would cry, it felt so amazing. His hands fisted in the transparent misty-black robes that wrapped his companion's silhouetted form, and he buried his face into his companion's shoulder, pulling in a deep breath.

He was surprised to find that he could smell the other man. He wondered about that. Considering that everything he was experiencing was all just in his mind, it was a little odd that his external senses registered anything here. But he could feel and hear his companion, so he supposed it made sense that he could smell him too.

The two stood there amongst the black mist that filled the dark spot in the back of Harry's mind, holding each other in quiet contentment for a very long time. The longer they embraced, the further and further the black mist began to spread, and the more mottled and gray the ground became. Eventually, Harry slipped into unconsciousness with a content smile gracing his features.

Knight - Ch. 3 of Beloved

Ao3 // FF.net

Ch. 1 - Bishop’s Castle Ch. 2 - Pawn

A/N: To those reviewing and leaving notes in tags, ‘tis appreciated. I also postponed this a week to not take away anything from The Nerd and her work.

Ace safe and rated T for medical drama in this chapter.

Tagging @xweasleyfraserx, @remedial-potions ,@weasleymama @kingronw @vivithefolle @austenpoppy @melimelrockswell1204 @ashleopardd @hillnerd since people asked to be tagged when this first went around. (Sorry @justsaya for the extra tag.)

“Where the hell is my Husband?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why the hell did I have to find out about him from her and not you?”

Harry recoiled.

“Oh, shite,” was all he could say.

“Oh shite is right, Harry!” Hermione yelled.

“That’s enough, Granger,” Hemera stepped in between the two, towering over Hermione by almost a foot. Then again, Hermione never backed down from a fight with Hemera.

“No, it’s not. I should have been told by this git,” She pointed her finger at Harry and he backed up a step, “and not you.” She stared up at the similar eyes staring back down at her.  “I hate being woken up at half two by anyone who is not my husband and especially for unpleasant news.”

Harry had to agree with her statement. She was wearing a pair of virulent orange sleep trousers, a plain white vest under a maroon jumper that was two sizes too big on her, emblazoned with a gold thread R on the front. Her hair was up in a bushy ponytail, covered by an orange sleep hat.

“Look, Harry had to be checked out too, so quit being shirty with me.” Jones sighed and slumped slightly. “He’d have come once he got checked out too, as a precaution, right?” She looked over her shoulder at Harry who was nodding frantically. She turned back to the diminutive witch before her. “So there’s no need to be biting all of our arses over this completely cocked up situation.”

“Granger,” Director Robards bass voice boomed in the room. Everyone turned to stare at him. He was immune after all of the years of being an Auror. “Why don’t we find out from Potter what happened so we can have an idea on how bad the situation is going forward?”

Hermione looked at the small gathering before her. “Has anyone contacted Arthur and Molly?”

“I called to the house,” Hemera spoke up. “No one answered a Patronus. I’ll try again in an hour.”

“We can get ahold of the family shortly,” Robards interjected. “But we need to know what happened to Weasley.”

Harry went over the details on Ron’s injury and heard Hermione spat a few vile adjectives towards Trowbridge when his name was mentioned. Harry noticed that Jones and Robards were nodding in agreement. When he finished with him being kicked out of the ward, Hermione was sitting in some of the soft chairs, her head in her hands.

“So you’re saying that he might not make it this time?” She looked up from her hands and Harry immediately sympathized. Her eyes were bloodshot, enormous pale bags under her eyes, and her hair poking out through her hair bonnet. He saw her posture bent, like she was carrying an enormous burden on her back.

“I dunno, Hermione. All of us know head wounds bleed easily and it’s not like last time. He’s got Healers working on him right now, the best ones at the hospital and probably the country, all focused on his care.”

“So now we wait?”

“I know how much you hate waiting, Hermione.” Jones gave her a look.

Hermione shrugged.  “You have no idea,” she responded and settled in to wait.

Each tick of the clock on the wall felt like an hour, and each minute a day.

“I’m going to call his parents. They should be up now,” Robards spoke up suddenly. “They should be here when we get the news.” He stepped out of the waiting room.

Harry took a glance at the other two women, seeing both with worry for different reasons.

The boulder in his throat dislodged slightly, making him choke. The two looked at him and he fake-coughed to keep them from worrying about him. He wasn’t important right now.  They didn’t need to make a fuss over him.

Eventually, Robards returned and took a seat. “I firecalled them. They should be here shortly.”

“What’s taking so long,” Hermione muttered. “They should have been out here by now to tell us something.”

“I know. This worries me too,” Jones said, not giving Hermione any thought. “The longer it is, the more I get concerned.”

“You’re concerned,” Hermione sniped back. “You’re concerned? That’s my husband in there.”

“I remember Granger,” Jones bit back. “I was there when the two of you exchanged vows and performed the magical bonding. You were gracious to let me have a dance with him, even if he was slightly pissed and stammered half the time we were talking. All he could do was prattle on about you and how damn happy he was, to wear that ring on his finger.”

“Well your partner,” disdain dripped from Hermione, “was talking about how you were only doing it to get him embarrassed.”

“Aurora knows that and he did too, especially after a kiss on the cheek that made your hair frazzle.”

“Guys, enough,” Harry yelled. The two witches stared stilettos at him. “Hearing the two of you sniping isn’t helping.”

“Who says we are sniping?” Jones said, sounding quite calm. “Granger and I are – “                                                                                                                            

“I’m going for a walk,” Harry got up and stormed out, leaving the others in the room.

The hallway was empty, especially this early in the day. He needed to be away, away from Hermione and Hemera bickering over stupid shite. Why couldn’t they act like Director Robards there, being quiet and waiting patiently for any word on his condition? Why did Hemera have to antagonize Hermione every chance she could get? Why the hell did Hermione always rise to the bait?

Harry ducked into the stairwell. He knew what was coming and he didn’t feel safe enough to let anyone else see him. He pointed his wand at the doors above and below the landing he was situated.  No one who he needed desperately was available – from the one who smothered him too much, to the one who could call him out on his shite and love him at the same time, to the one on the table, who had zero qualms being there whether it’s a nightmare or seeing too much on a mission.

The first sob exploded from his chest, wracking him with peels of anger and grief. Salty fat ears flowed down his face, threading through the coarse hairs on his cheeks and chin. He couldn’t lose Ron. Hadn’t he paid enough for a lifetime to not lose anyone else? Why did Ron have to pay for his lack of leadership? He couldn’t lose Ron.

Life wouldn’t be worth living without his best friend. He knew that. Deep down, he knew that Ron was his reason for living. Finishing Voldemort was the reason at the time but losing time with Ron would hurt 100 times worse than anything else he’d gone through.

Admittedly, he needed to live. But it wouldn’t be a good life if Ron wasn’t still in it.

“Harry,” a soft voice from above called out to him. He looked upward and saw Hermione standing in the doorway. She knew well enough.  It wasn’t like they hadn’t been friends for over a decade. But she also knew her limits on comforting him. Her patience was thin and limited to helping him – and keeping herself from exploding most of the time.

He scrubbed his hand across his face and smearing salty tears across the lenses of his glasses.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“It’s fine.  I wanted to tell you that Molly and Arthur got here and the Healers are waiting on us.”

“I said I’d be there in a minute, Hermione.”

“Fine,” she snapped before letting the door slam on the stairwell.

He stood, trying to make himself look professional, not like he’d been on a crying jag. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at Hermione. She’s on pins and needles too. He’d apologize later, once he knew Ron was awake and working towards getting out of the hospital. He trudged up the steps, removing the silencing charm off of both ends of that section of the stairwell and trudged back to the waiting room.

Sure enough, Healer Greengrass, the chief Healer for the hospital, was present along with another healer, one he didn’t know, along with Molly and Arthur, Hermione, Hemera, and Director Robards.

“Now that you’re here, Mr. Potter,” Director Greengrass started.

“Can we see him?” Molly interrupted. “I need to see my son.” Arthur put his hand on her shoulder. She squeezed it once.  “I need to know if – “

“That’s what I’m trying to say, Mrs. Weasley. Your son is critical.”

One hysterical sob escaped and not just from Molly.

“He sustained a serious head injury. Mr. Potter was quite wise to limit his magical assistance in trying to save Mr. Weasley’s life. While it was a physical injury, part of the spell rebound impacted him.  Auror protocol healing at that point would have caused permanent damage.”

Harry gulped. It’s a good thing he wasn’t quite confident in his skills there.

“We have him on potions, including – “

“Can we see him?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yes, shortly. But we need to tell you, the next forty-eight hours are the most critical. We,” the healer took a deep breath, “We don’t know if he will wake.”

“What!”

“Hermione, wait,” Harry interrupted, trying to stave off the coming tirade.

“No, I will not,” She cut across him and looked back at Healer Greengrass. “It’s a physical injury, not a magical one. It’s easier with magic than the Muggle medicine.”

“I beg to differ, Mrs. Weasley. Wizards know even less about how a brain works than Muggle Healers do.  What little we know is from centuries of mistakes, fatalities, and worse. Even then, the brain and the mind work in ways we can’t fathom yet nor do we understand how to fix them and heal injuries. We stick to proven methods of treatment and rarely if ever deviate into possible protocol changes.” Harry saw her hair frizzing out from barely contained anger. “No wizard’s life is worth ending because of a possible experiment. We leave that to the Muggles.”

