Two to Lead

Chapter 25: Battle Lines

The opening statement of the Great Hogwarts Summit of 1997 came from Ron, and was rather predictable.

"What the hell is Malfoy doing here?!" Ron's face got progressively redder and his voice progressively louder with each syllable.

More or less expecting this reaction, Harry immediately stepped in front of him. "Calm down, Ron. Give us a chance to explain."

"Us?!" he bellowed. "What us?!"

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure there's a good explanation for all of this," she said reasonably. "Isn't there, Ginny?"

Ginny watched Ron worriedly. "Of course there is. It's just...it's a bit long is all..."

"Welcome to my humble abode," Thera gushed, stepping forward and holding out her hand. "Thera Castelar. Charmed to finally meet you."

Ron glanced at the hand distastefully. "I know who you are."

"Fabulous!" she trilled, shoving her hand in her pocket and smiling wider. "We don't have to go through all of the tedious introductions. Why don't you have a seat?" She gestured grandly over to the desk. Still a bit stunned at this new incarnation of Thera, it took Harry a second to realize that she was trying to put Ron as far away from Malfoy as possible.

Harry clapped a no-nonsense hand on Ron's shoulder and steered him over to the desk, Hermione and Ginny following in their wake. Conjuring up more chairs, the four Gryffindors sat. Thera stretched out on the bed next to Draco, grinning maniacally at them. Harry supposed this was her way of trying to be friendly. Well, at least she'd put on some pants.

There was a long moment during which both sides sized each other up.

"So, how was the trip down here? Everybody fit under the cloak? Any problems with Filch?" Thera tried. The smile was beginning to look painful. If this went on much longer, she was going to cause permanent damage.

A heavy, dead silence followed her questions, and it occurred to Harry that considering Malfoy was staring at Thera as if she'd gone 'round the bend, Thera very well may have finally snapped and Ginny was sending pointed glares in Malfoy's direction that were being studiously ignored, it was probably up to him to start explaining things.

Clearing his throat, he turned to his friends. "So the reason we brought you here is..."

"Drinks!" Thera chirped suddenly, leaping up from the bed. "Does anybody want anything to drink?"

The Gryffindors stared at her blankly. Thera dropped the superhostess persona.

"Bloody teetotalers. I'm having another fucking drink," she muttered, pouring herself some more wine. "Draco?" she called over her shoulder.

"Just bring the whole bottle over." Harry tried to remember what he'd been about to say.

"Anyway, we brought you here because..." Ron's face was still red and his eyes were focused on Malfoy in a decidedly unfriendly manner. "Ron, would you pay attention?"

"I'm listening."

"Look at me, Ron." Grudgingly, his friend did. "So first of all, I want to remind you that sometimes we have to work with people we don't necessarily get along with in the service of a higher cause, like..." Harry stopped himself just short of bringing up Sirius and Snape. It was probably not a good idea to do that in front of Malfoy.

"Like some people we know have done," he finished lamely.

"Higher cause?" Ron asked rudely. "What higher cause?"

Harry swallowed. "Voldemort's trying to do a spell to achieve immortality, and we're all trying to stop him." Funny how stupid that sounded out loud. There was a pause, then simultaneously Hermione dropped her head into her hands and Ron started laughing.

"Higher cause?" he choked out sarcastically. "Malfoy?"

"Ron," Ginny finally broke in. "He's on our side. They both are."

Ron laughed harder. "On our side? Malfoy?"

The object of his hilarity had apparently decided that far too much time had passed without a snide comment from him.

"Careful, Weasley," he drawled. "Say the name three times and it invokes my father."

"Malfoy," Ron spat at him.

The blonde Slytherin sat up on his elbows and glanced around the room, then lay back down. "It's possible you have to draw a pentagram first."

Ron opened his mouth to say something back, but Hermione spoke first.

"It's a progeny spell, isn't it?" she asked, raising her head to look at him.

Harry gaped at her, nodding. "How did you know?"

"I've been working on some arithmantic surveys and comparisons with Professor Wellbourne. I don't think she realized I knew what I was working on, because we certainly don't study that kind of magic in class, but I've been doing some research into the Moorish influence on religio-magical ceremonies in Southern Spain, and a lot of them are blood ceremonies, so I kind of figured a few things out," she said guiltily.

"Progeny spell?" Ron asked. "What does a progeny spell do?"

"Well, Weasley," was as far as Malfoy got into a comment that most likely drew a connection between Weasleys and progeny before he was interrupted by Thera putting a pillow over his face and pressing down until Malfoy managed to get a grip on her hair.

"You promised you wouldn't start anything," she hissed, giving him some air.

"But he makes it so easy..." Thera shook the pillow threateningly and Malfoy tightened his hold on her hair. Harry was about to intervene when Malfoy relented.

"Fine. I'll keep my observations to myself. If I start laughing for no apparent reason, you know why."

"Don't mind us," Thera said blandly, fluffing the pillow and lounging back on it.

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "most of them revolve around inheritances or defending the family home against outside threats. Pureblood families use them all the time." She glanced quickly at Malfoy before continuing. "But this one isn't like that."

"It involves five children," Harry said, really hoping somebody would take over for him before he had to get into the who and how details of the matter. "He managed to get four of them before he was defeated, and now he's reinitiating them."

"I think I can guess who two of them are," Ron said acidly.

Malfoy glared at him, but remained silent. Thera sent him a feral smile.

"The other two are Crabbe and Goyle," Harry said quickly. "He's already reinitiated them, and Thera, too. Malfoy's next."

"But who's the fifth one?" Hermione asked.

The question hung in the air for a long time and Harry knew he wasn't the only person looking at anything in the room but Ginny. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her slowly raise her hand.

Hermione turned to her, looking ill. Harry wasn't feeling too terribly well himself. Ginny was looking down at her lap, glancing up occasionally at Ron, who was the color of oatmeal now and appeared to be incapable of movement. It was horrible to watch. Harry suddenly wished he'd taken Thera up on the drink offer.

"How?" Harry winced at the word. He'd never before heard Ron's voice like that, utterly and completely devoid of emotion.

"Chamber of Secrets." Ginny's voice was barely a whisper and Harry saw Ron flinch, his hands curling into fists. It brought to mind a conversation he'd had with Ron about his mother making him stay at Number Twelve this summer instead of with the twins.

"Mum worries all the time about something happening to one of us. Sometimes she takes it too far. At least I don't get it as much as Ginny. I think Mum could stand to lose one of us, but I don't think she'd make it if something happened to Ginny," he said, as if he were talking about the weather. Ron would be Ron, after all. "I don't think any of us could. Maybe it's because she's the youngest, and the only girl, but all of us...we just love her a little bit more."

"What does it mean?" Harry could feel Ron's eyes boring into the top of his head, but he couldn't bring himself to look up.

"It means that he's going to come after her," Harry said in the direction of his knees. "Once he has Malfoy, that is."

"And when is that going to be?" Harry couldn't stand that voice anymore, like somebody else had taken over Ron's body. He looked up, and wished he hadn't. He was used to Ron angry. His friend got angry easily, and usually let it go just as easily.

Ron wasn't angry. Ron was way past angry.

