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Matryoshka Vignettes

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    ...
  This is a direct follow on from Perfect Situations.
  
  This story started with a small quickly written piece about Albus visiting the Goblins. That story didn"t make the final cut, as it was pretty out of the character I wanted Dumbledore to have. There was another short - an Island Visitor, that was also cut because it didn't fit.
  
  But that gave me the idea of doing a couple of character pieces - and Hermione and Ginny soon followed. From there, I just kept going and posting on my yahoo group, without bothering to have them betad.
  
  After a while, a few other authors submitted stories to me, and I realised I had to do something with this, and this is the result.
  
  So I"d like to thank Kokopelli, Ishtar and GardenGirl for betaing all of these, and I"d very much like to thank Kokopelli, Crys, Draco664 and OHGinnyFan for playing in this universe.
  
  If you would like to read this story in chronological order, you will need to follow the links in the order below, as the story has been uploaded in the "Pulp Fanfiction" style in which it was written.
  
  "What?" Severus Snape growled, as he flung open the door to his private shop off Knockturn Alley.
  
  "I"ve got a delivery for a Severus Snap," the man said, his arms full of wooden boxes.
  
  "That"s Snape, you imbecilic incompetent," he barked.
  
  It felt good to insult someone again; it had been too long since he had enjoyed the opportunity and for some reason it felt even better to do so with this deliveryman.
  
  "Well, don"t just stand there gaping like an idiot, bring them in."
  
  "Yes, sir," the deliveryman said, his eyes firmly on the floor. Snape marched through his hallway to his converted kitchen, swirling his robes dramatically.
  
  The deliveryman followed him, and dropped the boxes down loudly on the counter.
  
  "Gently, you oaf," Snape snapped. "Those ingredients are worth more than your life!"
  
  "Sorry," the man grunted. "Sign here."
  
  Snape signed the proffered parchment with a dramatic flourish. "Now get out," he snarled.
  
  The deliveryman shrugged and turned, walking out and slamming the door behind him.
  
  "Arrogant fool," Snape muttered to himself. He began to open the boxes eagerly and sighed happily. Potions ingredients always allowed him to forget everything else and do what he did best.
  
  An hour later, with all his ingredients meticulously placed in their correct positions, he looked over to his order sheet and sighed again, although less happily.
  
  A sex potion.
  
  A stinking sex potion.
  
  It was a travesty that a man of his talents was reduced to making potions to spice up the love lives of the idiot rich.
  
  And it was that arrogant bastard Potter"s fault, he thought bitterly as he started his work.
  
  Potter had corrupted one of his best Slytherins, and she had casually destroyed his life, like any good Slytherin would, with a throw-away comment.
  
  He let his thoughts ramble on while he absently crushed some sopophorous beans with the flat side of a silver dagger and added them to some Valerian roots.
  
  He had returned to Hogwarts after Potter"s funeral, as cheerful as he could remember. Both of his most hated people, Potter and Voldemort, were dead, and he could look forward to the future of intimidating children with something approaching joy.
  
  Instead he found that there was rebellion afoot. He"d hadn"t even done anything - just made a second year Gryffindor girl cry - when one of his own students, his own, had called him a bullying coward.
  
  Well, he wasn"t going to take that, even from his own House. He"d removed five House points and assigned a twenty-minute detention.
  
  He"d presumed that would be the end of it.
  
  Only it wasn"t. The next thing that had happened was Draco Malfoy, white with fear, begging him to find an antidote for the poison that Greengrass had forced down his throat.
  
  Snape had initially been excited. Lucius would pay a large reward for saving his son"s life. It would make a major contribution to his retirement fund.
  
  He continued working on the sex potion automatically, as he added the Ashwinder eggs, cleaning his hands afterward.
  
  Things had gone on normally for a week before he had been ordered to attend a meeting of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
  
  He hadn"t been concerned. Lucius was back on the Board, and Lucius wouldn"t allow anything to happen to the man finding his son"s cure.
  
  Only he had arrived to find that there was someone new in Lucius" chair - someone he didn"t recognise. The man explained to him that the Malfoy family was bankrupt, that someone had purchased all their debts and foreclosed on them. That Malfoy had overextended himself in his backing of Voldemort, and was now penniless.
  
  He had cursed to himself - this was going to affect his retirement.
  
  "And Professor Snape," the stranger had continued inexorably. "By request of the students of your House, and because of your appalling behaviour with the students of all Houses, we are removing you from the Head of Slytherin House position."
  
  He had been stunned into speechlessness, and hadn"t even thought till later about the drop in pay involved.
  
  It was substantial.
  
  So here he was, spending his weekend making a sex potion, which had turned purple at the right time and had been stirred correctly throughout.
  
  He"d abandoned the search for an antidote for the younger Malfoy; there was no way he was going to waste valuable ingredients and research time on the boy. He was positive that Greengrass was more than competent enough to make an antidote very difficult to find. She was a Slytherin after all.
  
  He allowed the potion to cool for an hour, while he tidied up his workshop. It might be small, but it was one of the best laid out potions chambers in the world.
  
  Magic, proper magic, not that stuff caused by foolish wand waving, went on here, and soon he would have the money to be able to purchase the ingredients he needed. He would make his cure for werewolves, sell it to a distributor for an absolute fortune, and then leave the country, long before the side effect - the death, after a year, of every werewolf who took it - was discovered.
  
  He poured the lilac potion into a vial, and left a small amount for testing. He couldn"t afford to gain a bad reputation yet, so he always tested his creations himself (the non-deadly ones at least) to ensure that they were perfect.
  
  They always were.
  
  But he liked to be sure.
  
  He swallowed the potion quickly and absently decided which of his students he would fantasise about as he relieved the effects of the sex enhancer.
  
  And he yawned.
  
  He waited for the expected rush, but all that came was another yawn, this one bigger, and he started to feel sleepy.
  
  Sleepy?
  
  Dread filled him. Something had gone wrong. He shouldn"t feel sleepy. But what had happened? He"d done the potion properly. He had even cleaned his fingers after touching the eggs.
  
  Wait. He shook himself. He didn"t need to do that, they were only eggs after all. He stumbled frantically over to his supplies, not caring as he knocked his completed potions in all directions.
  
  "Finite Incantatem," he whispered, and the box of eggs seemed to shimmer and change. It was no longer a box of eggs but asphodel in an infusion of wormwood.
  
  But if you added wormwood infusion, instead of eggs, to the sex potion...
  
  He slumped to the ground.
  
  He"d just made his own death.
  
  A living death.
  
  He almost smiled. Of all the ways he had expected to die, this was perhaps the kindest.
  
  Greengrass had certainly struck in style.
  
  Still, at least Potter was dead as well. It was almost worthwhile to die, knowing that the Potter family had been wiped out for eternity.
  
  He settled down onto the floor, and relaxed, wondering how Greengrass had managed to switch the ingredients.
  
  The deliveryman couldn"t have known, even if it had felt so good to berate him. He hadn"t felt like that since the last time he"d insulted Potter. And the delivery driver had given him the same insolent look as Potter had.
  
  "No," he whispered, as he tried to lurch to his feet. He fell forward onto his counter, desperately searching for something, anything, that might keep him awake.
  
  The deliveryman had had green eyes.
  
  The potions escaped his grasp, and he sank down, screaming as he fell into the endless sleep, a sleep that was an eternal nightmare.
  
  A nightmare infested with Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass laughing at him.
  
  Forever.
  
  Hermione Granger sat in a large armchair with a copy of her favourite book on her lap.
  
  It was a position she had been in countless times, and it had never failed to calm her and allow her to immerse herself in the book.
  
  Until now.
  
  So far, this afternoon, she"d calculated the size of the ceiling in square inches, counted the number of leaves she could see out of the window, and watched a spider build a web.
  
  It was the book"s fault. The book was lying to her.
  
  Or rather, the front page was lying to her.
  
  Underneath the signatures of the authors (eight, over a thirty year period) was the untidy scrawl of Harry Potter.
  "Thanks for always being there. H.J.P."
  
  It was a lie.
  
  She hadn"t been there when he really needed her.
  
  None of his friends had been.
  
  Only his new girlfriend had been there.
  
  Everything had been so clear after Dumbledore"s funeral. She had been told the secret first - that the Professor had faked his death to allow him to get hold of the Horcruxes -, and she had been amazed at his cleverness, and swore to her allegiance to him.
  
  Then she"d gone to the Burrow, and talked to Ginny, only to find out that Ginny and Harry had broken up. Well, she wasn"t going to have that. Ginny was perfect for Harry. She"d get them back together. She knew about Harry"s jealousy the previous year, as he"d watched Ginny and Dean, and playing on that would soon make Harry realise he was being silly. Besides, Ginny"s idea of just slapping him wouldn"t work.
  
