Meeting in the Attic

Disclaimer: JKR is the genius behind all the story background and characters you recognize; I only supplied the current story and the original character, Tanya.

The rating is for later chapters.

Chapter Three

Meeting in the Attic

"Come on, Harry," Ron was shaking him. "You've slept away the afternoon. Mum wants to know if you're still breathing."

"I'm up," he said, pushing Ron away. "Talk about a rude awakening. You've spoiled a perfectly good dream."

"Oh, yeah?" Ron asked, interested. "Judging by the smile on your face just now, can I guess who you were dreaming about?"

"Go ahead, give it a try."

"Tanya."

Harry felt his face redden. "Is it really that obvious?"

"It is to me. I saw you checking her out downstairs. Good taste."

"I'm sure Raphael would agree with you. Is there anything going on between those two, by the way?"

"Not that I can tell. Raphael isn't around that much. Are you going to chat her up?"

"I'll see her tonight, after everyone settles down for the night. She says she wants to tell me something I'm not supposed to know."

"Are they starting that again," Ron asked in exasperation. "You'd think by now they'd learned how dangerous their secrets can be for you. What do you think she means, though?"

"Well, we already know that Voldemort is back, so it can't be that. And stop flinching, Ron. It's only a name."

"Maybe she just wants to get you alone," Ron said, leering.

Harry decided it was time to change the subject. He didn't know how he felt about sharing such shaky emotions with anyone, even Ron. "What about you and Hermione?" he asked him.

"What do you mean?" Ron couldn't quite pull it off; his face was reddening, proving that he knew exactly what Harry was talking about.

"That was no ordinary hug she gave you when she got here this morning."

"She hugs everyone. That's no big deal."

"Yeah, there was something different about that one," Harry said insistently. "That was different than the hug she gave me and Ginny."

"Nothing will come of it," Ron said. "You know I drive her batty."

"That's probably why you drive her batty. You exasperate her more than anyone I know."

Ron looked closely at Harry. "Do you think?"

"Maybe. Maybe you can ask her."

"Are you daft? I'll come off looking like a complete fool if we're wrong!"

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "would she confide something like that to Ginny, do you think? Maybe you can dig out some gossip from her. All girls like playing matchmaker."

"Oh, sure," Ron said derisively. "And the both of them will have a good time laughing at poor, delusional me."

"Well, it was just a thought." Harry stretched and got up from his bed, moving toward the door. "What time is it, by the way?"

"Nearly dinnertime. Snape's been here all day, fretting about Tanya. She's not back yet. Any more time goes by without word from her, he's liable to go out searching himself. What's with them, anyway?"

"I think Snape's the one she was talking about having met in Ireland. The one who wouldn't like us to know how sick he'd been, and who helped get her into Hogwarts."

"No kidding? That makes sense, now you mention it. So that's why the two of them are such mates. Is that supposed to be a secret, you think?"

"Can you imagine Snape admitting to caring about someone? He wouldn't want to admit that he's human, you know."

"But he can't hide his worrying. Do you really think he'd ever go back to supporting You-Know . . . V-Voldemort?" Ron fought past the tremor in his voice upon speaking the name out loud.

"Why would he? Dumbledore seems so sure of him."

"But Dumbledore just about came right out and said he couldn't control Tanya. What if she did go over to the other side, like Mum said? The two of them could be planning something like that right now."

"Well, did you stop to think of what made Snape sick last year in the first place? Remember that he was doing something for the Order last year at the end of term? Maybe it backfired and he was attacked or something. Maybe that's why he was in Ireland in the first place."

"Wasn't Snape there, at Hogwarts at the end of term?"

"My memories of fourth year's end of term are hazy," Harry reminded Ron. "You're talking about after the Tri-Wizard contest aren't you? I was out of it for a while afterward." Memories of that terrible time came flooding back to him.

"He left shortly before the rest of us did. Order business."

"So, apparently, there are still secrets being kept from us about Order business."

"I think that goes without saying," Ron said. "But soon we'll all be sixteen, old enough to join up. Maybe then they'll stop treating us like we need cradles."

They headed down to the kitchen, where Hagrid was taking up quite a bit of room at the table, drinking butterbeer from what could have passed for a bucket.

