010

The doorbell rings a heartbeat before Vernon's harsh voice echoes loud enough to fill the entire house.

"Boy! Get the door."

I contain my eye roll, already on my way to answer the front door. He knew I was going to answer it. It's been my responsibility since I was old enough to reach the handle. He only yells like that because he likes the sound of his own voice.

It's going to be a long ass summer.

I take a step back in surprise when I see who's at the door.

"Sirius!"

My Godfather grins at me, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He's in Muggle clothing, jeans, and a black t-shirt. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are shining. My gaze flicks to the street behind him, where a brand-new motorbike sits up against the curb.

"Heya, Pup," he smirks, obviously happy with my response. I step out onto the walkway, shutting the door behind me. "Surprise!"

He reaches for me, and I happily fall into his hug.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I pull away, still shocked beyond measure at seeing Sirius out in the open on Privet Drive. 

"Thought I'd come and check on you. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Bugger. 

The Dursley's will lose their minds if they see Sirius here. 

"Yeah, hold on."

I open the front door again and stick my head inside.

"I'm going to the park," I say, and stop mid-motion in slamming the door when Vernon yells back.

"Who was at the door?" he demands, and I twist and lift one finger at Sirius to tell him to give me a moment.

"No one. Salespeople. I told them to get lost and never come back."

"Too right, boy," Vernon yells back, then grumbles at the un-respectability of door-to-door salesmen too softly for me to hear. "Fine. Go then. But don't cause any trouble."

I roll my eyes at the obtuseness of the man.

"I won't start any, Uncle Vernon. But I have no problem finishing it."

I slam the door before he can say another word.

Sirius is cracking up on the doorstep, pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes.

"You need a haircut," I tell him as I start up the drive to the sidewalk.

"Now you sound like Molly," he grouses, falling into step beside me. I guess that means the Weasleys are already camping out in Grimmauld Place. "Muggles treating you, okay?" 

I shrug, then run my hand through my own unruly hair.

"Same as normal, I suppose. Though it's only been a few days. I know you aren't here to free me from their clutches yet. So, what's up?"

The park is only a block from the Dursleys and we're walking at a good clip.

"You tell me, Pup. Something's happened. More than you're letting on. I'm not leaving until you tell me the truth."

The cell phone in my pocket seems to burn, and I have to resist the urge to touch it. I wish I could talk to Hermione and get her opinion before I make any rash decisions. This affects her as much as me.

I find the first empty picnic area and sit on top of the table. Sirius slides onto the bench, looking at me expectantly.

"Fine," I say, already tired of keeping the secret. Though, to be fair, I've told everyone who's outright asked, so I haven't really kept it at all. I shove my glasses back up my nose.

"Hermione and I died about three years in the future at Malfoy Manor at the hands of Bellatrix and Voldemort. I woke up in death's waiting room, or whatever, and he threw a massive hissy fit because I died, again, and he's going to get fired. So, he sent me back with my memories, hoping that I'm smarter than I look and can skip the mistakes of the past knowing about them ahead of time. I told him that I'm not smarter than I look, and if he wants me to stay alive, I need Hermione too. She's the brains of this operation. He made us sign a form to keep our memories, then shoved us through a door that had DO NOT ENTER written across it in big bold letters, and we popped up in the Great Hall about five minutes before the third task started. Luckily, since I did know about Voldemort coming back that night, I was able to avoid dueling with him and captured Wormtail. The first time he almost killed me. This time, it was kinda fun."

Sirius' face goes through a series of changes as I rattle off my tale. First, he seems to be laughing at me, sure it's some kind of prank. Then the humor bleeds from his eyes, horror filling the crevices in his skin as he starts to believe me. By the time I finish, his hand is roughly rubbing at his forehead and his eyes are tightly shut. I can't tell if he's imagining my dueling Voldemort or trying to escape the mental image.

"I—I."

I can't stop my smile.

"That's about what I sounded like too, when a Judge Judy wanna-be told me I was dead a hundred and fifty years too early."

"Who's Judge Judy?" Sirius asks, and I remember that not only is my Godfather a pure blood wizard, and therefore has little knowledge of Muggle television, he's been in jail or on the run the last decade plus.

"Never mind," I chuckle, but sober quickly enough. "So, believe me? Or are you already wondering how to get me into the spell damage ward at St. Mungos?"

