1997 

“Has your father left yet?”

Harry shook his head as he opened the door fully. Remus, his arms wrapped securely around a squalling bundle of blankets, stepped in quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, peering at his howling godson, who had been named Sirius.  Which had still made Harry grin, every time he heard it.  

Remus stared down at the green-haired baby Sirius, shrugging helplessly. “…I don’t know. Tonks went shopping with her mother, and he just started crying… I can’t get him to stop.”

“Maybe he’s hungry.”

Remus shook his head. “He just ate. He’s been changed, and I don’t think he’s tired. He just woke up.”

“Perhaps he would prefer to be held a different way.”

Remus looked up as Severus entered the room.

“I’ve tried rocking him… burping him. Nothing helps.”

Severus glanced at Harry as he stepped past them to pull his teaching robes from their hook. “Harry used to prefer to be held upright.”

“He’s too small…” Remus tried to shift Sirius in his arms; Harry winced at the piercing wail.

“Cradle his bottom with your elbow,” Severus directed, moving closer and nodding as Remus slid Sirius’ bum into the crook of his elbow. “Bring your shoulder upward so that his chest is lying against yours. And hold his back with your palm.”

Remus concentrated as he did as Severus directed. The baby’s cries slowed.

“Sway,” Severus ordered.

Remus began to shift his hips so that he was rocking side to side; Harry grinned at him, which earned him a mock-glare from Remus.

“You had best pay attention, yourself,” he said quietly as Sirius began to make soft, contented sounds. “Once he gets a little older, you’ll be on babysitter duty.”

“Maybe you should have my dad do it,” Harry said with a smirk.

Remus smiled, then swiveled his head to Severus. “Thank you.”

Severus nodded. “We should not be late,” he reminded the other man, glancing pointedly at the mantel clock.

“Right,” Remus said, with a glance for his son. “I hope he cooperates…”

“You’ll get a good workout, anyway,” Harry chuckled. He leaned down so that he was eye-level with his godson. Sirius stared at him with sleepy brown eyes. Harry reached a finger to caress his soft cheek with the knuckle. “You’ve got some big shoes to fill, kiddo. Don’t make it too easy on your old man.”

“I’ll remember you said that, when your turn comes.”

“You’ll be too old by then,” Harry said as he straightened up. “And Sirius will already be corrupted.”

Remus responded with smile, and a nudge to move Harry out of the way. “Tonks has big plans for him to be the best prankster since the Weasley twins, so the two of you can talk later.”

Harry grinned.

“The meeting will likely last through most of the afternoon,” Severus said as he and Remus moved toward the door. “Leave a note, if you leave the castle grounds.”

“I will. I think we’re just going to do a bit of flying—around the pitch.”

“Tell Ron ‘hello’ for me,” Remus added over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.

“We are expected in Albus’ office for dinner.”

“I’ll be back by then,” Harry promised; apparently, it was the tradition for the staff to dine together before they went their separate ways for the summer.

“Enjoy yourself,” Severus said, before following Remus into the corridor.

Harry sighed as soon as the door closed behind them. It was probably too much to expect that he and Ron would have much fun—not if Ron was going to be acting the same way he had been for the past week.

Harry started when the door was pushed open. Severus held his hand out; a scaly black head was poking out of his fist. “You and I will need to find a more suitable environment for him, since my pocket is generally not the best place for a dragon,” Severus said dryly. He opened his fist.

Levi spread his wings, flapped them gently and soared toward Harry, where he settled onto Harry’s forearm.

Harry gave his dragon a mild glare. “Dragons live in caves though,” he pointed out to his father. Harry’s first stop when they’d returned to the castle last night had been the Hogwarts’ library. Madame Pince had nearly tripped over her feet in her excitement to find Harry a book about the rare kylaria.

“I will speak with Hagrid after the meeting.”

Harry ran a gentle finger down Levi’s neck; Levi purred. “Thanks,” he said to his father.

Severus smiled slightly, and returned to the corridor.