  Harry had been cheerful when he had greeted her at Grimmauld Place, and she was excited to see him. She couldn"t wait to see his face when he realised just how clever Dumbledore had been.
  
  He"d grabbed her hand, and told her he had a plan, and that they"d talk later.
  
  And that was the last time she ever saw him happy.
  
  When he had come out of the meeting with Dumbledore, he had changed. His eyes had dimmed. She hadn"t really noticed it at the time, but when was hindsight not twenty-twenty?
  
  He"d asked her, he"d begged her to go with him and deal with Voldemort.
  
  But she"d said no, positive that Dumbledore knew what was best. And she"d said no again and again. Ron and Ginny had followed her - they"d felt the same way.
  
  That Dumbledore had it all under control.
  
  And so they had returned to school, and Harry had retreated into his shell - and it wasn"t really a surprise. He did that a lot.
  
  Daphne"s words at the funeral echoed around her mind again. They had been haunting her, keeping her from sleeping.
  "He understood that you can"t stand by and watch evil when you can do something about it. It was something that everyone else didn"t get. Every time someone died, Harry felt it. Every time someone was tortured, he felt their pain. He knew that it would continue until he defeated Voldemort.
  "It was his sense of responsibility, his nobility, and everything else that made up Harry James Potter. I truly believe that forcing him to do nothing was the biggest torture that you could have inflicted on him. His soul had been dying bit by bit."
  
  The words shamed her with their truth. They taunted her with their accuracy. She"d watched as Harry had slowly been torn apart, and not even realised what was happening.
  
  She had failed him as a friend.
  
  She had failed.
  
  Ginny had tried to make him jealous, but he"d hardly seemed to notice. He just took to vanishing from the Common Room.
  
  Hermione had tried to find him, tried to follow him, but couldn"t. It was almost as if Hogwarts was conspiring with him.
  
  She didn"t even realise he knew about her and Ron. She thought she"d been so clever, hiding her relationship with him from Harry. After all, Harry never knew how long prefect meetings went on for, and it allowed them to have some private time before and after.
  
  Some friend she had been, not even telling him that she was in love.
  
  She thought it would have changed things between them, made it harder for him in some way, so figured that hiding it would be best.
  
  She had failed.
  
  And when she stopped being that friend for him, that friend who was always there for him, he found someone else.
  
  Daphne Greengrass - a girl who had made the phrase "Ice Princess" a grim reality. A girl who everyone knew not to touch and not to play with. A girl who everyone knew was going to do exactly what she wanted in her life, and no one and nothing would stand in her way.
  
  Only Harry Potter would see that as a good thing.
  
  Everyone had known about how she had dealt with Draco, how the younger Malfoy was more terrified of her than he was of Voldemort.
  
  Her best friend had fallen in love, and she hadn"t even noticed. She couldn"t blame him for not telling her - it would have been hypocritical to do so.
  
  She lightly traced the outline of the words in front of her, his last message to her, and sighed softly.
  
  He had chosen well. He had chosen a girl who didn"t second guess him, who understood where he was coming from, and understood that sometimes you have to fight for what you think is right.
  
  Although she didn"t know it, Daphne"s casual revelation of the truth behind Salazar Slytherin had been like a shockwave through the school. Slytherin House had undergone a huge change.
  
  Snape was no longer the Head of House. Ousted not for his behaviour with Harry, although that was a factor, but because the students had demanded that someone more open-minded be placed in control.
  
  Draco and his allies, far from ruling, had then been treated as pariahs, as traitors who had dragged the name of Salazar Slytherin through the mud.
  
  And Draco. She smiled slightly in admiration for what Daphne accomplished. The boy had looked awful, he"d lost weight, his hair was always filthy, and every waking hour when he wasn"t in class had been spent in the library.
  
  For the first day after Harry"s funeral he had been loud and boisterous, fighting for his place in Slytherin, because of the overwhelming hatred among his former colleagues.
  
  The second day everything had changed.
  
  Hedwig had flown into the school and dropped a letter in front of him. A Howler.
  
  Everyone knew that Daphne must have sent it, and everyone had held their breath while he opened it, an expression of pure terror on his face.
  
  The Howler had been much shorter than everyone expected. Only four words.
  It wasn"t a bluff.
  
  Draco had seemed to fold into himself. He"d turned and run out of the Great Hall.
  
  She had received an owl at the same time. Her message was different.
  It was a bluff, so when he asks you for help in five weeks, say no.
  D.
  
  Daphne had been right. It had taken Draco five weeks to ask her for help. And she had moved closer to him, and whispered in his ear. "Drop dead."
  
  Draco had started to cry and abandoned all dignity. He dropped to his knees and begged her for his life.
  
  If he"d really been dying, she would have helped. But she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him on the floor.
  
  It was a resigned Draco who had turned up on the last day of school. With his family bankrupt, he"d had no one to turn to for help - except for Snape, and no one knew what had happened to him. He"d simply disappeared, abandoning the Potions classes to a substitute.
  
  And Hedwig had flown in again with another Howler. She"d figured out that Daphne was sending them so that everyone could hear what was going on.
  
  "You"re not going to die, Malfoy," the voice said - Daphne must have been whispering, as the Howlers amplification made it normal. "But now you know how the victims of your terrorism have felt. Live well, because next time there won"t be an elaborate charade. I"ll just kill you."
  
  The final threat had been more chilling because Daphne"s voice hadn"t changed. It was a statement of fact, and Draco had known it.
  
  The blond placed his head into his hands and cried in relief.
  
  But seeing the final victory over Malfoy hadn"t filled her with glee. It reminded her too much of what she had lost.
  
  Harry. Ginny. Ron. And how the four of them would have loved this.
  
  While Ginny had forgiven her, their friendship had never recovered. They were polite to each other, but the closeness that used to exist had been broken.
  
  The arguments she"d had with Ron had spiralled out of control. And no amount of time spent in a broom cupboard could make up for the hurtful things they"d said to each other, as they"d dealt with their grief in the worst possible way.
  
  And so she had finished Hogwarts as she had begun it: with no friends. The only difference being that she"d had a wonderful friend. And she had lost him.
  
  After the funeral, Dumbledore had approached her, his eyes twinkling, and for the first time she had really looked at him. Not as the Supreme Mugwump. Not as the Headmaster. But as a man.
  
  And she did not like what she had seen.
  
  She looked him in the eyes and had then slowly turned on her heel. Every time he"d tried to talk to her, she"d responded with monosyllabic answers. Never rude but never friendly, always leaving the impression that she"d be happy if they never talked again.
  
  If only she"d done that when it had mattered. If only she"d listened to her best friend.
  
  If she had, she would have been there for Harry. She might not have been able to fight as viciously as Daphne had, but she would have had Ron and Ginny with her, and the numbers would have made the difference. They would have been able to keep Harry alive, and still deal with the three Death Eaters.
  
  She paused.
  
  Three Death Eaters.
  
  One dead from the Killing Curse. Two dead from a Cutting Curse. That"s what Daphne had told them.
  
  But there had only been two dead Death Eaters at the church. Two Death Eaters. A dead Harry and a dead Voldemort.
  
  There was a missing body.
  
  She shook her head slowly and thought back to another throwaway comment. That Daphne had visited Snape"s dungeon beforehand.
  
  Another thing popped into her mind. A mental picture. Daphne looking at her watch, her Muggle watch.
  
  And then, when she had walked out, Daphne had taken the ribbon from her hair and placed it in a snakeskin purse. A particularly striking purse, most likely a Nagini-skin purse.
  
  Daphne had said that she had collapsed after the fight.
  
  But Nagini had gone by the time they had returned the next day.
  
  She mentally went through Daphne"s final words and gasped.
  
  Daphne never said that Harry was dead! Just that his eyes closed, and that she thought it was the end.
  
  There was no way in Hades that Daphne would accept his death so passively. Daphne had chosen Harry, and she would not let anyone, even death, stop that.
  
  All of her thoughts left her with one inescapable conclusion.
  
  He was alive.
  
  Harry was alive!
  
  She leaned back in the chair and smiled, and then reached for a quill. She had so many people to tell.
  
  She stopped and looked at her hand. Deliberately, she placed the quill back down.
  
  She wasn"t going to fail again.
  
  She would give him the privacy that he wanted, that he"d earned, and let him and Daphne find their home, and then in time, say, perhaps five years, she would send him a single letter, telling him that she knew he was alive, that she had known for years, that she was sorry for everything, and ask to meet him. She would promise him that even if he said no, she would take his secret to her grave.
  
  She traced his words with her fingers again. She hoped that she would be allowed to be there for him in the future, but even if not, she could be there for him now.
  
  She smiled gently, turned the page and started to read.
  Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded by Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.
  
  Ginny held her hands out to the side as they swooped down and around the field outside the Burrow. She had no fear. His arms were holding her against him as he forced the broom into impossible manoeuvres.
  
