Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters.

Hogwart's Grounds ...9:22 p.m.

When the boys reached Hermione, Harry slowed, seizing her about the waist, but she dragged her feet, transfixed by the blood-orange vision of the setting sun. Harry glanced over his shoulder at it. It was hypnotic, like watching the horizon swallow a ball of liquid fire. He might have pulled her to the ground to enjoy it had it not meant certain death.

"Hermione... Chicken, come on."

She looked at him, then back at the sun. "Yes... Yes, all right," she said, letting him pull her into a run.

They quickly caught up to Ron and Draco, putting earth and air between themselves and their pursuers, but the darkness proved relentless; no matter how fast they moved, night moved faster, kissing their heels, threatening to devour them. Heightening the hellish situation something big streaked past, so close it whipped the hem of Ron's Quidditch robes. Harry, Draco, and Hermione slammed into him when he cried out and ground to a halt.

"The hell was that?" He rasped.

Hermione bent double, grasping her stomach as she gulped in air; Harry made himself dizzy spinning about, trying to sort out where the danger lay. Looking out at the grounds' vast expanse, he momentarily despaired of ever reaching the castle, a dark notion that was validated when an encroaching shadow chuckled. Hermione whimpered and latched on to the nearest arm-Draco's. She screamed when something else landed steps away, boxing them in. Harry squinted at the shape as it edged in closer, then lowered his wand; he frowned in confused recognition.

"Fang?"

With his head and shoulders hunched low the dog growled, deep and continuous like a Muggle car motor. He looked the picture of a mad dog with his lips pulled back to reveal nothing but bubbling ropes of froth and pointy white teeth. Then as suddenly as he appeared, the dog ran off.

Fang! You big coward! Harry fumed, then flushed hot with regret seconds later; Fang had back-tracked, had circled to attack the source of the laughter.

Fenrir Greyback staggered into view, Fang attached to his neck. The man snarled and growled as he twisted his body against the boarhound, desperate to dislodge the dog. Harry understood why as rivulets of blood streamed from the numerous puncture wounds in Greyback's neck.

Instead of watching, Harry knew they should be gone, tearing across the grounds toward the castle and safety-but the others stared too, as mesmerized by the savagery playing out before them as he was. An ordinary man would be on his knees, if not dead after such abuse, but here the realities of the Magical and Muggle worlds split: Greyback was no ordinary man, and if Fang didn't hurry up and bring him down, Greyback wouldn't be a man at all.

The moment that thought crossed Harry's mind, Fang seemed to manage a more devastating grip. Harry nearly cheered when Greyback stumbled and a gush of blood arced out into the waning twilight. Then Time (the old whore) ran out. The world spun on its axis plunging the sun's remnants below the horizon and Hogwarts' grounds into darkness.

Fang immediately dropped to the ground and backed away. Greyback smelled dangerous enough in human form, but with the change upon him he stank of death and corruption. As if to rid himself of the stink, Fang shook his head and moved back further, planting himself in front of Harry and the others.

"Lumos!" Ron shouted. Harry and Draco followed his lead as Hermione wondered aloud why she hadn't thought of it.

With a grunt, Greyback fell to his knees. The lights from their wands followed him. Seemingly delighted by the attention, the man turned his mad gaze on to them. His eyes bulged wildly and his lips twisted into a wide grin that never faltered, even as his jaw popped and knotted-even as his body was wrenched downward, buckling and swelling in impossible angles, his skin stretched tight and slick over misshapen bone.

If Harry had expected a screaming, scrabbling resistance to the change, he was disappointed. While Remus had loathed transforming, Greyback clearly reveled in it, as if he was shedding his mask and donning his true skin. The transformation was quick. Within a minute, wet, heated snuffling sounds filled the night. Then the werewolf rose.

"Bloody. Fucking. Hell," Ron said, his head falling back to follow its movements.

At its full height, the beast looked ten feet tall. But for its bloodthirsty expression it might have been beautiful. An exquisite silver-colored mane ran from the tip of its head down the middle of its wide back, like lush quills. Triangular, silver-tipped ears pointed forward-not a good sign, nor were its scythe-like claws, long, and bloodied from the change. Powerful arms hung low and heavy from shoulders that joined with a neck so thick it resembled a camel's hump; however, blood still pumped from the damage Fang had inflicted, proving the moon was no cure-all for injuries Greyback received as a man.

