Chapter 58

Defense

xxx

“Another, sir?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your drink, it’s empty. Would you like another?”

“Oh. Yes, thank you.”

Remus Lupin sat at the very end of a long, careworn bar, idly rotating a gleaming silver coin between his fingers and staring contemplatively at nothing in particular. A moment later, another foaming pint of lager was set before him, and he pushed the coin across the bar without looking at the woman waiting to scoop up her tip. He couldn’t help his distraction; he was waiting for Kinnaird, and had been doing so for some time now. Coupled with the seeming sense of urgency that had accompanied his message, he was beginning to grasp at possible scenarios that could have resulted in his detainment.

The message had not surprised him, at first; he had played his part well in befriending the spy with dubious loyalties. Kinnaird now seemed to have all but given up on earning Snape’s trust. As such, he was coming to rely on Lupin more and more, and this was not the first time he had been summoned to a seedy muggle pub on the outskirts of some remote town following a Death Eater’s meeting.

Lupin was nearly halfway through his second pint before Kinnaird finally entered the bar, his hood raised and his expression guarded as he glanced furtively around the cramped muggle establishment, looking perhaps for Lupin or any sign that this was not a safe place to talk. Lupin gestured him over, and Kinnaird lowered his hood and stalked to where he sat.

He did not appear hurt, Lupin observed first; merely grave. He sat down and nodded to the willowy woman behind the rail.

“Whiskey,” he said gruffly when he had her attention. “Double.”

“Any preference?” she asked, grabbing a short glass off the counter and blowing the dust off its rim. He did not appear fazed by this.

“Your house will do,” he stated. She grasped the neck of an unmarked bottle from below and served him a long pour, which he finished in two gulps. “One more.”

“Long day?” asked Lupin wryly, watching him drain his second glass.

An eyebrow lifted as Kinnaird turned to Lupin. “You could say that.”

“Your message sounded urgent.”

Kinnaird paused, seemingly for a brief internal debate, before saying slowly, “I needed to ask your opinion before I return to Dumbledore.”

Lupin remained carefully impassive as he replied, “Go ahead, then.”

Kinnaird pushed his empty glass to the side and gestured his decline when offered a third pour. He leaned against the back of the stool and readjusted the collar around his cloak before facing Lupin. He seemed to be evaluating him, judging how to reveal his information.

“I don’t think it comes as a surprise that scales of the Dark Lord’s favor are beginning to tip in regards to the Malfoys. Whereas Draco at one time seemed the likely choice for the Dark Lord to bind as a protege, he now seems to be losing favor. Meanwhile, Lucius has been more successful than ever at elevating his value in the Dark Lord’s eyes.”

“And why does this affect you?” asked Lupin, frowning.

“Lucius seems oddly preoccupied over my dealings with the Dark Lord,” said Kinnaird darkly. “The idea of him watching over my affairs at Hogwarts as well makes me uneasy. Furthermore… if the Dark Lord decides against binding himself to Draco… I fear for what he may to the boy, and who he may choose instead.”

Lupin’s hand tightened around his glass and he asked sharply, “What do you mean?”

“You know why the Longbottoms were murdered, yes?” responded Kinnaird in a low voice, not without a touch of condescension.

“For Voldemor-”

“Don’t say the name!” Kinnaird glanced around nervously, as though by habit.

“For You-Know-Who, then, to create the Asterisus potion. To bind himself to a protege of sorts and strengthen his tether to life and chances for return, should he find himself weakened or hurt again. Yes, of course- I was there when you gave the report. But then, who do you believe he may choose instead? And why do you believe Draco Malfoy to be in danger?”

Kinnaird folded and unfolded his hands, looking down, and shrugged. “I’m starting to believe he may choose me.”

There was a moment of silence, and then (perhaps more skeptically than he intended to) questioned, “Why would you think that?”

Kinnaird looked sharply to the side, and responded somewhat defensively, “Well, is it so difficult to believe?

Because Lupin did not know how to respond, he remained quiet and waited for Kinnaird to elaborate. Seemingly assuaged by his silence, Kinnaird shook off the perceived insult and went on.