  He inverted them both, and she could feel her t-shirt float up her body, and his hand move across her stomach, holding her in place. But now he was touching bare skin. His hand felt like it was branding her, claiming her.
  
  She laughed happily as they swooped up vertically, pressing her tighter against him. She could feel that he was enjoying it as much as she was - the impressive bulge she could feel was definitely not part of the cushioning charm.
  
  He levelled out, and she inched forward before swinging her legs up and acrobatically spinning so that she was facing him.
  
  It was a perfect night. It was warm and cloudless, and he had cast a charm over the entire field, so that they could have fun without worrying about her family or any wandering Muggles.
  
  She had a much better idea of fun than he did.
  
  He was watching her curiously, his green eyes smiling warmly at her.
  
  She smirked back at him as she grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it off smoothly, shaking her head a little to get her hair out.
  
  He gulped, and his eyes seemed to catch fire. Before she could lose her courage, she reached behind herself and undid her bra, letting it follow her t-shirt to the ground far below.
  
  She could hear him exhale slowly as he looked at her. And then he moved; he pulled off his own t-shirt, leaving him as topless as she was, and it was her turn to gasp.
  
  She never expected him to be so beautiful as he sat there, his fair skin gleaming in the bright moonlight.
  
  She opened her arms again, in an invitation for him to come and claim her, to take her, to make her his.
  
  He moved along the broom, bringing it down as he did, so that by the time he was against her, their feet were on the ground.
  
  She arched her head back, rubbing her chest against his, glorying in the new sensations - of being wicked, scarlet, and loving every single second of it.
  
  She kissed him, deeply, feeling his arms hold her so tight, as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world to him.
  
  "I love you, Harry," she whispered.
  
  "I love you too," he whispered back and then paused for a second. "Daphne."
  
  Ginny woke, the scream dying in her mouth before she could let it loose. She stumbled out of bed, grabbed a dressing gown, and walked down the stairs, getting a drink of water from the tap in the kitchen before she went outside and sat on the grass.
  
  It was the third time this week she had been through the same dream; the third time her subconscious had punished her.
  
  It wasn"t as if she needed her subconscious to beat her up - she was doing a pretty good job of it with her conscious mind.
  
  Everything had changed that one morning.
  
  When Harry had broken up with her, she had been expecting it, for exactly the reasons he gave, and she was ready to give him some time and space, before pointing out how silly he was.
  
  When Harry came to Grimmauld Place for the summer - that was when she had decided that she was going to correct his silly assumptions. But then she had talked to Hermione, and decided on a different course of action. She"d tease him a little - make him want her so that he came to her.
  
  She"d made the decision to act as teenager, not an adult.
  
  And it hadn"t worked.
  
  She"d worn revealing clothing in front of him, but he was distracted by Dumbledore"s return from the dead, by trying to convince them to go with him.
  
  Dumbledore had explained to her why he had faked his death, and showed her the Horcruxes that he had already collected, and how he had destroyed them. And he asked for her help. The great Albus Dumbledore had asked for her - little Ginny Weasley"s - help. He"d said that he knew that she and Harry were close, and thought it was wonderful, and then asked her to make sure Harry didn"t go off on his own.
  
  Dumbledore had pointed out how badly it had gone when they had lost Sirius, and she could remember how devastated Harry had been. It made sense to agree; Dumbledore had it under control, and she"d soon be able to get back with Harry.
  
  But she never did get back with him. She"d tried making him jealous - Hermione had told him about how jealous he"d been of Dean - only it didn"t work. He pulled away from her, from everyone.
  
  Harry asked her to ignore Dumbledore and trust him. She"d laughed as if it was a joke and told him not to be silly.
  
  She hadn"t even thought that her refusal meant that she didn"t trust him.
  
  She did. Only, she trusted Dumbledore more, and wanted Harry safe. She knew he could handle himself in a fight, more so this year, as it seemed to come naturally to him.
  
  She"d abandoned trying to make him jealous, and tried to talk to him. But he was never around to talk to. She wanted to explain, but could never find him.
  
  It was as if Hogwarts was helping him hide.
  
  And then he"d come to her, one more time, and begged her to go with him, to help him fight Voldemort. And she"d been a good girl, and told him to wait, that Dumbledore had things under control.
  
  He had smiled at her. The last smile she had seen from him. And it was a sad smile. A smile that had something in it she didn"t understand.
  
  He kissed her forehead and retreated, leaving her stunned, her apology and explanations locked in her throat. And by the time she had recovered, he was gone.
  
  And then her world had crashed down. Hermione had flown into her room, telling that Harry had been found, that he was dead.
  
  Dead.
  
  Harry Potter. Dead.
  
  It didn"t seem right. It didn"t seem possible.
  
  She understood then. She understood the smile. It had said goodbye.
  
  Her mind wandered to his farewell gift to her: the Marauders" Map.
  
  She understood the gift, how much it meant to him, and how much it meant to her, but also that it was a symbol of the past.
  
  Like she was.
  
  It had been unspoken for years, but she had always thought that at the end, it would be the four of them, with Dumbledore, fighting Voldemort. And it would be a big battle, and they would win, and then Harry would marry her and they would live happily ever after, with children with deep red hair and sparkling green eyes.
  
  But real life hadn"t been like that. Real life had Harry fighting alongside his girlfriend. A new girlfriend no one even knew he had. A girlfriend who took the time to get to know Harry, and when she had, a girlfriend who did exactly what she wanted.
  
  She envied Daphne"s courage, more than anything else. Daphne had slept with Harry because she wanted to, unconcerned about what anyone else thought.
  
  If only she had displayed the same courage, things would have been different.
  
  She had thought about sleeping with him. Hell, she"d fantasised repeatedly about sleeping with him, but when she had the chance, when they had been kissing, she"d held back. He"d never pushed her, so it had been easy.
  
  But now, she didn"t know why she had. Now her subconscious was punishing her for ignoring her dreams. For thinking of others and not herself.
  
  She sighed and stared at the stars, wondering which one was him.
  
  The problem was that he had grown up, and she hadn"t. He"d asked as an adult for help, and she"d responded as the teenager she was, ignoring her own intuition and following others.
  
  She shook her head, letting the tears run down her cheek and into the sweet smelling grass.
  
  She had been given her chance for heaven, and had blown it big time, and no amount of blaming others could hide the fact that in the end, it had been her own decisions that had caused it.
  
  And now she faced a year at Hogwarts alone, with everyone knowing what had happened. A year where she would have to explain to anyone who asked that she wouldn"t date anyone - because it wouldn"t be fair to them, not while she was still in love with Harry.
  
  A year as the only Weasley. Without Hermione, without Ron, and forever without Harry.
  
  A year without excitement, as Voldemort was dead, Snape was missing, and Draco was gone forever.
  
  Hell, it was even a year without Daphne.
  
  She hadn"t had much to do with the Slytherin Ice Queen. Daphne had always been a little intimidating, with her almost flawless beauty and serene self-confidence.
  
  She"d felt awkward and ungainly every time they had exchanged a few words. But Harry hadn"t. Harry had seen her as a challenge, and had gone about it in the same direct way he did everything else, and Harry had fallen in love with her.
  
  And Daphne was as alone as she was.
  
  "Where are you?" she whispered to herself. "Are you hurting as much as I am? More?"
  
  She sat up suddenly, dashed back into the house, and upstairs.
  
  She wrote out a note, and passed it to Pigwidgeon "Find Hedwig, and then give this to her owner," she ordered.
  
  She smiled as the owl carried her hope into the night sky, and went back to bed.
  
  Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn"t, but at least she had tried.
  
  For Harry, she had tried.
  Daphne,
  I"m sorry, well, for a lot of things. For taking this long to write to you. I was so locked up in myself that I didn"t even think about how much worse it must be for you.
  I know I"m probably not the person you would probably think of, but if you need to talk, I"m here.
  We do have one thing in common - we both loved Harry.
  Ginny Weasley
  
  Neville Longbottom finished picking up the potions that were scattered over the floor and took a deep breath.
  
  He couldn"t delay any longer. Much as he wanted to, this was it; this was his chance to overcome his fear.
  
  He swallowed deeply, and then bent over the stationary form of Severus Snape, and lightly dripped the potion he had brought down his ex-Professor"s throat. He picked up Snape"s wand and snapped it absently.
  
  It would take a few minutes for the potion to kick in, so he crossed his arms and waited, leaning against the counter in a studied pose of casualness.
  
  Somehow it hadn"t been a surprise that Harry was alive.
  
  With Harry gone, Gryffindor had lost its natural leader, and while he couldn"t, and wouldn"t, take Harry"s place, he had become the person that the other students turned to - the senior Gryffindor, if only by default.
  
  And then he"d received a letter, and a Portkey, delivered by Hedwig.
  We need to talk.
  D.
  