"Easter break, I'd imagine," Malfoy's voice broke in. "And you should probably know that I've been shagging your sister for several months now."

Harry braced himself. He heard Thera mutter, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I thought it might cushion the blow if we told him everything all at once," Malfoy said.

Ron turned his head towards Malfoy, his expression unchanging. Without saying anything, he turned back to Harry.

"Ron, he's not going to get her. I promise you that. Whatever we have to do...it's not going to happen, okay?" Harry said raggedly.

Ron blinked slowly. "Malfoy's not really shagging Ginny, is he?" His voice was completely flat and barren and Harry was really beginning to worry about him.

"Well, you see...about that..."

"IS HE?!"

Harry jumped at the sudden change in volume. Ginny stood up.

"Ron, it's not like that. Believe me, it's a lot more complicated than that."

"How complicated is it, exactly?!" he asked, standing too. "I can't wait to hear what sorts of justifications you've found for yourself to shag Satan's little minion over there!"

"I'm nobody's minion, Weasel," Malfoy said, his voice like ice.

Ginny grabbed onto Ron, obviously expecting him to leap across the room and commence pummeling, but Ron just pointed at the boy. "I'm going to deal with you next," he answered, in a matching tone.

Harry and Hermione shared a worried look. Harry tried to make the barely controlled, seething boy in front of him fit with the eleven-year-old kid he'd met on the train to Hogwarts with a spot of dirt on his nose and found it impossible.

"How long has this been going on?" Ron crossed his arms, glaring down at his sister.

"Since January," she said in a small voice.

Ron's hand twitched, but he betrayed no other reaction. "And how long have you known about the spell?"

"It was the same night, actually," Ginny said in an even smaller voice.

"Oh, dear," Hermione whispered, eyes wide.

"And you knew too?" Ron asked, turning to look at Harry, who forced himself to look his friend in the eye.

"I just found out about Ginny and Malfoy last night, but Lupin told me about the spell over Christmas holidays," Harry said, feeling a cold, terrible ripping sensation as he watched Ron process his words. It retrospect, he was appalled at his behavior. It seemed unjustifiable. Harry had sat beside Ron at meals, joked with him in the common room, and the entire time, he had known that his sister was in danger, and he hadn't said a word.

"I see" was Ron's only response, but Harry realized painfully that there wouldn't just be sulking in the dormitory and the silent treatment at meals. He had lied to Ron; not just once, but hundreds of times over the past few months, and it wasn't something for which he could just apologize and be forgiven.

He had just lost his best friend.

*******

Thera had a sudden yearning for some popcorn. Weasley was doing well as the tragic hero, trying to honorably muddle his way through a web of lies and betrayals. Poor Harry seemed lost in a role he wasn't really cut out for as the backstabbing best friend. Thera felt Ginny - as the soiled dove - ought to be crying at this point. For effect.

And then Granger came in and ruined the whole damn thing.

"We can't do this right now," she said, standing up and putting a hand on Weasley's shoulder. "We can't get all caught up in hurt feelings and what this person knew and when. We have to learn more about the spell and figure out if there's a way to stop it. We can all be upset later, after we've worked everything out. Please, Ron?"

The redhead seemed to battle with himself over whether or not he wanted to rail at his little sister and beat the shit out of Draco, or whether he wanted to stop the Dark Lord. Finally he decided, sitting down and scooting his chair a few inches farther away from Harry. Thera couldn't help but be amused by this Gryffindor version of the cut-direct.

"You," he said suddenly, looking directly at her. "You know all about this, I imagine."

Weasley apparently didn't understand that she was supposed to be a spectator in this whole thing, but considering the other three people who knew anything weren't exactly in his good graces at the moment, Thera decided to humor him.

After she put him in his place, of course.

"I've never done a fucking thing to you, Weasley, so if you're going to be an asshole, then pick yourself up and haul your wounded feelings out of my fucking room."

"Merlin, Thera," Harry sighed.

Weasley simply stared at her for a second in a way that told her he wasn't exactly picky about whose ass he kicked if the opportunity presented itself. Then he gritted his teeth and nodded.

"That," Thera said smoothly, "isn't an apology."

"Oh, for the love of..." Harry said under his breath.

"Ron!" Granger said sharply. "She's right."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding as if he meant it in the least, but she'd made her point. "Could you please tell us about the spell?"

"Well, as Granger said earlier, it's a progeny spell," Thera said with the air of an expert, even though she'd never heard the phrase until Granger had said it. "I actually read the thing in its entirety. There's a bunch of astrological blithering that I won't bore you with, but the gist of the matter is that the four of us - Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and myself, if you weren't paying attention - were the lucky recipients of a blood bond with the Dark Lord when we were born. A few years later, your sister got herself mixed up in it all."

"Is hers a blood bond, also?" Granger asked, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"The spell said she had to shed her blood for him, so I imagine it is," Thera said, deciding to leave out the part about wombs and womanly times.

"But there seems to be a second part to it," Granger continued. "The reinitiation?"

"Yes, I was just getting to that," Thera said impatiently. "Well, I was only present for my own little private moment with the Dark Lord, but it involved reading part of the spell and more blood ceremony stuff. After that, the three reinitiations have been the same: we get shown off to the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord makes an obviously prepared speech, we do away with a Muggle, and everybody cheers."

"Do away with?" Ginny asked faintly. Apparently Dumbledore had left that part out.

"As in kill," Thera said harshly. If Ginny Weasley was going to be balking at anything in the spell, it should hardly be that.

"But it's not the same thing," Granger argued. "Ginny couldn't have formed a blood bond with Voldemort in the Chamber of Secrets. He was still disembodied then."

"He opened it before, when he was a student here," Ginny said dully. "Dumbledore said he probably left some things there, to keep a presence of himself in the Chamber. He always intended to get someone else to open it again for him, anyway."

"Do you remember what you..." Granger tried.

"I don't remember anything," Ginny snapped. Weasley softened a bit, reaching over to rub her back and she calmed down a bit. "You know I don't remember."

"But they cleaned it out, right?" Draco asked sharply. "When they sealed it up?"

Ginny shrugged. "I would certainly hope so."

"I still don't get where the immortality fits in," Weasley said, looking back over at Thera. "I mean, it sounds like everybody in the spell just does what any other Death Eater does, except they're all bonded to You-Know-Who."

"Well, the two of us are hardly 'any other Death Eater.' Aside from our possibly useful knowledge of dead languages, we also got some of his power. We can make Crabbe and Goyle do whatever we want, and as long as he's alive, the four of us can't die."

"Are we entirely certain of that?" Draco sounded skeptical.

"Why, do you want to test it out?" she shot back.

"So what's Ginny's job then?" Weasley asked, obviously growing impatient.

Thera pressed her lips together and passed it to Draco.

"It doesn't matter," he said flatly, "because it's not going to happen."

"Well, considering we don't have any plan for stopping it yet, would you mind telling us what 'it' is?" Weasley asked loudly.

"I don't think I can," Draco mumbled, looking a bit green.

"Harry?" He at least tried. Then he looked at Ron, grimaced and shook his head.

"Men are such babies," Thera said to the ceiling. "He's going to knock her up," she said, after putting up a mental wall against any images of the act.