“Oh this is bullshit,” She snarled. “My husband gets injured and you’re telling me that he might not make it because you don’t know how to treat him?”

“Mrs. Weasley, please calm down. We’re doing everything we can for him. With brain injuries, it’s a case of letting him rest and heal. The junior healer will be on duty and immediately available should you have a question or there is any change in his condition.”

“Hermione, they are doing everything possible.”

“No they aren’t,” she snarled again. She turned to the two healers. “You need to bring someone else in, someone who knows about traumatic brain injuries and consult with them on his injury.”

“There is no one else, none that understand how potions work and what we are doing medically and magically.”

“No one? What the hell?”

“You do realize, Mrs. Weasley, that the ones we can’t heal, the small few we can’t return to normal, the ones with permanent spell damage, are residents on the fourth floor. We aren’t heartless. We heal everyone we can. Those we can’t are kept comfortable and safe. But you have to give it time, time to let his brain heal from what we did to save his life, to give him a chance to live.”

“What do you mean when you say what you did to save his life?”

“When Mr. Potter brought him in, we quickly determined the problems he had and set to work immediately. Mr. Potter noticed bleeding from his ear which indicated a serious problem, one which needed acute intervention immediately. It’s fortunate he saw it when it started. What we did was remove part of his skull – “

“Do what?” Molly spoke first.

“You did?” Arthur cut across Molly.

“What was so serious you had to do that?” Hermione’s shrill voice overrode the other two voices.

“As we were saying,” Healer Greengrass huffed, “we removed part of his skull to take the pressure off of his brain that was swelling.  We had minutes before it became permanent.”

“Permanent?” Hermione’s voice grew strangely quiet and passive. “Hell no!”

“Exactly. That’s why we rushed Mr. Potter from the room. We had to do that work there and not anywhere else. It’s a wonder the landing in the arrival area didn’t do more damage.”

“When we opened him up,” the other healer finally spoke up, “we saw what the problem was. One way or another, he tore an artery in his brain. We repaired it straightaway but because of that, Mr. Weasley needs time to recover naturally. The first 48 hours are critical, especially since we don’t dare wake him up. The problem is a delicate one. He needs to stay under the control of potions but the longer we wait, the less chance he wakes. Too long and he doesn’t wake. Too short and he might not be able to work ever again, much less heal completely. The balance requires delicacy, luck, and quite a bit of faith.”

“So all we can do now is wait?”

“That’s all we can do now. We’ll keep him on the potions we started him on and keep him on them for now. “

“What potions do you have him taking? There’s one he is allergic to, that one of the ingredients – “ Molly dry-washed her hands.

“It’s in his chart and he’s not on that particular one.  We have him on – “

“Can we see him now?” Arthur interrupted.

Healer Greengrass sighed. “Yes, on one condition: he is to not be hugged for any reason. His head, chest, and stomach are injured and needs time to heal. While he is bandaged up right sharp and has added protections, following these conditions give him the best chance to wake. He might look like you can, but please, don’t.”

“Is that all?” Molly cut across the Healer, completely unapologetic. “We’d like to see him. I need to see him now.”

The Healer looked at the gathering. “Let me reiterate that: he is not to be hugged for any reason. You can hold his hands, maybe rub his feet and that’s it. We won’t risk any potential setbacks because of enthusiastic family. So please, don’t hug him for any reason.”

“Yes, Yes, Yes, you’ve told us,” Molly interrupted. “I need to see my son, now.” Her voice turned harsh on the last word, expecting immediate obedience from her kids.

“Yes, you can. Come with me and we’ll see him. Don’t worry about talking quietly around him. He won’t hear you at least immediately, or so we think. Some patients tell us that they recall hearing things when they are injured like this and others say that they didn’t hear a thing. It depends on the patient, I reckon.”

Most of the gathered went ahead. The other healer, who looked younger than either of them, kept Hermione and Harry back.

“What is it, Healer?”

“I realize how important he is to both of you, which is why I am saying this to you.”

“Yes?” They spoke in unison.

“I’m not saying this to upset either of you, but we won’t know for certain his condition until he wakes, if he does, and we can run tests on him.”

“But he, the other healer, said – “

“Waking up is one part. Waking up with all of his faculties intact is a different proposition. The first part I’m confident in his recovery. I’m not confident in the second part.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Hermione’s voice broke on the last word.

“I’d rather you know now, before you step into there, that this won’t be easy and it might take everything you have to see it through, for better or worse.”

“He’s worth it, Healer, um, I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Junior Healer Cattermole. Mary Francis Cattermole. I played Quidditch my first year with Mr. Weasley’s sister.  I was three years behind her. In fact, I’m here because of what the three of you did. My family was targeted, and my Mum falsely arrested. My parents escaped somehow,” The two of them shared a particular look, “which they said was because of the three of you, which makes no sense, and they were able to escape and go into hiding.  With Voldemort dead, Yaxley and Umbridge arrested, and sentenced to Azkaban, it was safe enough to come out of hiding. Mum said that I could play professional Quidditch or train as a Healer. I chose this path so I could help other people, like you did. Quidditch was fun but I’ve helped more as a healer than any galleons I could make.”

Harry and Hermione shared a pointed look. They turned back to junior healer Cattermole. “I know I’m a bit old as a junior Healer, but I attended a Muggle university, reading Medicine to become a magical healer. That knowledge gave Mr. Weasley a fighting chance. It was my idea to remove part of his skull. It was my idea to take that part of his skull and tuck it into a pouch in his stomach so it will be ready for when we will heal it back into place.”

“That’s barbaric!”

“Yes, it is, but that is medicine. The bone in his skull is living tissue. It needed to stay nourished to be able to heal back once the swelling goes down on his brain. Replacing it and giving him a day’s worth of skele-gro will fix that straightaway.”

“But you mentioned – “

“What we did, with my idea, is give him a fighting chance, as slim and wild as it might be. If he pulls through, which the odds aren’t there but it’s better than zero, then we have a new way to help patients like him recover completely. Admittedly he is a test case here.”

“But Healer Greengrass said that wizard magic doesn’t use test cases, that it’s too risky.”

“It is but knowing Mr. Weasley via his sister, I know he’d understand. The three of you risked everything to make our world possible. This is the smallest thing I can possibly do to repay that generosity.”

Understanding passed between the three of them. “I will be on duty all day with Healer Greengrass, to monitor him closely. I don’t expect us to try and wake him for several days, to let his brain recover from the trauma.”

“What are his actual odds, Healer Cattermole?”

She blushed, slightly. “Without what we did to save him, zero. Most people who have this kind of injury don’t receive adequate care fast enough and they die from brain hypoxia because of the swelling inside the skull. Because you had him here within five minutes of his injury and we prepped him for the butchering we did within 15 minutes because of Mr. Potter’s keen observation, he has a fighting chance. What we did? Maybe one chance in five. Making a full recovery with all of his mental faculties intact? One in a hundred.”

“He’d have better luck getting struck by lightning.” Harry stole a glance at Hermione and saw her wiping her face. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“If you know anyone who has a vial of Felix Felicis, I’d give him a full vial of it. That might be the only way to up his chances of making a full recovery.”

The junior healer left the room and almost immediately Director Robards and Auror Jones came in. “They’re ready for you in the room. We’re going back to the Ministry and filing all of the paperwork. Potter, I’ll need a statement from you by Monday. We’ll need it for the inquiry.”

“Yes, sir.” The remaining three watched Director Robards go next door for the Ministry Floo portal.

Auror Jones shared a grim look. “While I’m there, I’ll file your paperwork for you, Potter, and speak with your director Granger about taking medical leave.”

“Hemera, I can – “

“I know you can, Granger. I choose to do this for you. He needs both of you. We’ll manage while the two of you are here for him. Besides, once he heals up from this cocked up disaster, I’ll want him helping us change how we have additional help brought in. I never want to go through this again, where an Auror is injured or killed because of incompetence.”

Kin (11/72): Taking Care

James Potter was an only child with ghosts for siblings. His mother and father told him from a very young age that he had half-a-dozen brothers and sisters, they just hadn’t lived very long.

“The longest any of them lived was four days,” his mother told him once. “On your fifth day we threw a party.”

James was six that day.

So James grew up knowing that he was the youngest of many, and that somehow he’d managed to live longer than any of them. And he saw his mother’s grief, the way she murmured names sometimes late at night. He saw his father’s pain, when he gave James the cloak.

“It’s for you, son,” he said.

Except it wasn’t, really, because it should have been for Timothy. Or Helena, or Judith, or Ian, or Claire, or Christopher. James should have been the one clamoring for a turn with it, not using it as his own.

But most of the time, James had a fantastically happy childhood. His parents put their grief aside more often than not, and they spoiled him just a touch with gifts and privileges. Never with attention or love, though. You can’t spoil a child with those things.

Still, James wanted siblings. He knew his parents couldn’t give him any, so he went and found some himself, Remus and Sirius and Peter. He found out that being a brother meant fights and annoyance, and it meant sacrifice and support. It meant working feverishly to learn to change his body, it meant giving Sirius sanctuary and not going to fight his family, because it would only make things worse. And it meant feeling a little annoyed by Peter and how strange he seemed sometimes, but it didn’t matter. Brothers were brothers.