"A'righ', Harry? Ron?" he asked jovially.

"Fine, Hagrid," Harry said. "Good to see you. I've got Buckbeak here for you. I'm glad he's going back to Hogwarts with you. He won't miss the attic, I'm sure. It's not fitting for any living thing to have to sleep there," he added, looking directly at Mrs. Weasley.

"Aye, he'll be glad to live free again." Hagrid wiped away what looked suspiciously like a tear forming at his eye.

Everyone started dishing out the food to their plates, and Harry looked around for Tanya. She wasn't there, and Snape was pacing. "Where's Tanya?" Harry asked.

"Not back yet," said Hermione. "Did Professor Dumbledore say when we should expect her?"

"No, not a word about it," snapped Snape.

Lupin shot him a sympathetic look. "Then we don't really know if it's time to worry, do we?" he asked.

Snape shot him a dirty look and sat down at the table, only to jump up again to pace once more.

The talk at the table moved to other things. The O.W.L.s examination results were due within the week. Hermione still hadn't decided what courses she wanted to pursue; Ron wondered if anyone ever got held back at Hogwarts to repeat fifth year for failing every O.W.L. exam. Harry picked at his food, wondering if he still wanted to be an Auror. Were his grades up to it? And could he change his mind, now that Professor McGonagall was so determined to see him through it? Of course, she might not be so determined about that now that Umbridge was out of the picture.

"What's Professor Umbridge doing nowadays?" he asked the table in general. "I haven't heard anything about her since she left Hogwarts, with Peeves chasing her."

"Oh, she's back at the Ministry, trying to keep a low profile," Lupin said. "No one wants to take her seriously, since her attempt to run Hogwarts. She's a lot quieter than she had been in the past, eating humble pie."

Harry felt a dim satisfaction at the news. If there had been anyone more hateful toward him than Snape, it had been Umbridge. His hand still showed a slight scarring due to his numerous detentions with her. As if he needed any more scars.

Snape had given up all pretense of eating and left the kitchen to do his pacing elsewhere. Lupin jumped up to follow him, and Harry began to feel the tension in the kitchen.

"What exactly is Tanya doing?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Now, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, "it's nothing for you to worry about. She can take care of herself. She's been doing it for years, now."

"Yes," Hermione cut in, "what's the story on Tanya? How is it that she's only fifteen years old and already on her own? Doesn't she have any family?"

"Well," Mrs. Weasley responded, "she's a bit secretive about all that. There was some sort of trouble there. I think she's been turned out. Those gypsies, they don't really raise their kids, do they? That's most likely why she's been running wild. No parental control."

"But how has she lived?" Hermione persisted. "Not many places would give work to a girl so young. What did she do for money?"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "Probably things better left unsaid in polite company."

"Mum, you're not being fair," Ron piped up. "Her grandfather left her quite a bit when he died. She's only been on her own for a couple of years now. She can't have gone through it all yet. Besides, she can find money any time she needs it, most likely. She's a whiz at picking pockets." He glanced at Harry. "She entertained us before you got here by picking everyone's pockets when they came in. For a short while, you'd have to check for your wallet before you left the room."

"That's what I mean about them gypsies," Mrs. Weasley said disapprovingly. "They have no sense of right or wrong."

"Oh, Mum," Ron said, rolling his eyes, "she always gave everything back. She's good at sleight of hand, too," he added for Harry's benefit. "She said she learned it at her grandfather's knee."

"Oh, sure," Mrs. Weasley persisted, "it's a way of life for them."

"Still, it would be a great way to pay the rent."

"Enough, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, sternly. "I'll not have you picking up bad habits from her. The twins are a bad enough influence over you."

"Still, sleight of hand would be useful skill to develop," said Hermione musingly. "I wonder if she'd teach me."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, giving up. She began to clear the dishes from the table, Ginny leaping up to help. "She already promised to read the tarot cards for me," she said. "And she said that my protective stone was turquoise. She said she had a necklace and earring set that she wanted me to have for warding off the evil eye."

"Codswallop!" cut in Mrs. Weasley, "Evil eye indeed! She'll have you taking risks you shouldn't take because you think you're protected!"