"Knock her up? You mean...?" Weasley trailed off, turning several colors at once.

"Bloody hell," Granger said, pale as a sheet of parchment.

"Do you understand everybody's reluctance to tell you about it now?" Thera asked.

Perhaps he'd just been waiting for the right opportunity, or perhaps this newest piece of information truly did push him over the edge, but Weasley chose that second to finally, at long last, try to strangle Draco.

Thera jumped off of the bed as the three Gryffindors rose to pull the kid off of him. The struggle rolled onto the floor. She couldn't tell who was winning until Harry yanked a blonde head up. Thera had to smile. Slytherins always came out on top.

"Let him go," Harry said in his best low, menacing voice.

That's when all hell broke loose. Draco swung around to try to punch Harry and ended up punching his girlfriend instead. Ginny cried out and stumbled backwards. Weasley gave a roar of rage and shoved Granger - who had been trying to subdue him - out of the way, propelling himself into Draco and Harry who were knocked back into his sister, who promptly fell over, creating a pile of bodies on the floor.

There was a brief and humorous struggle that resembled a Muggle rugby match with everybody punching each other. Granger stood up, wand at the ready, but the foursome was shifting too quickly for her to nail down a target. Harry yelled, rolling out of the group with his hands clasped firmly between his legs and his eyes screwed shut in pain.

Thera dragged him away from the brawl. As Harry was incapable of anything beyond lying in the fetal position and moaning, it was a fairly awkward endeavor.

"I'm dying," Harry croaked, curling in upon himself further.

"Hey, it's not as bad as Cruciatus, right?" Thera said bracingly, patting him on the shoulder. "Just take deep breaths. You'll be fine."

"Dying," Harry moaned pitifully.

Weasley drew back to punch Draco, who dodged it, causing Weasley to punch his own sister. Ginny swore viciously and Draco made an angry noise, throwing Weasley off of him. Granger immediately got him into a half nelson and dragged him over to the bed.

"Stupid motherfucker!" Draco shouted, rolling over to help his girlfriend sit up.

"I'm fine," Ginny said in a muffled voice, both hands plastered firmly over her face.

"Just let me see, would you?" Draco asked impatiently, peeling her hands away.

"Dying," Harry gasped, shuddering.

"Here, squeeze my hand." Harry cautiously removed one of his hands from his injured testicles and squashed her fingers together. "That bad, is it?" Thera asked, wincing.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, letting up on the pressure a bit.

"Just leave it alone, would you?" Ginny Weasley said testily, pushing Draco away.

"Granger, can you sort her out?" he asked, looking as if merely saying the word 'Granger' instead of 'Mudblood' took a lot out of him.

"I can't let Ron go yet," Granger huffed. "Can somebody please bind him?"

"Where's my bloody wand?!" Weasley struggled, but Granger seemed to have a good hold on him.

"I have it," Thera said breezily, reaching into her pocket. She'd nicked it the moment he walked in. She also had Draco's, just in case.

"If you want it back in one piece, I suggest you calm the fuck down," she said.

"Good move," Harry said hoarsely, opening one eye.

"If anybody's going to be cursing anybody else in this room, it's going to be me," Thera said firmly, conjuring up a collection of ropes to tie up Weasley.

*******

Ginny could hear Ron yelling and struggling as Hermione dragged her into the bathroom to fix her up. Draco came along for reasons all his own.

How was it that both he and Ron had come out of this unscathed when she looked like she'd just gotten out of a pub scuffle and Harry might never have children?

The person who's trying to rectify the situation always gets screwed, she reminded herself. It was a lesson she should know very well, having grown up Weasley.

Hermione managed to put her back into working order. Ginny thanked her and they both made to go back into the room, but Draco held her back.

"I didn't mean to hit you," he said carefully, as if he were sounding out words in another language. It was probably the closest he had ever come to apologizing to someone.

"Neither did Ron."

"What were you doing there anyway?" he asked, glaring at her. "Honestly, sometimes I think Thera's the only female I know with any brains. You'll notice she stayed out of it."

"Yes, well, I'm not Thera," Ginny said waspishly. "And the fight wasn't between her boyfriend and her brother."

"Don't call me your boyfriend," he said, scowling.

"What are you, then?"

"I don't know, but I'm not your bloody boyfriend."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, and Ginny felt a dangerous softening towards him. For all of his weird attempts to run her life for her and his blatant cluelessness about human relations, he cared about her, and he had her best interests at heart. Ginny couldn't stop the hand that went up to stroke his hair, his cheek.

His hand caught hers, pressing it between his own, which were always cooler than her own, as if his body temperature was naturally a few degrees lower than everybody else's. He shifted silver eyes to meet her dull, boring brown ones.

"I'd never hurt you," he said in the bored, unemotional tone of voice he might use to answer a question in class. "You know I'd never hurt you if I could help it."

"I know," she said offhandedly, feeling that if she made it anything more, he'd shy away from it like a vampire from sunlight. "I'd never hurt you, either."

He laced the fingers of one hand through hers, lifting the other to tilt her chin up so he could kiss her. Ginny welcomed the kiss, leaning into it. Animal Ginny rose up to make her opinion heard, and she backed him up until he made contact with the wall.

She more or less devoured him, sliding her tongue into his mouth to taste everything he had to offer, her hands ripping open his robes to slip underneath his shirt and touch smooth chest, hard muscle. Draco cupped her bottom, hauling her against him.

And then somebody knocked on the bathroom door.

"I don't know what you two are doing in there, but could you come out before Ron bursts a blood vessel?" Hermione's voice sounded. Ginny could hear faint, enraged grunts courtesy of her brother in the background and broke away, turning to open the door.

"Wait," Draco said, smirking. "Can I just indulge in the teensiest moment of quiet glee over nailing Potter in the balls?"

"So that was you? I should have known."

"The git was touching me in a way that generally carries a punishment of castration among Malfoys. I'd say he got off easy."

Closing his eyes, he grinned for a second, then pulled her into a quick hard kiss.

"What was that for?" Ginny asked, puzzled.

"To remind me why I'm putting up with this shit." Draco set his facial features into a mask and opened the door. "She had something in her eye," he announced to a largely disbelieving audience upon their exit from the bathroom.

"And you had to get it out with your tongue, right?" Hermione said sarcastically.

"Untie me!" Ron shouted, struggling against the chair he was now secured to. "Untie me so I can kill the filthy little...mmmph...mmmmpphhh..."

Ron's insult was muffled by the Slytherin tie Draco shoved into his mouth.

"I think we've heard enough from you, Weasley," he said mildly, tying it behind Ron's head to enraged 'mmmpphhs.'

"Draco," Ginny said warningly, reaching to remove the gag. Her hand was incepted by Hermione, of all people.

"Maybe it's better this way, at least until he calms down a little bit," she said, looking at Ron guiltily. His eyes went wide and he shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Ron, but you two calling each other names isn't helping anything."

"I'm starting to think it's a rule or something," Harry mused, looking over at Thera, "that nobody's allowed to come in your room without being tied up."

"So this is your romantic progression, Harry?" Ginny sighed. "First it's restraining orders and now bondage?" Hermione and Ron both turned to stare at her, Ron looking ridiculous with Draco's tie wrapped around his head. Ginny felt a blush creep up her face. "Oh, yes. We haven't talked about that yet, have we?" she said sheepishly.