The war came for James in a surprising way. His parents were never “proud” of being Pureblood, but James knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he did have privilege because of that. He was never harassed by anyone, never wondered about his future, never worried about money. Still, he was willing to believe that the so-called ‘Death Eaters’ could never gain any traction. Surely people weren’t that stupid.

But then he heard Severus Snape call Lily Evans a Mudblood, and James knew war was coming. It sounded overly dramatic in his own head, but he knew that Snape was in love with Lily. But he’d still thrown that slur, still called her out in front of a huge crowd.

It was a wake-up call for James, watching those last couple weeks of term when Lily shrank into herself, when she was walking alone, when she ate without speaking. In James’ eyes, Lily had always been popular, but something must have changed. While he’d been watching her, loving her, other people must have begun to pull away. Whether it was because of Snape or her blood status, James had no idea. It was probably a mixture of both, because Gryffindor girls didn’t speak to her and the Slytherins started to harass her.

When sixth year began, James had two goals. He was going to throw himself into the resistance effort at school, because it was getting stupid. And he was going to make sure that Lily Evans was as happy as possible. There was a happy place in the middle of those goals, because Lily should never have to feel lesser because of her blood, and neither should anyone else.

Suggesting that Lily join the Charms club was the beginning, and encouraging Remus to study with her was another part. James also backed off from her, not asking her out once the entire year. He kept up with small gifts (sent by his second owl), and he never really stopped loving her. But he had to put her first, and she didn’t want him. He could live with that, as long as she was smiling and safe.

The resistance was actually more difficult. Discovering the rotten underbelly of the student body, all the secret hatred, all the anonymous acts of anger, wasn’t that hard. James couldn’t understand how he’d never seen it before, but of course he hadn’t. No one saw any need to harass James Potter, after all. Sirius had always had to deal with the ‘blood traitor’ thing, but James knew that his friend’s role came more because of his family’s cruelty than their beliefs, though they were closely tied.

No, the difficult thing was figuring out what to do about it. The Marauders could play pranks and have duels in the halls with the worst of the ‘Death Eaters’, and take those detentions with pride. They’d been doing that for years though, and James wanted a better solution. He and his brothers wanted to make sure that the movement could be crushed before it got beyond words and cruel tricks.

But their last visit to Hogsmeade that year proved it was already too late.

Black robed figures strode down the street, some clearly students but others were grownups, and they tore into people. They must have had some kind of list, because James saw them step by people who were pureblood, and instead try to trample the Muggleborns. Curses were flying everywhere, and James watched in horror as people stood in the street and just…watched. They didn’t stop anything, they didn’t raise a protest. All they did was watch.

   James leapt into the fray, dragging a couple of second years—second years, they were only twelve years old—away from a leering Death Eater. Sirius and Remus were helping too, Sirius mixing curses and expletives at the same time, and Remus created a shield and urged kids and adults alike over. Peter ran up the street. “I’m going for the Professors!” he shouted over his shoulder.

People were starting to come together, and the Death Eaters were getting pushed back. James was still looking for Lily in the crowd, and his heart stopped when he saw her facing off against not one, but three Death Eaters. Her back was to Zonko’s wall, and her face was pale as she threw curses.

One thing went through James’ head—Lily’s not very good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. She wasn’t even in the NEWT class.

   He reached into his bag before he thought about it, and threw a Dungbomb. Out of habit, he threw it just to Lily’s right, so that she wouldn’t get the full blast.

   The Dungbomb worked to perfection, and it bought James enough time to get over to Lily’s side. The Death Eaters reeled back, coughing hard. Their hoods slipped, and James’ heart stopped. One of them was Lucius Malfoy, who was married to one of Sirius’ cousins. One of them was Bellatrix Lestrange, who was Sirius’ cousin.      

The third was Severus Snape.

Lily screamed out a curse James had never heard before, and Snape went flying backwards. James shook himself out of his shock, and he fired Stunning spells at Malfoy and Lestrange. The two dropped, and James reached for Lily. They had to go, had to get out of there…

Suddenly the air was filled with screams of fear, and James turned.

A man with deathly white skin and no nose stood in the square, red eyes glinting.

Voldemort was there. He raised his wand and pointed it at one of the houses, and the building caught fire. The crowd erupted into chaos, with people running and trying to hide. The Death Eaters seemed to gather courage from their leader, and they redoubled their efforts.

James looked at Lily. “Run. Get to the Shrieking Shack.” This was beyond curses, beyond words. Voldemort only came when people died. It was not going to be Lily.

Lily shook her head. She pointed her wand at the house Voldemort had set alight, and called, “Aguamenti!”

A small river seemed to pour from Lily’s wand, dousing the flames and—to James’ horror and amusement—Voldemort himself. He was dripping wet as he turned to face them, and his lips curled in a furious snarl.

James put himself in front of Lily, but before Voldemort could say more than “Avada”, Lily grabbed James’ hand, and yanked him into nothingness.

They reappeared a moment later, a few blocks away.

“What did you do?”

“I’m a witch!” Lily snapped. “I Apparated. Come on!”

They both dashed back into battle, James fighting every urge to tell Lily to stay out of it. She might be a target now, but he could just make himself a bigger one, and they might both make it out alive.

It turned out that they didn’t need to that day. A bird’s cry drew James’ attention towards the sky, and he saw Fawkes. A moment later, an eerie silence fell over the square. When he and Lily dashed in, Voldemort and most of the Death Eaters were gone. Dumbledore stood there looking furious, with McGonagall and Slughorn already starting to repair the damages.

To James’ relief, Sirius and Remus were okay, and Peter puffed up a moment later; he’d found the teachers already on the way to Hogsmeade. Lily went over to Snape, who was struggling against an oversized robe. She pointed her wand into his face. “You goddamn—”

“Lily? What’s…what’s happening?”

                James looked around. The few Death Eaters remaining were pulling off their hoods, revealing themselves to be students. One of them was Marlene MacKinnon, for fuck’s sake. What had happened?

                James did eventually hear the story—apparently the Death Eaters ambushed some of the students outside Madam Puttifoots, and Imperiused them into participating. None of them could remember a thing, and James believed them. But only because Snape tried to hurt Lily. He would never have done that, not really.

                He and the others were carted off to the Hospital Wing despite furious protests. Sirius’ leg was cut, sure, and Remus had been hit with some horrible purple fire, but James was fine, completely fine, and he didn’t need to go to the Hospital Wing—

                That was the last thing he remembered before he collapsed into Lily’s arms. Adrenaline had kept him from feeling the burns on his arms and legs, sustained when he was dragging people out of the way.

                James woke up in the Hospital Wing to sunset light streaming into the room, lighting up Lily’s face as she sat beside his bed. It was a long-cherished dream of his, so of course James spoiled it by saying only, “you soaked Lord Voldemort.”

                Well, he thought he’d spoiled it. But when Lily giggled, and that turned into a laugh—he hadn’t heard her laugh out loud in so long—well, perhaps he hadn’t.

                Exams were an utter joke that year, because so many parents had yanked their children out of school within two days of the attack. James had to argue with his parents to let him stay. “My family is here!” he snapped. “And I’m not afraid of them.”

                But he was afraid of the way some students thought it was a complete joke, or that it wasn’t that bad because no one died. They quoted articles from the Daily Prophet that called it a prank; they quoted their parents who thought it was somewhat justified. “They shouldn’t have gone after the kids, but the others—I heard one of the shop owners brings their Muggle sister to visit! What if she talked? That can’t be allowed, can it?”

                Even some of the teachers were giving the attacks a positive spin. Professor Shilling actually gave James detention after a bitter class dispute. “The Death Eaters might have strong tactics, but they are trying to protect wizard kind!” she snarled.

                “They were going to kill Lily Evans!” James shouted back. “They almost killed a dozen more people. Fucking Voldemort set a house on fire with people inside!”

                It was the best detention he’d ever served, especially since part way through McGonagall came in, her nostrils flared in fury, and dragged James out. She gave him ginger biscuits, told him that Shilling was being sacked, and that he wasn’t to give up.

                “I didn’t know it was this bad,” James said hopelessly, munching on a cookie. “How are people listening to them? I thought it was just words, but it’s gotten so much worse.”

                “It’s been words for longer than you might think,” McGonagall said gently. “Voldemort has been around for over a decade, and the first children who heard it are becoming adults. And there are people who remember Grindelwald, and the arguments sound right.”

                “He isn’t going to win, is he Professor?” James asked. It was a childish question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

                Professor McGonagall shocked him by pulling him into a hug. “I don’t know, Potter,” she answered. “I think there are better people in power than him, and I think there’s still goodness in wizards. But we have to keep up the fight.”

                “I’m going to,” James determined. “I don’t want to be a Healer anymore, Professor. I want to be an Auror.”

                Professor McGonagall released him. “I would advise against that, Potter.”

                “I can learn to fight better—”

                “Of course. I don’t doubt your potential, James. But it might be wiser to…to stay away from government-organized fighting, if you want to make a difference.”

                “Why?”

