Harry stood in the Owlery, looking out one of the openings that served as windows in the circular stone wall. Hedwig stood perched on his arm; she had showed up that morning as Harry sat alone in the Great Hall eating his breakfast. He had been surprised, pleased, and slightly ashamed—in the rush of everything that had happened, he had barely had time to wonder where Hedwig was and if she would be able to find him. She had been allowed to come and go as she pleased at Snape's house, often gone for days at a time, sometimes returning with a dead mouse clamped in her beak, ready for a nip of water and a nap.

But she had found him, as she had found him before, and he stroked her feathers now as the sky outside slowly darkened and melted into evening. It had been an odd day.

After breakfast, Harry had followed Hedwig up to the Owlery, where she promptly settled down for a nap. He had watched her for a few minutes, earning himself a few glares from some round, yellow eyes, before he left with no destination in mind.

He had been doing this a lot lately, wandering around the castle and the grounds in an attempt to blank his mind. Today didn't feel as bad, though. Harry wasn't sure why. Nothing had changed; his relationship with Dumbledore was still as tense and fractured as ever, and all the wounds that went along with it still stung and chafed; Snape was still Snape, no matter what thanks he gave to him; he still didn't understand why everything had happened the way it had, or where exactly he stood with Draco Malfoy—would things go back to normal now that they were no longer bonded by the confines of his small room on Privet Drive, by the fact that the chains of fear and flight no longer bound them tightly together?

And yet, despite all that, the panic and fear that had been clawing around inside him lately seemed to have stilled, at least for a little bit. It was a wonderful feeling, even if it didn't involve feeling much of anything.

Harry turned a corner, stopping abruptly. He had almost run into someone. It was Professor Lupin, who had just dropped the battered suitcase he had been holding in one hand.

"Sorry, Harry, almost ran into you," he said, stooping down to pick up his suitcase.

"I didn't know you were leaving already," Harry said, feeling guilt for the second time that day; he had forgotten that Professor Lupin was still in the Hospital Wing.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey just cleared me this morning," he said lightly.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back to see you—" Harry began, but Lupin waved a hand.

"That's quite alright, Harry. I'm sure you've had a lot on your mind."

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "A bit, yeah."

Professor Lupin looked at him for a few seconds, then said, "Well, my train's not for a few hours, if you still wanted to speak. Of course," he added, "you don't have to."

"You know, that would be great actually," Harry said.

Lupin smiled at him again. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to chat?"

000

They had ended up outside, stretched out beneath the familiar beech tree near the lake. Harry wasn't sure why he had done it, only knew that he had to: if he didn't tell someone about it, about everything that had happened, he wasn't sure that clawing panic would ever go away.

Professor Lupin had listened, calmly and patiently. He didn't interrupt, not even when Harry told him about the Dursleys and he clenched his hands so tightly in his lap that they turned white, not when Harry told him about his grief for Sirius or Snape's Occlumency lessons or running from the Death Eaters. The words tumbled out of him; he felt what he had once felt while telling Dumbledore and Sirius about what had happened in the graveyard, that feeling that he was extracting a poison from himself through the act of recollection and sharing.

And after it was all done, he felt that same calmness he had felt that morning return to him.

He sat with Lupin by the lake for a long time; he had asked Harry questions then, asked him to clarify certain things, offered his thoughts and apologies.

"I'm sorry I haven't written, Harry," he said, some time later, after they had exhausted themselves through conversation for the time being and were sitting in silence. "My work lately—with the werewolves—has made contact with others difficult."

"I understand," said Harry.

Lupin smiled sadly. "Sirius—I understand how you feel. He was my best friend," he said, very quietly. Harry nodded.

"You've been here a while," Harry said. "When's your train leaving?"

Lupin consulted his watch. "About an hour, I'm afraid."

They both stood then, silently walking back toward the path. When they reached it, Lupin turned toward Harry.

"I'll keep in touch," he said, bracing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry nodded, gave him a smile, and watched him go until he was out of sight.

000

Harry hadn't heard Hedwig's soft hoot, but he felt the gentle nip on his fingers and lifted her toward the window. She looked at him, then set off out the window. He watched her long white wings coasting toward the forest, watched until she was a white speck that vanished from view.

He wondered what would happen next.

For the first time all summer, the thought didn't worry him; it didn't carry the anger he had felt at Snape's, the fear he had felt in the forest, the sadness that had drained him while talking to Dumbledore. The thought was clear: where would he go from here?

Harry realized his birthday had passed without his noticing. Time this summer hadn't been measured in the ways it normally was, through hours and days; it had passed in the spaces between fights with his uncle, in the blurs between meals, in the shifting of the forest leaves.

He remember thinking on his thirteenth birthday that he was lucky to have made it that far; he thought it again now, as he watched the sun sink beneath the trees, the warm golden glow slowly fading away.

Yes, he was lucky to have made it this far. He didn't know what would come next.

For now, he would settle for the simple things: a hot meal, a warm bed, and the chance to see Ron and Hermione. As he turned away from the window and headed downstairs, he couldn't keep from grinning as Ron's freckled face swam to the surface of his mind, wearing the look of disgust and indignation Harry imagined would be there when he explained to him that he had spent the entire summer with Draco Malfoy.

A/N: As you've probably realized, I've reached the end of this story. I can't express my thanks enough to all of you how have read and commented on the story: you've been what's kept me writing this story, even when it seemed like stopping would be easier. So again, THANK YOU

I wasn't sure where I wanted to end this story, but once I started writing this chapter, these moments of Harry's contemplation and reflection just seemed right to me (he deserves it after all I've put him through).

On another note, I do think I'll be continuing on with a sequel. I have some pretty exciting ideas, so make sure you're following me so you'll get an email when that's posted!

Happy reading!