Ron was woken by a rough shaking of his arm. His arm was being pitched to and fro by the feeble force while his brain slowly came to the world of the living. The world was tilted. A soft groan rose in his throat before his clearing mind realized who must be shaking him. He quickly swallowed it down with his drowsiness. It would not be good to make any alerting noise. He had learned this over the years of her waking him up.

Damn her.

Dismissively Ron waved off the expectant hands as he sat up groggily. As he yawned with slit eyes curse words danced through the lethargic mind. They'd just done this last night. But he knew she wanted to get in as much of it before the Holiday break. Once back at the Headquarters they might not get a chance. So, shelving his profanities for another time, he opened his eyes to the expectant emerald before him. A smile graced her lips and she bounded off to her bed. Ron wanted to question her about being too awake at two o'clock in the morning. A question he'd learned the answer to over the years but still liked to humor in his head. She hated sleep, he knew. She felt like she was caged in her nightmares. And, if anything, she preferred to be free.

After he committed the warmth of his bed to memory, Ron slipped his feet out of the four poster bed. Merlin, he just wanted to sleep. The red and gold of the dorm reminded the teen he was part of the house of the brave, resilient, and daring. This was just another adventure. Leaving his bed's comfort was momentous. At least, that's what Hermione would say. But she didn't know about her. Only Ron knew about her (at Hogwarts) and right now she looked expectant and borderline impatient.

Sliding on a threadbare maroon robe and worn down slippers Ron opens his arms in a mocking manner to her. She rolls her eye at his dramatics as he says "happy" with the action. She curtsies in response before grabbing his wrist. Ron allows the girl to pull him out of the dorm room. Ron silently bedamned his sleeping roommates. They get to stay in the bliss of slumber. They get to stay ignorant. But this was his duty. He was her confidant, her friend, her only witness. She needed him. He had agreed to be her friend through thick and thin years ago. Merlin knows he messed up last year and now he wasn't going to abandon her. Yet again, he found himself crouching under the familiar cloth exiting the common room while she held the Marauder's map.

No one hindered their adventure. The flames flickered and most paintings were either sleeping or too busy to notice any slight noise. Years ago late night wanderings meant discovering secret rooms with three-headed dogs and fighting danger. After they learned of the Room of Requirement it had meant her transformation. They used to hide in the bathroom, constantly looking out for midnight intruders. Luckily the ROR could keep anyone out. No one would disturb them. No one would see her. She could be free. Anticipation radiated off her as they continued on. It meant so much to her. Hogwarts was the only place she could escape her mask.

Softly the duo shuffled along the floor until they reached the wall by the dancing trolls tapestry. Ron walked alongside his friend as she paced three times. She had mastered her specifications. A large door slowly emerged into being and a small hand grasped the handle. Ron stuck like glue to her as they entered. Inside was an average sized room with cream walls with the exception of one which was a hot pink. Paintings with swirling pinks, purples, and browns were sprinkled along the walls with the occasional poster. Against one wall was a full-length mirror. A large queen bed with a crown shaped headboard was decorated with white, purple, pink, and brown sheets, pillows, and blankets. A shag rug covered most of the ground and soft ottoman seats were clustered near a vanity. Hundreds of make-up products and wigs lined the white wood. A dresser made with similar wood was against the opposite wall with a fuzz shaded lamp. A dressing shade was near the dresser. A small door led to a meager walk-in closet. It was her fantasy room. The room she'd have if she could. The room she'd have if she could tell anyone. The room she'd have if anyone cared enough for her to make it.

Finally, letting the cloak drop, she nearly squealed as she ran to the dresser. Ron removed the cloak from himself smirking. She sustained the habit of acting innocent, because Ron knew she had never had the opportunity to truthfully be innocent. She'd seen too much to be. Ron fiddled with the cloak as he sat in one of the plush seats. He watched as she withdrew feminine underwear. Then, she disappeared into the closet. He could hear her rummaging. Softy music began to play. This was her paradise. A place she could finally be who she was born as. Ron watched as she emerged from the closet with clothing strewn over her arm. She changed behind the screen while humming to the tune playing. Ron guessed it was another Shania Twain song. He let out a whispered chuckle. After all the years he knew her better than anyone.