Harry jiggled his arm, and Levi obligingly walked upward, his sharp claws using Harry’s sleeve for traction. “I think you would have been pretty bored at that meeting,” Harry said quietly—the book Madame Pince had given him had said that kylaria were very sensitive to sound. And, despite what Daniel had said, they didn’t really enjoy feasting on human flesh—they simply seemed to have no aversion to taking a chunk out of an aggressor.

Levi gazed at him as Harry explained that the professors were supposed to meet to discuss the past year—and the upcoming year, before they reconvened in August. Levi's bright yellow eyes seemed to take in every word.

Both Harry and his dragon turned as the Floo opened. Ron stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off his windbreaker as he came. A bit envious of Ron’s easy travel, Harry asked, “How do you do that? Come out without tripping?”

Ron smirked—a rare sight these days. “Practice… What is that?” Ron’s ginger eyebrows snapped together as he stared at Levi.

“He’s a kylaria—a rare sort of dragon.”

“A Dragon? Did Hagrid get another egg?” Ron stepped closer; Levi spread his wings, hissing a little. Ron pulled back.

“He’s a friend,” Harry assured his familiar. “He’s not a baby… My dad got him from a friend—his scales are used for potions.” Harry hastily explained exactly how the scales were used, not wanting Ron to think they were going to kill the little dragon.

“Have you shown him to Hagrid?”

“Not yet. We’re going to see if Hagrid can help make some sort of cave for him to live in.”

Levi had ventured down to Harry’s hand again.

“You can touch him,” Harry said to Ron. “A friend,” he reminded Levi. Levi began to purr when Ron stroked his head. “He’s a bit telepathic, I think—more so than Hedwig or Crookshanks…”

Ron drew his finger away from Levi abruptly; Harry frowned.

“What’s going on, mate?” he asked quietly. Ron shook his head though.

“Nothing,” he said. “I brought my broom; still want to play out on the pitch?”

Harry wanted to press his friend further, but Ron didn’t have that mulish look on his face, like he usually did when he didn’t want to talk about something, and it unnerved Harry. The skin under Ron's eyes was mottled—it stood out starkly against his pale, freckled skin. Maybe a few hours with a Quaffle would sort him out...

--

But two hours did nothing for Ron—except perhaps make him angrier than he had been at Malfoy yesterday. He attacked the Quaffle like it was his own personal Voldemort, nearly knocking Harry off his broom more than once. The fifth time it happened, the Quaffle plowed into Harry’s stomach, dispelling the air from his chest in a great whoosh.

He doubled over, groaning softly. Levi, who had been flying happily with them, roared. Harry looked up; the kylaria was diving for Ron’s head. With a quick thrust of his arm, Harry snatched the angry dragon from the sky.

“Accident,” he muttered to his familiar. Levi craned his neck to peer suspiciously at Ron.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said in a low voice as he circled above. “Maybe we better take a break.”

“Could use some water,” Harry agreed breathlessly, trying to crack a grin. Ron mopped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and then dove toward the ground without a word. Harry followed at a slower pace. He scrubbed at his abdomen as he slid off his broom, and tucked Levi into his front pocket for safe keeping; the kylaria curled against his stomach.

“You all right?” Ron asked, grimacing.

“Just surprised me,” Harry lied. But Ron nodded and they walked together toward the castle. Silently, until Harry could no longer keep still.

“Ron,” he began tentatively, not quite sure how to start a conversation like this one, “if you need to… er, talk about something… well, we can.”

Ron sighed, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “Yeah… Thanks, but I’m all right.”

Harry studied his friend’s slumped shoulders. “Is it Hermione?”

Ron stopped walking; his swung sharply around so that he was facing Harry. “She told you,” he breathed, in an accusatory way that startled Harry.

“Ron-”

“She thinks she’s pregnant, and won’t even talk to me, but she tells you!”

It was a very long minute before Harry remembered to close his mouth again.

“Hermione’s… pregnant?”

“Might be,” Ron corrected automatically, but then his eyes became saucers. “Did she tell you she was?”