“I just have a feeling. Look, I don’t want it- that’s why I’m here. I think that the Dark Lord is soon going to order Malfoy to do something that will force Dumbledore to expel him- once he has him alone, he may either feel that his usefulness is done or that it is the most opportune time to bind him. But whatever happens, Dumbledore must not expel him from the school, because I feel certain it will be the former. He has failed in his task to discover-”

Kinnaird broke off, and Lupin’s interest piqued. “Discover what?”

“Well, he’s supposed to discover what Potter and Snape are doing. He’s told the Dark Lord they are training, but then my reports are that the boy is weak- he thinks they are doing something else. I don’t know what.”

Immediately uncomfortable, for he knew that he must not reveal their reasons for travelling or for the time they spent unaccounted for, Lupin pursued his line of questioning. “So why can’t you tell Dumbledore all of this?”

“How will it look, if I arrive and tell him to keep Malfoy in the school no matter what, and that the Dark Lord may now choose me as his protege? He will doubt my loyalty! He could ask me to leave the school! And he will wonder how I gained such favor...”

With narrowed eyes, Lupin replied, “Dumbledore would want you to succeed, he would not punish you for it. You must tell him what you have told me.”

“Listen,” said Kinnaird as though he were conceding something, “I’m not supposed to tell anyone this. But the reason that Dumbledore wanted me around in the first place was to keep an eye on Draco… getting information from Voldemort was supposed to be secondary. Now the Headmaster is starting to act more guarded, more suspicious of me when we are together. I can’t help but feel as though it has something to do with my failing to keep Lucius out, or give him fair warning- but you have to believe, I had no idea. And I can’t catch Draco in anything, and now he needs to stay at the school…”

“So then what do you expect to do?” asked Lupin firmly. “You can’t withhold this information for the sake of elevating your status in Dumbledore’s eyes… I can’t solve this problem for you.”

“You could, perhaps,” said Kinnaird hopefully, and for the first time, Lupin could see his purpose in calling him here. “You have been… a friend, to me. If you could find a way to deliver this information to Dumbledore yourself, it would be much better received and allow me to-”

But Lupin’s hard face seemed to answer for him, and Kinnaird’s speech fell short. He looked down at his hands and shrugged embarrassedly. After a long and uncomfortable moment, he said quietly, “I knew… I know I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. This information is simply too important to be ignored, and though I can’t tell why, I have a feeling it will be. I wish I knew what had changed the Headmaster’s attitude towards me, of late.”

Again, there was a subtle suggestion in his tone that told Lupin he wished for more than he was stating outright. But Lupin could not engage in a conversation about the Headmaster’s motivations without knowing what the outcome would be; the erratic pattern Kinnaird’s behavior had been following since the start of their meeting made him difficult to read, and Lupin could not be sure how best to manage him.

So, for the sake of simplifying matters, Lupin offered a conciliatory nod and responded, “I wish I could help you. I will consider ways of doing so, but for now the best way I know how is to tell you to give Dumbledore all of the information you have without reading too far into how its delivery may be perceived. And if he asks my opinion, you can be assured that I will do my best to sway him to see your point of view.”

But this did not appear to be the answer Kinnaird had been hoping for, as he didn’t respond but simply nodded roughly and rose from his barstool. He laid a sum of muggle money on the counter to settle the tab. “This should take care of your last drink,” he said to Lupin. “I will take my leave of you now. Please do not mention this conversation to anyone else.”

“Of course,” said Lupin. He watched the other man carefully as he drew his hood again, but his expression gave away nothing. He returned his attention to his drink and a moment later heard the pub door close.