The werewolf stared at them, as if taking stock. Then it lobbed its head back and howled. Harry's skin burst into gooseflesh so fast it hurt. When other howls echoed across the grounds, he tried and failed to staunch a torrential sense of dread.

"We should run," he whispered.

"Are you insane?" Ron hissed. "We wouldn't get four steps!"

"Well, we can't hang around here until his mates show up!"

Ron stared at Harry, letting his words sink in. "Shit!"

The werewolf dropped to all fours, nostrils flaring and collapsing in rapid pulses as it scented them. Fear-more potent than a moment ago. Gloom wove a perfumed trail through the night air too, thick, like honeysuckle, sugary and divine. These smells aroused the werewolf, made its heart thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump in lustful anticipation.

Greyback despised wizards. He knew they thought him and his kind savage, slavering simpletons, no better than feral dogs, but he had a particular disdain for those in the Ministry. Wizard politicians, in their rabid self-interest and unflagging ignorance, safeguarded their livelihoods by inciting fear and hatred. Werewolves were no angels by any means, but wizarding laws drove wolf packs to society's fringe with bureaucratic mousetraps like the Werewolf Capture Unit, the Werewolf Registry, and the laughable Werewolf Code of Conduct. It rankled that wizards did all this with a fragile stick of wood and antiquated mumbo jumbo. Abracadabra, indeed. 

But Greyback was a clever man and an even cleverer werewolf. For too long werewolves had been at the mercy of a population that, in Greyback's mind, bordered on extinction. Pure-blood lineage did not guarantee a magical child. Take Hogwarts' crooked-backed caretaker, Argus Filch, and that mad cat lady, Arabella Figg-Squibs, the pair of them, and if Voldemort conquered Dumbledore and his lot, Greyback predicted a grim outlook for Britain's magical community.

This explained why between Voldemort and the so-called Light, Greyback considered the dark wizard the lesser of the two evils. And while Harry Potter wasn't evil, the young wizard's scent gave the werewolf pause.

The boy was scared, yes, but Greyback detected a disturbing depth of power as well-a depth of power no child should possess. The Dark Lord and Dumbledore could have managed that Stupefy the boy cast earlier, and without the dramatic choreography, but the Dark Lord and Dumbledore possessed something Harry Potter did not: killer instinct.

To be fair, Dumbledore had never murdered anyone. Following the duel with Grindelwald, instead of killing the dark wizard, Dumbledore left his old friend to fester in Nurmengard, the prison Grindelwald ironically had constructed to hold his opponents. Revered Wizengamot member, tender-hearted grandfather-figure, and twinkle-eyed old fox-Dumbledore had known imprisonment would kill Grindelwald just as surely as the Killing Curse, only far more painfully and more slowly.

And Voldemort? Well, his tote board of the dead made Greyback look like an amateur in comparison.

Despite the unsettling stench of power the boy exuded, Harry Potter was different: He sweated innocence like a minutes-old calf, which meant he was no match for the werewolf. None of them were. It would have them gasping and gutted before their frightened little minds could think, "Expelliarmus!"

The foursome clutched each other when the werewolf rose again to stand. They watched, wide-eyed as it inhaled a dramatic breath and reared back. With arms bent and claws readied, it heaved its upper body forward towards them and roared. The teens grimaced and clapped their hands over their ears against the sound-then, before they knew it was on the move, the werewolf lunged at them.

Fang's smoky bark echoed as he charged at it, snapping and snarling. Caught off guard, Greyback stopped short, then veered to go around the dog. But Fang leapt again and again, blocking the werewolf's path to Harry and the others.

Annoyed at the dog's game, the werewolf shook its head and stamped its paws. Smelling Greyback's frustration and wanting to keep the beast focused on him, Fang darted in to nip at the werewolf's flank. He got lucky. His teeth sank into a mound of thigh meat and he yanked as hard as he could. Greyback howled in pain, then retaliated. Long claws sliced deep, bloody furrows into Fang's shoulder. The boarhound screeched, a sound like fingernails dragging across a chalkboard. Then he crumpled to the ground.

"NO!" Harry screamed. "Fang! Get up!" The dog's back legs twitched, but that was all. Then he lay still, so still Harry thought him dead, but when he called to him again, Fang whined and raised his head. Greyback growled a warning and lowered his mouth toward Fang's neck.

"DON'T!" Harry brought his wand up. The werewolf looked at him and bared its teeth. In response, Fang tried to roll over to expose his belly and throat to the werewolf.