                “Because they will be Voldemort’s first targets,” Professor McGonagall said quietly. “And I would be surprised, honestly, if there hasn’t been action there already.”

                “Then what do I do?!”

                “Finish your exams,” McGonagall answered. “Keep up with your friends, and hold them close. Don’t let ignorance and hatred go unchallenged this summer, whatever you can do. As for next year…I’d like you to consider becoming Head Boy.”

                “Me?” James asked, stunned. “But I’ve never been a prefect.”

                “That’s merely tradition, Potter. Mr. Lupin has expressed a wish not to be Head Boy, and he recommended you as a candidate.”

                That sounded a lot like Remus. “But I don’t know how to do that. And I won’t—I’m still going to be me.”

                “You’re going to be a leader,” McGonagall said firmly. “And you can do that better than the prefects. They’re good at playing their roles—they’re strong pillars. But they need someone to help them. Someone who sustained major burns saving total strangers, for example.”

                “Do you want me to do this, Professor?”

                “I do. But I’m not the only one. Mr. Lupin recommended you, but so did the future Head Girl.”

                James was puzzled.

                “Miss Evans was informed last night, and Professor Dumbledore and I asked her if she had a preference for her partner. She told me in no uncertain terms—” a flicker of a smile flew across McGonagall’s face—“that she didn’t want to serve with anyone but you.”

                Lily Evans had chosen him. James swallowed hard. Now it wasn’t just his favourite teacher, but the girl he still loved, as many times as he told himself to stop. He had to do this right.

                “I’ll do my best, Professor,” he promised sincerely.

                He wandered the corridors for nearly an hour, safe under his Cloak, trying to understand, trying to make a plan for the following year.

                When he got back to the Common Room at last, it was empty except for Lily, who was sitting in one of the big chairs near the fire. She was staring into the flames. James wanted to leave her in peace, but he tripped over a forgotten bag and fell, tangled in the Cloak.

                Lily sprang up. “James? Is that you?”

                She had never called him James.

                “Yeah, it’s me.” James willed his blush away as he disentangled himself from the Cloak.

                “Is that your Invisibility Cloak?” Lily asked, kneeling beside him.

                James thought about bluffing. But then he realized what she’d said.

                “Hold on, did you know?”

                “There’s no way you could have gotten around all of the Prefect’s traps,” Lily pointed out. “You had to be using something. A Cloak seemed the most obvious.”

                “Aren’t you clever, Evans?”

                “Could I see it?”

                James shook out the Cloak and handed it to her without a thought. He’d never shown the cloak to anyone except his brothers; it was a family heirloom. But Lily could see it. That was fine.

                Lily ran her fingers over it. “This is beautiful. How old is it?”

                “Not sure. My dad said it’s been in our family for generations, but even he’s not sure exactly.”

                “That’s really unusual, you know. Most of them lose their potency after a few years. Invisibility Charms aren’t very strong.” Lily kept playing with the folds.

                James gently—he didn’t want to scare her—took the cloak from her, and draped it around her shoulders. The edges of her long hair were invisible now, and so were her hands and shoulders. Lily looked down at herself in wonder.

                “I wish I had one of these,” she whispered.

                James bit his lip, wishing that he could give it to her. But there was no way she’d accept it. “Is it that horrible?”

                “Ever since Hogsmeade, it’s gotten worse. It’s like people aren’t afraid to say things anymore. They don’t feel like they are in the wrong.”

                “They are wrong,” James said firmly. “And they’re going to lose. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of that.”

                Lily smiled. “That’s why I picked you for Head Boy. I know things are going to be harder next year, and you take care of people really well.”

                “I want to look out for my family,” James answered. “And I want to make sure that everyone is safe. This school is for learning, not for hatred.”

                “I hope it stays that way,” was all Lily said in return. She passed him the Invisibility Cloak, and then went upstairs.

                Three days later summer holidays started. James and Sirius went home together, and his parents welcomed them back.

                “Are you boys getting involved in this?” James’ mother asked, showing a Daily Prophet article with pictures of them both in Hogsmeade.

                “Yes,” James said, unsurprised when his brother echoed it. “However we can.”

                That’s when James found out that his parents were involved in a quiet resistance too. They’d seen the tide turning long before that year, and they worked with other people to defend Muggleborns at work, at home, and to help with Muggle-Wizard relations.

                Sirius went right to work helping with that. James helped too, but something was nagging at him. Sure, they could all sit in a room and talk about strategy, and putting up defensive spells and alarms was a great idea. He met Arthur Weasley, a Junior Minister in the Muggle Relations department, and they spent two weeks working on procedures to detect the misuse of Muggle artifacts. But James couldn’t help remembering the battle in Hogsmeade, and how fighting like that had felt completely right.

                But with no real direction, James spent the summer helping his parents and writing to his other brothers. The Marauders all came to stay the last two weeks, right when they were starting to hear about people disappearing. Two Muggleborns, Hyacinth Rettle and Trudy Dench, went missing within days of each other. Rettle was one of Arthur Weasley’s bosses, and Dench was a comedian who’d made several jokes about how stupid the Death Eaters were, and how cowardly. “At least your noseless boss shows his face!” James’ parents and a few others started looking for evidence, for bodies, anything to show that there’d been a crime, but by the time September first came around, there were no signs of anyone. The Daily Prophet on September 1st actually said that both women were simply on sabbatical.

                “So they’ve gotten to the Prophet”, James’ father sighed. “I suppose we can try the Quibbler.”

                Going back to Hogwarts felt like a horrible dream. There were fewer students than James had ever seen; the train was less than a quarter full. Everyone was tense, and parents were saying far more emotional goodbyes.

                The worst part, though, had to be the parents who dropped their children off with no fear. Why should they be afraid for their children? They were dressed in full Death Eater garb.

                Dumbledore gave his usual speech at dinner that night to a near-silent Hall. When he finished, no one moved, not even as food appeared in front of them all.

                “I want to reiterate something,” Dumbledore said at last. “So long as I am Headmaster in this school, there will be no capitulating to Voldemort.”

                Several people flinched at the name.

                “This school will remain safe for everyone.” The Headmaster’s brilliant blue gaze swept over them all. “We have amplified our security, and there will be Aurors at the gates to do spot-checks. Anyone who disagrees with this position should be prepared for the consequences—immediate expulsion. We are all here because we have magic in us, and we want to cultivate that magic. This has nothing to do with blood, and everything to do with our gifts. That is all I can say, because there is no simpler way to say it. Now, try and eat your dinners. You’ve had a long train ride.”

                The room broke out into chatter, albeit subdued, and people started to eat. James found it hard to swallow the shepherd’s pie, and Remus had his head bowed. Lily still wasn’t eating properly, and James pushed the apples her way—they were her favourite.

                When the last of the plates were clear, Dumbledore stood up again. “I would like to announce the Head Boy and Head Girl this year. They will be James Potter, and Lily Evans, both of Gryffindor House. Stand up, please.”

                James got to his feet, and Lily got up too, though much more slowly. There was some clapping, but most people were silent.

                One person started snarling. “I’m not getting bossed around by a fucking Mudblood!” It was Trevor Smith, an idiotic sixth year Hufflepuff. James pulled out his wand, but Professor Sprout interrupted him.

                “Get out, Trevor. Go and get your things, and you’ll be on the train home. I will write to your parents so they know you’re coming.”

                “Better than being in this dump!” Smith shouted over his shoulder as he strode away. “Fucking Mudbloods and blood traitors, the lot of you are going to ruin wizardkind.”

                “If I ruin people like you, Smith, I’m very happy about that,” Lily called after him.

                That got a few laughs. James squeezed Lily’s hand. “Well done you,” he whispered.

                That was the last real night that they could be happy. The last time they could believe that the war might end with talking, and that stronger wills would prevail.

                The castle itself was never attacked, but Hogsmeade was attacked twice. The second one was just before the regular Christmas holiday weekend, and there were four deaths. This cancelled all the trips, which meant everyone had to stay in the castle and have no time at all to relax, to pretend the war wouldn’t affect them.

                That day Lily found James crying. He was just sitting on his broom, not really flying, just hovering a couple of feet off the ground. She didn’t say a word, she just hopped up (she could always jump so high) and sat next to him on the broom.

                “I hate this,” James whispered at last. “I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t want to find out about all of this. But I have to, because if I don’t things might get worse.”

                “That’s not up to you, you know.” Lily leaned her head on his shoulder. “I hate it too, and I don’t understand what’s so terrible about me.” She started to shake, and James saw that she was crying. “I’m a freak to my sister, and a Mudblood to these wizards. I’m never the right person.”

                “You’re the perfect Head Girl,” James answered. “You’re doing brilliantly with all of these people, even the ones who are cruel. You’re always so brave.” He swallowed hard. “I wish you didn’t have to be.”

                Lily didn’t say anything for a minute. “I’ve never been on a broom properly.”

                That made James smile. “Right, you’re scared of them.” Their first year flying class had been one of the most wonderful moments of his life, for Sirius’ idiotic hovering upside down, to Remus shooting straight up into the air, to Lily running screaming from a broom that was trying to attack her.

                “Do you know who did that?” Lily asked.

                “I asked Madam Hooch about it last year,” James answered. “She said it was just a rogue broom—sometimes their Flight Charms go a bit mental.”

