Chapter Ten - Amidst the Noise of Endless Wars

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: My beta, melusin, has helped me greatly with this story and the writing.

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Gently removing his thin traveling cloak, Remus groaned as a sharp pain shot up his back. At moments like these, when he attempted to relax after a long evening, Remus felt much older than his years.

Remus sighed tiredly to himself and hungrily crawled into the inviting bed. Tonight hadn't been too bad. One of the werewolves had actually held a very engaging conversation with him.

He must have been new, Remus thought.

But that was it, unfortunately. None of the others would have anything to do with him. Remus hoped that his labors would eventually improve matters, but at the moment, the odds weren't in his favor.

Very much like before.

Regardless of his efforts to clear his mind, Remus could not prevent his thoughts from running through memories of that night, months ago, when he had abandoned his post underground, believing his labors to be in vain.

The sharp chill in the night air burned his lungs as Remus clumsily ran through the forest outside Hogsmeade. His shaky hand clutched at his stomach; warm wetness seeped through the creases in his fingers. Glancing down at his midriff, Remus gasped at the amount of blood he was quickly loosing.

He couldn't do it. No way in hell could he do that. The moment one of those mad creatures had raised the severed limb of a Muggle, expecting him to hungrily take it, Lupin had involuntarily retched on the filthy floor of the cave. Angered and insulted, the pack turned on him.

They had attacked him for wanting to be the pet of wizards.

They weren't even transformed! Remus' mind screamed. What type of creature enjoys the taste of human flesh when they are still human themselves?

Greyback had obviously got to them, which meant that Greyback had visited that cave, probably on numerous occasions, too. Remus had tried to flee the moment that thought had crossed his mind.

He might be safe, somewhat, at the moment, but Remus hadn't fled from the werewolves completely unharmed. He gasped as the pain from his wounds hitched his troubled breathing.

Finally staggering onto the stone pavement of Hogsmeade, Remus swayed from side to side as he ran down the street. The night was quickly bearing down on him. As the orange sunset cast the tiny village into darkness, the soft glow of the street lanterns illuminated the candle wicks, one by one.

Stumbling, Remus' wounded body lunged through the air. A wizard in his path quickly dashed to the side. With a disgusted sneer on his face, the wizard did not hesitate in letting Remus fall harshly to the floor. The side of his head cracked sickeningly against the stone walkway.

Holding his new wound, Remus braced his hand against the side of his head and turned a corner down one of the numerous alleyways that trailed behind the shops.

The sound of agitated voices alarmed him. He quickly ducked behind a cluster of rubbish bins, willing his eyes and mind to focus, to be aware of his surroundings.

Blinking furiously, Remus' hazy vision caught sight of a small brunette pulling at the arm of a tall, blond wizard.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" she screeched. "Where the bloody hell do you think you can go?"

"Lower your voice, Pansy," the blond boy hissed through clenched teeth.

"NO! What happened last night? Why were the Aurors trying to arrest you? I demand you tell me what is going on this instant! You couldn't be mad enough to think that you could kill..."

"You what?" Draco asked in quiet anger, scratching his chin as he stepped closer.

Pansy instantly backed away from him. "No... I... didn't mean-- "

The hand at Draco's chin instantly flew through the air. The back of his palm collided excruciatingly against the side of Pansy's face. She whimpered to herself as her hand reached up to shield her swelling lip.

"Don't you ever," Draco barked, towering over her, "EVER, demand anything of me!"

"I'm sorry," she said miserably.

Eyes blazing, Draco laughed in disgust when she started to cry. "You're pathetic. I have no reason to explain anything to you. You mean nothing to me."

"Then leave!" she screamed through her sobs. "The sooner you stop toying with me, the better I'll be." She glared up at him, face contorted in fury.

Draco stood stock still, evidently shocked at seeing such an unfamiliar response from her.

Emboldened, Pansy pushed herself away from the wall. A growl rumbled in her throat. "Go!" She clutched at the robes of his chest, pushing him with all her might. "LEAVE!"

Draco tripped over a stray bottle, stumbling until he collided with the brick wall opposite Pansy. Straightening himself up, he glared madly at her.

"You fucking bitch!"

"Stupefy!" Remus screamed, rising from his crouched position amidst the rubbish bins.

Draco quickly ducked. The hex breezed over his head. Without a backward glance toward Pansy, he hastily scampered away from whomever had aimed the spell at him.

Pansy stood against the wall, unsure of what to do.

Groaning in pain, Remus dragged his tired legs toward the frightened student.

"Are you all right?" he asked sincerely.

Pansy gazed up at the filthy wizard, fear and gratitude showing clearly on her shocked face.

"Y-Yes," she stammered.

Remus raised his gentle hands to her face. "Here. Let me see." Her eyes momentarily closed when he softly held her chin in his palm.

He raised his wand to her split lip. Pansy eyed his disheveled state in alarm.

"Are you sure you can...?"

"Yes."

Finally breathing relaxed breaths, Pansy sighed contentedly when the burning pain of her open wound abated.

She gazed up at her ex-Professor. "Thank you."

A small smile formed on the edges of Remus' bloody face. "No problem..."

Remus did not finish his sentence. A dizzy spell quickly took hold of his mind and body. The last thing he remembered, he was falling to the floor, his legs buckling underneath him just as a pair of thin arms instinctively encircled his back.