Sirius shakes his head, pulling his shoulders back to sit at his full height.

"Oh no, Pup. I believe you. The differences are too great not to. I don't know how to break it to you, but the boy that went into that maze isn't the same boy that came out."

Suddenly, I'm exhausted again. All my energy zaps from me with a sigh, and I take my glasses off to clean them on my shirt. If only to have something to occupy my hands.

"So, I've been told," I reply dryly. "But honestly, Sirius, I don't have the time to pretend to be ignorant. You heard the prophecy. I have to kill him. And even if I didn't, I'd still have to, because he's not going to stop coming after me until I'm dead at his feet, and everyone I love with me."

Sirius grabs my knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Which means I can't pretend to be a fifteen-year-old kid with a chip on his shoulder and anger issues."

"No," Sirius interrupts with a barking laugh. "You're a what? Eighteen-year-old kid with a chip on his shoulder and anger issues?"

The edges of my lips tip up in a reluctant smile.

"Yeah, okay. I'll give you that. But the point stands. I don't know when the next confrontation will be. I don't know when the last will happen. What I do know is that I was given an opportunity to prepare myself this time around and I'd be foolish to waste it. I'll stew at the Dursley's this summer because I don't have a choice. I'll go back to Hogwarts in the fall because I don't have a choice. Hermione thinks it's the best thing to do, and she's usually right about these things. I'm going to learn as much as I can, as quickly as I can, and the next time I face him, I plan on winning." 

I take a breath, pulling in my scrambling thoughts.

"I have some time still. In the other timeline, it took him a while to get his operation up and running again. He had followers to punish, and devotees to break out of Azkaban."

"What?!" Sirius exclaims.

"Oh yeah. He spends about a year attempting to break into the Department of Mysteries. In the meantime, he breaks into Azkaban and frees all the imprisoned death eaters. When he can't get into the Ministry, he tricks me into doing it for him. Some stuff happens, but it won't happen this time, because I won't be fooled twice. After that, he starts the guerilla tactics. Assassinating Ministry employees in their homes. He orders poor Draco Malfoy to murder the Headmaster, so that was a lot of fun."

Sirius cuts him off.

"Harry. You can't just let all this knowledge go to waste. I'm sure Hermione would agree with me."

I lean forward with my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers between them.

"What do you suggest I do, Sirius? Walk into the Ministry and start sprouting prophecies? Tell the new minister that I'm from three years in the future? They'll have me branded insane within the first five minutes."

Sirius's throat contracts, his eyes darkening in anger.

"It'll be a few months until Voldemort's flexing his muscles," I try to assure him. "At least, if he sticks close to what happened last time. Though, I already buggered some of that up for him.  Last time, Crouch Jr was given the kiss before he could be interviewed, and no one believed me when I said Voldemort was back. He had a whole year of planning without any resistance except for the Order. Wormtail was never caught in the previous timeline either. He died by his own hand about ten minutes before Hermione and I did."

"By his own hand?" Sirius questions, looking slightly sick.

My face is blank when I reply. 

"He owed me a life debt. I called it in."

He's silent for a moment, and my hand drifts to the phone in my pocket, itching to hear Hermione's voice.

"What else happens, Pup?"

I pull my eyes back to my Godfather and see the weight heavy on his shoulders.

"I'm not even sure I could tell you at this point. I've already changed a lot, just my first week back. I caught Wormtail, like I told you. You're sitting here next to me. In the previous timeline," my voice catches in my throat, and I clear it roughly.

"We never clear your name, and you're trapped in Grimmauld Place with only Kreacher to keep you sane. He doesn't do too hot a job, by the way. He betrays you to Bellatrix, the only other Black he trusted. You die in about eleven months. Voldemort used our connection to trick me and lured me to the department of Mysteries. The Order saved us, and you were sent through the veil by Bellatrix." I swallow down my pain but let my anger burn. 

"I'm going to kill that bitch, Sirius. She killed Hermione too. Tortured her, scarred her, then slit her throat, right in front of me. If it's the last thing I do in this life, I'm going to see her dead at my feet."

Sirius doesn't comment but pulls an envelope from his back pocket. He looks this way and that, before producing his wand and giving it a switch. The envelope triples in size.