Lupin drained his glass and dabbed the wet corners of his mustache against the sleeve of his robes before leaving the pub. He waited until he’d reached a safe distance from the pub before turning on the spot and apparating with the destination of Hogwarts’ gates in mind. There was a very dark wizard he needed to see.

xxx

The Great Hall was abuzz the excited chatter of teenagers who were spending the energy pent up after a long day of sitting quietly in front of books and teachers. At the farthest end of the Gryffindor table, Ginny Weasley was speaking animatedly with a group of fifth year girls and an out-of-place looking Neville Longbottom. Harry couldn’t help but stare at her turned back with a touch of irritation; there had been plenty of room next to him when she had entered the hall, and so her continued distance from him seemed deliberate.

“Have you talked to her?”

Accompanying Hermione’s voice was the abrupt realization that Harry had been watching Ginny, rather obviously, for quite some time. He averted his eyes and turned to his friend, shrugging.

“No. What am I supposed to say?”

“Well, I don’t know, Harry. But you can’t just go on ignoring each other.”

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to picking at his dinner.

“I hate to say it,” said Ron from his right side, “But Hermione might be right, mate. We’ve only got a few weeks until the hols. What, are you just going to avoid the Burrow all summer because of my sister? I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry muttered, glaring down at his plate. “I have to talk to her. But not right now, okay? I’ve got to get her in private.”

“Right,” said Ron. “Don’t want to embarrass the poor girl…”

“More that I don’t want to embarrass myself,” said Harry. “I’m not about to get my head bitten off in the middle of the Great Hall…”

Ron laughed but Hermione’s expression was one of reproval. “Harry, there’s no need to make a bigger deal of it than it is. And while we’re on the subject, can we talk about your lead-in?”

“What do you mean?”

Hermione glanced around at the prying eyes of their fellow Gryffindors and pressed her lips together as she stared at them defiantly. “Perhaps we should get going. I don’t want to be late for our meeting with Professor Snape.”

“Hang on! I’m still eating,” said Ron, beginning to shovel his remaining food into his mouth with the same urgency one might expect of someone who had just learned this was his last meal.

“Finish your dinner, Ron, we’ll meet you at the staircase,” said Hermione as she heaved her sagging book bag onto her shoulder.

Hermione spoke quietly as Harry walked with her. “I shouldn’t have told you that I thought Ginny fancied you.” There was both guilt and a certain unwillingness in Hermione’s tone that told Harry she had likely been regretting this since their last conversation but hadn’t wanted to admit it. “I just hope you will leave that out when you do talk to her. I must admit, I had rather hoped-” But she cut herself off and bit her lip as though debating what her next words should be.

“What, Hermione?”

“Well, I thought maybe that telling you as much might make you move a bit faster, but it seems to have had the opposite effect.”

“And why would it make me move any faster?”

“Well, I thought maybe it would give you something to be hopeful about… And I do think you and Ginny might make a rather nice match, if you could both get over yourselves.”

Harry stopped where he was and turned to Hermione, blinking at her in surprise. “Hermione Granger… are you attempting to play matchmaker?”

“No!” she objected defiantly, readjusting her bag and blushing furiously. “You’ve just been so- so fatalistic, lately, and I thought if you had something to hope for…”

“So you were just trying to manipulate me into being a bit more cheerful?”

Hermione looked immediately hurt by Harry’s accusations, but she didn’t try to defend herself. “I was being honest. I do think she fancies you. I just wish I hadn’t said so because now you’re acting very strange, and it certainly isn’t helping the situation. But regardless of how she feels, or how you feel, you need to talk to her because you two are friends, and you do need your friends, Harry, no matter what you think.”

Hermione’s statement was the sort that immediately made Harry question what they were really arguing over- did she think that his rift with Ginny was symptomatic of a larger problem, Harry’s growing distance from his friends? But before he could question the true source of her worry, Ron’s arrival brought their growing dispute to an abrupt end.

“Alright, m’ready,” said Ron thickly as he shoved the remainder of a buttered roll into his mouth. “Room of Requirement, then?”

Harry glanced to Hermione and she nodded, seemingly a silent agreement that they should put their conversation on pause. Together, the three climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, listening to Ron recounting a good bit of gossip about a duel that had taken place outside the Ravenclaw dormitories the preceding evening.

