Harry had been spending much of his free time at a table in the corner of the section of the library devoted to Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had made it his goal to read as many of the tomes as he could before…before whatever was going to happen happened. Just reading about the theory seemed nearly as useless as not reading at all, though, so Harry had been spending any free time not in the library (and not with his friends) in the Room of Requirement, practicing the spells he was learning. As a result, he was working very hard, probably harder than he ever had before in school. ‘Not that that would take too much effort,’ he thought wryly.

He was in the library now, reading from the latest selection from the well-stocked shelves. Harry paused to rub at his eyes. He removed his spectacles and placed them on the table in front of him. He couldn’t suppress the yawn that escaped him, and he took a moment to stretch convulsively. Harry ran his hands over his face again as he lowered his arms. He was more tired than he would have expected for the hour. Perhaps he could knock off early tonight?

No. He would never be able to defeat Voldemort if he quit just because he felt a little tired. And as for his tired, itchy eyes, well, he had probably just been reading too long. Maybe it was time to go practice some more. It was dusty in here…

---

Harry was miserable. Not Dursleys’-house miserable, and not middle-of-Snape’s-class miserable, but decidedly uncomfortable and out of sorts none-the-less. He had decided that it was the library dust that was getting to him, so he had checked out a couple of books and spent the rest of the evening and the following day in the Room of Requirement.

Apparently, all that exertion had caught up with him. He was more fatigued than ever and he had developed a slightly runny nose. That seemed a little odd, given that he had not been in the library for a while, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“Harry, are you all right?” Ginny asked as he sniffed again. Leaning over a parchment to write an essay was not the optimal position for a runny nose at all.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look so good,” Ron commented as he looked up from his own scroll.

“You’ve been working awfully hard, Harry. You’re not overdoing are you?” Harry looked at his brunette friend in astonishment.

“Hermione, are you all right? Warning me not to work too hard?”

Hermione looked down her nose at him. “I think you ought to see Madame Pomfrey. Remember what she told me. A little Pepper-Up early on can eliminate a lot of trouble later.”

Harry nodded. “Actually,” he said, “I might just go up and see her. No use getting behind on my work.” Hermione smiled at him.

“I’ll walk with you,” Neville volunteered. “I’ve finished my essay anyway.”

Harry grinned at the youth and pushed back his chair. “I’ll go now, then, if you guys don’t mind watching my things?”

“We don’t mind,” Ron assured him. “Go ahead.”

Harry nodded and turned toward the portrait hole. He and Neville walked to the infirmary, chatting pleasantly about class assignments and the performance of various Quidditch teams. It was quiet in the large, well-lit room when they entered, and the two young men stood for several minutes before Madame Pomfrey emerged from one of the store-rooms in the back.

“I thought I heard something,” the matron said as she strode forward. “Well, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Nothing for me, Madame. I just came up with Harry,” Neville said smiling.

“Mr. Potter?” an expression of concern creased Poppy’s face. “Come sit down on one of the beds. What seems to be the problem?”

“I’ve just been a little tired, lately, Madame Pomfrey. And I’ve got a bit of a runny nose.”

The nurse nodded as she ran her wand over him. “Well, your temperature isn’t particularly elevated. How is your appetite?”

“A little smaller than usual.”

“And you’ve been sleeping?”

“As well as ever,” Harry said.

“Nightmares?” Pomfrey’s eyes flicked up to meet his.

“No.”

“Have you ever suffered from allergies, Mr. Potter?”

Harry blinked. “No, I don’t think so. Not that I can remember.”

“You don’t seem to have any particular illness. I can only conclude that you are just a little run-down.”

“You have been studying a lot lately,” contributed Neville who had drifted over to join them.”

“That’s probably it, then,” Madame Pomfrey said, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’ll give you a dose of Pepper-Up, but you need to make sure that you get plenty of sleep at night and that you don’t deprive yourself at meals. Make sure you get lots of fruits and vegetables and not too much dessert.” She gave him a very stern look.

“Yes, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said dutifully.

The matron nodded and bustled off to a supply cabinet. She retrieved a large bottle of the potion as well as a cup and poured him a single dose with a precise efficiency and economy of motion that showed that she had repeated this same set of actions thousands of times in her history as school nurse.