"Come back.... "

A woman's delicate voice echoed hollowly in the deep recesses of his mind.

"Remus," she cooed. "Come back to me.... " Two soft hands glided through the fine hair at his temples.

Snapping out of his musing, Remus focused his hazy vision and gazed into the pair of chocolate brown eyes beneath him.

Smiling sadly at her, Remus pressed his weight against her, lowering his head to nuzzle the hollow of her neck. Shifting his naked body until he found a comfortable position on top of her, Remus sighed and inhaled the welcoming scent of her dark hair.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked the side of his face, her hands scratching at the light brown hair at back of his head.

"How this started," he whispered.

"This?"

"Us," he clarified.

Pansy moved her thin arms down his scarred back, scratching wherever they rested. She smiled when Remus hummed in pleasure.

"You were dying," she said quietly. "You used the last of your strength to heal me."

Remus picked up his head, lifting his chest off her bare breasts. He ignored her protesting whimpers and met her eyes with a determined fire. "I'd do it again. No question."

A frightened sadness overwhelmed Pansy's face. Wetness pooled around her dark eyes. Grasping the hair at Remus' temples, she pulled his face down to hers, clutching at him as their lips met for a passionate kiss.

Moaning in pleasure, Pansy opened her legs, cradling his hips as he pressed his body against her. Remus slightly raised his head, peppering her jaw and neck with kisses and nips until her breathing quickened. She whimpered again in disappointment at the feel of Lupin's welcome weight rising off her body. Gazing up at him, eyes hooded with desire, Pansy mewed in pleasure when Remus finally thrust into her building wetness.

*** *** ***

Hermione awoke the Sunday morning after the Hogsmeade trip instantly aware of a heavy weight pressing down in the pit of her stomach. It had been there before she fell asleep, and seemed hell bent on staying throughout the night.

He kissed me, she thought, stomach fluttering.

'They' kissed you, her mind corrected.

Hermione was thankful she had been observant enough to turn her face away from Sirius' attempt to snog her. She couldn't prevent the cringe that wracked her body over the thought, though. She just didn't see Sirius that way -- at all.

But Professor Snape... Her face flushed. Severus, she corrected herself. Her lips rose into an unconscious smile. He had practically devoured her in the dark corridor. She knew that, from an objective standpoint, anyone else would find the idea frightening.

But, Hermione would gladly do it again. Merlin help me. I fancy him.

The weight in her stomach pressed back with a vengeance.

They hadn't really discussed anything. She had fled, at his request, when the sounds of Sirius exiting his classroom echoed down the empty corridor.

A dread iced down her back when she realized she had Potions first thing Monday morning.

On second thought, she could quite possibly be seeing Professor Snape in a couple of minutes, in the Great Hall for breakfast.

*** *** ***

Timidly tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Hermione marched into the Great Hall for breakfast. Keeping her eyes focused on the Gryffindor table, her palms began to sweat while she tried to appear cool and collected.

Taking her usual seat next to Ginny, Hermione finally lifted her light brown eyes toward the High Table.

Professor Snape wasn't there.

Unable to control her emotions, the edges of her mouth drooped in faint disappointment. Hermione's eyes remained fixed on the Potions master's empty place until a movement in the next chair caught her attention.

Sirius Black gazed questioningly towards the empty seat at his side before suspiciously narrowing his eyes at Hermione.

She swallowed hesitantly then nodded at Professor Black in greeting.

"Look at her," Ginny hissed in her ear.

Startled, Hermione quickly turned in her seat following Ginny's scathing glance to the other end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione sighed when she realized that the object of Ginny's scorn was Lavender Brown herself. Lavender was completely twisted around in her seat. Her long nailed fingers were lightly wrapped around Harry's wrist, who was standing chatting by her side.

"If he dates Ron's ex-girlfriend, I swear I'll never talk to him again."

Hermione made an insulted noise under her breath. "Excuse me?" she asked, leaning past Ginny to look pointedly at Seamus sitting by the redhead's side.

Sitting up straight, a scarlet flush crept to Ginny's cheeks. She nervously played with a strand of her long straight hair.

"But... you said you didn't care."

"I don't," Hermione said seriously. "But don't you dare be a hypocrite."

Their building argument was interrupted when Harry and Ron settled themselves in the empty seats across from them. Ron immediately pulled every available platter of food to his side.

Focusing on eating her meal, Hermione's attention drifted back to her original contemplations before she had entered the Great Hall.

Professor Snape.

There was no possible way she could wait until tomorrow morning to see him again. She needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

Today.

"Post," Ron mumbled thickly.

Hermione looked up the instant she heard the usual screeches and cries of the morning Owl Post. Lightly placing a hand over her cup of pumpkin juice, Hermione reached into her pocket to pay for her daily paper.

"Anyone we know die?" Ron asked dismissively, covering his full mouth in protection of Hermione's wrath.

Hermione unrolled the Daily Prophet across her plate. She quickly eyed the front page and gasped.

"What?" Harry questioned gravely, yanking the paper from her. He looked down at the bold heading across the front page.

"RETIRED HOGWARTS PROFESSOR MURDERED!"

"Who?" Ron breathed in morose curiosity.