"Well," Ginny continued, "she probably won't have time to go back home to get the turquoise, seeing as how the Order never gives her any free time."

Hagrid agreed. "It's all a matter of priorities, you understan', but young people should ha' the time to enjoy their holidays, too."

Lupin had returned to the kitchen, catching Hagrid's words. "I wonder if she's had a holiday, ever. I don't think she was ever really given a chance to be a child."

Again, Harry wondered what her life had been like. He resented that most everyone else seemed to know Tanya so much better. How much better would he be permitted to get to know her?

After the dishes were done, Mrs. Weasley went to her room, muttering about some darning to be done, and Hagrid left for Hogwarts with the miniature Buckbeak. Lupin and Snape were heard arguing out in the back room off the kitchen, so Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry went into the den to play the video games Hermione had brought with her.

The time seemed to pass slowly, Harry constantly watching the clock and waiting for Tanya's return. Several times, Snape had come into the den, glanced around quickly, and left silently. Lupin had taken to his room.

It was 10:30 before they finally got tired of the games, and Harry stood up to get the kinks out of his back. At the sound of the front door closing, he headed for the hallway, almost being run over by Snape, who seemed to appear from nowhere. Tanya had returned.

She looked badly shaken up, her face white, her hands trembling. Snape put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down slightly to her eye level. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. She nodded, not speaking. Harry heard footsteps on the stairs and saw Lupin rushing down to meet them.

"Tanya! Where have you been? Did everything go all right?"

She turned to look up at him, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "Aye, as well as anyone can expect, I guess," she said. "It didn't come to much, I'm afraid. I'll have to try a couple more times before he'll mess up, though. He's afraid of his own shadow."

The effort of talking seemed to be too much for her. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she silently collapsed into Snape's arms. He picked her up and carried her into the den, lying her down on the lounge. As Snape tried to revive her, patting her hands, and her face, Lupin left the room. He returned momentarily with an amber colored liquid in a glass. He handed it to Tanya, who by then had roused herself sufficiently to sit up, pushing Snape away. She drank the stuff down, choking a little, but Harry was relieved to see some of the color come back into her face.

"Brandy!" she spat. "Are you trying to kill me, then? You don't just give someone brandy when they think it's water they're drinking!"

Snape looked relieved, and Lupin smiled broadly. "It's the Muggle cure-all, didn't you know that?"

"They must have to acquire a taste for it," she said. "It's awful!"

Snape had resumed his pacing. "You can't go back," he said. "Not for a while, at least. What you need now is plenty of rest. Everything else will have to wait."

"I agree," Tanya said. "It's no good showing up every night when I've never been there before. It will only make him more suspicious."

"Who's suspicious?" Harry demanded. "Who are you meeting?"

Tanya looked at him, then at Snape and Lupin. Then she defiantly turned to Harry and said, "Peter Pettigrew. I've made contact with him and I'm trying to get into his confidence. We're hoping he lets something slip and we can figure out where he's staying, at least. He's very good at making sure he's not being followed, so we had to try a different tactic. He won't be far from Voldemort at any rate."

"You mean he's not passing himself off as a rat anymore?" said Ron bitterly. "He played me for a fool for years."

"Aye, some people are rats even when they're people," she said darkly. "But I don't know how I'd get away with following a rat about. He'd know that we know. Right now he has no idea that I have anything to do with your world. He knows I'm a gypsy, and that's the only reason he even gave me the time of day tonight. He thinks we're kindred spirits, both outcasts from the world." She still seemed kind of shaky, and confirmed this by pleading fatigue and heading up to the attic.

That seemed to bring Mrs. Weasley around to her senses. "All right, you lot, there's no point losing sleep now. Up to bed, all of you." No one argued, as the only reason they were still hanging about downstairs was to wait for Tanya.

Harry was thoughtful as he followed Ron into their room. Did he dare to go up to the attic tonight? Tanya might be too tired to talk to him. Did she even remember asking him to stop by later?