"Speaking of Blacks." He flips the envelope over, pulling out a stack of parchment. "Adoption paperwork, and a couple of other things. I just need you to sign. You'll still have to spend a few weeks at your Aunt and Uncle's every year but…" a quill and ink appear, and Sirius flips the papers around for me to place my signature on the marked spots.

"I've been thinking about that, by the way. The whole familiar wards thing. It isn't something Dumbledore has deemed to explain to me yet in this timeline. We don't talk about it until after you die, which isn't going to happen this time." I can't help that I sound like I'm growling by the time the quill slides against the parchment. I won't lose him again. "But from what I understand, the reason I have to come here every year is because of my mother's blood. Dumbledore says it's because I call this place home, but that can't really be it. I haven't called this place home since the first time I stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. So, the real power of the magic must lie with Petunia. So long as she still calls this my home, the protection spells work. Which makes sense. After all, Petunia shares more blood with Mum than I do, and it's the magic of my mother's bloodline that keeps it active. So, if my mother's bloodline offers me her home, I remain safe from Riddle's killing curse, at least until I turn seventeen again."

Sirius rubs his chin, then gathers the papers back into a stack.

"In theory, at least. I haven't tested it yet."

Sirius scoffs in derision.

"I don't know, Pup. But I'll ask Dumbledore if you want me to. That kind of spell work is beyond me. I'm a man of action, not a man of theory. I bet Remus would have some ideas about it though."

I shake my head no, waving off the offer.

"I bet Hermione would be thrilled to deconstruct it with him. I don't really care anymore."

With one more glance around, Sirius vanishes the quill and paperwork both.

"Speaking of Hermione. How is she handling all this?"

A genuine smile spreads across my face.

"Better than I am. She's irritated that she couldn't find any books on it before we left Hogwarts." Sirius chuckles at that. "I promised her all the books she could buy, the next time we were in Diagon Alley together. I doubt they have anything on dying and being sent through a portal back to your teenage bodies, but I suppose it never hurts to look."

The near constant anxious feeling seeps into my bones again, and I flex my hands, trying to work it free.

"I— "

Every time I think about it, I want to throw up. 

"We were on the run for almost six months before we were captured. Just the three of us. Ron, Hermione and I. Alone, in a tent, with no one else for company. I'm—" I rub at my temples, staving off the migraine I get every time she wanders into my brain. Which is near constantly. "I'm struggling being away from her. Them. Watching her die…it affected me in ways I wasn't anticipating."

"So, you and Hermione are together in the future?"

I shake my head, looking at Sirius through partially closed eyes.

"No. It was never like that with us. Even now…I don't know. I can't explain it. Something must have happened, when they brought us back. Or maybe it's as simple as having watched her die. I've always loved her. She's my best friend. She's been the most important person in my life since I was eleven. None of that has changed. But since Bellatrix slid that knife across her throat?" There's a burning in my lungs, and it catches when I try to breathe. "I don't know. It's best if I don't think about it."

"And now she's on the other side of London," Sirius supplies unhelpfully. I glare at him from behind my glasses.

"Thanks for the reminder. But—" I pull the cell phone from my pocket. "Know what a cell phone is?"

Sirius nods his head.

"Hermione's parents bought them for us, so we could talk over the summer without having to wait for an owl post."

"Did they now?" Sirius says, a knowing tone to his voice. Ignoring my Godfather, I dial her number by heart, then push the speaker button.

"Harry!" She answers, happiness pouring through the line. My heart speeds up, though I purposefully ignore the sensation. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you until tonight."

Sirius lifts his brow at that, and I give a one shoulder shrug, ignoring the blush that heats my cheeks.

"Well, something came up and I wanted to talk to you. Don't get mad, Mi, but I did a thing," I say, my shoulders lifting to my ears in readiness for her explosion.

"Hello, Hermione," Sirius says.

"Sirius!" Hermione exclaims in surprise. Then, in a much harsher tone, "Harry James Potter! What did you do?"

There it is.

"You didn't leave your Aunt and Uncle's house, did you, Harry? You promised me you'd stay."

Sirius and I both laugh at the scolding tone her voice takes. I can perfectly picture her; hands on her hips, toe pointing, head bobbing back and forth between Sirius and me. I know I'm smiling like a loon, but I can't help it. Sirius replies before I can.