A stony glare in his eye, Harry briefly scanned the article as connections formed in his mind.

"Slughorn," answered Hermione quietly. "What does it say?"

Harry immediately started reading aloud, "...many wondered why the talented Potions professor quickly put in his notice to Professor Dumbledore some twenty years ago, but now our sources have given us the inside scoop. There were rumors rampant among Death Eater camps that Professor Slughorn possessed damaging inside knowledge for the reason He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reached such a quick demise at the hands of The-Boy-Who-Lived. In fear of his very life, Slughorn abandoned his position at the controversial school and to this day claimed ignorance of any supposed inside intelligence. However, when our reporters asked Slughorn the extent of his favoritism toward the young You-Know-Who during his long teaching career at Hogwarts, he denied ever giving the youth personal confidences.

Similarly, last year, many wizards and witches in the magical community were equally shocked at his sudden and random reappointment as Potions professor. Unfortunately for Slughorn, our inside sources strongly believe that he made many new enemies, and rekindled old animosities, by physically showing his support for Dumbledore in taking up his old position. It is also believed that Harry Potter himself, the very boy who caused the demise of You-Know-Who, quickly became his favorite pupil. More than one eye-witness and some acquaintances of Slughorn himself have heard him praise The-Boy-Who-Lived as the 'The Chosen One,' thus aligning himself with the belief that Harry Potter is destined to kill You-Know-Who... ."

Harry grunted in disgust, losing all interest in reading further, and returned the paper to Hermione's hungry grasp. He let his face fall in his outstretched hands.

Harry shook his head from side to side. "Voldemort found out," he said morosely.

Hermione eyed Ginny from the corner of her vision. After spying the girl flirting shamelessly with Seamus, Hermione finally leaned across the table. "The memory, you mean?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said quietly, pushing his plate away. "I need to speak to Dumbledore. This has gone far enough."

The moment Harry rose from his seat, Hermione lunged over the table to grasp him by the wrist. She ignored the sudden head turns and curious stares.

"Go outside, Harry. Go for a walk. Fly on your broom -- something. Please, do not storm into his office with anger at the forefront of your mind."

Harry willed himself not to yank his hand away.

"Please, Harry," she begged softly.

"Yeah, all right."

The second Hermione slackened her grip, Harry immediately turned to exit the Great Hall.

*** *** ***

"It's not that cold out. Are you sure you wouldn't rather go out for a bit with us?" Ginny questioned Hermione the moment they left the Great Hall.

"No, I'm all right. I need to finish my lengthy Transfiguration essay anyway."

"Very well," Ginny said disappointedly, turning toward the heavy front doors.

Hermione stood in place in the middle of the Entrance Hall, watching Ginny, Seamus and Dean walk down the front steps of the school. She didn't lie, per se, she really did have a Transfiguration essay that she needed to finish. She just wasn't planning on marching up to her rooms this very second.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at a few straggling students. "Well?" she questioned them. "Make up your minds! You know there's no loitering allowed in the halls!"

Ignoring the few scandalized glares, Hermione waited for the Entrance Hall to clear before she headed for the stairs that led down to the dungeons.

Palms sweating, Hermione prayed she would not run across any students down here, especially seventh years. The second her foot touched the last step, the moist chill of the damp walls iced down her back. Tightening her cloak around her, Hermione headed straight for Professor Snape's office, hoping that he would be present.

Standing outside his door, Hermione's hand hovered in the air as she willed her breathing to calm. Forcing herself to stand up straight, Hermione loudly knocked against the wood.

"Enter!" Professor Snape barked.

Arms crossed, Professor Snape stood behind his office desk waiting to glare reproachfully at whichever person was about to enter.

Alarmed, Hermione avoided meeting his eyes. Instead, she focused on Goyle and Zabini's agitated glances in her direction.

To Hermione's despair, everyone stood gawking awkwardly at each other.

Hermione swallowed her excess saliva and cleared her throat. "You asked to see me about my uncompleted potion, sir?"

Professor Snape arched his eyebrow in question. The edge of his lips twitched, threatening to rise into a smirk.

"You're annoyingly early," Severus drawled, "but very well." He then turned his attention toward the two young men seated in front of his desk. "Keep in mind what I have told you, and don't even think about disobeying me. You should know what would come of it."

"Yes, sir," both boys murmured.

"Very well. Get out," Snape commanded smoothly.

As Goyle and Zabini headed toward the door, Hermione walked to stand between their empty seats. She tried not to fidget under their disgusted leers. Turning around, Hermione watched them leave, making sure the door was securely closed behind them. Raising her wand, she immediately sent a Silencing Charm against it.

An amused chuckle vibrated behind her.

Hermione jerked around, facing her professor. Uncrossing his arms, Hermione watched him smoothly flip his long cloak over his shoulder and turn toward a blank stone wall to his left. Retrieving his wand from within his robes, Snape flicked it at the wall.

In extreme curiosity, Hermione observed a large brass handle suddenly appear on one of the stones. Snape grasped the cool metal and pushed against the wall. A door immediately appeared, leading into another room.

"Well?" Snape drawled as he stepped beyond the door. "If you merely wanted to sit in my office, alone, then by all means do not let me interrupt you. But I do have tasks I need to complete, and since you so rudely barged into my office unannounced..."