“If you aren’t feeling better in a week, or if you feel any worse, come and see me immediately,” she instructed Harry as she handed him the cup. “Now just drink all that down and then you can go.”

Harry did as he was told, wrinkling his nose at the decided odd feel of the steam pouring out his ears. “Thank you,” he said as he slid off the bed.

“You’re welcome, dear,” Pomfrey permitted him a small but fond smile before she bustled off. “Mind you come and see me if you have any problems!” she called again as he and Neville left. “You too, Mr. Longbottom.” They assured her that they would and slipped out of the infirmary and back into the corridor.

“Although I really do feel better already,” Harry said to Neville as they began the trek back to Gryffindor.

“Well, it is Pepper-Up.”

“True.”

---

Harry was supposed to be resting. Which meant that although he had been permitted to make a serious dent in the homework he had for the weekend after they had gotten out of classes, he had not been allowed to slip off to the library (or, as Ron put it, sounding uncannily like his mother, to ‘Merlin knows where’) to do any extracurricular activities.

Neville, it had become apparent, had mentioned to everyone else exactly what Madame Pomfrey’s prescription had been. He was allowed to relax. He could play games with his friends. But they would only let him complete the homework that was absolutely necessary. It was annoying, but at the same time it was very comforting to know that his friends cared that much. Even Ginny, who was studying more and more as her OWLs grew ever closer, had declared that she was taking the weekend off, tacitly daring anyone to say anything about it. No one had, though Harry suspected that that might have been because Hermione had stomped on Ron’s foot and then kissed him to make up for it.

Harry couldn’t help snickering a little as he recalled the scene. He had been a little worried when his two friends had first begun going out that they wouldn’t need him anymore. It had rapidly become apparent to Harry that that wasn’t the case. They were still very much a trio, although their circle of immediate friends had expanded a bit. Harry didn’t really begrudge Hermione and Ron time together. As often as not he was busy anyway, studying. They were happy together, and he was happy for them, and he was even happier that they weren’t always asking him where he was going.

He knew that sooner or later he would have to, but Harry still didn’t feel like talking about the prophecy. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable subject, and it would only bring up more thoughts about Sirius. The passing thought of his father’s friend made Harry think of Remus. It had been some time since he had written to the last Marauder, he realized guiltily. Well, there was no reason why he couldn’t write to him now, right? With a smile, Harry sat up from the bed he had been sprawled on and moved to the desk. It took only a moment to get out parchment, quill, and ink and another moment to gather his thoughts, and then he was relating everything that had happened lately to Remus.

He finished significantly later. Attributing his fatigue to the late hour, Harry put his quill, ink, and extra parchment away. He sealed the letter and set it aside to go up to the Owlery in the morning, and then he crawled into bed.

---

“Harry James Potter!” the voice was a trifle shrill and entirely unexpected. Harry pulled up suddenly and looked down at the pitch below. “What on Earth do you think you are doing?” Hermione stood, arms akimbo, feet planted, glaring up at him with Ron standing just behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Draco had pulled up next to him and was also looking downward. “What do they want?” he asked curiously.

“Get down here this instant, Harry James!” Hermione shouted.

“Is she using a sonorous charm?” Draco murmured.

“No,” Harry replied as he began to descend.

Draco hung back for a second or two, but he swiftly decided to follow Potter down. Whatever this was, it would probably be beneficial to be aware of it. He landed a small distance from the Golden Trio and walked silently closer.

“Hey, guys. What are you doing here?” Potter was asking.

“I saw you were gone this morning, mate. We reckoned this was where you’d be.”

“Harry, you are supposed to be resting!” Hermione said, gesturing expansively. “Not doing reckless stunts on your broomstick!”

“I was not doing reckless stunts!” Harry defended himself. “We were just playing tag!”

“But that’s not resting!”

“Hermione! I feel just fine!” His friend looked mulish and disbelieving.

“Come on,” Harry’s voice turned coaxing. “It’s fun. You said yourself that it’s important to have fun.” She looked unconvinced. “I haven’t had any problems since I saw Madame Pomfrey!”