He pulled on his pajamas and gave Ron a grunt now and then as he pretended to listen to his chatter. He waited until Ron's words became farther and farther apart, until finally, they stopped. Harry listened to his even breathing and wondered if Tanya was sleeping yet. And what about the others? Would they hear the stairs creak and come out of their rooms? Lupin's room was on the first floor; he'd probably not be alerted to Harry's moving about. But Mrs. Weasley was also on the second floor, and for all Harry knew, she'd sleep with one ear tuned to the hallway.

He gave it another hour by Ron's bedside clock, then he couldn't stand it anymore. He could at least see if Tanya was awake. If she were sleeping, he could just as easily retrace his steps and try to talk to her tomorrow. And if she were awake, wouldn't she be miffed if he didn't show up at all?

He pulled on his robe and slippers, trying not to make a sound as he moved toward the door. Trying to remember whether or not it would squeak, he slowly opened the door and closed it behind him. Not a sound in the hallway; even the portraits lining the walls were asleep. He slowly moved up the stairs and pushed open the attic door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a light coming into the sole window. It allowed him to see into the corner, where he could just about make out Tanya lying there, still. He decided he'd have to move closer, just to make sure she was asleep.

She seemed to be, the blanket half on and half off of her. He allowed his eyes to roam over her leg, which was partially exposed and not at all bad to look at. He could make out part of her white panties, where her nightshirt had ridden up. He realized that he was taking unfair liberties, and he felt slightly ashamed of himself, so he moved closer to adjust her blanket to cover her legs completely, thereby removing temptation from his wandering eyes. But the blanket was caught between her knees, and in moving it out, she moaned in her sleep, rolling over. But now the blanket was free, and he moved to cover her with it.

He decided it wouldn't hurt to kill a little bit of time, just sitting here quietly. She might wake up. And it would also give the others in the house more time to fall more deeply asleep. He leaned his back against the wall at her feet, watching the rise and fall of the blanket that covered her chest.

She was murmuring now, still sleeping, but Harry couldn't follow the words. She was speaking a language he'd never heard before; perhaps it was the gypsy language she'd grown up with. She was rolling over again; it must be quite a dream. Harry was again feeling like a voyeur, and thought maybe he should just leave. It would probably be quite a shock if she were to wake up and find him sitting here.

Just then, Tanya sat up with a yell, staring at something that wasn't there. She obviously wasn't awake yet, or at least not aware, and Harry instinctively pulled her into his arms, holding her close, soothing her. "It's just a dream," he said to her softly, "only a dream." There was something emanating from her, something that felt almost electrical, and Harry began rubbing her back, smoothing down her hair, rocking back and forth with her. Nightmares he could relate to, and he wished he could take this one away from her. She was gasping as if she couldn't catch her breath, and Harry kept up his senseless crooning, trying to make her aware of reality by his physical contact. Little by little, she got her breath back, and buried her face in his neck. He could feel her breath on his neck, and he began to be aware of her heat beneath the nightshirt, of the soft hair through his fingers. She was almost sitting in his lap, and he'd never been more aware of the differences between the sexes. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but he dared not move until he was sure she was awake and alert. He was holding her close enough to feel her heartbeat against his chest, and when it slowed down, he tried again to talk to her.

"Are you awake, now?" he asked.

"Aye, I'm all right. I'm sorry," she added, trying to move away.

He held her tighter, not sure himself why. "What were you dreaming about?" He thought if she talked about it, it wouldn't have such an impact on her.

"Old memories, the ones that never fade," she answered. "It's been a while since I've had this one, though. It always feels like so much more than a dream; it feels like I relive it every time."

"How often do you have this dream?" he asked. Were they anything like the dreams he used to have of the Chamber of Mysteries? The dreams that weren't really dreams?

"Oh, just now and again," she replied evasively. "Just often enough so I don't forget, I guess."

He was still holding her closely, and as he leaned back against the wall, he drew her with him. She came willingly, and lifted her face to his. He could see her dark eyes searching his, and saw them go to his mouth. She seemed to be drawing nearer, and his eyelids got heavy as her lips came closer and closer to his. The touch of her lips on his was so soft he almost wondered if he was imagining it. Then she moved her lips across his and he felt his entire body growing warmer, the tension going through his body; he could feel every place on him that was in contact with her. He allowed his hands to run through her hair, and he could feel her backbone through her nightshirt. His right hand moved to her left leg, running up the smooth length of it to her panties; his left hand moved to the back of her head to pull her even closer into the kiss. She sighed softly, and moved her hands to his face, to his hair, running her fingers through it. She lifted his glasses off his face and put them somewhere nearby. Her lips left his to kiss his neck; Harry felt shivers running through him, could feel his muscles tightening all over. He could feel something else tightening too. It brought him to his senses.