                Lily actually laughed. “Well, yours is nice.”

                “Do you want to come flying?” James asked. “I promise, I’ll go slow, and nothing bad will happen.”

                Lily hesitated, but she nodded. James turned on the broom so he was facing the front, and he felt Lily wrap her arms around him. She was clinging to him tightly, and they weren’t in the air yet.

                “Don’t worry, Lily. Everything’s going to be fine.”

                James flew them around the grounds in slow loops, never going too high. It was peaceful to fly outside of Quidditch, just enjoying the view of Hogwarts. It made the problems feel a little bit farther away.

                As they were flying over Hagrid’s hut, Lily actually let go of James with one hand to wave down. James waved too, and Hagrid made a thumbs-up sign. James flushed. He’d complained to Hagrid more than once about how Lily would never notice him, but he’d stopped that a year ago. Did Hagrid still think he was…in love with Lily?

                Maybe he was. But he knew better now. It wasn’t going to happen, so he was going to keep his mouth shut and keep this girl happy.

                “James, can we go faster?”

                “Really, Lils? Can you handle that?” James looked over his shoulder, and saw Lily’s green eyes shining brighter than they had in months.

                “Yes, come on!”

                Grinning, James sped up; still not too fast, but faster now, and they started going higher.

                “Faster!” Lily called.

                James had an idea. “Let me know if we start going too fast, alright?”

                Lily squeezed him around the waist, and James sped up.

                Soon they were flying as fast as he would in a game of Quidditch, maybe even faster. The wind was completely messing up his hair, and his eyes were starting to water behind his glasses, but he didn’t stop. It was as fast as he could fly safely.

                He turned his head as they flew over the lake, and saw Lily Evans looking absolutely delighted. Her braids had come undone and her hair flew in the wind, and her eyes were wide open. When she saw him looking, she laughed. “Jay, it’s wonderful!”

                James laughed too, and they did several loops around the lake, swerving sharply to make Lily shriek and climbing high and falling because it was so much fun. Finally, James started to slow down.

                “Is there something wrong, James?” Lily asked.

                “No, it’s just…thank you for cheering me up.” James took a deep breath. “And I wanted to make sure you knew that I’m not trying to come on to you, I just want you to be happy because you’re amazing and you deserve to be happy always—”

                Lily slid away from him. For a wild minute, James thought she was going to jump into the almost-frozen over lake. But she was just turning, sitting sideways on the broom. Puzzled, James copied her.

                “Look down there,” Lily said, pointing.

                James looked down and huffed out a laugh. The Giant Squid was at the surface, its tentacles poking through holes in the ice.

                “I told you once that I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the Giant Squid, remember?”

                Yes, James remembered that day.

                “But that was before…well, everything. You changed, James. Or maybe you just stopped being a prat, and you were always like this. I don’t really know, it sounds like that from what Remus tells me.”

                “You were right,” James said, not sure where this was going. “I was awful. I had to stop.”

                “Did…” Lily trailed off. “Did your feelings for me change too, then?”

                James’ throat went dry. “Lily—”

                “Because,” Lily said hurriedly, “it seems like you’re treating me like a good friend, which is lovely, but knowing you better…it’s like I saw you for the first time, really saw you. And I…I do want to go out with you. It’s okay if you don’t want to, if things have changed, but I wanted you to know that.”

                James swallowed hard. “Lily, can I kiss you?”

                “Only if I get to kiss you first,” Lily said, and she kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. James held her waist with one hand, keeping her steady, and put the other on her back, wanting to pull her closer, to feel her fully, because he could hardly believe this was real. Was he dreaming?

                When Lily pulled away, her eyes were shiny. “Sorry, Squid!” she shouted. “I know you and I might have had something special, but I think I’m keeping Jay!”

                James’ laughter rang out across the lake, and he sped the broom to the shore, leaping off and pulling Lily into his arms for a proper kiss. Lily kissed back with such enthusiasm James lost his balance, and they both toppled into the snow.

                “YESSSSSS!”

                James craned his head back and groaned. “Oh, no.”

                Sirius, Remus and Peter were there, Sirius literally jumping up and down. “Fucking finally!”

                “How the hell did you three find out?”

                “Well you two were flying around the castle, and we saw you.” Remus explained. “So we started watching.”

                “You two will be a great couple,” Peter said fondly.

                Lily buried her face in James’ chest, and James laughed, playing with her hair. “You know what the gossip is like at Hogwarts, Lils. I’m glad it was them first.”

                “If I wasn’t the first to know I would have murdered you both,” Sirius said calmly. “Now come inside before you catch your deaths. You can’t snog in the Hospital Wing!”

                Quick as a flash Lily sat up, a snowball in her hand, and she threw it directly at Sirius. It caught him square in the mouth, and he stumbled back, sputtering.

                Lily jumped to her feet. “Come on, Jay!” she shouted. “We can take them.”

                They would argue about who won that snowball fight for years, but James never really cared. He’d won something amazing that day; the love of the girl he loved. Not that she was a prize, but for the first time James felt like he’d actually succeeded in changing himself.

                 Loving Lily, and her loving him, made the next few months more bearable. It got worse outside the castle walls, and more and more students were being pulled out, some because their families were going abroad, and others because their kids were of age, and there were other things for them to do. James watched in consternation as Severus Snape followed McNair and Goyle out. Everyone knew where they were going. Lily was quiet that day, and stayed cuddled in his arms as long as she could, even in class. None of the teachers said a word.

                But the war was really coming now, and the Ministry was starting to release Blood Purity rules—just to keep wizard kind safe, they said. Lily finally cried when she saw a Daily Prophet article announcing that Muggleborns would have to pass a special series of exams, beyond NEWTs, in order to be hired, just to make sure that they were truly loyal.

                “I can’t take those tests, James,” Lily sobbed. “I can’t…it’s not fair…I won’t do it.”

                Professor McGonagall pulled them both out of their first class and brought them up to see Dumbledore. Sirius, Remus, and Peter joined them at the gryphon, and James swallowed hard. What was happening? Were they about to be advised to leave Lily alone?

                I won’t do it.

                But it wasn’t only Dumbledore in there. There was a whole crowd of people of different ages. Some James had never seen before, but he recognized Alastor Moody, and he’d played Quidditch with Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Fabian waved to him, and James nodded back.

                “What’s going on?”

                Dumbledore’s normally cheerful expression was very grave indeed. “The five of you already know what’s been happening lately. Voldemort is gathering more followers every day, and the Ministry is beginning to listen. You’ve seen the new laws.”

                “Load of absolute filth,” Moody snarled. His eyes darted all over the room, like he was checking for Death Eaters.

                “All five of you have shown great initiative in working against Voldemort and his ilk. I am gathering a group of people who are ready to fight by all means necessary to protect wizard kind from Voldemort.”

                “I’m in,” Lily said immediately.

                “Miss Evans, you do need to think about it—”

                “I’ve been thinking about it for months, Professor. There’s nothing for me after school because my parents aren’t magic. And I don’t want to just go back to the Muggle world. I have the right to be here. I’m willing to fight for it. I know I’m not grand at duelling—”

                “Weren’t you the girl that dumped water on Voldemort?” Moody interrupted her.

                “That was sort of an accident,” Lily admitted. “I never thought it would land on him. But I’d happily do it on purpose. And I know lots of charms and potions, I could help that way.”

                “We’re going to need potions,” Gideon said. “We have families to protect, and Polyjuice might make things less risky.”

                “We’re in as well,” James said. He didn’t need to look at his brothers; he knew that he spoke for all of them. “We want this git pulled down.”

                Dumbledore smiled, but it was weary. “Do think about it, though. You are all very young, and this will be dangerous.”

                “It’s dangerous to do nothing, too,” James said. “That’s why we’re in this mess; too many people did nothing.”

                “Good lad.” That was a man James had never seen before. He stretched out a dark hand. “I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, I work with Alastor in the Auror department.”

                “James Potter. Pleasure. So…what do we do now?”

                “Are there any other students in your year that you think would be good for this type of effort?”

                James thought about it. “Frank Longbottom’s a good bloke, and he’s been very loud about how much he hates Voldemort. He’s going to be an Auror.”

                “So’s Alice,” Lily said. “And Marlene MacKinnon’s cousin went missing last week. She’s ready to burn the world down if it means she gets revenge.”

                “Meet with them, then,” Dumbledore instructed them. “See what they can do.”

                By the time NEWTs were over, the Order was finalized. Lily took a job at the Apothecary, and James started doing some charity work, investing money into different projects. It had to be obvious that they were doing something with their time. Lily moved in with the Marauders, the Prewett twins built a meeting place, and Alice and Frank got married.

                That made James think about rings, but he and Lily had only been going out for six months, that wasn’t near enough time to propose marriage. He was happy to have her in his bed, at his side when they fought together, flying at night. The only time they didn’t spend together were full moons, because Lily wasn’t an Animagus yet. “I’ll learn it,” she promised.

                The words in the paper grew uglier, and now people weren’t just going missing, they were being arrested for crimes against the wizarding society. The lucky ones ended up in Azkaban. The names of the unlucky ones were added to a growing list, because they deserved to be honoured by the Order.

                But then something happened that shook James to his core, that shook his family to the core.