Draco frowned. What were they talking about? Potter didn’t appear to be ill, Draco looked him over carefully, but his friends were acting like he was. Potter was, however, rapidly becoming frustrated, Draco saw.

“So you want to wear yourself out?” Granger was asking.

“No, I wanted to do something I enjoy!” Harry cried.

“Well, at least he didn’t sneak off to study in the dusty library or something,” Ron contributed.

“Ronald!” Hermione protested, glaring at him.

“Why did you even make a big deal of it anyway? I do this every Saturday!”

“I beg you pardon,” Draco interrupted. “But what is going on?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Ron stated with conviction.

“You did just interrupt my morning,” Draco pointed out in an utterly reasonable tone. Hermione looked a little chagrinned, but her determination clearly had not waned. The trio glared round at each other.

“My friends are just over-reacting,” Harry said a frown etched deeply into his face.

“We’re just worried about you!” Hermione said exasperation evident in her tone.

Ron was silent a moment, but what he said when he spoke surprised everyone. “We were worried. We thought you might have snuck off to study knowing that we’d believe you were flying with Malfoy, here. You have had a bit of a mania about studying, lately,” he said when Harry looked about to object. Harry grimaced but conceded the point with a shrug. “We are very pleased to see that you are, in fact, having a good time. And,” he looked over at Draco for a moment with a strange expression which the Malfoy scion realized was actually a lack of hostility. “We’re glad to see you’re happy.”

He slid an arm around Hermione who smiled at him. “You’re growing up, Ron. Unlike some people who dash around in the cold air on broomsticks without even a proper warming or sticking charm on their cloaks!” She glared at Harry and, Draco was surprised to note, at him as well.

“Well then, Mum, go for it,” Ron said with a smile.

“Ronald!” Hermione elbowed him in the side and although he gasped and grimaced, he also managed to wink at Harry. Harry grinned back.

“Just when you were so adult, too!” Hermione continued, oblivious to the by-play.

“Well, I am hungry,” Ron said with a grin that matched Harry’s. “Maybe I haven’t finished growing yet.”

Hermione snorted but smiled fondly. “I suppose we’d better go and get you some breakfast, then, so you don’t waste away entirely.

“Good idea,” Ron said as he began to steer her off the pitch. “See you later mate,” he called back over his shoulder to Harry.

“See you,” Harry replied, smiling.

“They are an attractive couple,” Draco commented as they walked away. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“At any rate, they are neither displeasing nor disturbing.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Except when they’re snogging.” Draco wrinkled his nose slightly.

“My thoughts exactly!” Harry laughed. “But they are happy together. They ought to be, it took them long enough.”

“True.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “I really ought to go in to breakfast.”

“Yes, I should as well,” Draco said.

Harry paused and tilted his head to the side. “Care to join us?”

Draco blinked repeatedly. Granger might have missed the earlier by-play, but he had not. At least one of the Golden Trio appeared to have Slytherin tendencies, and another was apparently not as dumb as he looked. Draco half felt he needed time to consider this new information. He had decided to be friendly and forward, it was true, but now that the opportunity had come, he didn’t feel ready. “I would not like to intrude upon your friends,” he said at last. “Especially so early in the morning. Another time perhaps?”

“Sure. We’ll do lunch or something,” Harry said.

“Agreed. Until later, then, Potter.”

“See you.”

---

Draco could hardly believe his own behavior. Had he really just turned down the very opportunity he had been working for these past weeks? He was surely an idiot. He had abased himself before half-bloods and muggle-borns. He had deigned to speak with them, to befriend them, to treat them as his equals which they patently were not. Draco sniffed. His father, were his father ever to know of such behavior, would be ashamed.

Malfoys, Lucius Malfoy anyway, did not handle shame well. It was not an emotion that they enjoyed and it was not one they cared to admit to being familiar with. In the past, this had meant that any feelings of shame were taken out on the person who inspired them.

Draco shivered involuntarily before reminding himself that his father would not know of this…lapse. His father was not aware of his current plans and there was absolutely no reason for that to change. There was a time, long past now, when Draco might have confided all to his father. That had, however, been before Azkaban. The stint in the wizarding prison, brief though it was, had altered Lucius in certain undeniable ways. Or rather, it had perhaps not altered him, which was even more frightening, but had simply stripped away the veneer of culture and grace that Lucius had previously worn nearly constantly.