Greyback uttered a ghoulish gurgle, something like a chuckle at the dog's submissive behavior. When he began closing in on Fang again, Harry aimed his wand, but the beast was too close to Fang; Fang whined and pawed the ground. The werewolf's yellowish eyes shone with bloodlust as it hovered over the dog, a move that left it vulnerable to what happened next: a trap-like grip around its throat.

Before this night, Fang contented himself with naps in front of the fireplace and walks with Snape. He didn't consider begging for table scraps undignified, and he liked to run after sticks and balls when Harry was feeling playful. He also loved to chase squirrels and rabbits- for sport, never to kill. From Roman to Medieval times his boarhound ancestors were bred for bear-baiting, lion-baiting, bull fighting and dog fighting; Fang preferred the coward's way; however, when times called for a more forceful response, he obliged. And what was Greyback but another dog?

When Harry drew his wand, Fang hadn't wanted him to intervene, because the second the werewolf positioned itself over him, Fang's ancestral bloodlust ignited. Using what little strength he had, he propelled his head up, opened his mouth as wide as he could, then clamped his jaws around Greyback's throat.

Something crunched. Fang wanted to howl his triumph as the werewolf gave a gurgled yelp. When it tried to wrench loose, Fang held fast, determined to savor the final thump of its heart. He wanted to separate the beast from its larynx; he wanted to crouch over his prize as the werewolf died, and as blood flooded Fang's muzzle and face, and Greyback's howls began to turn bubbly and watery sounding, Fang didn't think he had long to wait.

"Harry! C'mon!" Ron yelled and pushed him, hard, shocking him out of his stupor. When Harry looked at him, Ron pointed.

Something new had joined the darkness.

They ran. Hermione threw her arm up to cast an odd pattern of red and green sparks into the air. When she stumbled, Draco grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him; Harry took hold of her other one. Shouts, screams and roars, sounding at once close and distant, melded with the furious jackhammer of their feet against the ground and the rhythmic huff huff huff of their breath as they ran.

Just as Harry thought his leg muscles were about to seize up, he spotted the rolling incline that led to Ravenclaw Tower and the West Tower. Thank Merlin! The fortifications forked the main courtyard which led to the castle's entrance, and safety, but then Harry stopped.

"Harry, what -" Ron began.

"Who's there?" Harry said.

"‘Who's there?'" Mocking him.

"Lumos!" Draco aimed his wand into the darkness. The light landed on a tall, black-cloaked figure. "Dolohov?"

"Antonin Dolohov... at ya service."

Antonin? Harry brought up his wand, too. He never saw the man's face that night in the forest to know what he looked like, but Draco recognized him because Dolohov's Death Eater mask was pushed up on top of his head revealing a long, disfigured face. Harry winced. Someone's Bat-Bogey hexes had obviously found their mark. Later, he hoped to shake the hand of the wizard that had done it.

"Mmm..." Dolohov leered, squinting against the light of their wands. "Malfoy. Snotty liddle ponce. Been missin' ya ‘round the manor. Couldn't ever getcha' off ya mama's teat, always trailin' behind her, hidin' under her skirts. Who's gone look out for ya now? Eh? ‘Specially wit' her an' Lucius dead."

"Fuck you, you degenerate!"

"Och, is that what Dumbledore's passin' off as wizardin' education these days?"

"Shut up about Dumbledore," Harry said coldly.

Dolohov turned his rattish eyes onto the boy. "Well, well, well. Harry Potter..." Dolohov dipped his chin in a shallow nod. "S'an honor. I remember things bein' a bit, ah, hectic at the Ministry last year, no time fer the niceties. But ain't nothin' like the present for learnin' a lesson or two, pa'ticly when it comes to showin' a bit a respect fer ya elders." Dolohov snapped his wand up, sighting Harry's heart.

"Do it and I'll fix the rest of you to match your revolting face," Draco said.

Dolohov dragged his tongue along his lips, fat with bogeys. He smiled. "I always though' ya had a pretty liddle mouth on you, boy..." He winked and flicked his wand in a promise. "I'll deal wit'cha in a mo'."

Ron lodged himself in front of Draco. "Breathe on him and I'll kill you."

They weren't touching, but Draco could feel Ron's lanky frame vibrating with intent.

Dolohov laughed nastily. "S'like that, is it? Well, now, I ain't have no quarrel wit' ya, Ginger. In fact, I wipe my arse wi' liddle maggots like ya ever' day. But if yer feelin' froggy, boy... leap!"