"I knocked!" Hermione huffed. "That's hardly barging in."

"Regardless," Professor Snape said lazily. "I have a potion I need to complete, so either come in here now or go back out the way you came."

Hermione eyed his office door behind her once more before walking to the odd door in the wall. She placed her hands on the stone and poked her head into the mysterious room.

She was pleasantly surprised at what she saw. Somewhat similar to his office, shelves and shelves of different ingredients and pickled specimens aligned every wall from top to bottom. Three long worktables took up most of the available space in the center of the room.

Professor Snape summoned a medium size cauldron to the center worktable. A fire lit the very moment the cauldron rested above the burner.

"In or out, Miss Granger." His back facing her, he skillfully plucked various ingredients from the shelves.

Stepping fully into the room, Hermione jerked as the door quickly shut behind her.

The handle vanished, as did any evidence that there had been a door.

Tilting her head, Hermione curiously watched Professor Snape begin slicing at one of the pickled specimens. Against the far wall directly behind him, she immediately caught sight of a narrow shelf packed with a variety of Potions texts.

Smiling to herself, she walked right by him to the shelf and stood gazing in awe at the collection of books. Plucking one of the older looking ones, Hermione raised the text to her nose, reveling in the ancient smell of aged leather.

"They don't make books like this in the Muggle world anymore." Sheer pleasure rang in her voice.

Snape paused in his slicing. Elegantly turning in place, he silently watched the curly headed female slide her small hand along the surface of his book. Not too many people found pleasure in reading Potions texts for leisure, and they certainly didn't stop to appreciate something as simple as the binding.

Hermione cautiously placed the book on the closest worktable behind Professor Snape and pulled out a stool. She read a full two pages before she remembered her surroundings. Taking the opportunity to eye his back, she appreciated the view of his tall and slim figure bent over the cauldron.

"Hermione," she said suddenly, biting her lip.

"Talking to yourself, Miss Granger?"

"No, Hermione."

He turned toward her and raised an eyebrow in irritation.

"Call me 'Hermione' when... "

Snape noticed her sudden pause. He knew she was carefully considering her words as a rosy flush had spread on the apples of her cheeks.

"Yes?" he purred curiously. "Call you 'Hermione' when... ?" He tilted his head to the side, willing for her to finish her original thought.

Hermione flushed even deeper, nervously chewing at her top lip. "When we're... alone."

His lips twitched again, fighting against a smirk. He maintained eye contact with her, appearing to mull over the request.

"Very well," he said with a nod of his head, "Hermione." He turned back toward his potion.

Hermione grinned warmly, knowing full well what else he was agreeing to.

After a few more minutes of silent reading, Hermione extended her index finger against the ancient book, marking her place on the yellowed page.

"Did you ever return to Sirius the personal item that was taken from him?"

Snape's body quickly froze in response. Eyes narrowed, he finally turned toward Hermione.

"Yes," he hissed. "I happened upon Professor Black not long after I left you."

"What was stolen from him?"

Severus emotionlessly stared at her. "A pocket watch," he answered slowly.

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her short curls. "That's it?"

"Yes."

"It sounded much more important than that," she hummed in disbelief.

Snape turned back toward his potion and shook his head. "Most likely to Black, it is."

"Professor Black," she mocked.

He snorted in response.

Hermione watched Professor Snape as he added the remaining ingredients to the potion. A light blue mist slowly began to float out of the cauldron. Professor Snape raised his wand to the surface of the potion and bent over very close as if he were about to drink it. Holding her breath, Hermione could have sworn he was speaking an incantation. His voice was soft, almost a whispered caress, so his words were completely undistinguishable. Finally taking a few steps back, Professor Snape pointed his wand at the burner, lowering the heat to a steady simmer.

"How long?" Hermione asked, returning her eyes to the complicated text.

"About fifteen minutes," he answered mechanically.

Arms crossed, Snape turned away from his worktable, facing Hermione head on. She was so absorbed in the text she was reading, she took no notice of him standing there, studying her.

Eyes glued to the book, Hermione spoke the first thing that came to mind. "Professor, may I ask-- "

"Severus," he purred in interruption.

Hermione's head snapped up, startled at his sudden looming stance over the worktable she was sitting at. "Pardon?"

Pulling his coat tighter against himself, Professor Snape smoothly walked around the worktable, edging himself closer to her stool. Bending over slightly, his elegant hand grasped the rim of her seat, his wrist pressed against her thigh.

Hermione lowered her head, wanting to see what he was doing.

Snape languidly pulled her stool away from the work table, turning it so her knees pointed at him.

"It would seem logical, Hermione, for you to call me by my first name when we are..." his voice trailed off in a high note, expecting her to finish.

Raising her chin to look up at him, Hermione swallowed before answering. "Alone," she breathed.

"Exactly," Snape purred. Bracing his other hand on the table, he took a few more steps toward her until her knees brushed against his slim thighs.

"Thank you, by the way," Hermione said softly, continuing to gaze up at him.

"For?"

"Trying to protect me, in Hogsmeade," she said sincerely, glancing down shyly toward her lap. But the next moment, her head snapped back toward him, her eyebrows pinched in indignation. "Although, I would have listened to your request, so you didn't need to get so physical!"