"It's Harry James Potter-Black, now," Sirius says. "I came to visit him here. We had some paperwork to sign for his guardianship, and other stuff to talk about. Though, it seems kinda pointless to adopt a seventeen-year-old. Tell me, is my Godson still this scrawny in the future?"

The line goes silent for a moment, until…

"Harry," she breathes, voice barely discernible. "You didn't."

I try to look away from the astonished accusation in her tone, even though she can't see me. 

"He knew something was up, Hermione. What was I supposed to do?"

"Lie!" She practically shouts. "Everyone knows something is up. You're not exactly discreet on the best of days, let alone with the amount of power thrumming through you this timeline. You're practically wearing a blinking sign over your head that says ' challenge me! I dare you!' But you said it yourself! Suspecting something has changed isn't the same as confirming it! We agreed," she huffs in a breath. "Dammit Harry, we agreed that we wouldn't tell anyone else!"

"Who else did you tell," Sirius asks, face wide with amusement.

"Ron," he and Hermione reply together. 

"Ahhh," Sirius agrees knowingly. "Makes sense. I couldn't keep something like that a secret from your dad if my life depended on it. He'd smell the lie on me the minute my feet touched solid ground."

"Yes, well," Hermione huffs, clearly still irritated. "In answer to your question, no. He's not quite so scrawny. Quidditch does a body good, and all that. I have a whole exercise regime planned out for him as well. Wizards rely on their wands too much. I don't think anyone has ever tried to knock Voldemort unconscious with their fists."

Sirius barks out a harsh laugh, his eyes wide in incredulity. I just grin at him, in awe as always at Hermione's brilliance. 

She's not done yet, though.

"But he's certainly as irritating in the future as he is right now. Matter of fact, I don't know why I put up with him! He's intolerable. Honestly, Harry. What is the point of making plans if you toss them out the window at the first sign of conflict?"

Sirius throws his head back and laughs, his arms wrapped around his chest.

"Come on, Mi," I pout into the phone line. "I'm chaos, and you're order. It's why we make the best team. You can't have one without the other. Besides, you know you love me. Admit it. That's why you put up with me. If you didn't, no one else would."

"Truer words were never spoken," she agrees with aplomb.

It takes Sirius several more moments of laughter to get himself back under control.

"While I have you both there, Harry told Dumbledore that he needed to visit the bank this summer. I have to go as well, to finish up some paperwork. No one told me what a hassle it would be to come in from the cold. It was easier living in caves."

I shoot Sirius a dirty look, but he doesn't look apologetic at the least.

"Do you think you could meet us in Diagon Alley on Thursday? We can go to the bank then hit the Ministry. Madam Bones still wants a chat with you, Pup, and we can grab the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries."

Hermione sighs into the phone.

"I really wish we could Apparate again. I hadn't realized how dependent I had become on my magic until it was ripped away from me. And my parents…Well, I love them, and I missed them terribly. However, I've discovered I'm not as keen as I used to be about being told what to do."

I dip my head into my shoulder and try to contain my laugh.

"It's only been three days, Hermione. Certainly, it's not that bad."

She sighs heavily into the phone.

"No. It's not. My folks are great, as you know. But…I feel like I'm wasting time, just sitting here. I don't have the books I need, and I can't practice my magic, and even with Winky popping in to check on me all the time, I'm already going stir crazy."

Funny, isn't that what I was saying before I was stuck in this place? Stir crazy. That's a good description.

"I know, Mi," I agree, feeling stir crazy and a hundred other things I can't put into words. "Me too."

"You, okay?" She asks me, voice soft and serious.

I pick the phone up from the table and hold it in my hands.

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "There's not enough time. I'm always pissed off. Dudley is being an asshole again since I haven't saved his life yet. I probably won't now that Fudge isn't in office so there won't be any Dementors to fight this summer. Every time I think about you my hands twitch with the need to feel you alive, and I think about you all the damn time."

I did not mean to say that out loud. 

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

"Oh, Harry," she sighs. 

We're silent, for a moment, and I close my eyes and force myself to picture her the way she hugged me before she left the station with her parents, and not the way she looked with blood coating her chest.

"I've been dreaming about it," she whispers, and my eyes snap open. "I'm not sure how, really, since I didn't see it happen. The last thing I remember is…well. It doesn't matter."

I've been dreaming about it too. Every night, over and over again. It's worse than when I was dreaming of the department of mysteries. So much worse. Hermione is still talking.