"And you three wonder why I never tell you about anything!" Harry said loudly.

"Restraining orders?" Thera asked, sounding very interested.

"There was only one," he muttered.

"Did you do to her what you just did to me on the floor, Potter?" Draco asked, studying his nails. "Because that's certainly grounds for a bloody restraining order."

"So you're telling me that's what you've been doing all this time? That's why you've been sneaking around at night?" Hermione cried, standing up.

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes directed at his lap.

"So all of this time I've been worrying about you and trying to think up a way to talk to you about it when you know you're impossible to talk to about anything, and you haven't been troubled, or worried, or depressed, you've just been shagging her on the sly?" Hermione's voice became increasingly shrill as the question continued. Ginny noted that Draco looked as if somebody had just presented him with a long-awaited gift and squeezed his hand to keep him from commenting on the situation.

Brave hero that he was, Harry looked up at Hermione, then let his gaze slide away guiltily. "Yeah," he finally said.

"I can't believe this," Hermione whispered, plopping down into a chair as Ron's bewildered gaze shifted between Harry, Thera and Hermione. "I can't believe I was actually worried about you."

"Hermione," Harry pleaded.

She held up a hand, not looking at him. "Harry, don't. I really...I just don't want to hear about this right now." Her voice became brisk. "I want to know more about the spell."

Uncomfortable, her hand still clenched around Draco's, Ginny shifted her weight. "What do you want to know?" she asked, trying to hold onto the surreal comedy of errors taking place in front of her, as opposed to the reality of the spell.

"I want to know the details of it." Hermione's eyes flickered briefly to Thera before settling on Draco. "And I want to know what the Death Eaters are up to."

*******

"Granger," Draco said tightly, physically restraining himself from calling her 'Mudblood,' even though it flashed through his mind every other second, "we don't know any more about what the Death Eaters are up to than you do."

"That's surprising, considering Voldemort probably has his own guest suite at your house," Potter said sourly. Since it was basically true, Draco let the comment go. Potter was rubbing his right hand on his robes. Making an odd face, he smelled it. "Is this the Schnozzleberry gel from the bathroom?"

"No, it's the Sparkwing Spritz. The Schnozzleberry gel is only for emergencies, and would it kill you to apply some to that mop of yours? I've spent six years dreaming of kidnapping you and shellacking the back of your head."

"I tried the Schnozzleberry gel," Potter said unctuously. "It didn't work."

Draco frowned. "Really? It should, unless your hair was wet."

"Oh. Well, it was."

Draco rolled his eyes. "So you didn't read the bloody directions, then. Schnozzleberry gel is water-based, you illiterate moron. That's why it doesn't make your hair stiff when you use it. You see, there's a whole different array of products to use when your hair is wet as opposed to when it's dry, and you can't just go around using them..."

"Another time, Draco," Red interrupted. Draco knew that proper grooming wasn't exactly a virtue in Gryffindor tower, but if he was going to refrain from giving Potter another knee in the jewels and ignore her stupid brother's stupid attacks, the least they could do was let him fix the skinny little wanker's hair.

"If he promises to go in the bathroom and put some on now, I won't say another word," he said, crossing his arms.

Red made an impatient sound. "Harry?" she asked, sounding as if she were doing him a favor she didn't quite care for. You're doing Potter a favor, Red. Trust me on this.

"I'll try it," Potter said cautiously. "But I don't think it's going to do any good."

"Well, it certainly can't do any more harm, can it?" Draco sneered.

"Can we continue the discussion now?" Hermione asked peevishly. "Or should I go find Colin to take a picture of the historic taming of Harry's hair?"

"Ron?" Red asked, going to stand in front of her brother. "Are you willing to continue in peace?"

Weasley's eyes narrowed and he said something that probably would have been rude if they'd been able to make it out.

"I guess not," Red said tartly.

Weasley's face went red and he renewed his struggle against the ropes binding him.

Potter shut the bathroom door. Apparently communing with his hair was a private matter for him. Draco supposed that if he had Potter's hair, he'd keep it private, too.

"Maybe we should talk about the prophecy while Harry's not here," the Mudblood - which is to say Granger - said, shooting nervous glances at the bathroom door.

"Harry knows the rest of the prophecy," Thera said to Draco. "It says either he has to kill the Dark Lord, or the Dark Lord has to kill him. And Harry has some special power the Dark Lord doesn't know about. Unfortunately, we don't know the nature of that power."

Granger looked at her. "Harry told you about the prophecy?"

She nodded. "In all fairness, he was drunk at the time."

"You got Potter drunk and didn't let me see it?" Draco asked, disappointed.

"He's not going to take that long, Draco," Thera pointed out. "Let's stay on topic."

"Alright," Draco said, holding up a hand as he processed the information. "The first part makes sense, but what's this power thing?" Inside him was a very dangerous burgeoning sensation that he immediately tried to beat back with cool rationalism. Unless they knew the nature of the power, they couldn't figure out how to use it, he told himself.

But it was something. It was something good. It sounded like the sort of minor detail that the Dark Lord tended to overlook, like the protection Potter got from his mother jumping in front of a killing curse to save his sorry ass. For the first time in a very, very long time, there was a tiny ray of hope, a way out of the fate in store for him.

"Oh, Merlin," Red breathed beside him, sinking into a chair. "Poor Harry."

Red getting worked up about Potter helped Draco stamp out the dangerous hope. He knew the nature of Potter's power, and it was getting everyone to worship him.

The hatred was old. It had been a part of him since Potter had first snubbed him six years ago, but it was colder now, and much deeper, because he knew that Potter didn't entirely hate him back. Draco had given Harry Potter the perfect chance on the train to Hogwarts this year to show how much he hated him in return, and the little shit hadn't done it.

Draco didn't want to be loved like Potter. He didn't want people who weren't fit to lick the soles of his dragon-skin loafers to fawn over him. But he wanted the fucking respect of having his hatred returned in equal portion, and Potter wouldn't even give him that.

Speaking of Potter...

"You put it on the big head, Potter, not the little one," Draco said to the bathroom door. "I know touching me is an exhilarating experience, but this really isn't the time."

"Civility only works if both sides uphold it, Malfoy," Granger reminded him, giving him that patented McGonagall look she'd carried around since first year.

"I am upholding it, Granger," he said, glancing at Red to make sure his lack of epithet didn't go unnoticed. "Believe me." His put his hands in his pockets and remembered something. "But first, I'd like to address the holder of my wand, who should probably be informed that if I don't receive it back intact, I'll incinerate her pride and joy and present her with a pile of molten metal at the end of term."

Girls simply don't understand the relationship a boy has with his wand. Draco's had been custom made after consultations with several different wand specialists. Hell, even Weasley had gone through a whole school year with his spell-o-taped together before he could bring himself to part with it. Or maybe his family couldn't afford a new one.

Thera glared at him in a manner that should probably have set fire to his robes.

"Destroy my baby, and I'll make absolutely sure the Malfoy line ends with you," she said, smiling coldly and pointing her wand directly at his nether regions. Draco's hands covered it instinctively. After all, if there was a spell that rendered a man sterile, Thera probably knew it, and very well might have used it before.