He held her arms and moved so they were both sitting up straighter. Tanya looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. He painfully cleared his throat. His voice came out hoarsely, as he tried to explain what he was even doing here.

"I thought, if you were awake, we could talk," he tried, lamely. "I wasn't sure you remembered we were supposed to meet here, or if you weren't too tired."

"I remember," she said. She shifted so that she was sitting back against the wall next to him. She covered herself with the blanket, and looked at him. "You need to know something that I'm not even sure the Order knows yet."

"What?" He forced his mind to pay attention to her words.

"You put Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. It won't be coming as any surprise to you that he'll be wanting his revenge on you. The Ministry is now aware he's still in Voldemort's service. You've destroyed his life as he's lived it."

"It was the least I could do," Harry put in.

"Well, what you need to know is that he's no longer in Azkaban."

"He's out?" Harry was nonplussed. "How is it the Order doesn't yet know about it?"

"I'm not sure if they do or not," she said. "They haven't mentioned it to me. But, they might not, anyway."

"Why wouldn't they?"

She didn't answer that. "Do you think they'd tell you if he were?" she countered.

"I'd like to think Dumbledore would. He's more or less promised to stop trying to protect me as if I couldn't handle the news." He thought back to Dumbledore's words cutting off Snape's question about what Tanya knew. He replayed it for Tanya's benefit.

"So, maybe they don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I have to assume he'll come looking for you. And he was trusted somewhat until you exposed him, so he might know about the Order; he might know this was Sirius Black's house."

"No, they kept it from him," Harry said, confidently. "I don't think Dumbledore's ever trusted him."

"Well, that's all right, then," she said. "As long as you know to watch yourself."

"How did he get out?" Harry asked. "How was he able to get past the Dementors?" Sirius Black did it by becoming a dog. The Dementors didn't seem to sense animals. Was Mr. Malfoy also an Animagus?

"There are no more Dementors at Azkaban," she told him. "It's being guarded by goblins, at least for the time being."

"So, I guess the Dementors went over to Voldemort, after all. That's what everyone in the Order was dreading. But goblins? Mr. Malfoy must be pretty powerful to get past them," Harry marveled. "Goblins are not a race to mess with."

"It was an inside job," she said. "The goblins hired a bunch of Aurors-in-training to help guard the prison. Malfoy managed to bribe a few of them; those that really weren't destined to complete their training. They'll end up on the Dark side, mark my words."

"They know who let him go, then?"

"Not yet, but some clues are left for them to find."

"How do you know all this?"

"It's not just Pettigrew I was busy with today. I keep my eye on other things as well. And if I could figure out what happened because of the evidence left behind, the goblins should be able to. If they can't, then I'm going to have to change my mind about what I've heard about their intelligence."

"Why didn't you tell the others? They'll need to know."

"If they don't already know, they'll find out soon, I'm sure. If not, I guess I'll have to tell them. It's just that. . ."

"Just what?"

"Severus tends to get uptight about this sort of thing. I wasn't supposed to be doing anything but watching Pettigrew today."

Severus. Not Snape, or even Professor. Severus. Harry was reminded of all the questions he had wanted to ask her.

"How is it you're on a first name basis with Snape?" he asked.

"Oh, we go way back," she said, looking away.

"He's the wizard you helped out last year, isn't he?"

She looked at him, clearly not sure if she should answer. But then, "Aye, he is. He wouldn't want you to know that, though, I'm sure. You could do me a great service if you wouldn't let it slip that you know about it."

"Why does it bother him so much?" Harry wondered if Snape was purposely perpetuating the idea that he hated any and all others.

"I think it's in his nature not to let anyone know anything, and I mean anything, about him. He's not used to having friends."

"I don't wonder. He has a lousy personality. He's positively hateful toward me."