When they reached the Room of Requirement, Severus was standing a short way down the corridor, leaning over the barrister in a would-be languid manner if not for the harsh reprimands he was aiming at a few students on the staircase below.

“Twenty points from Slytherin, Stevenson, and if I catch you preying on another Hufflepuff girl below fifth year, you’ll be spending the remainder of your evenings this year in detention with me! And Prettle, if you wouldn’t want your parents hearing about it, you shouldn’t be doing it at all! It’ll be a letter home, for you, and don’t let me catch you at this again.”

“Taking points from your own house, Dad?” asked Harry as Severus straightened and turned to them. His Father’s eyebrows lifted just a touch and he strode to where they were.

“For all the things I’ve caught you in, Harry, I’ll admit I take for granted that I’ve never had to pry you from any of Hogwarts’ alcoves. There’s something in the air, this time of year, I’m sure of it. Here- this is what you will need to get into the room.”

The small scrap of parchment Severus had pressed into Harry’s hand read: I need a place with plenty of space, strong enough to withstand a duel.

“I will see you inside,” said Severus, nodding to each of the trio and striding three times past the blank stretch of wall.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the room, they could see that it was quite a bit larger than the normal room they dueled in. Harry stared around at high vaulted ceilings and the strong stone structures holding them in place. The room itself was primarily empty, but the floors were soft and springy and the walls shimmered with what he suspected was warding to protect them from wayward spells.

“This should suffice,” said Severus dispassionately as he surveyed the room, reaching out to touch a nearby beam and stopping several centimeters short of making contact. “Yes, very good.”

As Severus continued to inspect the room, Hermione questioned tentatively, “Sir, I am guessing that the increased strength of the room means we will be performing highly volatile spells- is that correct?”

“Quite contrary,” Severus said offhandedly as he continued to pace the perimeter, “the spell I will be teaching you and Mr. Weasley to perform should be stable- however, if you do this correctly and my own spells rebound, I worry for the structure of the room. It does appear, however,” his raised wand emitted a few sparks that dissipated in the layer of warding over the wall, “that the room has protected itself against such possibility.”

“So,” said Ron slowly, looking around, “Will we need something special to do this, or…?”

Severus’ head turned slightly over his shoulder, his expression bemused. “Your wand would be an excellent start, Mr. Weasley.” Ron flushed and pulled his wand out of his back pocket.

“Now,” said the Potions Master in a business-like tone as he turned and strode back to the center of the room, “I should explain some of the theory before we begin practical application. You have experience with blocking and shield spells, but by combining your power, you may be able to quickly erect much stronger protective enchantments against an opponent during a duel. If you can successfully do so, this may give Harry the time he needs to gather his strength and perform offensive magic beyond disarming or stunning spells.”

“The Visepion Shield- isn’t it?” Severus nodded in Hermione’s direction. “That’s very advanced magic, isn’t it Professor?”

“It is indeed, Miss Granger. It is not something that can be done by one Wizard alone, and certainly not by one who is underage. However… Harry’s shield charms have become quite strong.” Severus looked pointedly to Harry. “I withheld nothing, and yet you were able to block me. I believe this is evidence of your growing power- particularly in White Magic. With Harry’s help, the three of you should be able to erect the block- once it has been raised, you can maintain it while he prepares to attack. It may only be a few minutes, but it will be enough.”

“Wicked,” said Ron. “How do we start?”

“We’ll start with the formation,” said Severus. He pointed at a spot on the floor. “Stand here, Weasley. And Miss Granger, here. Harry, you stand in the middle- no, take a step back- yes, like that.”

When the three were done positioning themselves, they formed a vague triangle, with Harry standing about an arm’s length behind them.

“To begin the spell, contact is required between the casters. Weasley, Granger, you’ll need to join hands. Harry, place your hand on top of theirs- once the shield is erected, you should be able to break contact without disrupting it.”

Ron and Hermione’s hands extended outward and closed in a firm grasp; Harry reached forward to join them.