With a bursting aura of joy she appeared from behind the screen. A fifties style polka dot dress was matched with black stockings and a pair of black Mary Jane's. A tiny giggle escaped her lips as she looked down at her dress. But she didn't look in the full-length mirror yet. No, not until she was fully transformed. Ron knew mirrors were her sworn enemy. She sat in one of the colorful seats as she masterfully applied make-up. A brunette short wig was placed over her concealed hair and she styled it with curled ends. A headband finalized the image. Ron observed her walking to the large mirror. Her normal hesitant, shy gait became confident, quick, and fluid; the shined shoes gliding across the rug. Her arms slightly swung at her side. An overjoyed smile grew on her lips. Once she reached the mirror her whole face lit up. Ron had to acknowledge she could make herself beautiful. He harbored no crush for her as she was in line with Ginny, a sister, but he treated her elation with grand emotion. His happiness for her only increased hers. This time though, he kept any compliment silent as she observed herself in the same volume. A thin hand ghosted over the dress skirt. A dreamy look reminiscent of Luna Lovegood appeared in her sparkling eyes. It was the purest form of delight Ron Weasley could witness. And, though he missed sleep and would be grouchy in the morning, he knew he could sacrifice it to see her look so happy.

"Shilo" she whispered admiring her appearance, oblivious to the world. She looked so happy. She always looked so happy during their escapes, when she didn't have to hide. There were no expectations. There were no burdens or sorrow. At night, in her true form, she was free. And, even though it would affect him in the morning, Ron knew he could never ruin it for her. He couldn't crush the dreams of his best mate.

"Honestly, Ronald, couldn't you eat more civilized like Harry." Hermione reprimanded Ron in an unhelpful manner. Ron swallowed his food intake to glance at his companion. Harry offered an easy expression. His face was smooth and clear while his dark hair was a bit long. There was the smallest hint of residue on his cuticles. The fork rested eloquently in his hand after taking a small bite of food. He was still morphing into his boy-role since the late night excursion. It really wasn't fair being compared to Harry.

Hermione had already turned back to her book, a concealed book on defense to prepare for tonight's meeting. Her hair was a frizzy mess, but better than previous years. Her lack of buck teeth was a nice improvement. No make-up adorned her face to enhance her beauty. Her nails were trimmed but naked. She was natural. Hermione was a product of Mother Nature. Ron had learned to ignore the thoughts. So what if Harry was born male? Harry was a girl. And, Ron had to wholeheartedly believe that because she needed him. The female Harry really was needed him.

"Sorry" Ron mumbled his reply. Hermione's eyes briefly met his over her book. They were piercing and critical. Hermione was logic. Science, reason, truth defined her life. She wasn't cold, Ron recognized, but her understanding of abnormality and things only feeling explained was limited past magic. He loved her, truly. But love wasn't enough to betray Harry. His best friend, first friend, brother in everything but blood had his trust and loyalty. Well, sister really.

Breakfast came to an end announcing it was time for the trio to head to their Wednesday classes. Ron was glad they didn't have Defense or Potions today. The only person Ron had met that was worse than Snape to Harry was Umbridge. The woman's word venom and medieval detention methods had a deeper penetration than Snape's practices. Harry had enough to deal with. Luckily the entire school was no longer against him. Guilt settled in the pit of Ron's stomach. He had turned against Harry the previous year. After the heartbreaking display that followed his betrayal he promised both Harry and himself to never leave. Deep down he knew eventually he'd break it, but at least he was trying not to hurt Harry.

Together Ron and Harry rose to follow Hermione. She had just started off towards the doors. The Hall was relatively empty as class was to start soon. A few students loitered with friends and some seventh year with free periods lagged. No teachers remained. Part of Ron wished the hall was always this vacant. It was nice; the muted racket and basic atmosphere. The Hall was simpler this way, less occupied. Too much of anything was always noisy and complicated. Ron knew this too well. Maybe, if he'd have been an only child, life would have been like this--simple. But this was the life he had. He only wished Harry had it easier. And, maybe he could get more sleep.