  There had never been any doubt as to who the "D" was. Everyone knew that the witch had taken ownership of Hedwig, and that she was waging a fiendish campaign against everyone who had ever stood against Harry.
  
  His first reaction had been a tinge of fear, followed by some deep soul searching to check if he had ever said anything or done anything against Harry. As far as he could tell, he hadn"t.
  
  So, like the Gryffindor he was, he activated the Portkey, and felt himself pulled through space. With Voldemort dead, and him being in his final year, he was allowed out of school most weekends.
  
  He arrived somewhere unknown, and given the fact that it was night, it was probably at the other end of the Earth. He was on a beach with an absolutely gorgeous view of a dark ocean that sparkled beneath the moon and stars. A stone path led the way through some dense foliage that shimmered dark green where the moonlight touched it, and he followed it.
  
  He thought about getting his wand out, but well, if Daphne wanted to hurt him, his wand wasn"t going to do much. He could feel his heart pounding faster than he wanted it to.
  
  The path led up a slight hill, before it flattened and path went onward for another half a mile, past a lake, a waterfall, and a swimming pool. Finally, he came to a huge house that seemed to be made of glass.
  
  With a pop, a house-elf appeared in front of him.
  
  "Dobby?" Neville asked. He didn"t know why he was surprised; after all, he"d heard the rumours about the house-elf"s relationship with Harry, and even seen examples of it before Harry had died, as the two would often be seen talking together.
  
  Dobby smiled at him and turned, leading him silently into what was the largest, airiest living room he had ever seen. The sofa alone probably could have fit most of Gryffindor House.
  
  Daphne was sat comfortably near one of the corners. She looked as flawless as usual, even in what was pretty informal clothing - a summer dress, with her long black hair loose around her shoulders.
  
  "I"m glad you could make it, Mr Longbottom. Please take a seat," she offered formally, indicating a space near her.
  
  He gulped and walked over to her. His palms felt damp. She hadn"t said anything that could be regarded as even remotely hostile, but he still felt intimidated.
  
  He could also see, now, just why Harry had fallen for her. As she had at school, Daphne appeared completely in control, as if she knew exactly where she was going, and how she was going to get there, and nothing at all would stop her. That sort of strength would have been so appealing to his friend. Someone who could be a true partner to him.
  
  "I"m sorry," he said simply, as he sat down.
  
  Daphne raised one eyebrow elegantly. "What ever for?" she asked. Her voice was a little warmer now, a little smoother.
  
  "That you lost Harry," he explained. "For us, we lost a close friend; for you, it was so much more."
  
  Daphne nodded slowly.
  
  And that was when he knew. Without a doubt, he knew. There was no trace of sadness around Daphne, no loss of confidence, nothing at all. And it could only mean one of two things. One was that she was over his death already, but considering the raw emotion she had shown at his funeral, that was definitely not the case.
  
  That left the other, inescapable conclusion. Harry was alive.
  
  And it made even more sense, when you looked at what had happened afterwards. The things that had happened had been Slytherin, but they had Gryffindor tendencies as well. They taught people a lesson, but didn"t actually do much damage. As if a Slytherin and a Gryffindor were working together.
  
  He smiled at her widely, relaxing for the first time. "That"s the best bit of news I"ve had in months," he grinned.
  
  "What is?" Daphne asked, not a quiver on her face giving away what she was feeling.
  
  "Sorry," Neville said, feeling buoyant, "but you"re too perfect."
  
  "I am?"
  
  "You are," he said. "Harry"s alive."
  
  Harry clapped as he walked into the living room. "You owe me," he said to Daphne.
  
  "Damnable Gryffindors," Daphne sighed.
  
  Neville looked at Harry, and had to blink a few times. For a second, he had trouble recognising him. He had never seen Harry look so - so carefree and relaxed. He was wearing a pair of dark green shorts, and nothing else.
  
  His body, pale the last time Neville had seen it, was now suntanned, and he appeared to have been working out a lot, because his muscles were much more evident.
  
  In fact, Harry appeared more intimidating than before, as his confidence seemed to have grown with his new physique.
  
  Harry took a seat next to Daphne, and idly took her hand, playing with her fingers.
  
  "So you two did what you said you would? Left the Wizarding world and found a place in paradise?"
  
  They both nodded.
  
  "So why are you still paying attention to what goes on back there?"
  
  "Because I had to fall for a damn Gryffindor," Daphne said, with a slight smile on her face.
  
  Harry grinned at her, and it was the first time that Neville saw the grin that Daphne had described at the funeral.
  
  "Because you don"t gain self-respect by becoming what you dislike," Harry explained. "As soon as I got over my initial anger at everyone..."
  
  "He got all moody and started comparing himself to Dumbledore," Daphne interrupted. "Regardless of the situations being completely different, he did have a small point."
  
  "Thank you," Harry said with another grin. "So we decided to have a bit of fun. My non-death is never going to be publicly announced, but I am going to tell my friends and family.
  
  "Daph and I love it here, Dobby takes good care of us, and we have nearly everything we want."
  
  "Apart from friends," Daphne said dryly. "Harry has convinced me I was just unlucky with my choices in the past, and that friends might be... pleasant.
  
  "And more importantly, if we have children, at some stage they will have to go to school, and we can"t trust the Wizarding world at the moment, so we thought we"d change it."
  
  It was the simplicity of the sentence that struck Neville more than anything else. They didn"t like something, so they were going to change it. As if changing the world was just as easy as turning the page in a book. Neither of them seemed to realise that it wasn"t easy, that it was difficult, hard work, and an incredible challenge. But then, maybe for them, it wasn"t. It was just something they had decided to do, so they were going to do it.
  
  "How can I help?" he asked.
  
  Harry laughed softly and nudged Daphne in the ribs.
  
  "What is it about you Gryffindors?" Daphne asked, her voice was curious, not accusing. "That you just volunteer to help?"
  
  "Trust," Neville said, after a moment"s thought. "I trust Harry."
  
  "But not me?" Daphne asked, her voice still curious.
  
  He nodded. "I don"t know you," he explained almost apologetically.
  
  "You don"t," Daphne agreed. "And in other situations, you never would."
  
  It was a statement of fact, not an insult.
  
  "But, as my life seems to have been diverted by a hard-hitting Gryffindor, I am now Daphne Potter. Welcome, Neville Longbottom, to our home." She held out her hand.
  
  Neville took it solemnly. "Congratulations," he offered.
  
  "Thank you," Daphne said, and seemed to relax. She lifted her legs up and leant against Harry.
  
  And for the first time, Neville saw the girl behind the Ice Queen mask, the girl that Harry had seen from the start. In a way, he envied Harry even more now, for having the strength to look at Daphne, and to blast his way through everything blocking his path to her.
  
  "Now that we"re all acquainted," Harry said with a teasing glint in his eyes, "we have a - " he paused as if searching for the right words. "A combined present and challenge for you."
  
  And now here he was, with his present and challenge about to awaken.
  
  Snape started to move, muttering, "Potter, it was Potter," as he started to wake up.
  
  Neville smiled slightly, Harry would be amused when he told him that Snape had recognised him.
  
  Snape awoke with a large twitch that seemed to flex his entire body. The professor climbed to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath, before he turned and stared at Neville in disbelief.
  
  "What are you doing here, you incompetent moron?" Snape sneered.
  
  Every past insult came back to Neville; every time Snape had insulted him, had sneered at him, had belittled him came back to him, and he felt like running away, like leaving, like hiding.
  
  "Shut up," he said simply, his voice cold. His heart was racing, but he would not show that to Snape.
  
  Snape"s eyes grew, and he pulled himself to his full height. "What did you say?" Snape roared.
  
  Neville almost gulped, but he stopped himself. He would not show the weakness he felt to this man. He would not be intimidated any more. This was it, this was his chance. He would not let himself down. He would not let Harry and Daphne down.
  
  "I said, "Shut up,"" he repeated evenly. "And might I suggest you do something to clear your breath? It stinks."
  
  Snape gaped at him. And then seemed to draw himself closer together.
  
  "You owe me," Neville said, before Snape could yell again. "You owe me a life debt."
  
  Snape paused and shook his head. "I owe you nothing."
  
  "Without me, you would still be sleeping with your potions, until your body died of old age," Neville pointed out, folding his arms.
  
  Snape sneered at him.
  
  Neville shrugged and pulled out his wand. He used a curse that Daphne had taught him that paralysed the victim from the neck down, and he picked up the potion that Snape had made originally.
  
  "Then you can rot here," he said cheerfully. "Goodnight, Snape." He moved over to toward the greasy professor.
  
  "You"re not going to do it," Snape said disdainfully. "Release me at once."
  
  "You seem to have forgotten," Neville said, bending over for effect, "that I hate you."
  
  He sent a quick thank you mentally to Daphne. She had made him practice with her, and it had worked. Snape was good at intimidation, but Daphne was far better.
  
