Serendipity

Serendipity watched Harry carefully whenever she could. Every day she thought she saw some new aspect of Tom in him. And always there was the omnipresent darkness that no one else seemed to sense.

There were no instructions from Tom. Every morning she opened her eyes, expecting to see something waiting for her, but there was never anything there. And she'd close her eyes again and will herself not to cry.

Then, abruptly, everything changed. She doubted that anyone would sense it but her. Being around Tom so much had given her a sixth sense for him, and while she had sensed the Tom-like aura around Harry, it hadn't been near as strong as it was now. It was now like a cloud that blocked her senses.

Harry was changing.

She had a dream that night. It was a memory of long, long ago, one she had thought was forgotten. But she shut her eyes in the darkness and it was there.

It was their second year, only months after he had first told her that he loved her. They had snuck into an abandoned classroom. She was lying on a desk, trying to study for exams, while he had kissed up and down her arm, played with her hair, teasing her aimlessly. Finally, he gave up and went and sat down by the window.

"Serendipity," he had said at last. She looked up, because there was something in his voice that scared and intrigued her. "You know Malfoy?"

Yes. Anguis Malfoy. Even his name sent shudders up her spine. If there was ever someone who was truly evil, it was him. She had met him at the gatherings. He had always helped Tom when he had money problems, she knew, and as a rule anyone who helped Tom was her friend, but this was different. He was all darkness; dark hair and eyes and skin, always wearing black. She had heard stories about him, and she didn't doubt for a second that they were true. He had a wife, she vaguely remembered, a veela wife. She pitied anyone who had Anguis as a husband. It would be a terrible life.

"Yes," she said, "I know him."

"Well," said Tom, spinning his wand idly, "he's been... talking... at the gatherings."

"About what?" she asked. He only spun his wand like that when he was upset.

"He says," Tom continued, "that I could be the greatest wizard ever. That I could rule the world." His hands were shaking now. "I could rule the world," he said again, "and make them do what I wanted, he said. I could make the world perfect, that's what he told me."

She watched him, her eyes wide.

"He says that the people at the gatherings, that they would be my supporters, and they would make sure that all my orders were carried out."

They already supported him, she thought. She didn't think that he knew just how devoted they were to him, fanatically so. But for Tom to rule the world? How would one do such a thing?

"He says that if I want them to be the greatest wizard and all, then I only have to do one thing."

"What's that?" she asked, her studying forgotten. He was standing now by the window. A beam of sunlight lit half his face and threw the rest into shadow. He was so painfully beautiful it made her ache.

"I have to cleanse the world of Muggles."

"What?" she had gasped, naively. "You would kill them? Tom, are you serious? I can't see what good that will do!"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But Malfoy- he said that if I do, then my supporters will see that I'm really devoted to the cause."

"What's the cause?"

"To purge the world of the unworthy," he had recited mechanically, as though it had been drilled into his head. "I don't know what that means, really. But I think it will make everything better. And I don't see why I shouldn't kill them, Serendipity. He said that Muggles are just like animals, you know? I shouldn't care about them. Only I can't help but think about the children at the orphanage. They cry in their sleep, all the time. Animals don't cry."

A silence fell. She was too shocked to speak. He sighed and avoided her glance. "Malfoy said that it's for their own good, because they don't want to grow up to be unworthy. He said it would be painless for them; he'd teach me the spells-"

"But Tom," she had interrupted. "That's Dark magic. You don't want to mess around with that."

"I know," he said heavily, as though the entire world had been placed upon his shoulders, and for a moment he looked like the little boy she had met on the train, frightened and unsure of himself. She got up and went to stand next to him.

"Tom," she had said, cupping his chin in her hands. "Whatever you decide to do, I will still be here for you."

"I love you," he had said, his voice cracking.

"I love you more," she had said, leaning forward to kiss him.

With a jolt she slid back to the present, back into the dark bedroom, alone. But the image was burned on her mind: Tom, standing by the window, with that open, boyish expression that she loved so dearly.

He had lost it quickly.

She didn't want to think about the months that had followed. Every day the darkness around him got stronger. He had killed; she could sense it. It was always on his thoughts, driving him to the brink of madness. She wept when she was alone, wept for the loss of innocence. She didn't ask any more, and he didn't volunteer any information. But it was there, always. When he kissed her they were as close as two people could be; and yet the darkness hovered between them, and she knew that they were really miles apart.

***

Draco liked being alone.

Something about the quiet and the stillness made him forget what he had seen and what he had done. In the peacefulness he could convince himself that everything would turn out all right. In the silence he could pretend that he had never killed.