Briefly Draco’s thoughts drifted to his mother. He might be able to confide in Narcissa. They had not been truly close until recently. In a way, he had always idolized her, of course. She was everything a pure-blooded witch ought to be. Beautiful, clever, intelligent, capable of sparkling conversation and well versed in all the social customs of polite society, she was a paragon of magical woman-hood. It had not been until very recently that Draco had learned that there was more to this woman who had borne him than what he had so far been permitted to see.

He sighed. He might have been able to confide in her over the summer, but Narcissa’s first and foremost loyalty was, so far as Draco knew, to her husband. Certainly she had never opposed him in Draco’s experience. After Lucius, he supposed, came the Dark Lord, then the Malfoy family as a whole, the Black family, and pure-blood society.

Draco knew that he fell under both the Malfoy and Black families, but he did not know where he fit into this hierarchy as an individual. Did his mother love him? Silly question. Of course she loved him! How could she not? He was everything that was desirable in an heir, intelligent, magically powerful, charming and knowledgeable.

Draco shook his head to clear away the idle fancies that seemed to have taken up residence in his brain. Whether he might have been able trust his mother was irrelevant. She would not know of his recent endeavours, either. No, Draco was on his own in this.

Actually, further thought revealed that his hesitation might be beneficial. Were he to jump at the chance, he might be seen as too eager, it might arouse suspicion. No, he must seem more diffident…and maybe a trifle lonely. The Gryffindorks always loved a good sob story. He would gain their pity and use it to further his forays into their confidence. Things were progressing well so far. There was an up-coming Hogsmeade weekend, actually that was next weekend. It was perfect.

Draco smirked to himself. It would be no great trial to leave Crabbe and Goyle behind for a time; inferior or not, Potter’s circle really were better conversationalists. And he could tell anyone else who questioned him that he was trying to get in with the Golden Group. Honesty might actually be the best policy, in this case. Draco’s smirk widened as he considered the situation. He might finally be on the right track. He permitted himself to whistle softly as he entered the castle and headed down to the Slytherin dorms.

---

Remus Lupin was enjoying his first cup of tea of the morning. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, that was true, but he had been up quite late several nights running. So late, in fact, that he had hardly gotten a full night’s sleep in over a week. Yesterday, however, the project that he had been working on had finally drawn to a mostly successful close. Remus had come straight home, or as straight as the somewhat circuitous route he took for safety’s sake would allow, and collapsed into bed, where he had remained until roughly forty-five minutes ago when he had decided that it was positively indecent to stay there any longer.

He was now trying to sort through some of the correspondence that had arrived while he was too busy to pay attention to it. There really wasn’t much. A couple of communications from Order members, some of the inevitable bills that were just as much a nuisance in the Wizarding world as in the Muggle world, and, Remus was most pleased to see, a letter from Harry.

His pleasant anticipation lasted long enough to break the seal and start reading. It was tempting to say that the letter didn’t sound like Harry, but that wasn’t really true. It did sounds like Harry, but it was a very troubled, very bitter Harry indeed. No matter what Severus’s intentions may have been at the beginning of the term, it seemed that things had not worked out. All Harry could see now was the performance Snape gave during class time.

The youth’s anger seemed somewhat extreme, however. Granted, Harry felt betrayed. Granted, Harry was still grieving for Sirius. The irrational near-hatred that Harry was expressing, however, without, Remus suspected, even being entirely aware of it, was disturbing and to a certain degree unexpected. He would reply, of course, but perhaps he might also send a note to Severus to inquire about the State of Affairs.

---

Harry looked over his planner. He was not feeling at all pleased with himself. Taking a weekend (plus) off was murder on his study schedule, and he was now behind. Not too far behind to catch up, though, he decided. He would just need to put in some extra hours. All this resting and relaxing was all very well and good, but it did not help him prepare for what he needed to do. Time spent goofing off with friends was great, but it wouldn’t help him get rid of Voldemort. It wouldn’t even ensure that he survived the next confrontation. It was true that he had survived every past confrontation, but how long could ‘sheer dumb luck’, as McGonagall liked to say, hold?