                His parents fell ill.

                It was the Cough, and they were both older, and they were inseparable, so they got it together. James and Sirius took turns sitting in St. Mungo’s between missions, and Lily came with him one time. That was the night that one of the Healers told James that his parents weren’t going to get better, and that it would be kinder to let them live out their days at home.

                That night Lily had a long conversation with his parents, which James missed because he was called out to a fight in the lobby. It turned out to be nothing, and when he got back Lily took his hands. And then she knelt.

                “James Potter, we’ve got no idea whether we’re going to live or die, but I know I want to spend every single day with you until then. And your mum and dad…they have a deadline. Will you marry me?”

                The proposal made James cry, partly with joy and partly with pain.

                They had to throw a wedding together in less than a week, but Alice lent Lily her dress and Sirius organized a riotous stag party (which, yes, did end with him in stag form—it was a brilliant choice because stags couldn’t get hangovers). Lily’s parents drove up to London, and James let Lily cry into his shoulder because Petunia and her ridiculous husband weren’t with them.

                And that day, when James walked down with his frail parents, and Lily followed with hers, and Sirius managed not to lose the simple golden bands studded with emeralds, and Lily was so beautiful in her white dress and they smiled in their pictures because something as simple as a wedding could still happen.

                They did go away to the tropics for a few days, just long enough for James to get a stupidly dark tan and Lily to get terrifically sunburnt. It was relaxing to not have to carry their wands, and swim and have sex when they wanted and cuddle when they wanted.

                When they got back, they stayed with James’ parents, along with the Marauders. James and Lily were still on ‘honeymoon’ leave, but Remus and Peter quietly covered Sirius’ shifts. The three were all there together when James’ parents died.

                Now James was an eighteen year old orphan with a wife in the middle of a war. It hurt, of course it did. But the war did distract him from his heartache, and Lily was wonderful.

                The next year things just kept getting worse. It was obvious that Voldemort was gaining power more quickly than the Order gained supporters. There were too many of them in government, too many of them who were influencers, too many with power. Fighting the Death Eaters in their stupid cloaks and hats was easy, but when the fight ended and both sides retreated, the Death Eaters could take them off and go back to their jobs. If anyone was the wiser, they were too scared to say anything.

                It was easy to be discouraged, easy to sit and grieve the loss of normalcy. And when Order members began to die—when the fight moved beyond curses to Unforgiveables—James wondered very briefly if there was any point to trying. No matter what they did, they kept losing. Why not just give up?

                He never voiced that worry, because the day he was going to bring it up, Lily ran into their room and burst into tears.

                “I’m pregnant.”

                At first James thought she was joking. She had to be; they so rarely made love anymore it was easy to be careful. For Merlin’s sake, they used protection every single time. Every time.

                But Lily was indeed pregnant; Madam Pomfrey confirmed it. Lily curled trembling in James’ arms, her stomach still flat that chilly November day. Madam Pomfrey looked between them, and gently offered another option.

                “You could end this pregnancy, Lily. If you don’t want a child. I know that you’re involved in the war. You can think about it.”

                They stayed up all night talking, and in the morning they went to an Order meeting. Lily announced her pregnancy, and Alice burst into tears and announced hers. James and Frank shared a look of genuine understanding.

                Lily and Alice didn’t go out to fight anymore, but they were always at Headquarters, so they were still involved. James kept fighting, realizing that he had a little life to fight for now, one that would be helpless. That fight took him away from Lily far too often, and he nearly missed his child’s birth because of it. But when little Harry James lay in his arms, James knew it was worth it. He would do anything for his son.

                They had one beautiful, quiet month. He and Lily went away with Frank and Alice and little Neville, and they didn’t sleep much and spent a lot of time walking the floors at night and watched the little boys slowly learn the world. The Marauders came to stay for the last week, and Sirius cooed over both of them and Remus helped take care of Lily and Alice and Peter quietly ran errands.

                They were all there the day Dumbledore showed up, his face grave and sad, and told them about the prophecy.

                James would have screamed, but he knew he would wake the boys. It’s not fair, he wanted to shout. It’s not fucking fair that us fighting is going to put our sons in danger.

                Hearing that Neville was safe was a relief as much as hearing that Harry was chosen by Voldemort hurt. Alice sobbed, but Lily just stayed quiet. The only thing she asked Dumbledore was whether they could be spared from the fight.

                It wasn’t the best timing, because Fabian and Gideon had just died, and Voldemort’s attacks had increased, but Dumbledore nodded.

                Lily didn’t speak again the rest of the day. She took care of Harry, and held him close to her the entire time, but she didn’t say a word.

                James knew her well enough by now to make the others leave her be, and to bring her to bed when it got dark, with Sirius and Remus promising to look after Harry that night. He laid her down on the bed, and he laid down next to her and waited.

                It didn’t take long for the sobbing screams to break from her, for Lily to writhe desperately and call out desperate prayers. James couldn’t hold her when she got like this, she always felt so guilty when she hurt him. All he could do was hold her hand, ignore the crunch of bones, and wait.

                Eventually Lily exhausted herself and curled into him, and they talked. Going into hiding abroad was an option, but it would be so dangerous. Their evacuation procedures were risky as it was, and if Voldemort got even a hint that Harry was with them…especially now that he thought Harry would be the end of him…no loyalty could ever be enough.

                Except family. So the next morning James and Lily went downstairs and they asked Sirius to be their Secret Keeper. It was a very different conversation from when they asked him to be godfather, because Sirius didn’t cry then. Now Sirius wept and held Harry tightly, and promised.

                So they went into hiding in Godric’s Hollow. Lily struck up quiet friendships with Muggles in the town, reasoning (fairly) that Voldemort would never think to ask them. But James just…couldn’t. Lily could give a false name and coo over other babies, but James was James. He was fine being with Lily and Harry, and being ‘Barney Evans’ wasn’t his cup of tea. He spent more time with Bathilda Bagshot or in the house, dealing with Order business from afar. It was driving him mad, reading reports of fights instead of being in them, but one look at his tiny son reminded him why. And he still had his Invisibility Cloak, so he could still go and visit his brothers. He never missed a full moon. Lily went on trips too, and James spent that time with Harry on the floor, watching his son play and turning into a stag to make Harry laugh, doing his best to make sure Harry didn’t feel any of the fear, any of the pain in the house. Sometimes he dreamed of the end of the war, when they could give Harry brothers and sisters. It was too dangerous now, but James was willing to have as many children as Lily wanted. He’d even started to look into taking a potion that would allow him to bear children. But that would have to wait for Voldemort to be gone. For now, it was bearable.

                That was until Dumbledore asked to borrow the Cloak. It was a wrench to give it up, because at the same time it became too dangerous to even go outside. ‘Amy Evans’ moved away, and Lily returned to the cottage for good. Their only contact with the outside world was with Bathilda Bagshot (who hated Voldemort with an incredible passion) or when their brothers visited or sent letters, each one more depressing than the last.

                Then one day Sirius showed up with his arms covered in bandages, Peter by his side.

                “I can’t be your Secret Keeper anymore,” Sirius said hoarsely.

                Apparently Voldemort himself had mounted an attack on their new headquarters (Marlene MacKinnon’s old house, empty after her murder). He’d cornered Sirius, demanding to know where James and Lily were. Only Peter’s quick actions had saved him from being killed.

                “He knows how close we are, James,” Sirius said. His face twisted with grief. “Regulus must have told him before—before he was killed. And he knows how hard I’d fight for all three of you. But Peter hasn’t been fighting much lately, and he can go and hide with his Mum.”

                James looked between his friends helplessly. Lily had Harry in her arms, her hair falling around the baby like a curtain.

                “Peter, are you sure? This will put you in a lot of danger.”

                Peter just nodded. “You’re my family. I’ll protect you.”

                So the switch was done, and it was late October now, and they decorated for Halloween inside the house. Harry could stand on his own now and walk a little bit, and Voldemort had suddenly gone quiet. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for a little while.

                And then Halloween night when it was Lily’s turn to put Harry to bed, James stopped making coloured smoke appear and laid down on the couch, putting his wand down.

                When the door burst open a second later, James didn’t even grab his wand. It took a few seconds to understand what it meant—that Peter had betrayed them, because he was in hiding and couldn’t have been found, Dumbledore had promised.

                And James was responsible.

                Screaming for Lily to run, he dashed into the hall. He could slow Voldemort down if he transformed; a surprise stag appearance was bound to buy her a few seconds.

                But James, who’d learnt the form for his family, who’d fought all this time for his family, couldn’t transform quickly enough. Emotions could tether you to your human form, and the grief of the betrayal froze him.

                In the two seconds before he died, James understood that. And he understood that there wasn’t time to grab his wand. All he could do was buy his wife and son a few seconds.

                He stood firm, facing a laughing Voldemort…

                And then there was a green flash, and he was gone.

It's easy to make big plans and ask big questions, but a lot harder to follow them through.  Find out what happens to Harry Potter-Evans-Verres, Hermione, Draco, and everyone else once they grow into their roles as leaders, leave the shelter of Hogwarts, and venture out into a wider world of intrigue, politics, and war.  Not official.