  He reached out and pinched Snape"s nose, then pulled his hand away disgustedly, and wiped the slight grease from his fingers. He let his distaste show as he pulled a handkerchief out.
  
  "Wait," Snape croaked.
  
  Neville paused, and looked at him.
  
  "I acknowledge the debt," Snape said formally.
  
  Neville shivered slightly as his magic responded. "Excellent," he said brightly. "And while I have your attention, I"m calling in your debt to Harry"s father as well."
  
  "You can"t do that," Snape protested.
  
  "I can," Neville contradicted him.
  
  "This is blackmail," Snape yelled.
  
  "Fun, isn"t it?" Neville grinned. His heart was returning to normal now that Snape was immobile.
  
  "What do you want?"
  
  "Harry wants your promise that you will never reveal that he is alive," Neville said. "Swear, on your debt to his father, that you will not do or say anything that would either announce, or lead others to think, that he is alive." The phrasing was Daphne"s.
  
  Snape looked disgusted. "I so swear," he grunted.
  
  Neville nodded. "Now, the next thing; you are going to come with me, and work on potions. Specifically, a potion to cure my parents."
  
  "Why?" Snape asked, still managing to load the word with absolute contempt, despite being held immobile.
  
  "Because this place is a dump," Neville sniffed. "We have a much better home for you, where you can work properly. And after you"ve cured my parents, you"re going to fix the werewolf potion."
  
  "How do you know about that?" Snape gasped.
  
  "Daphne has been through all your notes," Neville replied, looking at Snape with contempt. He was starting to wonder just why he had ever thought the man was intimidating. He wasn"t. He was full of bluster and malice, but he was empty inside. He was a bully, pure and simple.
  
  "If you do a good job with the werewolf potion," he continued, "you will be allowed to retire as you had planned, and you will never have to worry about money again."
  
  Snape"s eyes gleamed with greed, and Neville almost sighed. The man wasn"t a Slytherin, not in the slightest. Daphne was a Slytherin, and the difference was like night and day.
  
  Snape was just a nasty, petty, little man.
  
  Neville reached into his pocket and pulled out a Portkey. He grabbed hold of Snape"s shoulder and activated it.
  
  They appeared in a large room in a small castle in the heart of the Cotswolds, miles away from anywhere. Snape tried to Apparate, but the wards wouldn"t let him. Only when he was sure he couldn"t escape did Snape bother to look at his new surroundings. Neville watched as Snape"s eyes lit up as he stared at the potions chamber before him. Daphne had fitted it with everything that Snape could want, including the ingredients.
  
  Neville removed the spell holding Snape still and watched as Snape lurched toward the shelves of ingredients.
  
  "Food will be provided for you," Neville said. "You can walk around the house and the gardens, but I wouldn"t try going any further. We will be back to check on you regularly."
  
  "Yes, yes," Snape said absently, moving toward one of the cauldrons.
  
  "Your bedroom is next door," Neville finished. He shook his head. Snape seemed almost excited. In a way, Neville realised, this must be Snape"s idea of heaven. A puzzle to fix, all the potion ingredients he could ever need, and not actually having to deal with anyone.
  
  "There is a full list of symptoms and observations on the wall," he added, and turned away.
  
  "Longbottom," Snape called.
  
  "What?" Neville asked.
  
  "If I do it, and the Wolfsbane one, will I be allowed to stay?"
  
  "If you do both," Neville said softly, offering Daphne"s final carrot, "This whole place will belong to you."
  
  Snape"s eyes widened and he turned, gathering more ingredients and muttering to himself.
  
  Neville touched his Portkey and returned to Harry and Daphne"s island. "It"s done," he said as he walked into their living room.
  
  "How do you feel?" Harry asked.
  
  Neville slowly smiled. "Like a man."
  
  If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds" worth of distance run -
  Yours is the Earth and everything that"s in it,
  And - which is more - you"ll be a Man my son!
  
  Rudyard Kipling, If.
  
  Everybody makes mistakes. But it takes someone quite special to really screw up. And doing it more than once? Well, that just puts me at the top of the damn tree.
  
  It"s not something that I can say I like - that I look into a mirror, and wonder just who the hell I am these days.
  
  Ronald "Hated Middle Name" Weasley - one-time best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived.
  
  One-time. Merlin, how I hate those words. How I wish that they weren"t true. How I wish.
  
  Unlike most people, I can pinpoint the exact moment I made the mistake. The exact moment I agreed to screw up my own life.
  
  He was clever, he played me perfectly, and I sang like a eunuch for him. And what do I have to show for it?
  
  Best friend? Nope.
  
  Girlfriend? Nope.
  
  Sister-as-friend? Barely.
  
  Happiness? Hell no.
  
  Invisibility Cloak worth a bloody fortune? Yes.
  
  And I"d trade that bloody cloak for the things I"ve lost without hesitation. You know, I have fame now, I have something worth more than my parents" house, and finally, FINALLY, I understand that it"s all bloody useless.
  
  August 14th - four days short of a year ago. That was the date. That was when I signed over my dignity in exchange for a few words of praise.
  
  Life was great. Well, apart from the whole Dumbledore being dead thing. But I was pretty sure that Harry was going to stick with his wild idea about skipping school for the last year and going on a Horcrux hunt.
  
  Now, how does that sound to you? Scary? Stupid? Oh yeah, and so much fun. Harry and I would have been able to persuade Hermione, especially as I couldn"t wait to tell him that we were now dating.
  
  Yeah, I had the most beautiful and smart witch in the country dating me. And man, you wouldn"t believe the curves that are under those robes. Life was good, you know? Sure, there was the whole Harry-not-dating-Ginny-as-he-should routine, but Ginny was going to let loose that famous Weasley temper she inherited from Mum, and hey presto, one happy group later, we"d all be ready to kick some Horcrux arse.
  
  But then Mum called me down into the Library at Grimmauld Place. I thought it was for homework. I"d started it, honestly, but you know, it was summer holidays and me doing homework was about as likely as Nessie signing autographs for the Muggles. And that monster hates publicity. He just wants to spend all day asleep, and the evening swimming around and having fun.
  
  Sounds like a good life to me.
  
  Anyway, I wandered in alone, and blow me down if it wasn"t Albus Dumbledore.
  
  Most people would have said "None other than Albus Dumbledore." Now I know I"m no English expert, hell, if you look at my Potion notes, you could rightfully claim that English is my third or fourth language, but that phrase just seems so wrong to me. It makes my teeth grate.
  
  "You"re dead," I said intelligently, proving once again that I am hero material with my sparkling wit. Ron Weasley, professional stater of the obvious, at your bleeding service.
  
  "Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said, his eyes twinkling.
  
  "No shit," I replied, and then blushed furiously. I couldn"t believe I"d just sworn in front of the headmaster.
  
  He just laughed softly, in that "we"re sharing a private joke" way he always had. It made me smile as well - mainly because I wasn"t going to get bollocked for the swearing. It"s a good job Mum didn"t hear me say that.
  
  He smiled and indicated a table behind him, with some objects on the back. "I have used my death wisely," he said solemnly. "And I have collected most of the Horcruxes."
  
  "Blimey," I whistled, moderating my language a bit. I"ve got to say, I was impressed. Faking your death and pulling this off was a bit of class.
  
  He smiled. "But I am afraid that I must ask for your help, Ron. I need someone I can trust, someone reliable."
  
  Well, my chest inflated so far it was surprising I didn"t hit him. I, me, Ronald "That Name" Weasley was being asked for help - and not Harry.
  
  So it was my turn. And boy was I excited.
  
  "As you can see," Dumbledore said. "I"ve got everything under control. I am aware that Harry is contemplating going after the Horcruxes himself, and it is imperative that he does not do that."
  
  "Of course," I agreed, my tongue so far up his backside I was giving Percy a run for his money. "That would be a stupid idea." I conveniently forgot that I"d been thinking that it was going to be fun a few minutes before.
  
  "Harry is going to have another difficult year," he sighed.
  
  I nodded, not having a clue as to why.
  
  "So I must ask that you make things as easy for him as possible, and do not mention your burgeoning relationship with the young Miss Granger."
  
  I blushed - how the hell had he known that? "Of course," I agreed. At the time, it made some sort of sense, and it was for Harry, you know?
  
  He mentioned that Harry was going to be Head Boy, but that it was more an honorary position this year - he wouldn"t really be the Head Boy, and I would actually be the head of the prefects.
  
  Well, I think I heard Ginny yell in pain as my ego crushed her from forty feet away.
  
  And so, with a few more requests from him, I was on my way. De facto Head Boy, Captain of the Quidditch team, and, oh yeah, best friend of Harry Potter.
  
  I walked upstairs. Hermione had arrived, and I heard her telling Ginny that maybe making him jealous would be a good idea. Well, by "heard", I mean I used an Extendable Ear, but that"s not really important.
  