Harry Potter walked the Hogwarts hallways lost in thought. The route to the ROR room was beyond memorized. He could likely walk it in his sleep. It was the last meeting before the break for the DA. Soon it would be the holidays. Sadly, that meant he still had half a year to go. But, the other day Ron had told him that he was invited to the Burrow for the holidays. It was the brightest notion in his bleak life--presently. After the Quidditch ban, Umbridge's detentions, and the whole world against him a break from it all sounded nice. And, he'd get to spend time with his surrogate family. Maybe he'd also get to visit Sirius.

The possibility of having a family with Sirius around had eased going back to the Dursleys' since third year. Sirius meant escape. Sirius was his key to escaping the monsters that held him prisoner at Privet Drive. With Sirius he could live a free life. He could sleep at night without fear of the next day. He could eat regularly. Someone would be there to off-handedly offer comfort. Someone would be there to say they were proud of him. Life with Sirius would be perfect.

It was all a fantasy, though. Sirius wouldn't come swooping in and save Harry. He was trapped as much as Harry was. The blood-wards meant Harry was stuck at Privet Drive. With Voldemort on the rise the only safe place during the summer was that wretched house alluding to perfection. Plus, Sirius was so proud of James' son. What would Sirius think of James' daughter? Would, could Sirius accept him? Could Sirius accept her, Shilo? What if, after everything, Sirius couldn't stand the thought of a trans godchild?

He was well aware of many muggles opinions on whom he was. Over the years a few brave transgender souls had dared enter into the community of Little Winging. The tales his aunt told her gossip group had never left Harry. He knew if his aunt ever found out about Shilo she'd likely throw a fit. Harry already had it rough at Privet Drive as it was. But, what about Wizards' opinions? Were they the same? Ron had accepted Shilo, but Ron had been a child with developing viewpoints. Surely, a grown man who was known for blatantly opposing the rigid social structure of such a traditional society would accept Shilo? He had to. None of Shilo's fantasies included masquerading as Harry. Then again, she never fantasized as Harry.

 The tapestry Harry knew too well drew closer. The familiar hallway called to him. He loved Hogwarts. Never in his life had a place felt so much like home. Recently, the homey feeling had deteriorated. It was still his home, but things were different. With the war casting a shadow over everyone aware there was less light in the Wizarding world. Victims had already piled up. Harry just wasn't sure if he was a victim of the Second war or still a casualty of the first.

Cho was among those haunted. He rarely saw her without tear streaks. During his fourth year it had been so easy to claim her as a crush. She was only the object of his attentions because of a comment Ron had made during their spat. He pointed out Harry had yet to have a crush and it could only put things into question. Ron had deeply apologized after they made up, but Harry enlisted his help in creating the illusion. Ron was truly a master strategist, if not motivated in the slightest to actually work. The duo had easily come up with an elaborate hoax involving an oblivious Cho. She was the perfect crush. She was a Quidditch seeker, older, pretty enough, and devoted to Cedric.  The plan backfired during the DA meetings. Cho was no longer unavailable and she had set her sights on Harry unawares Harry was not interested. The worst part was Hermione had taken notice.

Hermione, dear Hermione, an amazing friend Harry doubted he could ever trust with Shilo. Feelings didn't live in a book. Could he trust her to look past her logic cloud mind and her muggle upbringing to accept Shilo? One of the main things the Dursleys instilled within Harry was the views muggles held against transgender people. Hermione...he didn't think he could survive without her. She never left his side except to visit the library. She saw the world differently than him. With Ron's wizard experience and Hermione's book knowledge coupled with Harry's common sense they made the perfect trio. He didn't dare ruin it for either Ron or him by telling Hermione.

Harry arrived at the ROR. The transition between asking for Shilo's room and the DA's room was surprisingly easy. Duty always came first. The DA needed someone of such valor. Harry knew how far an act of kindness could go. Putting others first was second nature. Hermione called it his ‘saving people thing'. He just felt others' lives meant more. Maybe it was a tad melodramatic. Other people had parents, like Cedric, or family like Ginny, or responsibility like Remus.  And it was the right thing to do, helping others first. The Dursleys instilled such a horrible sense of right and wrong in Dudley that Harry's had suffered an opposite effect.