"Wow, it worked." Potter's voice came from the bathroom doorway, where he stood without his hair sticking up in the back for the first time since Draco had first seen him in Madame Malkin's. Sizing up the situation, he turned his gaze to his apparent lover. "Thera, what are you doing?"

"It's a Slytherin thing," she said dismissively, her wand still aimed at Draco's crotch.

"Hang on," Red said suddenly. "Pride and joy?"

"What's all this about?" Potter asked, uncertain which direction he needed to be a hero in first, if at all.

"This doesn't concern you, sugarpants," Thera said sweetly, her eyes on Draco.

"Sugarpants?" Granger said disgustedly.

"Just give me my wand back, would you?" Draco asked through gritted teeth.

Thera lowered hers, then took his out of her pocket and tossed it to him. Draco couldn't help the surge of relief he felt when it was back in his hands.

"The car," she said flatly. "Is out of play."

"For now," Draco smirked. Thera was no fool. She'd known when she'd asked for it that he would lord it over her as much as humanly possible.

"Car? What car?" Potter asked, puzzled. Puzzlement seemed to be his general state of mind. Draco decided it suited him.

"Can we please," the Mudblood - Granger - begged, "talk about the details of the spell before classes start in the morning?"

"The Dark Lord can control us. That's all I know," Draco practically spat. "She's the one who read the damn thing," he said, gesturing to Thera.

"Control you how?" Granger followed up, resting her chin on fisted hands.

"Any way he wants to, apparently," Draco said, growing bored with the spell discussion.

"Not here, though," Thera added. "Or at least, that's what Dumbledore says." She said this - rightly, in Draco's mind - as if Dumbledore's opinion didn't carry much weight.

"So when you're near him, he can make you do things, but he can't when you're at Hogwarts, right?" Red asked, back to the hand-wringing worrying state she'd been in when the Gryffindors had first arrived.

"That's the general consensus," Thera said evenly.

Weasley made an urgent sound, the first sound in several minutes, much to Draco's surprise. Red rushed over to remove his gag.

"How do we know that?" he asked in a withered voice. "How do we know he isn't controlling you here? Making you do stuff for him?"

"Dumbledore says he can't. Don't you trust Dumbledore?" Draco asked innocently.

"He's not, Ron. He can't," Granger said in a distracted voice. "The school's too well protected for that. But all the same, I wonder..." she gulped and played with her bushy hair as if she wanted to refine the thought before speaking it aloud. Draco wondered if he could convince her to employ some of his Shiny Smooth 'n' Slick Spray.

"You wonder what?" Weasley prompted her.

"I wonder two things. First of all, considering that we know Voldemort is very good at figuring out when people are lying to him," she said tentatively, "how can we be sure that he can't learn about what you two are doing right now the next time he sees you?"

"The Dark Lord can't read me. He's bloody fucking obvious about trying, too. Even more obvious than Snape," Thera said directly. She looked at him. "I imagine Draco's the same way, if Lucius is half as good as my mother was."

Draco looked up at her, surprised. "Lucius hasn't been able to for years. And Snape can't," he added. "Dumbledore can't do it either, though it doesn't seem to stop him from trying." Nosy old geezer, always trying to co-opt his head.

"What are you saying?" Potter asked, studying Thera.

Draco put on his Lucius face. "There are several advantages to being raised by Death Eaters, Potter. One of them is learning quite early to defend yourself against invasive mental attacks. Perhaps you would have been better off, considering your record."

"Draco," Red hissed. "You promised."

"So you taught yourselves Occlumency?" Potter seemed aghast at this. "How?"

"Let's just say the incentive was fairly high," Thera said dryly.

"What do you mean?" Red asked, looking between him and Thera, who didn't seem inclined to explain. Frankly, neither did Draco. He seriously doubted Gryffindors were capable of understanding what resistance entailed in the average Death Eater home. In a situation where complete obedience is expected, you either become completely obedient or you learn very quickly how to hide disobedience. Pain is one devil of a motivator.

"What was the second thing, Granger?" Draco said, ignoring Red.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's odd that four of the six people in this school with some sort of link to Voldemort are...together?"

*******

Harry had a feeling he wasn't the only person currently stretching the boundaries of their definition of coincidence. With a decidedly nasty taste in the back of his mouth, he remembered Thera talking about doing something with Crabbe, and she and Malfoy had been together at the start of term. She might not have slept with them, though...

And the sun might not rise in the morning.

Ginny and Malfoy were eyeing each other warily. Throwing them into his analysis...well, it would certainly explain a lot.

"I'm not necessarily saying it means anything," Hermione qualified. "I just thought I should throw it out there."

Harry closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. His balls were still throbbing painfully, Thera was a full Occlumens when he wasn't - not yet - and he might very well only be attracted to her because of some shared voodoo Voldemort connection.

"Well, it makes sense," Ron said, sounding for the first time all night like his usual self. "I mean, why else would Ginny and Harry go Slytherin?"

"Maybe they went Slytherin because they're the only two people in Gryffindor tower with even a passing interest in getting laid before they get out of here," Thera supplied.

"Can we just figure out a game plan and go to bed?" Harry asked irritably. "I don't think any of us is awake enough to analyze our motivations for sleeping with each other."

"I'm with Harry," Ginny agreed. "We're all going to be wrecked tomorrow if we don't get some sleep, and as for analyzing motivations...well, I'm bloody well sick of analyzing my motivations where Draco's concerned. I think I'd rather not know at this point. Chalk it up as one of life's mysteries."

"Perhaps you're shagging me simply because I'm gorgeous and rich, Red," Malfoy said. "Did that ever occur to you?"

"Game plan," Harry groaned, opening his eyes. "Hermione, aren't you the one who's supposed to be keeping things on track here?"

"Red?" Hermione asked Ginny, raising her eyebrows. "Anyway, Professor Wellbourne's obviously working the spell. I'll go talk to her tomorrow."

"And you have to tell Mum and Dad," Ron said, glaring at his sister.

"There's no need to tell them anything yet," Ginny said automatically. "I mean, there's nothing they can do right now, anyway."

"Tell Mum and Dad about the spell or I will," he said, his face hardening. "And then I'll tell them that their daughter's shagging Lucius Malfoy's son. You remember who Lucius Malfoy is, right? The guy who keeps Dad from getting anywhere at the Ministry? The guy who gave you You-Know-Who's diary and got you into this mess in the first place?!" Ron was getting worked up again, his face already approaching purple.

"Fine," Ginny said in a dead voice. "I'll tell them. But you're not going to say a word about Draco. I still have the picture, Ron."

"DO YOU THINK I GIVE A RAT'S ASS ABOUT THE SODDING PICTURE WHEN YOU'RE FUCKING SOMEBODY WHO HATES YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY, WHO WOULD JUST AS SOON SEE HERMIONE DEAD AND WHO'S PROBABLY ONLY WITH YOU SO THAT HE CAN GIVE YOU TO YOU-KNOW-WHO?!"

"I already told you, Weasley," Malfoy ground out, his hands fisting. "I'm nobody's fucking minion."