  That seemed like a great idea. Why? Because it would take time. If Harry and Ginny got back together immediately, they"d just go off on their own - my sister would follow Harry through hell and high water, not that I can blame her, I feel that way myself most of the time.
  
  So I joined them, and I encouraged her.
  
  I betrayed her.
  
  After Hermione talked to Dumbledore, and talked to me about keeping our relationship a secret, I agreed.
  
  I betrayed her as well.
  
  And then when Harry saw Dumbledore, and he seemed a little down, and he asked me to go with him, I said no.
  
  And I really fucking betrayed him.
  
  A triple-play in the space of day. Yay me, what a fucking hero I was. So wrapped up in the shit Dumbledore had told me that I didn"t even realise what I was doing. Why? Because I was the hero, the indispensable man for a change.
  
  But things didn"t go according to plan. Rather than Harry being worried about Ginny making him jealous, he just shook his head and turned away. I thought he was hiding it.
  
  Then we went back to school, and everything was as planned. McGonagall was a good Headmistress, working with Dumbledore in the background. Ginny persuaded Seamus to help her, and Hermione and I were having excitement in the broom cupboards. As honorary Head Boy, Harry was told he didn"t have to do prefect patrols, or even come to some of the more boring meetings, so we got the chance to go off for private time together before and after those boring meetings.
  
  Sneaking behind my best friend"s back, and enjoying it. How heroic. How absolutely bloody stupid. I mean, come on, this is Harry "If I don"t like the rules I"ll bypass them completely" Potter. Harry Potter with the Marauders Map. Can you fucking believe I forgot he had that map?
  
  Sneaking? I should have cast a spell to write "Ron"s trying to shag Hermione in the 3rd floor Broom Cupboard," in letters of fire on the lake.
  
  And it was about then that Harry started to disappear.
  
  Dumbledore called me to the office, and asked me to find out where he was going. And I tried, I really did, but it was like Hogwarts herself was hiding him from me. I even tried to find out if he was seeing anyone else, and the only person he could be seeing was Daphne Greengrass.
  
  I laughed. Daphne Greengrass? Hell no. No one in the school would have a chance of getting near her. She was going to marry someone incredibly rich, incredibly good looking, incredibly powerful, and incredibly brave - they"d need the bravery just to approach her.
  
  Anyone with more than three brain cells would have realised that Harry ticked all those boxes. Well, maybe not the good looking one; he doesn"t do anything for me, despite those rumours Malfoy started about us being a trio in more than one way.
  
  So I was stumped.
  
  But then Harry came to me.
  
  "Hey Ron," he said, his eyes alight again, and I realised that I hadn"t seen that fire for quite some time.
  
  "What"s up?" I asked him. "Fancy a game of chess?"
  
  "Nah," he laughed. "I"ve had enough of having my arse kicked to last me a lifetime. I wanted to ask you something. How do you fancy coming with me to deal with Nagini and Voldemort?"
  
  "Dumbledore has that under control," I said, disappearing up Dumbledore"s backside.
  
  "Please, Ron," he said. "We"ve been friends for ages. Let"s go and finish this. I can"t wait any more."
  
  He was begging, not in the standard way, but his eyes were pleading with me. And I betrayed him again.
  
  I waffled, I quoted Dumbledore. I vanished further into Dumbledore"s nether regions.
  
  "Here," he said. "Look after this for me," as he handed me his cloak. He looked at me, and his eyes were so sad. "Thanks," he said simply. "For everything."
  
  And those were the last words he said to me.
  
  To his betrayer.
  
  He knew. He didn"t blame me for it. I"d chosen to be Dumbledore"s sheep. And that was it.
  
  The next thing I remember was Hermione, crying, saying that Harry was dead.
  
  I called her a liar. Harry wasn"t dead. I"d been protecting him for the past few months. I was a hero.
  
  "I"m not bloody lying, Ron," Hermione screamed. "He went off and killed Nagini and Voldemort."
  
  I knew she wasn"t lying then, because Hermione, swear? Not bloody likely. "But..." I said.
  
  She looked at me, and the words died in my throat.
  
  And that was the start.
  
  Even when Hermione and I were together, sneaking off in private - Harry"s presence had always been between us, and I thought that it was a little weird, and kinda in the way. I was wrong.
  
  Again.
  
  He was a buffer for us, forcing us both to grow up and be adults.
  
  Take away that buffer, and well, we said some pretty damn awful things to each other. We tried to make up with kissing, but calling someone a cold-hearted bitch doesn"t exactly work as the world"s best chat up line.
  
  But that was after the funeral. Before it, we were all in a daze.
  
  I remember at his funeral, saying a few words, and wishing he was still alive, while realising just how much he would have hated the ceremony. A way to honour him? Not bloody likely.
  
  And then Daphne Greengrass walked in. The Ice Queen. And I didn"t want to believe her. Harry was supposed to be jealous of Ginny, and then get back to her, and I"d"ve done my job.
  
  But that wasn"t the case. He"d thought that Ginny was being childish - and she was, we all were - and he"d gone and found himself someone else.
  
  Daphne Greengrass else.
  
  And that girl is a complete fox. More curves than a Quidditch pitch, a face that makes you want to drop to your knees and thank Merlin that you were male, and an attitude that makes Malfoy look like an incompetent buffoon (which he is).
  
  And she told Harry"s side of things.
  
  And every word slammed into me.
  
  Every word said the same thing: Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.
  
  I remember afterward finding out that Dumbledore had done a Caesar on us. Yes, going out with Hermione was good for one thing. Hermione had done some extra credit on Wizards in Ancient Rome, and I"d read one of her essays.
  
  Divide and Conquer.
  
  He"d arranged for all three of us to, in one way or another, move away from Harry and not give him the support he needed. The result? Dumbledore thought Harry was too smart to go off on his own - and he was.
  
  Dumbledore didn"t think that Harry would simply find someone who else. Someone wouldn"t betray him.
  
  Ron Weasley, clockwork toy. Stroke my ego, and watch me go. Independent thought? Not on my bloody watch.
  
  Hermione started ignoring Dumbledore as much as she could. I agreed with her completely. Dumbledore had been one of the causes, but we had all done our fair share.
  
  And we tore each other apart. Well, and this is where I am uncomfortable now. Ginny and I tore Hermione apart.
  
  It was her idea, right? It"s not that we teamed up; it"s just that Ginny and I are family, so we never attacked each other much, and Hermione was there.
  
  We were dealing with grief, as was she, and we did the one thing that would make Harry disgusted with us, as he watched from wherever true Heroes go when they die.
  
  We turned against our remaining friends.
  
  I left Hogwarts alone. I didn"t give a crap about my exams. I still don"t.
  
  Hermione left Hogwarts alone. She did better than I did, but her heart wasn"t in it.
  
  And rather than comfort her, I"d helped destroy her.
  
  And here I am. Ron Weasley. Arsehole. Betrayer. Alone.
  
  But I"ve had enough of the recriminations now. If there was one thing I knew about Harry, it"s that he would forgive me screwing up, but not if I didn"t change.
  
  So I am changing; I am growing up. I"m not a hero, I never was. I was just a guy lucky enough to be near someone who was truly great, who was willing to sacrifice for others, because it was the right thing to do.
  
  I"ve apologised to Ginny, and apologised properly to Hermione. Not because I thought I could get her back - we both did too much damage to ever get close again, but because it was the right thing to do. It was what Harry would have told me to do.
  
  I think she understood. And in a strange way, I think she misses him even more than I do. When she was an arrogant bookworm with big teeth that I liked to pick on, he was there for her. He was the first person ever to see someone worthwhile inside her, and drag that girl out.
  
  My pain was deep, but nowhere near as deep as the way hers had pierced her soul. For the first time I thought about her grief, not my own, and I felt sorry for her. Like I had, she had made a few bad decisions, but it cut through her even deeper. I lost Harry, my best friend.
  
  Hermione lost Harry, her very best friend, her brother, the one guy she could rely on.
  
  We are becoming friends again, slowly, and me? I am going to live my life how Harry tried to show me. I"m going to be brave, I"m going to try to be hard working and honest, so that when I finally meet up with Harry again, I"ll be able to say sorry, and I"ll be able to meet his eyes, having learnt the lessons that he taught me and lived properly.
  
  I took a few steps downstairs. I picked up some Floo powder, and called a name.
  
  Harry taught me that if you want something, or someone, no matter how far out of your league you think she might be, you have to go for it.
  
  "Ron? I"ll get Parvati..."
  
  "No, wait, I wanted to talk to you."
  
  "To me?"
  
  "Yeah," and I smile. "Do you fancy going out sometime?"
  
  "Me?" she asked again.
  
  "Yeah, you, Padma."
  
  She looks shocked, and then this shy little smile appears. "Maybe."
  
  A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step - Lao Tzu
  
  The problem with ink was that it didn"t taste very nice.
  