“The incantation is Visepio Maxima. Your wands should be pointed forward, where you wish the shield to materialize. Close your eyes- concentrate on sensing each other before casting. Harry, you are the power behind this spell- you need to focus on channelling your magic.”

The three did as they were instructed; their eyes fell shut and there was silence. Harry concentrated simultaneously on drawing power and channelling it toward Ron and Hermione, but it was almost as though he was too conscious, too aware of the task at hand to get lost in the feelings that he normally drew on to perform such strong magic. He tried to Occlude, to shut everything out, but it seemed that as soon as he was beginning to succeed, Snape’s voice broke his concentration.

“Together, now, say the incantation.”

“Visepio Maxima!” Ron and Hermione’s voices were stronger than his; on impulse, Harry’s eyes snapped open- he wanted to see the result of their spell- but there was a feeble crackling in the air and a short flash of light, and the “shield” dissipated so quickly it might never have been there at all.

Disappointment pervaded the atmosphere as the three disbanded and Snape announced flatly, “All things considered, not as dreadful a start as I might have expected.”

“It’s my fault,” said Harry in a low voice. “I was distracted- we can try again.”

“Well, we can’t expect mastery on the first try,” said Severus. “But yes, I think we should try again.”

“Harry,” started Hermione tentatively, “why don’t you try giving us the signal when you’re ready? A squeeze, or something- it doesn’t have to be verbal if that’s what’s distracting you.”

“That might work,” Harry agreed, moving back to the center of their formation.

There was no talking as they resumed their positions, hands linked, wands extended, and eyes closed. With great effort, Harry managed to clear his mind; it felt as though hours passed as he walled every possible distraction out of his consciousness, closing the door firmly on each thought that begged for his attention. When at last he had reached true focus, he willed himself to draw on his environment, his emotions- anything that would allow him to summon the power necessary to charge the spell- but found himself coming up short.

With each passing second that he struggled to dredge up some sort of magical energy, he became increasingly aware that the entire room was waiting on him to act. Trying to transform this anxiety into some sort of motivation to succeed, he closed his eyes even tighter and envisioned his magic transferring to the Witch and Wizard whose hands were twitching under his, and he gave them a squeeze.

“Visepio Maxima!”

Harry did not open his eyes; he kept his hands locked with Ron and Hermione’s, thrusting his wand forward as if stretching physically further might somehow fortify the shield. He could hear a familiar sort of crackling and could feel the air around him ripple. He allowed himself to pop one eye open.

The air in front of them seemed solid, somehow; everything in front of it seemed blurred, distorted; but as soon as he had lifted his singular eyelid, the shield seemed to fall again.

Just beyond where the shield had materialized, Severus stood with one arm folded across his chest and the elbow of the other resting on top of it, a fist over his mouth and a knuckle between his gritted teeth as he considered them, frowning deeply.

“Better, but not good enough,” he said as he shook his head. “Again.”

This cycle repeated itself several times over to very little avail. Each time, with great effort and determination, Harry began with a clear mind and a will to succeed. And each time, just when he thought they had finally erected the shield correctly, his concentration broke and it fell before Severus had so much as raised his wand to test it.

Five times over they continued this sequence of events, until, overwhelmingly frustrated with the lack of progress and creeping feelings of failure, Harry announced, “Enough! We’re not making any progress. I’m done for today.”

“Harry, the last time was quite a bit better!” said Hermione pleadingly, not for the first time; she had been encouraging him similarly on the last several attempts, but Harry had a feeling this was more due to her inability to give up on something before succeeding than any true indication that they were actually improving.

“It wasn’t, Hermione, and you know it! Ask Ron, he’s been quiet enough- because he knows we’re not any further now than we were an hour ago when we began!”

“I-well, I wouldn’t say-” But at a withering look from Hermione, he fell quiet and aimed his gaze at the ground.

“I’m just not strong enough; we’ll have to find another way.”

“Enough of this,” Severus snapped impatiently. “You cannot possibly be so arrogant as to believe performing such advanced magic should come easily to you. There are many grown wizards who could not attempt this spell. Yes, it will take practice. Yes, you will have to work at it. But that does not mean you cannot accomplish it. As to your strength, that will come with time.”