Snape quickly leaned into her, turning his head toward her ear. "Be careful what you wish for," he whispered. He followed the tantalizing scent of her soft curly hair, nudging his nose against her neck. Enjoying the feel of her supple flesh, Snape leaned further against her, smiling to himself when her breathing hitched.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, extending more of the flesh of her neck. Without thinking, she raised her right hand, lightly placing it on the back of his thigh.

"You never really answered my question," she breathed.

Severus brushed his lips along her neck. "What question was that?"

"What is this?" she asked timidly.

An amused chuckle shook in his throat, vibrating against Hermione's sensitive skin.

"Have you mentioned our... interactions to any of your dunderheaded friends?" Snape asked seriously, leaning away to meet her eyes.

"Of course not," Hermione answered, sitting up straighter in an effort to close the gap between their faces.

The side of Snape's lip rose in a triumphant smirk. He leaned down toward her, but paused mere inches above her face. His eyes never strayed from hers.

"Do ensure that our continued liaisons remain private, Miss Granger," he said smoothly.

"Hermio--"

He silenced her by pressing his smooth lips against hers. Hermione's eyebrows rose in welcomed surprise, but she immediately closed her eyes at the long-awaited contact. A satisfied hum rose in her throat when Snape trailed his warm tongue against her bottom lip, deepening the kiss.

Snape lightly placed his palm under her chin as he slowly dragged his lips away from hers.

"You do realize that this is foolish of us?" he whispered harshly.

"Yes, but I don't care. I don't fully understand it, but I do know that I want you." Closing her eyes, Hermione pressed her face into the palm of his hand.

"Indeed."

*** *** ***

"Mind if I join you?"

Pulling his eyes away from the dark waters of the Hogwarts' lake, Harry looked up at Lavender standing not too far behind him. Her confident smile quickly disappeared at the sight of his impatient scowl.

"I don't care," he said emotionlessly.

Turning back towards the still waters, Harry closed his eyes as a chilly breeze ruffled through his messy black hair. He listened to the faint ruffle of fabric as Lavender adjusted herself on the crisp grass by his side.

"What's on your mind, Harry?" Lavender lightly asked.

"Everything."

"Is that all?" she laughed.

A frustrated growl rumbled in Harry's throat. Eyes blazing, he angrily turned toward her. "Why are you here?"

Lavender quickly looked down, nervously pulling at the yellowed blades of grass.

"Well... I... "

"What do you want from me?" Harry demanded, looking her up and down.

Lavender snapped her head away from him, pulling her knees against her chest. Tightening her robes around her legs, she swallowed a few times before deciding what to say.

"I just want... you."

"Why?" Harry snorted.

"I don't know, honestly." Raising her head, she turned toward Harry and attempted to flash him a warm smile. "But I do know that I would like to get to know you better."

"You've had six years to do that," Harry scoffed. "Why start now?"

"I know I haven't been very... nice, but-- "

"Nice?" Harry interrupted. "Honestly, Lavender, we've been in the same House, shared the same common room, and I can truthfully say that I know next to nothing about you. But I do know what I see. And so far, based on your actions, you are the leader amongst all of the mean, stuck up little shrews that walk around the school thinking they are too good for everyone. You laugh at any boy who likes you, unless he's on the Quidditch team, a prefect, or the Head Boy himself. I can't honestly say you have any real friends since most of the girls you hang out with are too afraid to tell you what they really think!"

Harry was angry and irritated at Dumbledore and what he had just read in the Daily Prophet, but he knew he was unjustly taking out that frustration on her. It felt good, and yet sickened him at the same time. "I don't know if you've heard, but I've dropped out of the Quidditch team this year. I hate to disappoint you, but your dreams of dating a Captain have flown out the window. So, if you want to be known as The-Slut-Who-Shagged-The-Boy-Who-Lived, then you're just wasting your time."

Harry turned toward her, disgust at the forefront of his mind. When Lavender raised her face to meet his eyes, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

She was crying.

Lavender opened her mouth, ready to reply, but no words seemed to escape her mouth. Placing her hands on either side of her, she pushed herself off the ground.

"Wait, Lavender..."

Lavender quickly turned away from him and ran up toward the castle.

"Fucking hell," Harry moaned.

Pushing himself off the cold ground, Harry headed toward the castle.

He felt guilty for being cruel, so his first instinct was to find Lavender. But that thought quickly left his mind when he remembered why he was so short with her to begin with.

He was going to talk to Professor Dumbledore instead.

*** *** ***

No more, Harry told himself as he raced up the spiral staircase. He'd been repeating that mantra to himself over and over since he fled the school grounds. No more lies. No more half-truths. No more feeling useless.

"YOU LIED TO ME," Harry barked as he stormed into the Headmaster's office without warning.

In a matter of seconds, all of his anger and fight left at the sight before him.

Professor Snape stood by the Headmaster, who was sitting in the chair behind his desk. The loose sleeve of the Headmaster's robe was completely rolled up onto his shoulder. Harry stood in place by the door, dumbfounded as he stared at the blackened and scaly flesh held carefully in Snape's experienced grasp.

"Potter," Snape sneered in greeting. At Harry's speechless stare, Snape quickly rolled down the Headmaster's sleeve so his damaged skin would no longer be on display.