The meeting went by in a blur after Harry rid the room of Dobby's decorations. He noticed Cho was watching him a lot. And, that Hermione was watching Cho watching him. He played his part well until the end. He barely comprehended what happened, but he was left alone with Cho. He'd tried to comfort her after she cried, but he couldn't offer her the comfort she wished. He didn't know what to do.

Harry arrived at the Gryffindor common room shortly after, still dazed. He numbly sat in front of the fire. Hermione was writing a letter and Ron was working on homework. His red-haired friend noticed him first. He felt the intense stare of the boy. Hermione broke the silence.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, worried. Harry blinked up at her. He felt a mixture of nausea and bitterness. What could he say? Hermione's eyes held a mischievous glitter that spoke volumes. Hermione wanted a tale of how she'd been right, Cho liked him, and something had happened. He couldn't give her one. He couldn't tell Hermione she was right because she wasn't. Hermione, for one of the few notable times, was wrong about something. What could he say?

If he told the truth Hermione would get suspicious and he didn't need the bookworm on his case. If he told her nothing at all had happened she'd still be suspicious. He could only lie and give Hermione the answer she desired, as bad as the taste was in his mouth. He would have to betray Cho.

"Nothing, she just wanted to talk." Harry said nonchalantly. If he wasn't entire disgusted with the thought of pretending to be someone else any more than he had to, he fancied himself a rather brilliant actor.

Hermione took the bait. "What happened, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath before he misled his friend. It hurt, keeping the truth from Hermione. In the end Hermione was satisfied and blissfully ignorant. And, Harry retired with Ron to the boys' dormitory. The bitter taste of his lies still lingering. Ron did whisper before they entered the dorm that they both needed to sleep to mean that there was no adventure tonight. Harry was greatly against the prospect of sleep, but agreed.

He crawled into his sheets wearing his loose, hand-me-down pajamas. He had Ron's growing body and Ginny preference for girl clothing to thank for them. They weren't his favorite, but he did appreciate them.

He fell into an uneasy sleep. Odd dreams plagued him with Cho accusing him of weird things and Hermione backing her up. The sensation of his secret almost falling into the hands of two judgmental people led him into an even weirder dream. He was slithering along a cold floor. His stomach slid across the stone until he came upon a sleeping man. Instinct took over when he noticed the man stir. He reeled back and attacked. Multiple times he sank his teeth into the man.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron's voice abruptly stopped the dream and Harry bolted upright. He was drenched in sweat that dripped into his searing scar. The bed covers and his clothing were tangled tightly. His breathing was uneven and strained. He barely noticed Ron was still calling him and that others were talking as he was lost in the pain. The increasing agony caused him to vomit over the side of the bed. The cries around him were still muffled, but he could tell Ron was close. Opening his eyes against the burn in his scar he reached out to grab Ron's hand. He used it to pull himself up and then drew Ron in.

"Your dad!" Harry then tried to explain his nightmare to his nearly equally frightened friend. At some point someone had left and returned with Professor McGonagall. Harry quickly explained to her about his dream, thankful she was an Order member. He vehemently argued with her until she admitted that she believed him. Hope flared in his heart. He complied when she took him to Dumbledore's office.

He was half relieved half hating the circumstances that Dumbledore finally seemed to take notice of him. It had stung the whole term that the man he'd looked up to had ignored him so. When he had to admit he was the snake in the dream he noticed Ron blanch. He hoped Ron would forgive him. He never wanted others to hurt for him. He never wanted to hurt others. The ill treatment Harry felt he was receiving with Dumbledore's slow movement to believe him was near boiling point as anger surfaced. It was the same as the summer, when no one told him anything. No one thought him capable of understanding. Everyone assumed he was too young. Youth had since passed for Harry.