“I didn’t say I expected to get it on the first try,” Harry responded through gritted teeth, hackles instantly raised at Severus’ return to motivation by goading. “Just that clearly, something isn’t working, and I don’t see the point in continuing today.”

“And what, precisely, do you believe isn’t working?” asked Severus, but he was not mocking, Harry could see, as he waited for an answer.

“I don’t know, exactly. I just can’t- can’t find the energy to perform it, like I usually can-”

“Are you concentrating?”

“Of course I am!”

“Professor, if I may?” Hermione’s quiet voice interrupted what Harry was sure would have been an acerbic response, for Severus looked quite annoyed with him.

“Yes, Miss Granger, please enlighten us of your opinion,” Severus drawled, sounding bored.

“Well, White Magic calls for the caster to draw on strong emotions and energy from the environment, correct?” Severus nodded, his expression becoming interested. “And every time Harry has been successful in performing it, his environment has been one either specifically designed for practice of the art… or, outdoors, correct?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. Complete your thought.”

“Well,” she said, wincing and glancing around at the heavy stone walls of the room, “Is it possible that this environment is simply too… protected, for Harry to draw on anything environmental? And if he is concentrating so hard on staying focused, it’s rather hard to focus on any emotion. Perhaps it’s the room that’s the problem.”

“Oh, well brilliant, Hermione, let’s just take a stroll out onto the grounds and put that theory to test, then,” said Ron. “I’m sure no one will take notice of a little experimental magic next to the lake between three Gryffindors and the Head of Slytherin-”

“That’s obviously not what I’m suggesting. But I do think a different environment might be in order…”

Severus looked to be considering her point, his gaze flickering from Hermione to Harry several times before finally settling on his son. “Does Miss Granger’s theory support what you are experiencing?”

“It does,” Harry admitted after a moment of consideration. “At least, I think it does-”

“Well,” said Severus in a sigh, sounding resigned. “The best way to prove a theory is to put it to the test. That is what we will have to do.”

“But where? Like Ron said, we can’t exactly just stroll down to the lake without anyone noticing.”

“Well, we will have to return to the house, clearly,” said Severus. His jaw shifted back and forth, as though he were chewing on his next words before spitting them out. Rigidly, as though it pained him, he continued, “We will go this weekend. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, you will stay in the spare rooms of my home.” Ron exchanged a nervous glance with Hermione, but she broke eye contact with him in an instant, likely to avoid having Snape see. Harry didn’t know what she was trying to hide; Snape didn’t look any happier at the prospect of having them at his house than they looked at the process of sleeping there. “And you will not speak of this. To anyone.”

“You have our word on that,” said Ron in a low voice, and Severus’ eyes narrowed threateningly in his direction.

“I think we have finished here for today,” said Severus, nodding toward the door and beginning to walk slowly towards it. “We will leave late Friday evening; I think considering the unusual nature of our travelling together, it is best to do so after curfew, when there are fewer prying eyes. You should be seen in the castle Friday evening; be sure to attend dinner. Inform your dorm mates in advance that you will be leaving this weekend, as to avoid unnecessary questions.”

“What should we tell them?”

Severus stopped at his place in front of the door to contemplate them for a short moment. “Perhaps that Mrs. Weasley has asked you home for the weekend, and ask them not to speak of it. I shall arrange the safest method of travel with the Headmaster and apprise you of the situation. Do you have any further questions?” Harry shook his head and felt certain that his friends had, as well, for Severus replied, “Good. I shall see you this weekend, then.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ron said facetiously as the tail of Severus’ black robes disappeared through the door. “Blimey, an entire weekend with Snape?”

“Well, with the Floo networks being watched… we don’t have much choice,” said Hermione. “Just be on your best behavior and it’ll be fine.”

“Depends on your definition of ‘fine’,” said Ron. He looked as though he would have liked to continue, but with a pointed nod in Harry’s direction from Hermione, fell quiet.