No one heard the man utter a curse or saw his wand move, but they weren't taking any chances.

"Expulso!"

"Duro!"

"Diffindo!"

Ron flicked his wand at the ground in front of Dolohov: "Confringo!" The sod exploded, gouging a deep well in the ground, blanketing the Death Eater with earth.

All those spells coming at him at once should have laid Dolohov low. Frightful appearance and crude speech aside, Harry recognized the man as a formidable wizard.

"Run!" He yelled.

"Yeah!" Dolohov cackled. "Run! S'more fun that way! Avada Kedavra!"

Harry never knew what possessed him, but he wheeled back and ran into the curse. As it hurtled toward him, he inhaled, sucking in what he thought was his last breath and as he breathed out, he didn't know how to process the sun-bright sensation flaying his insides as he heard voices:

...You will be fine. Both of you will be fine.

...can't promise I'll ever like Snape, Harry... but for you, I'll give being civil a go.

Yes... In answer to your question... from before.

...never thought I'd want to be part of a family again.

The time it took for that string of sounds to work through Harry's brain was time enough, he knew, for the curse to reach him.

But it never did.

A loud crack sounded, like an explosion. He then threw his arms up against a light so white, it seemed infinite. As he turned his face, shielding it in the hollow of his right shoulder, he glimpsed Hermione, Ron, Draco-and Snape. He looked at Snape. The instant their eyes locked, the man barreled into his mind.

Harry! God! Are you all right?

Was he? Harry looked down at himself. He patted his chest, arms and stomach, incredulous because nothing effectively blocked the Killing Curse-except love. Snape and the others had their wands pointed at him: Hermione was crying; Draco's eyes were closed, his lips moving rhythmically; Ron was frowning, jabbing his wand back and forth shouting, nothing Harry could understand.

He grinned at Snape. ‘M' fine!

"Cock suckin' traitor!" Dolohov bellowed, his wand on Snape. "Avada Ked -!"

Before he could finish, a long diagonal gash split his chest open. He fell to his knees, then collapsed onto his butchered face with a loud, wet thud. Harry whipped around to look behind him: Dumbledore and Aberforth. The headmaster still had his wand up.

"Lumos!"he said. Harry gaped at him. Dumbledore didn't look angry, but he wasn't smiling either.

Hermione bolted over to Harry, face wet with tears. He squeezed her tightly when she wrapped her arms around him. Snape burned a path to Dolohov's body. He rolled the Death Eater with a flick of his wand, keeping his distance from the man's feet and hands. From where Harry stood, he could see Snape shaking-could see him contemplating killing Dolohov.

"Severus," Dumbledore called sharply.

Snape began to teeter back and forth, his jaw clenching. He closed his eyes. Harry started to go to him, but Aberforth hissed at him to stay put.

Eventually, Snape opened his eyes. After another hesitation, he crouched down and jerked his wand back and forth over Dolohov's wound, closing it. He cast a body binding spell, then snapped Dolohov's wand into pieces before hoisting his own to cast a shower of silver sparks into the sky. Then he called for Harry. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and they ran to him.

"You sure you're all right?" Snape's hand trembled as he cupped Harry's cheek.

"Yes, sir," he said as everyone else began to close in around them.

"Draco?" Snape frowned after having a proper look at the boy.

"I'm all right," Draco said, his tone as wooden as his stance. He was standing apart from everyone, all the bravado he'd directed at Dolohov bled away.

"Why didn't you send up sparks earlier?" Snape asked him.

"We saw Lucius killed," Harry said, his eyes on Draco.

"What?" Snape went to Draco and wrapped a hand around his neck to pull him close; Draco turned his face into the man's chest. "Where?"

"Outside the stadium," Harry said. "One minute he was coming at us like he wanted to kill us, the next he was yelling at us to run."

Snape stared at Harry, confused.

"Mundungus..." Harry heard Dumbledore murmur as the headmaster exchanged a look with Aberforth.

"...Harry? Where's Ron?" said Hermione.

"Wha - I don't - Ron!" Harry yelled. "RON!"

"Here! I'm here!"

Ron materialized out of the darkness, arguing with someone: Ginny. His arm was around her waist while she clutched her hip, in obvious pain. Harry hurried over to help.

"You could have been killed! Why aren't you inside the castle with the others?"