"He mentioned you to me a few times," she admitted.

"What did he say?"

"Well, he told me all about your history. About your parents and Voldemort, your survival, your scar, and how you were brought up not knowing anything about wizarding until you came to Hogwarts."

"Snape hates my scar, hates my fame. He always thinks I enjoy being the center of attention. Truth is, I'd give almost anything to be rid of this stupid scar, and all the notoriety that goes with it."

Tanya contemplated that information, clearly about to say something. But then, Harry was sure, she abruptly decided to say something different.

"Then he told me about your father. They were at Hogwarts together; I don't know if you're knowing that or not."

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Those were terrible times for him. He'll never forgive you for being James Potter's son."

"Sure, this supposedly intelligent wizard is going to hold my parentage against me. It's not my fault he was bullied by my father and his friends."

"He still feels strongly about it. He just never got over it. It's affected him ever since."

"I know," Harry was still bothered by unanswered questions. "Did Snape ever tell you how it all ended?"

"All he said was that it was the way he was treated at school that had sent him to support Voldemort way back then. He felt accepted for the first time in his life. But then, he sort of came to his senses and realized that Voldemort was a fake, using simple psychology and fear to win people over to his side. It was then that Severus came back, coming clean and vowing to do everything he can to stop Voldemort. And apparently, he really did take a lot of risks to help."

"That's why Dumbledore trusts him, when no one else would, I guess."

"Dumbledore's a very wise wizard, isn't he?" she asked.

"Probably the wisest wizard I've ever met," agreed Harry.

"So now maybe you understand why Severus treats you the way he does," she said.

"Not really. He's supposed to be smart enough to realize that I'm not my father, yet he treats me like I killed his parents."

"Aye, but he's not perfect. His problems didn't begin with school; he only thinks they did. His problems began before he was born. He had an awful childhood. He blocked a lot of it out, but some of it he remembers. He's never gotten over it. I think a lot of the time, he's in denial."

"Bully for him," Harry said snidely. "I hope you're not trying to recruit friends for him."

"I wouldn't presume any such thing. People have to choose their own friends. I try not to interfere with anyone's destiny."

"Is everything a matter of destiny with gypsies, then?" Harry asked, remembering some dim rumor he'd heard of gypsies and their beliefs.

"No, I don't think so. But some things seem to be."

"And what about you?" he asked, while she was still willing to talk. "What kind of life did you have? The others have said it was a hard life, and that you had some bad feelings in your family that caused you to leave them."

"Well, there are some things it would be hard for the gaje to imagine. You'd have to understand about Rom traditions, what's merime, what's acceptable, and things like that. I don't believe a simple answer will satisfy you. You'd end up with more questions than answers."

"Try me," he insisted.

"When we have more time," she said, conclusively. "If you don't sneak back to your room, I'm going to fall asleep on you, and I don't want to be rude."

Harry remembered her exhaustion, and was surprised she'd been able to stay awake as long as she had. "One last question for tonight, and then I promise I'll go quietly," he coaxed. "What is it you were doing that made you so tired you passed out?"

"To find Pettigrew, I had to use . . . a . . . a method that not many wizards, or even Muggles for that matter, understand. It takes a lot of mental energy. I must burn up quite a few calories doing it, because I notice that I tend to lose weight when I do it too often without resting up. I'm usually so exhausted afterward that I sleep like a rock for hours. And, in addition to looking for Pettigrew, I was also keeping an eye on Malfoy. The combination is exhausting."

"So that's what Snape and Lupin were worried about last night," he mused. "When you snapped at them to leave you alone and that you weren't a baby to be molly-coddled."

She grinned. "I was throwing Severus' words back at him from the time I had to get him back on his feet. Those were almost exactly the words he said to me. That's how I knew he was on the mend. Some people just don't like being fussed over."

Her eyes were drooping. Harry decided to take pity on her and he moved to stand up. He adjusted his robe to a semblance of order and turned to say good night to her, just to find her eyeing him up. He felt his face grow hot and forced himself to leave while leaving was still on his mind. At the door, he turned back to her, and she waved silently. He crept back down to his room undisturbed, and settled in his bed, hoping his dreams would take him right back to the attic.