Grateful as Harry was for that particular conversation to come to an end, he couldn’t help but agree with Ron. If there was one thing he knew about his Father, it was that living with a Gryffindor wasn’t particularly a strength for him; how would he behave while sharing a home with three?

xxx

Reluctant to spend even another minute in uncomfortable conversation with Hermione regarding his love life, or relative lack thereof, Harry was determined to speak to Ginny before leaving for his Father’s house the coming weekend. The problem, however, was that Ginny’s determination seemed to far outweigh his own, and she had very different goals.

He had tried to catch her in the Gryffindor common room late the night they had returned from the Room of Requirement. Spotting her studying near the fireplace, he had plopped himself into a nearby chair and waited as, one by one, the remaining students had gone off to bed, leaving only her and a few friends. As soon as he had risen to approach her, however, she had quickly announced her exhaustion and skirted past him to the staircase.

He had tried to persuade Hermione to send her downstairs early before breakfast, but when she had emerged, she’d brought three friends with her and she had walked straight past him to attend to the “errand” Hermione had sent her on.

He had even tried to sit next to her in the Great Hall, forcing casual conversation, but he had received little more than one word answers to all of his queries, making the conversation quite short and sufficiently awkward to discourage him from any further attempts.

As Friday morning rolled around, however, and he could see the question in Hermione’s eyes as Ginny moved past them at lunch time, he decided that today he wouldn’t let her get away from him… even if that did mean sacrificing a bit of pride.

Harry arrived to breakfast fifteen minutes ahead of time and sat silently with Ron and Hermione (who had dutifully informed him that they had no intentions of allowing him to venture off alone) as students began to trickle in. He watched the doors to the Great Hall meticulously from the moment he sat down, but it was not until about a half an hour into breakfast that he spotted Ginny’s flaming red hair whipping behind her as she strode down the aisle way. She stopped briefly to speak to a fourth year girl before swiping a few pieces of toast from the table and turning around to exit the Great Hall once more.  

Left with very few remaining options, Harry did the only logical thing he could think of. He leapt from his seat, pausing momentarily to tug his backpack free from the bench it was stuck on, and promptly flew down the aisleway after Ginny, shouting her name as he went.

“Ginny, wait up! Ginny!”

A few heads turned Harry’s way, but to his relief most of the students who remained seemed content to mind their own business. Ginny did not appear to hear him, for she kept walking at brisk pace; despite this fact, however, Harry did not desist.

It was not until she had reached the front doors of the entrance hall that Ginny seemed to finally hear Harry’s calls; her steps came to a halt and she turned a quizzical glance over her shoulder. When she saw him approaching, she rounded quickly and folded her arms over her chest, still munching on a dry piece of toast and watching him approach with one quirked eyebrow.

By the time Harry reached where he stood, he was short of breath and flushed with embarrassment for having practically chased her from the hall in front of so many others. Still, he was bolstered by her lack of response and her cessation of flight away from him.

“What can I do for you, Harry?” Ginny’s voice was not as cold as he might have expected; yet another positive sign.

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny appeared to debate for a moment, but momentarily she shrugged. “I’m meeting Sarah by the lake for some studying this period, but I have a few moments to spare. Walk with me.”

Ginny turned and pushed open the great doors; Harry trailed somewhat awkwardly behind. She certainly wasn’t going to make this easy.

Quickening his pace a bit to catch up with her, Harry arrived at her side and struggled to find the right words to say.

“Listen… I know you’re mad at me, but give me the chance to explain.”

“I’m not mad at you, Harry,” said Ginny. “I simply don’t think we have as much in common as I might have originally thought.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginny’s head rolled from her left shoulder to her right in an exaggerated motion, and she eyed him sideways with a glare of annoyance.