"Because I thought helping out here was a bit more important than studying for O.W.L.s, big brother," Ginny said. Ron growled. "Oh, please! That growly thing hasn't scared me since I was two!"

"You the one who prettied up Dolohov's face?" Harry said.

"He hexed me, the dirty bastard! And I remember him from that night in the Ministry, him cursing Hermione. Bloody, toad-licking, nut sucking, tit -"

"Ginny!" Ron and Harry exploded in chorus.

"What?" she growled.

"Th - the headmaster... The professor!" Ron said, eyeing Snape and Dumbledore.

"We are at war, Mr. Weasley," Snape said. "Sweet words and politesse are the least of our concerns."

Then something exploded nearby, underscoring Snape's point that they were at the center of a battlefield, not a dinner table. He snapped his fingers, motioning for the students to gather around him.

"Get them back to the castle," Dumbledore said. "I will meet you there."

Snape froze. "Are you mad?! I'll not leave you out here to battle these monsters on your own! You come with us! We -"

Aberforth stepped up to stand beside Dumbledore. "Go, Severus. I'll stay with my brother."

Snape's face reddened. "The hell you will! Papa -"

Aberforth did not cut nearly as imposing a figure as his brother, but when he gave Snape a hard look the Potions master fell silent and strode over to the elder wizard. His expression left little doubt that he thought leaving the Dumbledores made as much sense as a horse on a unicycle, but he listened as Aberforth spoke.

Meanwhile Dumbledore went to Harry. As the headmaster came toward him, Harry gaped, enthralled, like a child witnessing magic for the first time. Power radiated off the old wizard so impossibly Harry wondered why Voldemort wasn't burrowing underground instead of picking a fight with this man. As it was, Harry was barely managing to curb the idiotic urge to bow at his feet.

Dumbledore smiled and laid a hand to Harry's cheek. He was a terribly tactile person, Harry knew, and he had touched Harry before, but never like this.

"My brave boy," Dumbledore said softly. With his free hand he covered Harry's heart as he had that day in his office. "Remember," he said, blue eyes twinkling with some inexplicable emotion. "Everything you need is here."

Harry couldn't help smiling as he brought up a hand to cover Dumbledore's. The old wizard laughed, a sound like a symphony, lovely and melodic in the midst of the darkness.

"Go, go, go," he said.

Harry jerked, as if snapping out of a momentary fugue state. He continued to stare until a smiling Dumbledore nodded toward Snape; the man had been calling him and Harry hadn't heard. When Snape called again, Harry went to him. Had he known it was the last time he would see Dumbledore alive, he would have said something, done something more.

But another explosion shattered the night, so close, chunks of earth rained down feet from the group. When white-masked figures burst into sight, Aberforth roared, "Move!"

Snape wasted no time in obeying.

As they ran, Harry glanced back several times to see the brothers working in tandem. The seamlessness of their magic took his breath. It also crushed a satisfying number of Voldemort's lot.

Once they crested the incline, Harry spotted strangers and Order members running in the direction he and the others had just come from. He wasn't sure, but he thought he glimpsed Ossie, the Glass Hoof's Watchman, galloping alongside a young dark-skinned wizard at a speed a ninety year-old should not be able to pull off. Then Emmeline Vance and someone else Harry didn't recognize ran into view.

"Severus!" She shouted. "Where is Albus?"

Snape jerked his head. "Straight back, about 200 meters. Aberforth is with him." Emmeline and her partner started running in that direction. "Vance! The explosions?"

"Blast-Ended Skrewts! Charlie n' the twins!"

Harry turned to find Ron beaming, as if he had just discovered an island made of gold.

Steps away from Ravenclaw Tower they stopped, their path blocked, but they were not surprised. McGonagall had played out this scenario at least three times a week since March. She had even trained Luna, Padma, and Blaise to assist with the animation spell, if necessary.

Instead of Order members or students, a brigade of Hogwarts' knights and statues oversaw the gap between the two towers. But McGonagall must have raided other parts of the castle to beef up the numbers. Harry recognized many of the knights from having passed them daily in the corridors, but the others' rusted and battered state suggested they had just been plucked out of storage after what looked like half a millennia. He jumped at the clamor when they made ready their halberds, lances, and spears.

Sir Iacchus, the tallest, most forbidding-looking knight of the lot leveled his longsword at the head of the group-Snape. Harry darted forward, but Snape stopped him with a raised hand.