Ron wasn't looking at Harry. It bruised him. The only ally he really had decided to treat him like everyone else. Harry watched as the portraits communicated with Dumbledore. Fury like no other was still building within him. He watched distantly as Dumbledore asked for the other Weasleys, as he created a Portkey, and as the others filled in. Pain, betrayal, and rage danced a deathly waltz at the front of his tongue and mind. He ignored the other's questions. He ignored Dumbledore tell the Weasley's they're going to Grimmauld place. He ignored them as they gathered around the Portkey. But he couldn't ignore Ginny's query.

"Professor, where will Harry go?" Harry's eyes snapped into focus as hope yet again flared within him. He turned expectant eyes to Dumbledore, who didn't meet them.

"For Harry's and other's safety he will be staying at his relatives until the end of the term. I will then find him other arrangements." the headmaster's voice shock Harry to the core. Instantly his indignation dissipated to be replaced with a feeling of hollowness. No. He couldn't go back. Not after Vernon's threat. Cold encompassed his whole being as his ear rung. Dumbledore was sending him back. After abandoning him there last summer, he planned to drop him off at his tormentors' doorstep, quite literally. He was going to deliberately isolate Harry once again. But maybe he needed it.

Had he not just seen himself attack his best mate's father? Didn't he just harm someone else? Didn't he endanger his friend's father just like he had endangered his friend's sister three years before? Could he honestly be around others who mattered to him right now? A large part of him knew danger followed him everywhere he went and now it was only proven. He couldn't risk the lives of the Weasley's or Sirius at the moment.

But he really didn't want to risk his own at the Dursleys. But it wasn't his choice. That was ripped away from him. The choice was always ripped from him. He couldn't choose between having fame or parents. He couldn't choose between abusive relatives or an unstable godfather. He couldn't choose between being born a boy or a girl. And, that righteous indignation quickly grew within the girl trapped in a male body. Every injustice ever brought upon the girl created a storm of uncontrollable emotion.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to strike, to bite ... to sink fangs into the man who caused all her pain. To attack the man responsible for her hellish childhood. The man who abandoned her to a life of strife, confusion, and fear. She wanted revenge. And, in that moment she was fully ready and willing to slaughter the man who dared ignore her after everything he put her through then ship her off back to people who couldn't care less about her.

"Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice broke through Harry's reverie. He forced down the raging emotions. He looked up to see Ron give an apologetic expression. He offered a weak smile. Ron needed to be with his father right now. With a sinking feeling in his gut he watched as the Weasley's disappeared into nothing. Numbly he noted that Dumbledore had made a second Portkey.

"As you will be coming back in only a few days, Harry, we'll simply leave your possessions here. Please grab hold of the Portkey. You should arrive near your relatives' house." The way Dumbledore seemed to look past him was starting to unnerve Harry. What was so wrong with him? That someone wouldn't look him in the eye? "Freak" flashed in his mind. He quickly expelled the word. Years ago he would have believed it, but now ... he didn't know what to believe. Maybe he was? After all, normal people didn't dream of themselves as snakes attacking people only to wake up to find it wasn't their imagination.

Swallowing his trepidation Harry took hold of the random, shiny object Dumbledore held out for him. The following stomach clenching sensation only reminded him of that day, the graveyard, Cedric ... before he landed on the heavy, chilled concrete. As he dizzily stumbled upright he noticed the light above him. It flickered and buzzed with an ominous warning. Underneath it was a nailed street sign. Privet Drive. Home sweet home.

Severus Snape knew being summoned by Dumbledore was never produced a good result. Nevertheless, he dutifully went to the man's office. He instantly knew something was wrong.  The formalities of a typical meeting with Albus were absent. There was no twinkle in the man's eye. Snape didn't even bother to sit.

"I am now sure there is a connection between the two." Of course, the blasted Potter boy. He'd be the demise of the Light. "His mind must be protected, for the safety of everyone near him. After the term ends, please retrieve him from his relatives. It's far too dangerous for me to teach him. I know this is asking much of you, but we cannot lose this war. And, if you cannot do this for us, my boy, do it for her." How dare the man!

Severus Snape allowed the door to slam shut behind him as he left Dumbledore's office. He would do it. But he would do it his way.