***

Ginny awoke in the middle of the night to find that she had fallen out of bed and was lying on the floor, twisted in the blankets. It took a moment to calm her furiously beating heart. Another dream about Tom. For a fleeting moment, she wished that she wasn't a prefect, so she could still room with the other sixth-years. Being alone in the dark frightened her, as it had since her first year. And it brought back the dreams.

Something was wrong. Of course she still had nightmares about Tom, once in a while, but this was different. Ever since term had started, she had dreamed about him every night. And these weren't just the typical bad dreams. These were all too real just to be nightmares. It was almost as though she was dreaming memories- someone else's.

Tonight she had dreamed so vividly it felt real. She had been in a classroom, watching a younger version of Tom talk to a dark haired girl who she thought she might know. He was so dangerously beautiful that it hurt her to look at him. He had spoken of cleansing the world of Muggles, of someone called Anguis Malfoy (was he related to Draco Malfoy?) and the girl-- Serendipity, had she said?--had kissed him.

Serendipity. The name was unfamiliar but the girl... who was she? Why did she look so eerily familiar? Ginny tried to think, but her mind was glazing over with sleep, and with a sigh she succumbed to it.

***

"Come on, Malfoy," Harry said irritably. He had been in a horrid mood all weekend. "I don't want to work with you any more than you want to work with me, so let's get this bloody thing done."

Draco Malfoy was currently engaged in balancing his quill pen on his nose. "No hurry, Potter," he said, "it's a year-long project and I am a firm believer in procrastination." The quill fell off and he retrieved it and started again. This procedure repeated about seven times until Harry lost his temper.

"Malfoy," Harry hissed between his teeth, "I swear if you do not put that quill down I will strangle you with my bare hands and take a hundred points from Slytherin."

"Someone's abusing his Head Boy privileges," Draco commented, raising one eyebrow defiantly. But he dropped the quill.

There was a silence. "Well," Harry suggested, with effort, "maybe we should look at the assignment."

"Maybe," said Draco, unmoving.

After a while Harry picked up the parchment sitting on the table. "We've got to research manticores for our Dark creature-"

"We've got one of those at home. Saw it eat a Muggle once," Draco drawled thoughtfully. "Vicious things, they are."

"And illegal," Harry muttered. "Our Dark curse is Imperius, and our Dark wizard is Grindewald."

Draco made a noncommittal noise in his throat and nudged the quill pen on the table. They both watched silently as it swiftly burst into flames and crumpled into a smoldering pile of ash.

"You're insane," Harry said finally, but neither of them moved.

"Thank you," said Draco after a while, with, for once, no trace of bitterness in his voice.

The rest of the class period was spent in silence.

***

Harry sat up, rubbing sleep-filled eyes. His head hurt incredibly, even more so as he glanced at the clock. "Bloody hell!" he swore, swinging out of bed. He'd already missed History of Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration was halfway over.

Why had he slept so late? Damn! Oh wait...

Memories were coming back to him. He groaned and closed his eyes, as he remembered exactly what he had done last night.

***

The shouts of the crowd were ringing in his ears as he circled the Quidditch pitch, looking down. It was the first game of the year, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. The evening was perfect, a cool and clear Friday night, and the team was looking better than it had since Fred and George had graduated. They had almost an entirely new team since Harry's first year.

There was Ginny, her flaming hair tumbling down her back in wild ringlets, beating at a Bludger with her club. Lavender, the other Beater, was aiming her Bludger towards a Ravenclaw Chaser. Her face was flushed with cold and excitement, and Harry could tell that Ron, the Keeper, was watching her out of the corner of his eye and grinning as he hovered near the goalposts. Then there were the three Chasers: Seamus Finnegan, his younger sister Katherine, and Dean Thomas.

He caught a glimpse of gold and spun around. No, it was only the Ravenclaw Beater's wristwatch. He continued circling idly, high enough above the main action of the game that he wasn't in danger of being hit by a Bludger. The Ravenclaw Seeker, Ginny's boyfriend (Harry could never remember his name), was doing the same.

"Gryffindor is up twenty points!" the commentator's voice shouted, ringing clearly through the sky. There was suddenly a small commotion below him; one of the Ravenclaws had nearly knocked Katherine Finnegan off her broom. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor!"

Katherine put it away easily and Harry cheered along with the crowd. Suddenly, he saw the Ravenclaw Seeker dive. The Snitch!

Cursing himself for not paying attention, he dove. He was gaining on the Ravenclaw boy, nearly there- ah! Now they were neck-to-neck, plunging straight down. The Ravenclaw glanced at him, and there was fear in his eyes. The ground was alarmingly close and the Snitch just out of reach, fluttering there tauntingly. Harry gritted his teeth in concentration. The ground seemed to rise up to meet them. The Ravenclaw boy, terrified, pulled out of the dive, but Harry pressed on.