"What's going on?" Harry finally demanded.

A scowl on his face, Snape reached for the large ceramic mug on the Headmaster's desk. The bubbling blue mist slowly trailed out of the mug and into the air as he carefully placed the mug in the Headmaster's waiting hand.

"What are you giving him?" Harry barked, demanding attention.

"As long as you continue to speak in such an abominably disrespectful tone, I can only presume that you are not addressing me."

Eyebrows furrowed, Harry sent Snape the deathliest glare imaginable, willing him to look up and see it. When his wish was finally met, his temper flared when the dark man merely smirked in satisfaction.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. I believe I have some matters to discuss with Harry."

"Yes, you do," Harry spoke in quiet anger.

Walking to the door, Snape scoffed in appalled annoyance at the manner in which Harry spoke to the Headmaster.

Harry couldn't have cared less.

As the door closed behind Professor Snape, Harry stormed across the office, standing in front of the large wooden desk. He tried to maintain his original indignant anger, but found it difficult as he watched Professor Dumbledore slowly raise the misty potion to his lips with an almost defeated expression upon his face.

Harry had the distinct impression that the older man was reluctant to drink it.

He forced himself to silently wait, in hesitant patience, while Professor Dumbledore gradually drank the mug's contents. Harry wanted him to completely finish it, and then focus his entire attention on himself.

Professor Dumbledore slowly placed the empty mug on the corner of his desk and apprehensively looked up toward Harry. He knew that there would be no easy way around this crucial conversation, but that wouldn't prevent him from trying to speak as calmly as possible.

"Harry, please listen to me."

Snarling, Harry raised his hand, finger pointing accusingly at the wise older man. "Do not speak unless you intend to tell me the truth! The whole truth! Why did you make me promise you that I wouldn't go looking for the Horcruxes alone? Why did you tell me that you were afraid that I would get harmed like you? I wouldn't, would I? I've already destroyed two of them on my own, unharmed. You didn't truly believe that I would be wounded, did you? DID YOU?"

"No," Dumbledore said quietly. "I knew that the protective curses would not harm you."

"So, you lied about how you sustained your injuries. What else have you been doing? Your arm did not look that bad last year!"

"No, no that I did not lie about. My hand was initially damaged the night I destroyed the Perverell Ring. And my entire arm was rendered useless that night in the cave."

"I don't understand," Harry said quietly, willing his anger to calm.

"You cannot be harmed destroying the Horcruxes. Only you, Harry."

Harry's chest heaved as his breathing quickened. He didn't know what to say, so he looked expectantly at the Headmaster, willing him to speak further.

"What do you know about Sirius' brother?" Dumbledore asked tiredly.

Harry sighed in exasperation. Where was he going? "He was a Death Eater. Sirius said he got in over his head and decided to abandon it. And, you told me he stole the locket in revenge against Voldemort."

"Do you know how he died, Harry?"

"Voldemort killed him because of his betrayal," Harry said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms.

"Yes... and... no. Regulus reached his demise because of Voldemort, but Voldemort did not kill him himself."

Harry's attention was piqued. "Then, who did?"

"Not who. The question is what."

His hands slamming down on the table, Harry willed himself not to scream in frustration. "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, would you cut that out! I'm sorry, Headmaster, but if you want to tell me something, say it. You're driving me insane."

"The locket killed Regulus," Dumbledore added quickly. Gone was the time he could reprimand Harry for his behavior, and they both knew it.

"When he destroyed it, he, in turn, was destroyed as well. A life was taken to create the Horcrux, Harry. So, under normal circumstances, a life must be given in order to destroy it. The protective curse killed him -- the same one that damaged my hand and spread up my arm."

This is so important, Harry's mind screamed. Instead of focusing on the indignant anger festering inside him at being ignorant of this information, Harry thought it better to feign calm. As long as the Headmaster continued talking, he would get as much informative knowledge out of him as he could. Sighing deeply, Harry finally sat at the empty seat across from Dumbledore.

"Why?" He knew the Headmaster was one of the greatest wizards to have lived in the last two centuries, but this was a little extreme.

"Because, I wasn't born to destroy them. You were, Harry."

"Yeah, the prophecy, 'neither can live while the other survives', I get all that."

"No, Harry, you don't. Only you have the power to destroy him. As with the Locket, if Regulus raised his wand to cast the Killing Curse on Voldemort, he would not only fail, but be destroyed in the process."

Harry slowly closed his eyes. "You're avoiding my question. Why did it merely injure you? Why weren't you killed like Regulus?"

Here it is, finally, Dumbledore thought. He raised his wrinkled, but only functional hand to his tired face and massaged his closed eyes.

"I am not as fragile as Regulus was -- or any wizard or witch for the matter. Voldemort may not be my opponent, but I came before you; therefore, I have some protection."

Harry quickly narrowed his eyes. "Before me?"

Dumbledore was silent. Chin in his hand, he stared, unblinking at one of the numerous twittering silver instruments on his desk. Harry would have interrupted his musing, but it looked like the Headmaster was choosing his words very wisely.

"How have you been sleeping?" the Headmaster asked quietly.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck and forearm raised in alarm. He looked at the Headmaster, wide eyed, shocked at the implication of that question.

"I was worried as much. The past always comes back to haunt you."