Harry looked round at his friends. They had claimed one of the larger round tables in the common room and all of the Gryffindors he considered close were there. They might have had a little more room if they had split up and claimed two tables, but each student had claimed just enough room for whichever book they needed and a bit of space for a roll of parchment, and the homework party was proceeding. Well, no one was paying any real attention to him; they were all too busy trying to keep pace with their own work.

Except Hermione, that was. She was likely doing extracurricular reading. Something light from the size of the book she held. If they weren’t paying attention, Harry could work ahead a bit. Get some of the smaller, simpler assignments out of the way so that he could spend more time on the bigger ones. The fact that this would also clear up room in his schedule for more of his own extracurricular studying was just a very happy coincidence. Harry smiled and got down to work.

---

As it turned out, it was a very good thing that Harry had cleared out some space in his schedule. A few days after sending off his letter to Remus, Harry received a reply from the older wizard.

Harry,

I was delighted to hear from you. Your test scores are marvelous! I’m really very impressed, and I know that James, Lily, and Sirius would have been very proud of you, too. Especially Lily. She was always quite talented in Charms while we were in school, and I know she was particularly found of the subject. James and Sirius might have teased you a bit about becoming a brain, but I know that they would have respected your enormous talent and obvious skill.

I am not quite so pleased to hear that you and Professor Snape are still having difficulties. The behavior you have described is far from comforting. Is he like that all the time? (The phrase ‘all the time’, Harry noted, seemed to be slightly italicized.) I really thought that Professor Snape might have mellowed a bit more.

I understand what you mean about being busy. My time has been kept pretty full lately, too. It seems that I keep getting detailed to help break-up and clean up after certain raucous parties. It is exhausting work, but I am always happy to make myself useful. I really must get a bit more sleep though. I have already had two very strong cups of tea, but I confess that I cannot seem to keep my eyes open. I hope you will forgive me for the brevity of this note. Perhaps it will inspire you to write again soon?

Yours always,

Moony

Harry finished reading the note and grimaced. Of course Moony was tired. There was a war on, after all. He was almost certainly out battling Death Eaters frequently and risking his life. And what was Harry doing? Nothing. Messing about with his broomstick and playing exploding snap and wizarding chess with his friends. Harry felt an unpleasant sensation slither leadenly through his belly.

Guiltily, Harry realized that he had not kept the promise he had made to himself at all well in the last week. He should be training! Studying! Doing everything in his power to ensure that Voldemort was stopped as soon as possible.

Well, Harry resolved. He would just have to work a bit harder. He would study hard for all his school subjects in the common room, and then study everything else in the library or Room of Requirement. He would not allow himself to be swayed by pleas to relax or take it easy. There was nothing really wrong with him.

Come to think of it, he could probably even get a bit of extra time in on the weekends. He could study in bed before Ron got up on Sundays. Harry considered the hours he spent with Malfoy on Saturday mornings. He didn’t really want to give up those hours; they were the only time he spent on a broom anymore. And flying was a useful skill. And Ron and Hermione would be suspicious if he quit now…

Harry nodded to himself. He would keep that time for flying for now, but he would study extra hours in the evenings to make up for it. There was a war on, and it required certain sacrifices. It was time that he stepped up and started trying to contribute. If the Order didn’t want his help and wouldn’t help him, he would just have to find some other way to prepare.

When the time finally came, Harry promised himself, he was going to be ready for it.

---

“Harry,” Ron looked up from the Transfiguration essay he was working on.

Harry stayed bent over his paper. “Yeah?” he asked absently.

“Harry?” Ron repeated. Hermione glanced up to see the irritated look on Harry’s face.

“What?” the dark-haired wizard replied, finally looking away from his parchment.

“Calm down, I just wanted to ask you a question.”

Harry took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. There was no reason to be mad at his friends, he reminded himself. After all, they didn’t know that anything was up and that was the way he wanted to keep it. “Sorry,” he said. “What did you need?”