“What? No,” Harry said hastily as the veins in Ron’s neck began pulsing. “Hermione didn’t tell me anything.”

“You just said she told you!”

“No, I didn’t.” Harry shook his head, unable to untangle the last few minutes of their conversation. “Forget that, Ron. What do you mean, she might be-” Harry swallowed. “-pregnant?”

Ron’s shoulders suddenly drooped. He pressed his hand into his eyes. “I don’t know,” he moaned softly. “I don’t know, Harry. We were careful… I’m almost certain we were.”

Harry licked his lips, which had gone completely dry. “Almost…?” Though he and Ron had never discussed it specifically, he’d figured that his two best friends were having sex. But this—well, this was something he had never even imagined.

“We meant to… I used the charm. The one my dad showed me…”

“Just you? Why didn’t she use… you know the one that lasts longer for girls… or that potion?”

Ron groaned. “I don’t know,” he said again. “Her parents are Muggles! And there wasn’t a lot of information about those types of charms in the library—and we couldn’t exactly ask Pince for help … Hermione thought about talking to Pomfrey… but…” Ron shook his helplessly, and Harry couldn’t blame Hermione for that. How does one go about asking the school’s Mediwitch for help with contraceptive charms?

“But isn’t there some way to find out for sure… if she’s…”

Ron sank down onto the top step. His next words were muffled against his arms—something about a diagnostic and Hermione not knowing how to perform one. Harry plopped down next to him.

“I’m sorry, Ron…” What else could he say?

Ron raised his head; his blue eyes were sunken. “She says there’s some sort of Muggle test… you have to buy it…“

Harry sat beside his friend, trying to figure out what he could say—not that there was really going to be a way to make this better if Hermione was… Harry looked over at his friend. “You should go with her,” he said quietly.

Ron was staring at his hands. “She didn’t want me to.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “… Is she going to tell her mum?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think that’s why she asked Ginny for a visit? So that-”

“Bloody hell!”

Harry shifted backward at Ron’s strangled yelp; Levi’s claws pricked through his windbreaker.

“If Hermione tells Ginny, she’ll tell my mum and dad!”

Harry stared at his friend, whose pale face had now flushed a deep crimson. An angry crimson… “Well, didn’t you sort of assume that Hermione asked her there -?”

“She didn’t!” Ron exploded. He stood up, his hands fisting agitatedly. “Hermione’s dad offered to show my dad around his office. Dad wanted to see the drills and toothpickles the Grangers’ use. Shit, Harry! How could Hermione tell Ginny?” Ron stuffed his fists into his pockets, and stomped down the stairs.

Harry, leaving aside the mistake about the toothpickles, stood up and followed slowly after his friend. He watched Ron pacing back and forth in front of the steps for a few minutes, until Ron had worked himself into a proper froth.

“You don’t know she’s going to tell Ginny-”

“Of course she will! You just made me tell you, didn’t you?”

Harry very carefully battened down his irritation, figuring Ron had a good reason to be in a temper. “I didn’t make you. But it doesn’t matter,” he stressed when Ron looked ready to disagree. “Ginny won’t tell your parents.”

Ron huffed at that.

“Do you really think that’s the most important thing?” Harry asked, a bit of his irritation slipping through, after all. “If she is pregnant, every one’s going to know-”

“Is that supposed to help?” Ron demanded. “I know that, Harry! It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

Harry frowned at his friend, his anger surging through now on behalf of Hermione. “That’s what you’ve been brooding about? Not what Hermione must be feeling? Or even what it’s going to mean to-”

“Of course I’ve been thinking about Hermione! What kind of prick do you think I am?”

“I didn’t say you were a prick,” Harry gritted. “And if you care so much about Hermione, why didn’t you go with your dad?”

“I told you! Hermione doesn’t want me there. She’s barely spoken to me in a week.” He kicked at a loose rock. “What do you want me to do?” he snapped. “Barge in there and force her to talk to me?”

“Well, it might help. She probably wants to talk to you, but doesn’t-”

“Oh, and you know so much about what Hermione wants, do you?”