"Speak well if you desire entrance. If you mean fell deeds, be gone," the knight said, words bouncing about hollowly within his pewter-toned helmet.

Snape murmured something Celtic and lyrical. Satisfied, the knight motioned the sentries flanking him to make a hole. Once Snape and the children passed through, the guardians came back together with a clang of metal on metal and grind of stone on stone.

*WO

The Entrance Hall, Hogwarts ...10:16 p.m.

They met Ernie Macmillan and Dean at the Entrance Hall's doors. The two boys had their wands drawn, but Dean lowered his once he saw who was coming.

"Professor Snape! Hermione! Gin -"

"See here, Dean." Ernie threw out a hand to block the Gryffindor, his wand still trained on the new arrivals. "How do we know they are who they appear to be?"

Dean scowled and shoved Ernie's arm down. "Don't be stupid. They couldn't get past the guards otherwise."

"We don't know for sure." Ernie's arm bounced back up. When Dean jigged wide to avoid it, his elbow knocked into Ernie's wand. A spell rebounded off the stone wall, hitting Draco in the leg. He grimaced and fell to his knees, clutching his left thigh.

"Macmillan!" Snape roared as he crouched next to Draco. "You bloody imbecile - Put that thing down!"

Ernie's arm collapsed noodle-like at his side. "Malfoy - I didn't - Merlin, are you all right?"

"Does he look all right, Ernie?" Ron snarled, clenching his fist against the urge to clout the Hufflepuff in his swotty, pompous mouth.

"I hate to be a stickler," Dean said, "but we need to keep this doorway clear."

As they shuffled out into the Entrance Hall, the sound of someone approaching at a run caused them turn as one, wands drawn. McGonagall. Faced with the small band of wands, she held up her hands. "Severus! Thank Merlin... I'm on my way to the dungeons. The protections may have been breached. If not, they've almost certainly been tampered with."

Snape cursed. "I'll go," he said. After passing Draco off to her he shot off toward the dungeons.

"DAD!"

Snape skidded to a stop. Recognizing the frantic, rebellious look on Harry's face, he growled. "Don't you dare move from this spot until I get back. I mean it, Harry. Stay here. Minerva, keep my boys here!"

The witch nodded distractedly then ordered the battered group to the Great Hall. Because of its massive size, it now doubled as the hospital wing. Halfway there, someone shouted at her from the stairs leading up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Here, Potter." She put Draco's arm around Harry's neck. "You're to follow through to the Great Hall as directed, understand?"

Harry nodded, and waited. The second McGonagall's feet hit the stairs, he turned to Ron. "Here." He tried to pass off Draco to him, but Draco refused to take his arm from around Harry's neck.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Going down to the dungeons," Harry said, red-faced with struggling to free himself from Draco.

"You're mad if you think I'm not coming with you!" Draco said.

Hermione grabbed Harry's elbow. "You don't know who might be down there."

"Neither does Snape."

"He demanded that you stay put. Plus, Snape is a powerful wizard who won't hesitate to defend himself."

Harry stopped struggling with Draco for a moment to stare at Hermione. "Are you calling me a coward?"

Hermione glared at him. "Of course not! But you're being ridiculously rash about this! Not that it's at all surprising."

Harry frowned. "Thanks for that, but this is hardly the time to be cautious. If anything happens to him..."

"But what if -"

"Hermione, I'm going. I don't have time to argue with you."

Feeling ignored, Draco yelled, "Potter, I'm coming -"

"Be quiet!" Harry hissed.

"Harry, you musn't -"

"If you don't -"

Hermione and Draco spoke over one another.

Ron said, "Go."

Harry stared at him.

"Ron!"

"Hermione! What if it was your dad? If it was mine..."

Hermione gaped, looking mortified. "That's not what I - I just - I don't want you to get hurt... a-and Snape said -" She trembled and stuttered as she bit her lip, her way of coping after realizing she was dead wrong.

Harry nodded. "I know, but, I'm going. That's it. Malfoy... Let go of me and get to the Great Hall."

"Fix my leg. If you don't, I'm coming anyway. You won't be so quick with me hanging off your back." He tightened his arm around Harry's neck.

Harry gagged. "Goddamn it! Fine!" Then, "I can't reach it if you don't loosen your grip, Malfoy!"

"Oh, yes... Sorry."

With a huff Harry touched Draco's injured thigh.

"Let's go!" Draco said, off and running before Harry had removed his hand.

*WO