"If you think I won't kill you for this..."

"Weasley, I told you to behave," Thera said boredly, holding up Ron's wand with her thumbs in the middle and her index fingers on each end, ready to snap it.

Ron focused his eyes on his wand, as if trying to will it back into his hands. "That little ferret is fucking my sister."

"People fuck," Thera shrugged. "It happens all the time."

"Harry's just using you for sex, you know," Ron said viciously. "If you weren't such a slut, he wouldn't give you the time of day."

"Ron!" Harry said sharply, shocked at his friend's behavior.

"Put the heroics back in your pants, Harry," Thera said, rolling her eyes over to look at him. "Get a kitten out of a tree or help an old lady cross a street or something if you can't keep it under control. As for you," she said to Ron, "I think you've lost your non-gag privileges." Going over to one of her drawers, she pulled out a pair of knickers and shoved them in Ron's mouth before retying the gag as he struggled vainly.

"Honestly, Thera," Harry sighed.

"They're clean," she said defensively. "And who knows? Maybe he'll like it."

"Now I remember why I hang out with you," Malfoy said, watching Ron with interest.

"So anyway," Harry continued. "Ginny's going to tell her parents and Hermione's going to talk to Professor Wellbourne. I imagine Dumbledore has a plan for keeping Ginny safe, but..." he couldn't help the bitter smile that crawled across his face. "Well, we all know that he isn't all that good at it. We need to figure out what else we can do to keep Ginny away from Voldemort while she's at Hogwarts."

"Did I just hear that correctly?" Malfoy asked, looking flummoxed. "Was that a critical remark made by Harry Potter about Headmaster and living saint Albus Dumbledore?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly. "How can he get at her while she's here?"

"How do you get to Voldemort, anyway?" Hermione asked Thera. "I mean, obviously you can't Apparate..."

Face blank, Thera held up her left hand. "He used it in the ceremony. It acts like a portkey. Takes me right to him."

"If he gave you an order or something when you were with him that was supposed to be carried out here, like bringing Ginny along with you, would it work?" Harry asked, not particularly wanting to ask the question, but feeling the need to nonetheless.

He was startled when Thera turned a pair of flat, black Death Eater eyes on him. That look still creeped him out. It was just...empty, soulless.

"I haven't the faintest fucking clue," she said evenly as Harry shifted uncomfortably.

He didn't like that side of Thera, and he didn't like knowing he'd brought it out. They both had roles they had to play in this whole mess, but at least his - tall order though it was - involved something good. Hers didn't, and for the first time, he wondered what it really took to do it. "So it's a possibility, then," he finally said, looking away.

"Actually, I don't think it is," Hermione argued. "I'd have to ask Professor Wellbourne to be sure, but Hogwarts is more warded up than usual. I think all of the prefects have seen it. People are getting stunned all over the place for getting into fights with each other. Dumbledore brought in a bunch of outside specialists or something - The Daily Prophet didn't have a lot of details about it - but I don't think it's possible to do something like that to another student without the wards picking it up. I mean, you must have seen it, Malfoy," she said.

"I just figured it was what they had to do to keep a bloody modicum of discipline in this place after Umbridge left," he said, frowning. "Who are these outside specialists?"

Ron made a sound. Harry looked over at him, feeling the same stabbing sensation he felt whenever he'd looked at Ron throughout the summit. Ron's eyes turned cold as they met his, and the stabbing sensation got worse. Harry couldn't think about it now, not when they still had so many other things to deal with.

"The Cardinal sent them," he said, focusing his eyes on Malfoy.

The Slytherin's jaw dropped. "The Cardinal has people here, defending Hogwarts?"

"One of them is training me. The other two just monitor the wards," Harry said, wanting desperately to finish the discussion.

"The person training you is one of The Cardinal's people? Well, I feel a lot better about our bloody chances now," Thera said fervently, back to her normal self.

"The Cardinal," Malfoy breathed, his face spreading into the first real smile Harry had ever seen. "And I thought the good side didn't know their ass from a hole in the ground."

Harry blinked at him. For the first time all night, it finally truly registered that - probably for entirely selfish reasons much like Thera's - Draco Malfoy was actually on their side in this whole thing. It felt weird. His dad and Lupin and Sirius and Snape must have felt the same way, he realized. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Or at least the enemy of my enemy is not quite as much of an enemy as my enemy. Wait, that didn't make sense...

"But Voldemort could still use a regular portkey," Hermione contributed, "like he did at the Tri-Wizard Cup. I mean, that's a fairly secondary command for the two of you. It probably wouldn't trigger the wards because it doesn't directly intend harm."

"How do you defend against a portkey, though?" Ginny asked.

"If somebody suddenly yells out, 'Catch!' and throws something at you, turn around and run the other way," Malfoy said helpfully.

"We'll just all have to follow her around making sure she doesn't touch anything we haven't touched first," Thera said, "to make sure it hasn't been magically altered."

"Brilliant, Thera," Malfoy commended her. "And we should wear sunglasses, too."

Something about the phrase 'magically altered' clicked in Harry's head. Grinning, he reached into his pocket and took out the small metal disk Bill Weasley had given him for his birthday. "Here," he said, tossing it to Ginny.

She held out a hand to catch it, but Malfoy batted it away at the last second. The disk bounced off of Ron's forehead and landed on the floor. Ron glowered at Malfoy.

"Red, I just told you not to fall for that," Malfoy admonished her, picking up the disk. He studied it for a second. "What's this?"

"If an object's been magically altered, it sounds an alarm," Harry explained.

"Looks like junk to me," Malfoy sniffed. "What, did you buy it at a tourist shop?"

"Malfoy," Harry said flatly. "It works." It had nearly scared the apron off of Mrs. Weasley when the alarm had sounded as he was about to pick up his pumpkin juice at breakfast one morning that summer. Suffice it to say, Fred and George had been at the table that day.

Shrugging, Malfoy handed the disk to Ginny, who slipped it into her pocket.

"So at this point, our grand defense consists of parental and professorial discussions and pocket tchotchkes. Also, the object of our protection apparently didn't take Psycho-Moody's credo of 'constant vigilance' to heart. We're doomed," Malfoy concluded.

Malfoy talking about Moody automatically brought back an image of a bouncing ferret to Harry's head, and he couldn't hold back a smile.

"Say it," Malfoy threatened him, "and I'll fucking kill you, Potter."

"You can't kill me, Malfoy. Only Voldemort can," Harry said happily. "Besides, having been turned into a small furry rodent myself once or twice, I sympathize."

"Small furry rodents?" Thera asked, looking utterly lost.

Ginny looked thoughtful. "When did you turn into a rodent?"

"During training," Harry said, wishing he hadn't brought it up.

"That's what you do in training? Get turned into squirrels and whatnot?" Thera sighed and looked over at him. "Harry, I hate to break it to you, but squirrels aren't scary."

"The purpose wasn't..." Harry tried to explain, but Malfoy interrupted, looking joyous.

"No, no, it's an ingenious plan. Potter's bravely facing off against the Dark Lord, and suddenly, he turns into a squirrel. Then, while the old man is laughing his snakey head off, Potter throws a nut into his mouth and he chokes to death."