“I think I know Hermione pretty well,” Harry shot back. “And even if I didn’t, I’d know she’d be in a panic. Even Ginny would be, and she’s not nearly as emotional as Hermione-”

“Ginny better not ever be in a panic about this,” Ron interrupted, his voice suddenly cold.

“Oh leave it, Ron. I didn’t mean that-”

“Yeah, well you’d better not, Harry.”

“You know, Ron,” Harry said, just barely keeping his temper in check now, “what Ginny and I do really isn’t any of your business.”

“She’s my sister!”

“Hermione’s as good as, and I don’t go around telling you what to do.”

“Well, if she’s such a sister to you, maybe you should have!”

Harry stared at his friend; he could feel Levi fidgeting against his stomach. “You’re trying to make this out to be my fault?” Harry asked, his fingers splaying over his own chest. “It’s my fault you were irresponsible enough to get Hermione pregnant?”

“Maybe!” Ron shouted. “Maybe she’s pregnant! Haven’t you been listening? We don’t know!”

“You only don’t know because you won’t go with Hermione to find out!” Harry retorted as Levi shot out of his pocket; his wings beat the air as he soared above Harry’s head.

“She told me not to come!”

“Go anyway!” Harry shouted, his volume now matching Ron’s. “Stop being a selfish prick and think about Hermione for a minute.”

“I can’t!” Ron yelled; he was tearing at his windbreaker. “I can’t, Harry! I just-” All the heat deflated out of him and he plopped onto the third step. Above them, Levi was making slow circuits—circling his prey, Harry thought without humor.

“I don’t know what to do… Merlin, Harry-” Ron looked up desperately, “-how did this happen?”

Well, obviously, they both knew exactly how it had happened... Harry shook his head, searching for something to say that would make Ron feel better—as if anything could make this better.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, settling for easy. Ron dropped his head again; he pressed his toe into the soft grass.

“You really think I should go there?” he finally asked, the words timid. Harry glanced up at his familiar; Levi was circling lower.

“I think this is just as much your problem as it is hers,” he answered quietly; he lowered himself slowly to sit beside Ron.

“I know,” Ron whispered. He hunched low over his knees. “I can’t have a kid, Harry…”

Harry watched his friend, as Ron hung his head in his hands. Tentatively, Harry put a hand on Ron’s shoulder. He squeezed briefly and let his hand fall back to his leg. Then he simply sat there next to his friend, because he had no idea what else to do.

--

Hours later, after Ron had left to ask one of his brothers to take him to Hermione’s house, Harry stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, absent-mindedly stroking Levi’s head. Levi nuzzled his chest when Harry paused—the Floo had activated. Harry took up the methodical petting again, knowing he should probably go out and tell his dad he was here—even without Voldemort lurking in the shadows, Severus never seemed to stop worrying.

Harry turned his head—a bit surprised when he heard his father’s footsteps coming down the hall. And as if he knew Harry would be there, Severus stopped in front of Harry’s open door. He was frowning.

“Was the meeting that bad?” Harry asked.

“It was tedious, yes,” Severus answered as he stepped into the room. After a slight hesitation, Severus pulled the chair from Harry’s desk and sat down. Harry furrowed his brow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“The entire staff heard your exchange with Ron.”

Harry’s eyes widened; in one smooth movement, he scooped Levi off his chest and sat up. “What? How?”

“The windows were open in the headmaster’s office,” Severus explained. “And both of you were yelling loudly enough to be heard well beyond the Shrieking Shack, I imagine.”

Harry grimaced. “You heard all of it…?”

“Enough that Poppy decided to contact your friends' parents.”

“What?” Harry very nearly shouted; Levi’s wings fluttered nervously against Harry’s closed fist. Harry relaxed his tight grip, and Levi quickly traversed the length of his arm. “She can’t do that.”

“She is rightfully concerned about Hermione.”

“But if Hermione is…” He tried not to let the word bother him, but he couldn’t, “…she’ll tell her parents.”