  And the ink that did taste nice wasn"t dark enough.
  
  And the quills that you had to use with the ink weren"t bendy enough.
  
  How you were supposed to write intelligently about Snorkacks when your quill didn"t bend?
  
  Luna sighed to herself and wrote another line. She just couldn"t seem to find herself today.
  
  She"d looked behind the sofa, because Muggles were always finding things there. She"d tried surprising herself, but she always seemed to guess when she was coming, so it wasn"t very surprising.
  
  The problem was that Harry Potter was alive. Very alive. And she didn"t know what to do about it.
  
  Normally it would have been so clear - the public had a right to know, and even if he was now forming a colony for single mother mermaids on a beautiful island, they should know just how wonderful he was.
  
  There were not many people willing to help the poor mermaids.
  
  She paused, and made a note on a piece of parchment to the left of her story. "Fund raiser for Mermaids? Ideas: Tin donations - everyone could send in a tin, and they"d convert them to something valuable."
  
  That was a good idea on its own, never mind the Mermaids. She made another note. "Discover secret of Alchemy. Speak to Bob, he might know."
  
  She turned back to her story. And the perplexing puzzle producing permanent problem pontificating. Alliteration always aided an artistic attainment.
  
  She"d discovered he was alive when trying to track down what had happened to the Malfoy family. One day they had been rich; the next day Lucius had found that no one wanted to be a sycophant to a pauper.
  
  So she"d gathered her trusty quill - the note-taking one that did taste nice, even with green ink, and green ink normally made her sick - and followed some rampaging pixies.
  
  The pixies, however, didn"t seem to want to do anything but frolic, and certainly weren"t explaining what was going on with the Malfoys.
  
  She"d been very peeved with them, and had written a stinging editorial, pointing out how duplicitous they were.
  
  And then Daddy had rejected it, pointing out that duplicitous had four syllables, and all good negative words had an odd number of syllables. He was right, and by the time she"d thought of one, it had been too much later, and then she"d lost interest, when she stumbled across some paperwork.
  
  After she"d picked herself up, and refrained from declaring war on the paper for its egregious treatment of her, she"d read it.
  
  She was pretty sure that reading paper was good for it, and had been tempted not to read it and let it suffer instead. After all, if you were a perfectly good piece of paper that someone had taken the time to write on, then surely all you wanted from life was for someone to read you.
  
  She looked around guiltily for a second. She"d taken some time to taunt the paper first, pretending to read it, and then looking away at the last minute, and Daddy would be very disappointed with her for doing it.
  
  The paper had been a bill of acquisition, from the Goblins to a third party, passing on all of the Malfoy debts they held.
  
  Now, if the paper wasn"t being unscrupulous, and she"d questioned it closely on the matter, and it had retained its cool, and hadn"t cracked under the pressure, even when she held it near a candle, this meant that there was someone who a) hated the Malfoys, b) had a lot of money and c) liked bananas.
  
  So, she had then been on a trail, and she had followed it. It was really nice, leading through a leafy forest, over a bubbling stream, and through a field. Unfortunately, the only place that trail was getting her was Kendal, and while she liked it, it wasn"t helping her find out who had been hunting the Malfoys.
  
  Her next step had been to go and see the Goblins. This seemed like a logical thing to do, and she hoped Daddy never found out. Because if there was one thing that he had taught her, and there wasn"t - he"d taught her many things - it was that logic was the tool of Beelzebob. And Beelzebob was the leader of the cult that the Daily Prophet worshipped, and he was powerful.
  
  Very powerful.
  
  How else could you explain the reason that the Prophet sold more papers than they did? Originally, they had thought it was something to do with the news, but they had quickly decided that sort of thinking was just the product of too much prune juice, and that they should cut back on it immediately.
  
  So they had, and their supplier had been very grumpy. He"d been importing it especially for them. They"d felt sorry for him, and told him that Giants liked it just as much, and he was now raking in a fortune selling it by the barrelful to them.
  
  It was funny how so many people who were important in life had Bob in their name.
  
  Maybe it was because it was the same backward and forward. Symmetry was very important in the world.
  
  Perhaps she should change her name, and that would allow her to become even more successful.
  
  Luna Nul?
  
  Now that was a good name, it had all the familiarity of the same name her mother had given her, and none on the lopsidedness of the non-Nul name she had now endured for eighteen years.
  
  She"d have to have a word with Daddy later to let him know how disappointed she was with him for making her name all lopsided.
  
  Maybe he could change his name as well.
  
  She shook herself. No good reporter was ever distracted. Luckily, she was a brilliant reporter, and they were allowed to get distracted all they liked, as long as the copy was filed on top.
  
  And the filing cabinet was right next to her desk, and she didn"t even have to stand up to get it.
  
  She did, however, have to write the story.
  
  She made another note. "Create spell to write story through mind-reading. Hermione might help?"
  
  The Goblins hadn"t been very respectful, and that had made her sad, so she"d passed out.
  
  Not really of course, but while they had been fretting about what to do about the unconscious witch in their office, finally deciding to get help, they"d left her alone for a bit, and she"d jumped up quickly and read the book on the Goblin"s desk.
  
  It was a combined account that had been doing all the buying of the debts. A Greengrass/Potter account - and a note under it said, "Change to Potter/Potter account."
  
  She"d cast a spell on herself to knock herself out properly, and fallen to the floor, wondering just why the Narbuckles no longer talked to her like they did when she was younger.
  
  Once she"d known he was alive, and not a ghost as she had first presumed, it hadn"t been hard to track them down. As everyone knew, the best place to find something that wasn"t you was either behind the couch, or Bora Bora.
  
  Having checked the couch, and been disappointed that they weren"t there, she"d gone to Bora Bora, which had a very balanced name.
  
  She"d manage to ferret out the fact that they had bought an island together, simply by sending her pet ferret into the local Ministry, and telling him to find anything of interest.
  
  And boy had he!
  
  She had been right all along!
  
  There really was a conspiracy to keep printing ink tasting bad.
  
  Oh, and she"d also found out about the island.
  
  And so here she was, wondering if she"d find herself hiding at the back of her desk.
  
  Her desk thoroughly searched, she admitted that she wasn"t there either, and she wasn"t likely to return till she fixed the problem.
  
  As far as she could see, she had two issues, which was good, because three would have been odd.
  
  The first: Did she report that Harry was alive and well, when he obviously wanted some privacy.
  
  And second: If she could find him, maybe someone else could as well. And that would be bad. It would take them longer, as they weren"t a brilliant journalist like she was.
  
  Harry had saved her life, not just by killing Mudblood Tom (even though technically he wasn"t), but by making friends with her, and then, as Head Boy, stopping people from hiding her favourite quill.
  
  She"d thought about doing something to thank him, and in the end she had.
  
  Like most people, she had noticed he disappeared at times, so she"d tried to follow him, but it had seemed like Hogwarts was helping him hide.
  
  She"d had a very firm talk with Hogwarts, who had apologised, and told her she was just trying to keep Harry"s secret. She"d promised to keep it as well, and had seen him with Daphne.
  
  She blushed.
  
  Hard.
  
  She hadn"t expected to see them doing that. But it did look interesting. And after they had finished touching their feet while doing some homework, they had had sex.
  
  And that had been interesting too.
  
  Daphne"s breasts were bigger than hers, and Harry seemed to like them a lot.
  
  She"d been concerned when she had seen Harry naked; it didn"t seem like he would fit, and for a second, she had thought that he was really hurting her, but then she"d realised Daphne was enjoying it.
  
  The whole thing seemed to be a lot of fun, and while tiring, they had both seemed to glow afterward, and had seemed close.
  
  She"d decided to try it herself as well, with Ernie, but he had obviously been cursed at as a child, because his was a lot smaller, and when she"d mentioned that, he"d been upset and then it didn"t work.
  
  He seemed even more upset when she"d measured him with her quill, and he"d only come halfway up.
  
  Thinking that it was a one off, she"d decided to conduct an experiment. It was amazing how happy men were to show her their bits when she asked. And they all seemed really hung up about her boobs when she displayed them. She didn"t see the fascination really, they weren"t as big as Daphne"s, and were part of her, just like her elbow.
  
  And her elbow was really sexy.
  
  She"d even tried Draco Malfoy, more out of pity than anything else, and he"d really objected when she had told him that he was the smallest in the school.
  
  He"d even tried to make her put his thing in her mouth. So she did, and then bit as hard as she could. He hadn"t seemed to like that, but if he hadn"t wanted her to do it, why had he put it there? That"s what teeth were for, weren"t they?
  
  She had casually mentioned it later to Susan, who had been shocked and told her that it was wrong. That Draco shouldn"t have forced her. But when she"d told Susan what she had done, Susan had laughed, and congratulated her, so everything was fine again.
  