Thera's mouth quirked. "Sounds like something your father and his cronies would come up with at a Death Eater brainstorming session."

"Honestly, I think we've done everything we can at this point. In a few days, maybe we'll know a bit more and we'll be able to prepare," Hermione said in a businesslike manner, standing and removing Ron's gag.

"So you're my bloody friends, are you?" Ron asked, apparently still worked up.

"Ron," Hermione said heavily. "Tomorrow you can throw the biggest temper tantrum in Hogwarts history, but we've accomplished a lot tonight, and I think we all just want to go to bed now."

Malfoy pulled Ginny into a kiss. Harry couldn't keep his jaw from clenching, seeing the two of them - willingly, considering Ginny returned the kiss and then some - together. He also knew his feelings were about one-millionth the magnitude of Ron's.

"I'm going to leave before they untie your brother," Malfoy said as he drew away.

"Good plan," Ginny said gamely, looking at the blonde Slytherin as if he were a lovely set of robes she couldn't afford. Harry swore under his breath. Whatever on earth Ginny saw in that asshole, she saw a lot of it, and liked it quite a bit.

Malfoy left quickly and Harry gathered up the invisibility cloak as Hermione freed Ron. His friend stood stiffly in front of the chair that had been his prison for the past few hours. He didn't look at Harry.

"I'll take the front," Harry said, trying to focus on the situation at hand. "I know the quickest route up to the tower from here."

Ron snorted. "I'll just bet you do," he said under his breath.

Again, the stabbing sensation returned. "Ron," Harry said, his voice rising at the end against his will, making it a question, castigating himself just a bit more. Ron had been his first friend, his first and best friend, and Harry didn't know if he could get up tomorrow and face the day if he didn't know that was still true, or could be.

Ron's eyes turned to him, ice-cold. "I don't," he said quietly, "want to hear anything you have to say, Harry."

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione said, sounding on the verge of tears. "Let's just get back."

Harry felt a hand on his arm and turned. It was Thera. He'd forgotten she was there.

"You can stay if you want," she said impassively.

"I should go," he said, everything in him pulling him towards his friends.

"Then go." She looked away, and Harry saw the uncertain child again. She wanted him to stay, for whatever reason. He looked back at his friends. Hermione was holding the cloak, and Ron had only grown colder. Then Ginny walked up and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm really sorry, Harry," she said. "I'll explain everything to Ron tomorrow. I'll make him understand." She pulled back, smirking. "And I think we can get back to the tower from here without you."

"He hates me," Harry whispered, hating himself much more than Ron probably could.

Ginny hugged him again. "No, Harry, he loves you," she said in his ear. "If he didn't love you so much, he wouldn't be so angry about it. It'll be okay. I promise."

Harry felt his chest tighten as she drew away. "He won't finish the spell, Ginny," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "I won't let him."

She grinned. "I don't know if it matters to you, but Draco said the exact same thing."

"Great," Harry said sarcastically. Ginny went over to join Ron and Hermione - who shot him a 'you and I are talking tomorrow whether you like it or not' look before ducking under the cloak - and the door opened and shut, leaving him alone with Thera.

*******

"I'm really tired, Thera," Harry said, sounding defeated.

"You weren't going to get any sleep tonight anyway. Would you rather lie awake in the same room as your best friend who's not talking to you, or hang out with me?"

"Let me guess," he said, turning around and half-smiling at her, "tying up Ron awakened your libido and you need somebody to spank."

"No, actually," Thera said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like when her mother's death finally hit her, Thera's full acceptance of the fact that the spell existed and that in a few months it was going to be her everyday reality caught somewhere in her chest and stayed there. She didn't want it to be true. She was desperate for it not to be true.

Not that it really fucking mattered, because it was still true.

Harry was looking her oddly. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up."

He raised an eyebrow. "The Thera I know doesn't turn down sex."

"I'm not turning it down, Harry. If you want to have sex, let's go."

"You don't seem like you really want to."

"Sure, I do. Why wouldn't I?" she said defensively.

He backed up a step. "You've been acting strangely all night."

"I always act strangely."

"I meant strangely for you," he said dryly.

"Maybe I act like this all the time when you're not around and you just never get to see it." There was something wrong with her voice, she realized. It didn't sound right.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're going to make me pry it out of you, aren't you? Let the mind games begin."

"I'm not playing mind games with you, Harry. I never play mind games with you, because you aren't any fun. You just sit there and don't get it."

"Don't get what?"

"Thank you for proving my point."

"Fine," he said, throwing up his hands. "Don't tell me."

Thera fisted her hands and put them in her lap. She felt the question welling up in her and fought it back valiantly. Nothing was going to come out of her mouth without being inspected thoroughly and stamped with her seal of approval. The question could be as sneaky as it wanted, but she wasn't letting it out.

"Don't you ever wish you were normal?" she blurted. Oops.

"Normal?" Harry asked, watching her warily. "What do you mean?"

The seal had been broken, the dam had crumbled, and if Thera didn't get a bloody grip on herself soon, Harry was going to be getting an earful about everything he was never particularly interested in knowing about her.

"I mean, don't you want that sometimes, what everyone else has? To just get up in the morning and go to class and sit around with your friends and write letters home and go through an entire day without wondering what the Dark Lord's up to and what it's going to mean for you and when everything's going to go to shit and how shitty it's going to be and whether or not you're going to live through it and whether or not you're going to wish you didn't live through it when it's all over and when it's going to be over and how?" The statement took a lot out of her, and it took even more out of her to shut herself up. Thera sank back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, catching her breath.

Harry was silent for several seconds. Then she felt his weight sink down on the bed and his face appeared above her. He was obviously trying hard not to laugh.

"And Hermione says I'm repressed. You're in a category all your own."

"Nobody's allowed to patronize me, Harry. Least of all you," Thera muttered, turning on her side and pulling her legs up, feeling exposed and stupid. She was not in control of herself, much less the conversation. She wasn't used to it, and she certainly didn't like it.

"Thera, it nearly killed you to say what you just said. I thought one of your eyes was going to pop out. And it wasn't even deep, heartfelt emotional intimacy. It was you basically stating that if you had the choice, you'd opt for not killing Muggles at the whim of Voldemort."

"Take this destiny and shove it," Thera said, sighing.

"That's pretty much my opinion on the matter, too. Well, to answer your question, yes I do. All the time. Who wouldn't?"

"I don't mean wishful thinking, Harry. I'm saying if you could just pass it off to somebody else right now and be a normal kid, wouldn't you do it?"

"I'd want to," he said softly, the laughter gone. "But I wouldn't."

She turned over onto her back, curious. "You wouldn't? Why not?"

"I don't hate anybody that much," he said, trying for a smile and not quite making it.

He was telling the truth, and Thera honestly didn't know what to say. Unlike Draco, she had never seen Harry's heroism as an act; she had just thought he was trying to be what everybody expected him to be, to live up to all the Harry Potter hype. Until now she hadn't seen that he really honestly was a hero, not just because he'd defeated the Dark Lord once and hopefully would again, but because he was the only person she'd ever met who would give that answer and actually mean it.