"What matters is that I am alive. You're alive, and already too much has changed for us to end up in that situation again. I won't lose you, Harry. I won't. Not again. We'll be ready this time."

I huff at that.

"Don't you mean for the sixth or seventh time. I stopped listening after the third time he'd said I died."

"Not. Funny," she says in a low and dangerous voice.

I let the silence fill the void between us.

"Diagon Alley, Thursday?" Sirius asks. I jerk, having momentarily forgotten he was here. 

Hermione eeks on her end of the line, and I know she forgot about him too.

"I can pick you up, Hermione," Sirius offers, "if your parents can't make it into London."

"I can have Winky take me, if my parents can't," Hermione says.

A lightbulb goes off in my head.

"Hermione, could Winky bring you here?"

Silence, then, "Why didn't I think of that?"

Sirius and I both laugh.

"So, we're good for Thursday then?" He confirms.

"Yeah," I agree. "Do you think you could bring Ron along? Have they moved into headquarters yet?"

Sirius double takes, then grins at me.

"From the future. I forgot. Yup. They're moving in this week. Molly is having a fit about the state of the house. I did what you said, though, and have been nice to Kreacher. Apologized and everything. He seems to be keen to help clean now."

Hermione butts in.

"By the way, Sirius. Your mother's portrait. I know it's up with a permanent sticking charm. Take out the entire wall. Now that you're free, you can have construction workers in to fix things up. Oh!" Hermione adds, and I know exactly what she's going to say. "There's a locket, in a cabinet in the drawing room. You won't be able to open the locket. We need you to swipe it and put it somewhere safe. DO NOT KEEP IT ON YOU," she demands in a tone so harsh Sirius flinches back. "It's dangerous," she goes on. "Harry and I will destroy it when we get there later this summer. But if you could grab it before Kreacher does, we'd appreciate it. We were going to do it ourselves, but now that you know," and Hermione takes a deep breath, trying not to yell at me, I'm sure. "You can do it for us."

Sirius stares at me, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue.

"Actually, Mi. I have an idea." I look between Sirius and the phone. "Instead of not letting Kreacher know, tell him all about it. Tell him that Regulus told you about the locket and about his promise from Kreacher to destroy it. Tell Kreacher that you want to help him fulfill his final obligation to Regulus. He'll be overjoyed. He'll never betray you after that."

Sirius rises to his feet, questions rapid firing over his face.

"I want answers. All of them. Now."

That'll take longer than we have over the phone.

"Can you have Winky bring you to the park by the Dursleys, Mi? Or just to my street?"

"Winky?"

I hear the pop in the background of the elf's apparition.

"Yes, Mistress? Is Mistress hungry? Or perhaps needs Winky's help with a chore?"

I can feel the pain on Hermione's face at the eagerness of Winky to serve her.

"Winky, can you bring me to Harry's Aunt and Uncle's house?"

"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging," I say into the phone.

Hermione repeats it to Winky.

In a pop of magic, I lose the connection of our phones.

I don't hear them arrive on the street. 

I take off at a jog back towards the Dursleys house to find Hermione running Pell Mell down the sidewalk towards the park.

"Hermione!" I yell, then wave my hands above my head before I pick up my pace in her direction. 

As is her habit lately, she leaps into the air when she gets close enough, and I catch her mid jump.

She laughs when I spin her around.

"Why didn't we realize we could have the elves transport us in the last timeline?" I ask her.

The band permanently wrapped around my lungs relaxes for the first time in days.

"Because the last time Dobby tried to help you, you lost all the bones in your arm."

"Oh yeah," I chuckle. "Good point."

"Are you wearing the sword of Gryffindor?" She asks me, trailing her hands up and down my back, feeling the sword next to my spine.

"I don't leave the bedroom without it. The cloak is in the pouch on the back. My wand is in its holster."

"How did you disillusion them?"

Her hands are still feeling up and down my spine, and I close my eyes to fight the physical reaction it causes.

"The trace is on your wand. I don't need my wand to disillusion it."

"Oh," breathes out in a sigh.

I didn't even realize that her legs were around my waist until she slid her feet back to the ground. 

I cup her face in my hands, pushing away the baby hairs that broke free of her ponytail. 

"I needed this," I mumble, the relief palpable at having her in my arms.

"I told you I'm alive," she whispers.