"Those dreams aren't my past," Harry said wearily.

Dumbledore sighed, leaning back into his chair. "No, they're mine. Surely you recognize the sadistic wizard in those dreams?"

"Grindelwald," Harry breathed. "What does that have do with this -- with me and Voldemort?"

"Almost nothing... and everything. He was my opposite, Harry. Just like Voldemort is yours."

Harry gazed back at the Headmaster, shaking his head in confusion and anger for being left in the dark. Albus leaned back in his seat and sighed deeply.

"In the early 1940s, I realized what was happening in Nazi occupied territory. There is a reason that the beginning of the war developed so smoothly and quickly in the Nazi's favor, and that reason was Grindelwald. He was... disgusting. He found favor in the genocidal actions of the Germans and sought to replicate similar mass killings among the Muggle-born community. From the beginning, there was a fire that festered within my very core, appalled at these beliefs and actions. It had to be stopped, no matter what the cost. I don't know how, really, but I knew I was the only one who could stop him, and Grindelwald knew I was the only thing in his way from his attempt to control the entire world."

Leaning forward in his seat, Harry narrowed his eyes at the Headmaster. "What does this have to do with Voldemort?"

"Everything. Listen carefully, Harry. Forgive my boastfulness, but Grindelwald and I were two of the strongest and most powerful wizards to have lived for the last eighty years... and I succeeded. I killed the Dark Lord of that time. I killed Grindelwald the same year Voldemort sat down for his NEWTs. Mere months after Grindelwald's ashes were spread unceremoniously into a fire pit, Tom had already accumulated a legion of hopeless followers who viewed him as their leader, as their Dark Lord, and everything fell exactly into place for him after that. Some thirty-five years later, just when he was reaching the peak of his power... when it seemed clear to everyone, including myself unfortunately, that there was absolutely no possible way to stop him, he attempted to kill you. And we know what happened after that."

"Now he's trying to reach his previous glory," Harry breathed. "That seems like an awful lot of coincidences."

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it? They aren't coincidences, Harry. It's a... balance."

"A balance between what?" Harry asked immediately.

"That, I'm not even sure of myself. But from the looks of it, from the examples given to us throughout history, it's a balance of good and evil. Light versus Dark. Morality set against evil. Even the most beloved, peaceful leaders throughout history were forced to fight battles against whomever opposed them. I did not want to become a part of the Second World War, but I couldn't watch the atrocities taking place and not do anything. I felt compelled, from the very recesses of my soul, to stop the evil that was Grindelwald, just like he felt, from the dark cavern within him, to abuse and destroy innocents for his own sick experimentation."

Harry stared, unblinking, at one of the moving objects on the Headmaster's desk. "Just like I would want to kill Voldemort -- even if I had never heard the Prophecy."

"Exactly! There are forces at work here, that drive us, live within us, but keep the rules out of our grasp. Only you can destroy the Horcrux completely unharmed. Only you can cast the final blow against Voldemort completely unharmed. Haven't you ever wondered why I've never just Apparated myself to Voldemort's hide-out and hexed him in his sleep? Haven't you ever wondered why he doesn't just storm in here, wand raised and kill me himself?"

"He's afraid of you."

"No, he's afraid of my death coming to soon, believe it or not. Didn't you wonder why he was so furious to discover Draco's failed attempts against my life?"

Harry impatiently massaged his tired face with his hands. "I assumed Voldemort did not want to share the glory of your death."

"No, not at all. As glorious as Draco thought it would be to have killed me for his master, Draco did not know that that was what the Dark Lord feared. He knows that in my death, you will reach your full potential as a wizard, and he hopes to destroy you before that time."

"What do you mean the full potential of my power? What the hell does that have to do with your death?"

"I'm not positive of the extent of Voldemort's knowledge, but he is at least aware of the close timing of his swift and steady rise to power mere months after the death of Grindelwald -- and his quick demise not long after you were born. He knows that the same swift amount of luck will happen to you once I am no longer part of this world." Pausing in contemplation, Dumbledore stretched his neck, sighing to himself in defeat. "I have so much to give you in my death."

"Don't say that," Harry glared up at the old man.

But Dumbledore wasn't looking at him. Eyes unblinking, the older man stared at a point beyond Harry, his wrinkled face lit with worry.

"One day when I was around the same age as you, Harry, I awoke from a fitful sleep with a completely new outlook on life. I could speak languages I had never studied. I could cast magic I had never practiced. I knew history I had never read. Yet, at the same time, it was as if I had always known it, like a closed door in the back of my mind just waiting to be opened. At the time I was completely clueless, but now I know that the One before me must have died that same night. The greatest gift I can give you... is my death."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Harry pushed himself out of his chair and turned away from the Headmaster. He knew something had been kept from him, but this was too much. Harry did not expect his war with Voldemort to have so much history behind it. In a sick way, it almost made his fight seem insignificant; just another war to put down in the history books with the names of those who die as endnotes. Nothing more.

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "There's another pattern here that you haven't noticed yet."

"What pattern?" Harry asked dejectedly.

"That this Balance never seems to end. Think, Harry! Mere months after I defeated Grindelwald, Voldemort began his steady rise to power. Mere months after you were born, a time of peace finally fell upon the wizarding world. I must admit, I am weary of the outcome of your own battle, Harry."