  It was another week before she realised what Draco had been demanding and what she was supposed to have done, and that Draco shouldn"t have tried to force her. Especially as she might have done it anyway if he"d asked nicely.
  
  And she"d been really good and not spied on Harry again. Keeping the secret and not spying were definitely a way of paying him back for rescuing her quill.
  
  She"d also dropped a potion into Draco"s drink that would stop him from getting excited for the foreseeable future.
  
  She stood suddenly, and dove over the filing cabinet. And there she was! Hiding!
  
  Having found herself, and managed to surprise herself at the same time, she knew what she was going to do. There was only one way she could tell the people the truth AND protect his privacy.
  
  She picked up her quill, sighed disgustedly at the ink, and started to write.
  Harry Potter: Alive! And now playing Vegas!
  Exclusive by Luna Nul.
  Harry James Potter was today seen alive in Las Vegas, Nevada, America, Earth.
  Potter, the famously well endowed wizard, was recently seen performing on stage in front of thousands of Muggles.
  Potter, 18, dressed in a Muggle tuxedo, wowed the watching crows with his lion taming skills, before making an elephant vanish into thin air.
  The Muggles seemed to be impressed, yelling and cheering like Quidditch fans.
  When confronted, Potter - defeater of Mudblood Tom - said, "What the hell are you talking about?" Proof positive that we had our man!
  
  She smiled happily. This was perfect.
  
  No one would ever believe it, and she would have told the truth and kept his secret again.
  
  After all, who truly believed that elephants existed?
  
  Albus Dumbledore sat at his large desk, deep in thought.
  
  He had a few problems.
  
  His Potions professor had disappeared. There was a new chairman of the Board of Governors who didn"t like him. One of his pupils was undergoing a thorough psychological torture at the moment. And Fawkes was giving him looks he hadn"t managed to interpret yet.
  
  And Harry Potter, alive and well, was completely out of his control.
  
  It was the last one he was more concerned about. The last thing they needed, with Voldemort now dead, was for a new dark lord to replace him. And Harry had more than enough power to do so.
  
  He"d been shocked when the flares had gone off, and when he"d found both Harry and Tom dead at the scene, saddened. He hadn"t wanted that to happen, and had done his very best to stop it.
  
  It was only after Daphne"s speech at the funeral that he had become suspicious. But he couldn"t do anything at the time. He had to deal with the public fall-out of Daphne"s revelations. She hadn"t known that the Death Eater was supposed to have lived; it had been an unfortunate accident that he had died. Severus was supposed to have cast a special charm on the Death Eater - powered by Phoenix Tears - that would have changed the killing curse to a stunning curse. And he would have then buried an illusion of himself.
  
  Unfortunately, Severus had missed. He couldn"t blame his old friend; it was a difficult shot.
  
  He"d monitored all of Harry"s friends for a few weeks, but none of them had seen anything. And what"s more, all of them had treated him with scandalous disrespect, especially Miss Granger.
  
  Why they couldn"t see that what he had done was for the best, he didn"t know.
  
  While it was possible that Miss Greengrass was working alone, seeking revenge, it made his nose twitch. And the nose twitching normally meant something was up.
  
  So, he"d paid a very late night visit to Harry"s grave, and cast a few spells which, if not illegal, where certainly not accepted by the general public.
  
  And as he had suspected, they had buried another Death Eater. Harry had done exactly the same thing he had done, and faked his own death.
  
  Which left him with the problem of a boy with far too much power for his own good, somewhere in the world with a Slytherin who believed that Killing Curses were something that you dished out to people who stood in your way.
  
  They might have been Death Eaters, but there had been no need for her to have killed them, when she could have stunned them instead.
  
  And what would happen if she decided she wanted power? Harry would support her, and it would be just like Voldemort all over again.
  
  Power always corrupted, well, except with him; he"d resisted corruption.
  
  So, knowing that they were alive, he"d started to try to track them down. He"d inquired with the Goblins to see if Harry had left a Will, and had been told clearly that everything had been left to Daphne, and that his account had been closed.
  
  Convenient.
  
  He"d almost caught up with them in New Zealand, but by the time he had arrived, they had already left.
  
  And from there, they had vanished again.
  
  Two children. Two huge family fortunes merged. And in Harry"s case, far too much magical power for anyone, other than himself, to have access to.
  
  He needed to know where they were; he couldn"t allow them to go dark, not after what he had spent his life fighting.
  
  The question was, how?
  
  They had already proved elusive to find. Owls sent to either of them returned confused. Attempts to track Hedwig had failed somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.
  
  He rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
  
  Perhaps it was time to bring in the Ministry to help him out.
  
  He turned and threw some powder into the Floo, calling for Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister.
  
  "Albus?" The Minister asked.
  
  "Good afternoon, Minister," he said respectfully, hiding his disdain with the practice of decades.
  
  "What can I do for you?"
  
  "I"m afraid," he lied slowly, "that I have evidence that Daphne Greengrass is behind the disappearance of Severus Snape." Much as he hated to have to lie, this was for the best.
  
  "Really?" Rufus asked, his eyes closing slightly. "I have found out that it was she who made a pauper out of poor Lucius."
  
  "Really?" Dumbledore asked, faking surprise.
  
  "Indeed," Rufus said, his face turning shifty. "Someone with so much money available and an unfounded grudge against me, and you, could be dangerous."
  
  "Absolutely," Albus agreed. He hated doing this, it always made him feel guilty, but it was for the best.
  
  "What can we do about it?" Rufus asked, as if they were talking about the weather.
  
  "Perhaps we could persuade the international community that she is dangerous," Albus said thoughtfully. "After all, she did use confess to using a killing curse."
  
  "True, true," Rufus agreed. "And that sort of thing is illegal, no matter what and why it is done. Although, there might be a bit of a backlash from the public."
  
  "I was thinking," Albus said, going off on a tangent. "That maybe a new law should be passed, one that allows the assets of convicted murderers to be seized by the Ministry."
  
  Rufus" face lit up, and then toned down as he instantly regained control. "Why yes," he agreed. "What a splendid law. And if we made an example out of Greengrass, I"m sure the public would protest, but a large tax cut, funded by this law, nearer the next election would ensure that any lingering disgust would be forgotten."
  
  "Agreed," Albus said.
  
  "I thank you for bringing this to my attention," Rufus said. "We"ll have to wait a month or two, so that it doesn"t appear that we are targeting her directly."
  
  Dumbledore nodded, "It was a pleasure talking to you, as always, Minister."
  
  Albus settled down in his chair. That would bring Harry back to the country, where he could be controlled.
  
  He looked up, and met the look of Fawkes.
  
  "It"s for the best," he explained.
  
  Fawkes crooned once and stretched his wings, flying out the window.
  
  He felt a little surprise. He"d have to ask the Phoenix later what was going on. But now he had one final puzzle to piece together.
  
  Exactly how had Harry hidden from him within Hogwarts? It shouldn"t be possible. Even now, he knew where everyone and everything inside it was - from the baby Basilisk growing in the Chamber of Secrets to the elf clearing Snape"s room of all his personal belongings. Nothing happened in the school that he didn"t know about.
  
  And yet Harry had managed to allow himself to be corrupted by that Slytherin.
  
  There were times when he thought that he hated Daphne. He had Harry under his control before her influence. He"d neutralised all of Harry"s allies, explaining what was for the best, and at the same time, had Harry calling himself "Dumbledore"s Man" again.
  
  And then that little tart, Daphne Greengrass, who had broken all the rules of Hogwarts by seducing him, had ruined everything.
  
  If it hadn"t been for her, Harry would have defeated Voldemort under his direction, and would have died properly, as was his destiny. The world would have been safe then.
  
  But no, she had to encourage him, lead him astray.
  
  He took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. This wasn"t the way to go. It was just a coincidence. After all, she couldn"t have known.
  
  All these years of carefully allowing Harry to have just enough danger to force him to become what he needed to be, but with just enough support - given and taken at the right times - to allow him to be unsure and confused about where he really stood.
  
  And she had ruined it.
  
  But how had they hidden their relationship? As Headmaster, the wards reported directly to him, as did the school herself.
  
  He closed his eyes and concentrated, allowing his Legilimency skills to reach out, trying to contact the awareness that was Hogwarts. The school was not alive, not in any sense that could be measured, but it had a definite awareness of what was going on.
  
  So much magic concentrated for so many years had sunk into the very stones that made up the castle.
  
  He"d been trying for as long as he had been headmaster to access all the areas of the consciousness, but it was literally like trying to bang his head against a brick wall. There were parts of it he could not access, and it frustrated him no end.
  
  For one last time, he tried to understand, to find out what was going on.
  
  "I need to know," he thought.
  
  Silence.
  
  "Please tell me," he asked again, hating that he, the most powerful man alive, was reduced to begging.
  
  Silence.
  
  "It"s for the best!"
   And something changed.
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