Significant Digits by Alexander D is an unofficial continuation of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Eliezer Yudkowsky. Despite being better crafted (from the wielding and richness of language standpoint, at least in the first half) it’s not as fun or funny as HPMoR, however, those rare moments when humor comes back, or when the author takes pokes at Rowling’s Harry Potter, make it feel exactly like the previous fic). Although the author abandoned heavy references made by Yudkowky to the heuristics and biases, it still feels like a rational fic and maintains ratfic’s qualities. One thing that I miss severely is a didactic tone of HPMoR - in Significant Digits, it comes back only for brief moments. I understand that it would be difficult to incorporate that when dealing with older and more experienced characters but still…

The thing I most respect about this fic is the amount of effort that clearly went into writing it, as well as the level of skill represented by the author, who, without a doubt, did a tremendous amount of research and is clearly quite an erudite. As one commenter said:

It saddens me a little that there is not a long discussion below this chapter. You are a good writter. I guess you are just too deep into the rabbit whole.

I admit that probably 95% of references, easter eggs and clues went over my head.

We spend most of the time inside Hermione’s head as if the author was afraid to write extensively from a perspective of Harry or Draco but when he does, he nails it. Alexander D did a really good job of writing more experienced and matured versions of the trio. Their dialogues also work well and one of them is my favorite fragment of the fic - I like it so much that I posted it below.

Fic is rich when it comes to fight scenes - there are a lot of fight scenes. The author deserves a great amount of praise for handling them so well - descriptions are really good and somehow he managed to not make them tedious or repetitious. If you wondered what would look like descriptions of duels featured in Harry Potter movies (they are quite different from those in the books) then wonder no more. Also, for the benefit of those with low tolerance level for violent scenes, I should note that continuation is a lot more gore-y than HPMoR.

Another aspect that deserves praise are awesome moments and lines of dialogues or internal monologues that stayed with me long after I took time off from reading. And then there are the Moments: those epic and deeply satisfying moments that the reader is often waiting for and when they arrive and unfold, there is this feeling of appropriateness and fulfillment; an exhilaration and “this is the way it should be” sensation. There were such moments in Rowling’s HP, in Yudkowsky’s HPMoR and they can be found in Significant Digits.

Now about the main plot and ending: I think that the idea for the main antagonist was pretty great, their motivations were solid. I think what failed was execution but I don’t have a good idea how intrigue should be lead or concluded instead. Don’t get me wrong - it’s still really good, I enjoyed it, don’t regret reading SD and its ending is quite unique and very risky, and despite that, it works! However, I feel that there was a greater potential that could be realized. Events leading to the main conclusion felt a bit clunky. On the other hand, the fic has a ”reread value” - with a benefit of hindsight readers can discover new things hidden by the author and spot hints that they missed during their first reading.

Overall, in my opinion, Significant Digits is a worthy successor of Yudkowsky’s fic. If you liked HPMoR give it a shot.

My favorite chapters:

Chapter Two: Buffering Conflicts and Chapter Nine: Boxes - for Harry’s perspective

Chapter Sixteen: Protagonists - for bringing back the spirit of J.K. Rowling’s HP

Chapter Thirty-Three: Walpurgisnacht - for a great ending of an arc and that dialogue

Chapter Fifty: Ultimate - for that final confrontation

PS. Important note: my comprehension of English let me understand HPMoR on my reread without much problem, however, Significant Digits has much richer language - it is possible that I missed some positive qualities because of this.

And now, my favorite fragment:

Wearily, Harry mounted the stairs to the workroom of the Headmistress.  In his pocket were four phials of blood from Vincent Crabbe, obtained after two hours of intimidation and veiled threats.  Moody had helped, along with two aurors Moody had trained himself -- an older one named Hedley Kwannon, and one barely out of training named Nymphadora Tonks.  The glass phials, filled with the blood of Hermione’s enemy, clicked against each other as Harry climbed the stairs. He pushed open the door.  It was silent inside.  Reddish light from the dawn illuminated the alchemical diagram on the floor: nested and interlaced circles and pentagons surrounding a central pentacle.  He’d been here once before, when he first demonstrated partial Transfiguration -- so long ago! -- and the room didn’t look to have been used since that visit. “Mad-Eye’s not here yet.  We have to wait,” said Draco’s voice from his left.  Harry started, and stepped forward to see that the boy was sitting at the base of the circular wall, head slumped forward. “How are you, Draco?” asked Harry, quietly. “This was your fault,” Draco replied. “I know.” “No, you don’t, you stupid piece of arrogant filth,” said the Slytherin boy, but there was no anger in his voice.  It was disconcertingly flat, with nothing but weariness and sorrow -- the sorrow of someone who had been required to endure too much, too soon.  “You think that you just made a mistake.  You’d do the same thing all over again, but you’d just be sure to include one more trap.  One more level of manipulation or cleverness.  You don’t see that the entire thing is… impossible.  It’s just impossible, and you won’t see that, and Hermione just keeps listening to you, and now she’s paid for your stupidity.” “I know.” “And even worse, this is just another reminder of why I was stupid to ever trust you -- to ever get involved in this asinine little play.  Your goals are… mad.  Insane.  But you don’t recognize that, since you don’t recognize any limits to… to… to anything.” It was more than that, of course.  It was even more than the terrible suffering and temporary absence of Hermione, as badly as that, too, had hurt the other boy.  There was something more. You’re worried that I can’t deliver on my promises… that you’ve placed hope in false prophecies and a false prophet.  You’re wondering if I am just a freak prodigy of Muggle science who looked really impressive in schoolyard antics, since he had a whole other world of tricks to steal, and who got lucky once… but who might just not be able to cut it in the real world. Draco looked up at him, and the boy looked unspeakably sad -- like he’d lost something precious. You’re worried I’ll never be able to bring your father back, after all. “Draco, there is--” “Shut up,” interrupted Draco, his voice hardening.  “Shut up and let’s just wait without talking.  You’re always talking, but it didn’t help her, did it?  Her phoenix burned and she burned. And now she’s dead, again, just like she was afraid would happen.” Draco’s eyes were red, but dry.  “She told me that… those months when she was trying to get her Patronus.  To meet your expectations.  She told me that she was terrified of dying again and that she thought that was probably the reason she couldn’t do it.  ‘I wake up screaming sometimes, Draco,’ she said.” “Stop,” said Harry, squeezing his eyes shut. Draco sounded more like he was scolding himself than Harry.  His words were black and bitter.  “And now she’s all burned up and dead again, and it’s your fault again.  Because you don’t understand what is possible, and you talk and you push -- oh, Merlin, it always sounds so insane when you first start talking, but by the end of the conversation it’s the rest of the world that seems insane, and how could I ever think that made sense?  How could anyone be that damned arrogant?” Harry turned away, blindly.  His eyes burned with hot tears.  For a moment, despite all of his resolutions, he almost called on his dark side: to cool him and calm him and solve this problem.  The cold emptiness of Voldemort’s thought patterns would have been preferable to this.  Null was better than negative. But he didn’t, because one did not abandon carefully-considered decisions during the exact sort of situation for which you had prepared them.  All he could do, instead, was sink to the stone, slick with dust under his fingers, and cry. After a time, his shoulders stopped heaving, and his breathing slowed from great shuddering gasps into quiet evenness.  Draco had said nothing, and hadn’t moved.  When Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, he saw through a smear of tears that the other boy was just staring at him, dully, with red-rimmed eyes. “I…” began Harry, but he found that he didn’t have any words.  He fell silent again. Eventually, he stood up and drew his wand.  “Scourgify,” he cast, his voice heavy.  The spell cleared away the dust.  Putting away his wand, Harry opened his pouch and reached in.  “Cauldron,” he said to it, and felt the metal lip of a small cauldron leap into his hand.  He pulled it free of the pouch, which distended to permit its passage, and set it in the center of the diagram. Harry sat down next to it, and took the phials of blood out of his pocket.  He set them down next to the cauldron. Draco pushed himself to his feet, and walked over.  Digging into the pocket of his robes -- still the same burned ones, had he not had a chance to change?  no, of course... he left them on for effect -- he pulled out a small bag of soft bicorn skin and dropped it down next to the other objects.  The flesh of a servant, willingly given by Odette Charlevoix. Moody would be here soon, with a piece of bone from Hermione’s father.  He had insisted on doing this part himself, saying that he didn’t trust anyone else to invisibly infiltrate Happy Smiles Family Dentistry, stun one of the owners, extract a chip of bone while the man was unconscious, and fix any memories afterwards. It was a thankless task, and Harry thought that some part of Moody’s insistence was probably repentance.  Moody blamed himself for the attack, almost as much as he blamed Harry.  “We weren’t paranoid enough,” he had said, bitterly.  It was as heavy an indictment as he could deliver. They waited in silence. Finally, Harry spoke again.  “I tried. I tried as hard as I could.  I thought through everything and planned it out and assembled every bit of information… I counted forty-three known threats and planned for eight kinds of unknowns.  We had just… layers of security and plans.”  Draco knew most of them, of course.  He’d helped, along with Moody and Hermione and Bones. There were fat folders, stuffed with parchments -- or had been, anyway, before the fire ate the hidden boltholes that had been serving as safes.  Dossiers on people and information on countries:  CHINA.  Overview:  Continued worries about European and British dominance in magic, may seek to strike before new regime rises.  Often isolates self and seeks to extend power over Ten Thousand, but pragmatic leadership points to a willingness to shift tactics, if seems advantageous. Traditional value for immortality, connected to long specialization in potioneering.  Informal and formal power structures largely mirror each other; little vulnerability to factionalization but suggests opportunity to shift key functionaries and alter trajectory of entire country.  And so on. Plans within plans, contingency upon contingency: living and adaptable Matryoshka dolls whirling in a furious dance.  A location that couldn’t be stormed by force, allies watching other allies, security measures and magical wards that could cut off the life of an attacker in moments.  And none of it had done any good when the mind of a powerful wizard had broken.  He had died, but so had others.  So had Hermione. “It’s not your fault that you can’t do the impossible.  It’s only your fault that you try the impossible, and other people pay for it,” replied Draco.  He stared down at Harry.  “You can’t plan for everything.  The world is dark and people are vicious.  Even the good ones are vicious, and the bad ones are worse, and the crazy ones do things you couldn’t possibly predict. You can’t control the universe, Harry Potter-Evans-Verres, you miserable, arrogant little scrub.” Harry was silent once more, and looked away, unable to meet Draco’s gaze.  He hugged his knees.  Draco turned away, walking heavily towards the door. There’s too much evil and too much madness in the world, Moody had said.  Too much damn randomness. You can’t control the universe. “I don’t accept that,” he whispered, as much for himself as for Draco. “What?” demanded Draco, turning back around, his voice incredulous -- angry now, where he hadn’t been before. “I don’t accept that,” Harry repeated, more loudly.  He looked up.  “I do not accept that.” “You can’t--” Harry lurched to his feet, swaying slightly, his kneecaps popping from the sudden shift.  There was iron in his voice, now.  It wasn’t cold iron; it wasn’t the chill metal of his dark side, icy with hateful clarity.  It was iron at a white heat.  He glowed with it. “No,” Harry said, his voice as certain as a hammerblow. “No,” he repeated. “No,” he said again. “I do not accept that.  I do not accept death.  I do not accept decline.  I do not accept madness.  I do not accept randomness.  They are all part of the universe, and they are all important… but I do not -- mankind does not -- have to accept them,” said Harry.  “If you want out of this, then say so.  If you want to lead a different life, then you know I won’t begrudge you that.  I will make that happen, and that choice I once gave you will always be yours: you may choose another path and you will not hear a word of regret from me.  Your preferences are sacred. So if you think this can’t be done… go.”  Harry’s face was grim.  “But I’m not going.” Harry walked towards Draco until he was inches away from the other boy.  Iron was bright in his words. “Right now, there is a little girl somewhere in the world.  She’s a small thing for her age, with big eyes.  She loves her big brother.  She wants to be just like her mother when she grows up.  But tonight, there will be an accident.  A rotten tree will collapse as the little girl climbs it, and she’ll tumble to the ground, and she’ll land badly.  And she’ll die.  And then her big eyes will be gone, and her brother will never see her again, and she’ll never grow up to be like her mother.  Everything she ever was or will be: gone and dead and buried. “Her brother will deal with his grief, in time, and may even find solace and strength in stories about how death is necessary.  Her mother will cry and hurt, but in time it will hurt less, and she’ll focus more on her son, and eventually the loss will fade until it’s just a nagging ache in her heart -- that never quite leaves.  And the world will go on, because it’s happened every day in every way, and we have learned how to manage the loss. “But it doesn’t have to be that way.  And I don’t just mean saving that little girl, or Hermione, or even your father, Draco, but every little girl and friend and father.  People die every day and they always have but I do not accept it.” But something of Harry’s heat had communicated itself with his words, and Draco’s eyes were lit as bright as the red glow of Fiendfyre.  He seized the front of Harry’s robes, twisting his fists in them, and shoved as hard as he could.  Harry stumbled backwards, foot skidding, and only barely kept his balance. “Do you think I want them to die, you sanctimonious idiot?  Are you even listening to me?  I’m saying that it doesn’t matter how much you want them to live, because the world is too complicated!  You’re denying the data!  You want to do things that no one has ever done, and do them all at once which no one has even dreamed of doing.  Not Dumbledore, not Salazar Slytherin, not the Peverell brothers, not even Merlin the bloody First Enchanter himself!  The greatest wizards in the history of the world only barely attempted some tiny fraction of your insane fever dream!  You want to rule the world and end death, good and fine, and you want to end poverty and sickness and make everyone equal and put goblins and other trash up on a pedestal and all that other fluffy nonsense, fine!”  Draco was shouting, now.  “But it is impossible!  It is just impossible!  To do any one of them was beyond anyone’s power, even those who tried, much less all of it at once!  And by trying to do it, you’re going to burn down this world and everyone in it, and it is just beyond arrogant and stupid to look at the world and declare that you are going to change it so much and so fast, and we are all suffering because of that!” Harry roared back at Draco, his voice larger than himself, as though it were echoing the cries of others, of legions, “I don’t give a damn if it is impossible!  I don’t give a damn if no one has ever done it or tried it or dreamed it in the history of the world!  ‘Impossible’ is a little word and a petty one -- it’s the word of small minds and small imaginations, and I reject it.” Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry continued over him, shouting now, white iron in his words and eyes and heart, a white glow suffusing him as a glow from his wand waxed brighter and brighter. “We are standing on the brink -- at the moment of crux between peril and paradise, Draco!  We are caught at the edges of two singularities, held equipoise at their event horizons, and it is terrifying, but when they offer you the Ring you don’t reject it with the word ‘impossible!’“ Draco shouted back, lunging forward to stab a finger into Harry’s chest: accusatory.  “Not everything is possible in this world!” And Harry replied, quietly, caught with a sudden stillness as clear as the sweet ring of a tranquil bell, “Draco. There are more worlds than this one.  We’ll find one where we can save everybody."  His voice caught with emotion.  "Impossible just means you haven’t figured out how to cheat.”

Arabella’s first memory is of a field. The grass is dry and her father is pointing his wand at her. He speaks in a heavy Russian accent but his words are latin, a spell she does not yet know is a spell. She tells herself his eyes are kind, but they are only determined. He wants to know if this daughter of his will be strong enough to stand with the Dark Lord when the time comes. Seamlessly the three year old in floral print dress waves away the spell he’s flung at her. His cheers fill the space and the trees seem to rejoice in his untamed joy. Arabella is like her great grandmother. Not bound by wands or any laws the English wizards seem bound by. He’d been afraid that she would take after her mother. That she’d have more proper English in her than brutal Russian. The moment she proved was powerful was the moment he decided he could love this daughter of his.

From then on Arabella’s life was strictly training. Learning to fight, to deflect, to win. While her father loved her, the love was always hanging by a thread. It was love with an asterisk. *win this fight and you’ll always have my love little one. When she lost the consequences were heavy and scarring despite these being fake fights, just training, nothing more serious than practice. She learned to take her punishments silently. Screaming only made it worse anyway. And eventually she stopped losing altogether.

Her reward came in the form of a stallion she named Puppy. The name was a dig at her father for not getting her a dog, but he laughed about this one, the occasional bite from her showed him that he was a fighter. Arabella only found some genuine sense of what happiness was when she was riding. When she could close her eyes and feel free. It was like waking up from and nightmare and sucking in your real first breath of fresh air.

When school started she was sent to Hogwarts much to her dismay. The school was all whimsey and bullshit in her opinion. And she was only sent there because of Harry fucking Potter. Because if anything were to happen with the Dark Lord, that little boy would be at the very center of it. So she went without complaint because to complain was to be weak.

Hogwarts was very different to the cold manor she grew up in. It was bright, children were happy and laughed and played. Even the other Slytherins seemed to have more joy than her. No one seemed to understand this cold and focused creature they called a classmate. By her third year she started to thaw. But her fourth year turned her back to ice. The Dark Lord was truly back. It was louder than a whisper now. Home was a battle field. School was no longer an escape. Everything was already a war.

Her parents offered her up shamelessly but Voldemort, on top of being a purist, was also unsurprisingly a shade sexist and didn’t trust a girl to do much more than provide useful gossip. It didn’t matter that she’d taken his stupid mark or that she was more powerful than most of the wizards and witches in his employ, no he trusted things to Draco Malfoy who in her eyes looked like a withering flower. Sometimes she thinks about how different things would have been if she’d offered him a hand, but her pride stood in the way.

Eventually the inevitable war came. But by then Arabella didn’t know what she was truly fighting for. If the Dark Lord won then she would be a weapon for the rest of her life. She would never have her parents love, not really. And she would never be whoever the hell she was. If he lost…if he lost she would be free. So she turned to the side of the people she’d been raised to hate. It was the only way she would ever be able to let go of the chains from her childhood.

When all was said and done her parents died never knowing she was a traitor. She did her final proper year in a fixed Hogwarts. And she sold the estate to buy her own. Now she has three horses, Dandelion, Violet, and Dragonsnap. She began to fill her empty spaces with music, even venturing into the city to perform when she got good enough at guitar, widening her audience from the horses and occasional bunnies that stopped to listen. Looking in she seemed like some kind of Disney princess, but the truth was that he was still haunted. Still trying not to be a shell where a weapon once stood.