Thera rubbed her eyes. She didn't need this shit. Not when the end of term was bearing down on her like a freight train. She needed to keep her head in the game, and if she dwelled on a summer spent ripping out toenails and reading her way through the Malfoy library, she'd go stark, raving mad. Bitchin' Ferrari notwithstanding.

On the upside, there didn't seem to be any reason to attend classes anymore. Except for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Every other course she took with the first years, but it was easy to pretend she was just another boring, average student in Professor Wellbourne's class, when everyone around her wasn't shorter than her. Plus - essays aside - she was rather good at it.

The thought snuck into her head and quickly took hold. So why can't I have that? Why can't both of us have that? It's only for a few months, anyway.

"I have a proposition for you," she said, knowing the slightly liberating, largely frightening feeling of acting entirely unlike herself wouldn't last very long.

"No riding crops." Harry's eyebrows drew together sternly.

Thera sent him a look. "It's a non-sexual proposition, Harry."

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, you want a girlfriend, right?"

He made a face. "No, I don't."

"You said you did when you were drunk. Drunks always tell the truth."

His jaw tensed. "I don't want a girlfriend. I'm not very good at it, as you now know."

Ah, yes. The restraining order. "I can't wait to hear that story," Thera said, smirking. "But in any case, deep down, all tied up in your yearning for normality in complicated ways is a secret desire to have a girlfriend."

"Fine, okay, yes."

"Good, because I've decided that I want a boyfriend."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "A boyfriend?"

"Well, I've never had one. And think about it. There are two and a half months left of term, and that's the duration of the proposition. We're both sick to death of watching from the sidelines as everybody else goes about their sitcom-happy lives while we're all caught up in the wheels of a big nasty fate we'd rather do without. So let's pretend."

"Pretend we're boyfriend and girlfriend," he said slowly.

"Yeah, why not?" Thera asked, warming to the idea. It might be fun, and it would certainly be novel, and she was all for something novel in this boring-ass place.

Harry sat back. "Like holding hands in the hallway and snogging in closets?"

"No," she said impatiently, sitting up. "I mean just in here. For the hell of it."

"I see," Harry said, his face tightening. "For the hell of it."

"What? What's wrong with it?" she persisted. "Don't we both need a tiny fucking slice of normal teenage existence in our lives?"

"Maybe we do, but doesn't the fact that we have to pretend make it abnormal anyway?"

"Harry, let's be honest here. This is the closest either of us are going to get."

His face softened and fell and his eyes went to his lap. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Thera poked him in the chest. "So do you want to turn out the lights and pretend we're fooling around on my parent's bed while they're out of town, or not?"

Harry raised his head, his green eyes clear and piercing. "You're not coming back next year, are you?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Thera saw no reason to lie to him. "No, I'm not."

He nodded solemnly. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. It had been a while since they'd kissed. Once their sexual relationship had gotten started, it had more or less fallen by the wayside. The thrill - so to speak - just wasn't there.

But it was still nice to empty her mind, to imagine that this was a turning point in her pouty, innocent teenage life, to play the coquettish virgin. She could do that.

And Merlin knew Harry did need any lessons to play the fumbly, awkward teenage male.

They made out for a while, then Harry's hand snaked up her belly. Thera slapped it.

"I'm not that kind of girl," she breathed.

Harry made the same face he'd made the last time he'd physically restrained himself not to laugh, then forcibly sobered. "I guess I'll just have to make you that kind of girl, then," he said, kissing her again as his hand once more went for her breast.

"Oh, Harry!" she squealed, feeling giddy with the false innocence of it all.

"Fuck, I can't do this," Harry said, rolling away from her.

"Can't do what?" she asked, flopping back on the bed, annoyed.

"This isn't you," he said, waving his hand in the general direction of her.

"Well, of course it isn't. So?" Thera couldn't figure out what the problem was.

"So just...don't say anything, okay?"

Thera shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

Harry came over her, kissing her again, followed by PG-rated making out. Thera wondered where he was going with all of this. Again, his hand went up to seek breast, and she allowed it by not saying anything. Harry remained silent, too.

He sat her up, taking off her shirt, helping her take off her jeans. Moving to kneel down on the floor, Harry pulled them off of her feet, sliding his hands up her thighs as his face followed.

"I feel like your girlfriend would be protesting," Thera commented even as her legs spread. Cunnilingus was something that should be valued and certainly never refused.

"I knew you couldn't be quiet," Harry said, scowling from between her knees.

"I'm just saying this doesn't fit into the protocol," Thera said. "And now I'll be quiet."

"Thera," Harry said in his most Harry-like long-suffering tone of voice.

She looked down and saw the top half of his face - glasses and all - peeking out from above her pelvic bone. She couldn't help the snort of laughter that snuck through at the idea that he actually needed to keep his glasses on for oral sex. Was he that nearsighted?

Harry made a sound and sat back. "You're impossible. You know that, don't you?"

Thera calmed herself. "No more talking, or laughter. No matter what. I swear."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Harry said, leaning forward and going to work.

Thera had to admit that the scenario played better silently. It was easier to pretend that they were a couple of innocent kids screwing around when there weren't words coming out of her mouth that directly parodied the spirit of the moment.

In fact, it was a lot like being under the Dark Lord's control. It was almost a relief to be able to turn off her brain and let something else - be it the Dark Lord or the direct connection between nerve endings and her brain - take over. It was all about distraction. When the Dark Lord was in charge, it was like having a song stuck in her head, not really annoying, but just something to focus on, something that wouldn't go away.

Little ditty about Jack and Diane,

Two American kids growing up in the heartland.

A smile spread across her face. Cheesy and American as anything, but it fit. Things were coming along nicely. Thera breathed in deep and grabbed Harry's ears.

Jackie's gonna be a football star.

Diane debutante in the backseat of Jackie's car.

Harry sat back to take a breath. Thera shivered in falsely innocent teenage girl bliss as she felt him leave, then come back again.

Suckin' on chili dogs outside the Tastee Freeze.

Diane's sitting on Jackie's lap,

He's got his hand between her knees.

It came almost out of nowhere, entirely unexpected. Thera pushed Harry's head away, knowing it was enough, that anything beyond it would be too much even as she felt all of her muscles tense and her heartbeat sound in her ears. She didn't even have time to catch her breath before Harry rose up in avenging warrior fashion and came inside her.

Jackie say, 'Hey Diane, let's run off behind the shady tree,

Dribble off those Bobby Brooks and let me do what I please.'

"Mlurf," Thera said, her lips still functioning at 'post-orgasm uncoordinated' level. Harry's eyes had darkened to a forest green and he was flushed as he pumped in true teenage boy fashion. Thera reached up and removed his glasses, tossing them aside.

And Jackie say:

'Oh yeah, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone.

He came in stages, his body stiffening and shaking as if he were under a painful curse. Thera wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close so that his breath sounded in her ear and her fingers stroked the sharp ridge of his shoulder blades. Afterwards, they didn't turn off the lights. They barely even moved. Harry rolled them onto their sides and pulled the covers over them, and Thera decided that it was a highly normal teenage girl thing to do to fall asleep with your nose pressed into your boyfriend's neck.

Oh yeah, say, life goes on

Long after the thrill of living is gone, they walk on.'

And even if it wasn't, fuck it. He smelled good.