“I just wanted to know if you were planning on flying on Saturday?” Ron was peering at him with the look he usually wore when he wanted something but was trying to be subtle about it.

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Well, we do have a match with Slytherin coming up soon, you know. In two and a half weeks, actually.”

“And you don’t want me to give him any help,” Harry concluded.

“Erm, more or less, yeah,” Ron replied bravely.

“Okay. I’ll tell him I can’t.” Harry bent back over his essay.

“That’s it?” Ron said in surprise.

“What?” Harry looked back up at him.

“That’s it? You’re not going to argue with me or anything?”

“I told you before, I still want Gryffindor to win the Cup,” Harry explained patiently. “Besides, you’re my friend. If you’d rather I didn’t help the Slytherin seeker practice, I can understand that.”

“All right,” Ron said. “Thanks mate.”

“Sure,” Harry replied, finally returning to his homework.

Ron continued to look at him for several moments before he glanced over at Hermione. She just looked back at him before she, too, went back to work. Ron shook his head.

---

Severus Snape looked at the note that had appeared on his end table. The hand-writing was familiar though it took him several instants to place it. Lupin, the writer’s identity came to him. He wondered for a moment why the werewolf might be writing to him before deciding that the only way of knowing for certain was to read the missive. Ten to one it was about the Potter boy, though. Severus sighed and cast a few revelatory spells at the heavy parchment.

Nothing showed up, which was more or less what he expected. He cast a few more, this time the spells were more sensitive and looked for more subtle meddlings. He could still detect nothing. Deciding that the letter was probably safe, Severus prodded it with his wand. When it showed no reaction, he reached out and picked up the letter. It was the work of half a moment to open the scroll and the work of but a few moments after that to scan the writing. It was definitely the werewolf, and it was about the Potter boy. Apparently the youth had written to Lupin complaining about his behavior and the former professor had written to him to ask what was going on.

Severus scowled. Of course, he would be held responsible for this debacle. He sighed and dropped the letter back onto the end-table. It was charmed to appear empty to anyone but him, so he felt no qualms about leaving it there and ignoring it for the present in favor of grading the essays the third years had most recently handed in. They were due to be returned and he’d only gotten through about half of them so far. Severus sighed again. Time to get to work.

---

“Where are you going, Harry?” Neville looked up at him.

“For a walk,” Harry replied as he gathered his things and prepared to take them back up to his dormitory where they belonged. “All this homework has clogged my brain. I think I’ll take a turn about the castle.”

“Care for a bit of company?”

“Erm, not just now, actually. I, ah, actually wanted to just get away for a bit. Do some thinking, you know?”

“Sure,” Neville replied with a small grin. “Next time,” he suggested. Harry nodded gratefully and disappeared. The grin slid off Neville’s face. He didn’t mind giving Harry alone time, but he wished there were something that he could do to help the other teen. Harry had been very tense these past few weeks.

Of course, Harry wasn’t merely headed out for a walk about the castle. He felt a little guilty about lying to Neville, who had stood faithfully at his side for some time now, but he told himself that it was all for the best. It was, wasn’t it?

“OY! Watch where you’re going, Potter.” Malfoy was recovering his balance and scowling at the slightly shorter Gryffindor.

“Sorry,” Harry said as he recovered himself. What was Draco doing so near Gryffindor territory? “I was, well, never mind. I was looking for you anyway.”

“Oh?” One of Draco’s eyebrows went up, seemingly of its own accord.

“Yeah. I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to make it on Saturday.”

Draco sighed slightly. “I had more or less expected that.”

“Did you?”

“Weasley is the Gryffindor captain, isn’t he?” Draco smirked. “The week after the game, then?”

“I suppose so.”

“Fine. But if you can’t fly with me, you can’t fly with that little mite of a seeker Gryffindor are using either.”

“I haven’t practiced with Liza for some time now,” Harry said firmly. “As I’m sure you already knew.”

Draco shrugged elegantly. “Just making sure.”

“Right,” Harry said tersely as he belatedly realized how near he already was to the library.

Malfoy studied him another moment or two. “I expect I’ll see you in class, then.”

“Right. In class, then.” The two youths exchanged nods and continued on their ways.