"It's easier to believe when I can see you. When I can touch you."

I lean my forehead against hers, and her eyes drift closed. Hesitantly, waiting for her to shove me away or slap at me, my lips slide over her mouth. Once, twice. 

The third time, she catches my bottom lip between hers, sucking it lightly before letting go.

"You're going to have to get over this eventually," she tells me, but I notice she doesn't pull back. Instead, she threads her thumbs through the loops of my jeans.

"I know," I quietly agree. "When they're dead, maybe. Then I'll be able to breathe easy again."

She places her cheek on my shoulder, and I run my fingers over her back.

"Okay. We can't keep wallowing in this." Hermione steps away from me, shaking out her limbs. "Where's Sirius?" she asks, linking her fingers with mine.

I start leading her back towards the park. 

"Still sitting at the picnic table where I left him probably. Are you ready to do this?"

She looks up at me, her ponytail high on her head and her brown eyes glowing.

"I don't think we really have a choice at this point."

Sirius rises from his perch, offering Hermione a hug.

"So, Sirius," she says, sliding onto the bench. I resume my seat on the table. "What do you know about Horcruxes?"

~**~

I have no idea what time it is. Hermione and Sirius left hours ago. The house around me is silent, everyone having gone to bed, or at least separated into their own rooms. 

Before Sirius took off on that bike again, he passed me the communication mirror. I lay on my bed, twisting it around in my fingers. This little piece of glass, barely bigger than my hand, could have been the difference between losing Sirius, and saving his life last time.

I wonder how we could get more of these? They're certainly easier to use than owls, or patronuses. Even easier than the cell phone that currently sits on its charger on my desk.

Crack!

I'm on my feet before I understand what's happened, my wand inches from Hermione's face. Her eyes are as wide as Winky's, whose hand she still grasps in hers.

"I couldn't sleep," she says sheepishly, biting her bottom lip while I lower my wand.

"What's sleep?" I joke, still out of sorts from her unexpected appearance in my bedroom.

Vernon bangs on my door, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"What's all the racket for, you freak?"

Hermione covers her mouth with both of her hands. I step closer to her out of reflex when the handle starts to rattle, but I learned long ago to lock the door on the inside as well as out. 

"Bugger off, Vernon. Why are you always harassing me? Go bother your own son for once."

Hermione buries her head into my shoulder, smothering her escaping giggles.

Vernon gives the door another hard bang, then his grumbles disappear as he goes off to nag someone else.

"I'm sorry," she sniffles, wiping her escaped laughter from her face.

"Don't worry about him. He'll get over it."

Hermione turns to look at Winky over her shoulder. Winky's eyes are wide, and her hands are covering her bat like ears in fright.

"Winky?"

"Yes, Mistress," the elf replies, uncovering her ears in layers.

"Would you sleep in my room tonight and come get me when my parents knock on my door. It's locked, so they won't come in to find me gone."

Winky's gaze flicks between us, a frown marring her bushy brows, but she nods her agreement at Hermione's request.

"Yes, Mistress," she intones, before popping out of the room.

Together we turn to face the door, waiting for another explosion. A door slams down the hall, but Vernon doesn't reappear.

"Come here," I tell her, linking my fingers with hers. The bed is small, but no smaller than the camp beds we slept on for months.

I pull the covers back and climb onto the mattress, scooting until my back is against the wall. I hiss through my teeth from the coolness of the paint against my bare skin. It didn't even occur to me to put on more than just my sleep pants before pulling Hermione into bed with me.

She's wearing a pair of boy's boxers, and a thin strapped top. Her legs seem like they go on for miles from this angle, as she climbs into my bed on her hands and knees, before turning around and plopping down against me.

Hermione snuggles into my front, her ass in that perfect sweet spot between my hips. 

Think about Umbridge. Think about Umbridge.

She sighs so deep I feel it in my gut, then reaches behind herself, and pulls my arm over her front. I weave my other arm under her head, resting it next to my sword.

"Wasn't it just ten hours ago you told me I need to get over this," I whisper into her hair.

"Shove off, Potter," she replies, her voice already weak and sleepy.

Her breathing evens out within minutes. Asleep in my arms.

I wasn't kidding when I told her I don't sleep much anymore.

No, instead I just listen to her breaths, and feel the beating of her heart against my chest.

For the first time in days, though, at least I don't have any nightmares.