“Poppy was not to be dissuaded.” Severus held up a hand when Harry tried to interject. “I did not come in solely to speak with you about Hermione.”

Harry closed his mouth, and waited—impatiently—for his father to continue.

“I realize the subject makes you uncomfortable,” Severus began, in the calm tones that never failed to make Harry nervous. “However, in light of the situation which your friends find themselves in, I would like to discuss your relationship with Ginny.”

Harry sighed. “We’ve already discussed it—more than once,” he pointed out.

“Our last conversation on the topic was two months ago.”

And unlike that particular conversation, Harry didn’t flush as his father gazed expectantly at him. Probably because he’d spent the last few hours, talking to Levi about Ginny—and Ron and Hermione—and about how glad he was that he and Ginny had not yet crossed that last barrier.

“Nothing’s changed since then,” Harry said, rather amazed that his voice came out nearly as evenly as his father’s had.

Severus’ face relaxed. And realizing that his father had believed otherwise—probably from Ron’s angry comments—Harry flushed, after all.

“Everyone heard that as well…”

“I do not think anyone else gave as much consideration to that aspect of your exchange with Ron,” Severus reassured him. “Did Ron leave when you left the steps?” he asked, when Harry didn’t respond.

“Yeah. He went to his brothers’ shop—to ask one of them to take him to Hermione’s house.”

“You were right to suggest he go.”

Harry grimaced. “I hope so.”

Levi nudged his neck, that odd purring sound starting up again. Harry turned his head toward Levi and smiled. “Not sure if he’s hungry when he does that or if he wants to play… actually I don’t even know if kylaria play.”

“He seems to be attempting to make you feel better,” Severus mused as Levi nudged Harry again. "Kylaria have been known to have empathetic abilities.”

Harry put his hand out, and Levi hopped into his palm. “Did you talk to Hagrid about the cave?” he asked as he scratched lightly under the kylaria’s snout.

“Yes. He suggested we hollow out a large rock for him—which can be done with magic. Hagrid volunteered to help ‘decorate’ it, as he put it.”

Harry smiled. “We’ll have to add some sort of water source as well.” Pince’s book had said that the kylaria was an aquatic dragon—and Levi had very much enjoyed a swim in the sink earlier this morning.

“Hagrid suggested a waterfall, since the kylaria was found near one.” Severus shook his head slightly. “He also asked—three times—that you bring Levi to dinner this evening. He was most anxious to meet him.”

Harry nodded slowly, trying to figure out how they’d create a waterfall. Levi seemed to know he was the subject of the conversation now; he was gazing at Severus, as if he was absorbing every word. His wings spread a little as he curled up in Harry’s palm, his tail twitching lightly, and tickling Harry’s skin.

“When do we need to go upstairs?” Harry asked. “Do we have time to look for a rock?” He needed to do something, so that he would stop thinking about Ron and Hermione. And understanding the unspoken need, Severus nodded without hesitation.

“There are rocks, which should be large enough, near the lake.”

--

“Do you think Hermione will be able to finish school… if she is going to have a baby?” Harry asked ten minutes later, as they walked, with Levi flying overhead, toward the lake. He waved as he spied Hagrid, kneeling in the sand, and already sorting through a piled group of large rocks.

“I believe Hermione would insist upon it,” Severus answered.

“I don’t think Ron will be able to deal with it—if she is. He was really upset when he left… quieter than I’ve ever seen him.”

Severus stopped walking. Harry stopped as well, and looked up at him, squinting against the sun. “He will have no choice,” Severus said gravely. “Having a child will change Ron’s life substantially.”

“I know,” Harry said quietly.

“This is what I meant,” Severus continued, his somber gaze unwavering, “when I expressed a desire for you to wait to become with intimate with Ginny until you are ready. The possible consequences are simply too life-altering to take the step lightly.”

Harry swallowed, his mind going to Ginny—as it had during most of the afternoon. “Yeah,” he said as he switched his gaze toward Hagrid, who was waving them over. But even as they picked their way across the pebble-strewn sand, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Ron—slumped on the bottom step, with his head hanging in his hands.