He's right, Harry's mind screamed. Is there never an end?

Harry turned towards the Headmaster, a determined fire etched on his young face. "After I kill Voldemort... and I will kill him, you're afraid that the next Dark Lord might rise?"

"Not might. The next Dark Lord will arise. When? I don't know...."

"Who is what I'm more interested in," Harry interrupted.

Dumbledore's head snapped up. He locked eyes with Harry and emotionlessly stared at the younger man in front of him.

"Yes. Who indeed?"

*** *** ***

The first whole month of classes had finally caught up with Sirius. He might have done very well in school when he himself attended Hogwarts, but taking tests and writing essays is a far cry from correcting them. He was forced to manage his time wisely if he wanted to get through seven years worth of lessons plans, and time management and organization were not in his vocabulary.

Sirius was falling asleep so quickly now. He was finding it harder and harder to force himself awake after only a few hours of rest. At least once a week, like clockwork, he would have one good night's worth of deep sleep. Where exactly his mind traveled away to during those nights, he could not say; just as he could not say what exactly lay behind the veil.

But it was always the same place. Clutching at his tangled sheets, Sirius' sleeping body thrashed against his bed.

A grave foreboding pressed down in the pit of Sirius' stomach when a strong, odd breeze upset his plaited hair. He didn't want to open his eyes. Looking at his surroundings would force him to fight the temptation to look down; to see where he was falling.

Regardless of his fears, Sirius slowly opened his right eye, followed by the left. The loud sound of rushing wind continued its steady beat against his ears as his body continued falling into the bottomless pit. All around him, almost in a perfect circle, the sharp peaks of molten rocks surrounded him. Finally looking down, he eyed the black nothingness that had no destination.

When Sirius first fell in here, back in The Department of Mysteries, he prayed for death. He fell for hours, days, without knowing where he was or how he had got here. Was he dead? He didn't know. But if he was, this couldn't be the outcome, could it? Was he going to keep falling for the rest of eternity, praying to reach the bottom so there would be an end to this misery?

"I don't deserve this," he screamed constantly the first few days. "So much time has been unjustly taken from me, this isn't fair!"

"Feeling sorry for yourself again, Sirius?" a deep female voice rasped.

Sirius jerked toward the familiar voice. She, he assumed it was a she, had been the first to contact him when he first fell in here. He almost wanted to call her a ghost, but he'd never seen a ghost like her. Her mist wasn't a pearly white, but a murky, putrid green. She had no definition of a body as she moved, but her face was strikingly beautiful. Sirius felt mesmerized every time he gazed at her for too long, all thought of waking up soon forgotten.

"What now?" Sirius finally asked.

The green mist with the beautiful face elegantly circled Sirius.

"You've done very well so far," she deeply cooed. "I did not expect you to last this long. Living like this must be so... tormenting."

"What the fuck do you think?" Sirius barked.

The ghostly woman floated toward Sirius, pausing mere inches from his robes.

"What? Wait... what are you doing!"

Heart racing, Sirius watched in alarm as putrid green mist enclosed him. The sensation of numerous tiny hands surrounded him, poking through his robes, searching his pockets. Reaching down, he tried to swat the woman away from him, but his hands could not touch, nor move the green mist. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he watched his pocket watch float out of his robes and out of his reach.

"Give that back!" he screeched.

"Why? Aren't you tired of carrying it? Aren't you tired of constantly winding it? Winding it to ensure your pitiful soul remains trapped inside."

Frustrated tears escaped from the edges of his eyes. "Tired? OF COURSE I'M FUCKING TIRED! Do you think I want to live like this?"

"Then get rid of it," her voice rasped.

Sirius watched in horror as the watch edged further away from the floating green mist. "NO! No, please, I need it," he moaned miserably. "I don't want to die."

"You could rid yourself of this burden. You know you can. Once simple act, and you would never have to worry about dying ever again."

Sirius vigorously shook his head, raising his hands to shield his eyes. "No, I could never do that."

"Why not! You deserve as much. Time has been unjustly snatched from you, Sirius Black! Twelve years serving a sentence for a crime you never committed, only to escape and be locked away again in hiding. You DESERVE to take time back."

"Stop it."

"You know what you must do to rid yourself of this burden forever."

"STOP IT!" Sirius lunged toward the green woman, barely grasping the watch's chain with his smallest finger, toppling over so he fell, face first, down the bottomless rock pit.

Gasping uncontrollably, Sirius rolled himself across the bed until he reached the edge. Flinging the heavy duvet off him, Sirius flew toward the bathroom, in need of cool water to splash against his sweat drenched face.

---

Author's Notes: Finally, some answers. Compare this Harry/Dumbledore scene with the prologue!

-My beta, melusin has spent a good amount of her available time going over my story with a fine tooth comb.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book ii. Line 894.

-Next up: Severus steals a very valuable item for the Dark Lord. Hermione attempts to put Sirius in his place... will she succeed? Severus POV and his second thoughts about his new relationship with Miss Granger. Harry attempts to set things right with Lavender, but gets more from her than he bargained for.

-This chapter is over 8,000 words long! I almost split it into two chapters, since I didn't want to get in the habit of them being this long. But, alas, Chapter 11 is over 10,000 words, so there you go!