Now the earth was just six feet away- now five- now three- and at the very last second Harry reached out and caught the Snitch in his fist, and sharply pulled out of the dive, to the wild cheers of the crowd.

The teams landed and shook hands, and then the Gryffindors poured out of the stands to lift the team onto their shoulders and carry back to the common room. Harry was sitting by the fire talking to Hermione when Lavender came over, dragging Ron behind her. "C'mon, Harry, Hermione," she said in an undertone. "Some of us are going to Hogsmeade to celebrate. Hurry and get ready."

Twenty minutes later, the seventh years, with the addition of Ginny and Katherine, had come up the secret passageway in Honeydukes, and were on their way down the streets of Hogsmeade. Evidently other students had had the same idea, Harry noticed as they walked in the door of the Salamander's Tongue. It was the favorite pub of underage drinkers, and, as usual, it was crowded.

Tripping over outstretched legs, they managed to push their way to the back, where several booths were open. Lavender, with Ron in tow, went up to order drinks. Harry, Seamus, and Dean reenacted the Quidditch game with enchanted silverware for Neville (who, due to an unfortunate Potions accident, hadn't been there), with the girls interrupting to nudge a fork or a spoon into a different place.

Several hours and many drinks later, Lavender got unsteadily to her feet. "We better get back," she said, swaying. With some difficulty they managed to stumble out of the pub. Ron promptly fell over onto the side of the street. The rest were having similar troubles.

"Here," Harry said, lurching down the road and into a wall. "Where's the door?" he asked numbly. It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to sit down, so he did, tripping Katherine, who toppled over next to him.

Ron and Lavender were both on the ground by now, snogging rather explicitly. Harry dizzily averye. Seamus and Dean, carrying Ginny between them, were staggering back towards Hogwarts, with Neville tottering after them. Katherine appeared to be asleep.

"Harry?" came Hermione's voice. She had had quite a bit less to drink than the others. "Harry, we need to get back to Hogwarts, it's really late-"

"Hermione?" he asked confusedly, looking up at her. She helped him to his feet and he fell forward, ending in them both crushed against the wall of a building.

"Harry, come on," she said, laughing uneasily as he buried his face in her neck. "We have to go back-"

"Who says?" Harry mumbled. She started to reply, but suddenly and unexpectedly, he pressed his mouth against hers, cutting off her response.

She was lost in the kiss. Flames danced behind her eyelids and she was drowning in Harry. His hands were hopelessly entangled in her hair. He's drunk, she told herself firmly, he's not himself. But as his lips slipped off her mouth and down her throat, she could not suppress a small sigh of contentment.

"Hermione," he slurred.

"Harry," she whispered, her heart breaking as he kissed her once again. She made one last vain attempt to break away before surrendering to oblivion.

***

He didn't dare open his eyes for fear of what he might see. He sat there for a long time, taking deep breaths, until finally he was able to turn around and look as his worst fears were confirmed.

She was beautiful, he thought as he looked at her. She stirred briefly in her sleep and he was struck with how defenseless she looked, lying there, her eyes closed and the smallest hint of a smile on her face. He turned away and went to shower. It was too late to go to class now anyway, and he had the worst hangover of his life.

***

She woke up, but did not open her eyes. She had never felt so ashamed in her life. Tears welled up, and try as she might to hold them back, she could not help but to sob. When she opened her eyes at last, she could only be grateful that he was not in the room.

***

He walked back into the room to find her crying. Instantly, he felt a surge of guilt. "Hermione?" he whispered. She did not answer. Sighing, he went to sit next to her on the bed, tentatively putting his arm around her shoulder.

She didn't move away, but she stiffened immediately, as though his touch burned her. He quickly removed his arm. They sat in utter silence, broken only by an occasional half-stifled sob.

"Hermione," he tried again. She lifted tear-reddened eyes, searching his face as if all the answers could be found there. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"You didn't hurt me," she said, laughing bitterly. "It's not your fault. We were both drunk. It just- happened."

"It'll be all right," he murmured. She slid away from him and stood up.

"No," she said. "Don't you see, Harry? We've gone and ruined everything we had before. It will never be all right."

He buried his face in his hands, afraid to look at her. She continued, her voice rising. "We'll try to put it behind us but it will always be there, looming over us, just waiting. And always we'll feel guilty. Why don't you see it, Harry? We traded our friendship for this. For some kind of- of a one night stand."

He put his hand on her shoulder and she pushed it off. "Don't touch me," she said coldly, and, gathering her clothes, fled the room.

***