“Harry, I’ve admired you since the day that I met you,” she said in a low voice as she continued to walk, though she slowed her pace. “You are incredibly brave, unquestioningly self-sacrificing, and generally a charitable and kind person to everyone you meet. You’ve faced a considerable amount of adversity in your life, but despite this, you have not let those hardships change you. And I still believe all of these things about you. But lately, something has changed. And I thought I was okay with that… until the way you treated me- and your friends- began to change too. Ever since you’ve begun spending more time with Snape… it’s like you’re turning into him, Harry. And that’s something I can’t quite reconcile with. So, while I’m glad you’ve finally decided to talk to me, I’m not certain it changes any of those things.”

Though Ginny had continued walking toward the lake, speaking as though she were unaffected, her words had stopped Harry in his tracks. He froze where he was and stared at her disbelievingly; it took her several moments, but she realized soon that he was no longer next to her and whipped around to face him, watching him with a questioning gaze.

“Harry?”

“Is this a bleeding joke?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” said Harry, and suddenly he was more angry than he could remember having decided to be. “Do you have any idea what I have been going through lately? The pressure I’m under? Or the task I have to complete?”

“Well, maybe if you talked to me-!”

“Have you even asked?!”

A stunned silence seemed to hang in the air as both realized the gravity of the confrontation unfolding between them; Harry, realizing that the problem went so much further than his behavior, and Ginny suddenly uncertain whether she had been justified in her accusations.

“Well, you haven’t exactly made it easy,” said Ginny defiantly.

“Oh, I apologize that my problems are too difficult for you to deal with,” Harry bit out spitefully. “You know, I came to apologize. I have been trying to talk to you for a week, at least, attempting to understand what it is that’s going on between us… but now I understand that it’s much simpler than I had realized.”

“And how exactly is this simple, Harry?” Ginny asked scornfully.

“You’re upset that I’m changing, but what you don’t realize is that every change I’m going through is necessary if I’m going to do what needs to be done. I’m sorry that I can’t be the same version of myself that I’ve always been… but the road that’s laid before me now is one that I can’t go down remaining as soft and naive as I have been. You can blame it on my Father all you want, but what you don’t see is that his hardness might be exactly what I need to get me through this… if you can’t handle that, then maybe it really is best you just stay away from me until the job is done.”

“What job, Harry? This is all so dramatic. Why can’t you just explain it to me, instead of whatever this is?”

Casting a glance around for any bystanders, Harry closed the gap between them, coming so close to Ginny that they were nearly nose to nose. Ginny blinked, growing visibly tense, but she did not back away.

“I’ve got to destroy Voldemort. It’s what the prophecy said, last year, and it’s what I’ve got to do if I- or anyone else- is going to be able to live a life free of him. Severus has been helping me. So if I seem a little preoccupied, or I haven’t been paying enough attention to you, I apologize. Deeply. But some things are just a little more important than my social life right now. Understand?”

“Harry, I-”

But whatever Ginny was going to say faded quickly from both of their minds as a great swirl of black robes and an impossibly deep voice descended on them; in an instant, Harry realized his Father stood behind him as the man’s hand clutched his shoulder.

“I hate to interrupt,” said Severus silkily, sounding anything but regretful, “but I’m afraid the Headmaster needs to see you in his office, Harry.”

“Fine with me,” said Harry tightly, allowing his gaze to slide over Ginny for only a second before turning away and following Severus toward the castle. He waited until he was a fair distance away before turning his head over his shoulder in her direction, but once he looked, she was already gone.

“I’m sure there is an incredible host of areas that might prove better to have such headed conversations,” Severus admonished in a low voice as they strode up the gravelled path towards the front doors. “I nearly hear you shouting from across the grounds. What could possibly be so important that you must create such a public display?”

“Nothing,” said Harry repressively. “Don’t worry about it. It won’t happen again. So… does Professor Dumbledore really need to see me, or were you just trying to stop me from saying anything too important?”

“The latter,” said Severus with a raised brow, not totally unamused. “However, now that I have you… there are certainly a few things I would like to discuss with him. It might be beneficial for you to accompany me. If, that is, you feel emotionally stable enough to attend.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Harry responded, casting a dark look in his Father’s direction. Emotionally stable, indeed… he certainly wasn’t the one who needed to be questioned on that account.

xxx End Chapter xxx