Chapter Twenty-Four: Distance and Time

Lily found Harry outside, walking a path on the back lawn that resembled an eight.

Or, an infinity sign, if one was being finicky.

He looked morose, solemn in a way she'd never seen before and it was heartbreaking to see.

"Sweetheart?" she attempted, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage in this unpredictable situation.

Harry looked up at her, but his movement didn't stop. "Mum," he said calmly, a slight warning in his tone.

"What are you doing?" she asked, which was probably a mistake because he clearly didn't look like he wanted to talk.

"Walking."

She blinked. "Harry?"

He stopped walking. "What?" he bit out. "What do you want now?"

She stepped back, surprised by his outburst. "Harry," she said in surprise. "Where's Hermione?" she asked, which she realised was yet another mistake when his eyes snapped towards her.

"Where do you think she is?" he asked, a certain harshness in his tone. "She's gone."

She frowned. "Gone where?"

"Does it matter?" he asked sarcastically. "Away from here. Away from me."

She blinked. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

"Don't," he said tiredly, holding up a hand to stop whatever she planned to say. "Please, just, don't."

And Lily didn't.

What could she say anyway?

She lied to her son for years, and she could only imagine what was going on in his head in this moment. It must be a lot, because Harry was never so rude or dismissive towards her.

"I mean," he started, his pacing resuming. "How can I even blame her, you know? I'm this - this thing, and I'll just put her in danger if we are together. She's better off without me. I mean, she doesn't even know what I am, but her self-preservation senses are already kicking in. Can you imagine that? Without even knowing, she already knows I'm bad for her. I'm bad for everyone."

"Don't say that," Lily said, risking speaking. This person wasn't her son. He never would have held a pity-party for himself.

Harry merely shook his head, before he started back towards the house. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, which was why he retreated to his bedroom, closed and locked the door and desperately tried to shut out the rest of the world.

Hermione was gone.

He had to convince himself not to go after her.

Harry moved towards his chest of drawers and slid open the top drawer to reveal his socks and underwear. He cleared some space in the back before he reached into the pocket of his trousers. To the naked eye, it seemed there was nothing in it, but his hand still closed around the cold, spherical object. He pulled the item out and stared at the wisps and gentle light of the Prophecy Record that was supposedly destroyed.

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D
Dark Lord
and (?) Harry Potter

Hmm.

Harry shook his head quickly, shoving the sphere into the deepest part of the drawer.

They wanted proof, huh?

Well, there it was.

And, if Harry had his way, nobody would ever lay eyes on it but him.

"Harry," Sirius said, knocking on the open door. "Got a minute?"

Harry just tossed a t-shirt into his trunk. "Is something wrong?" he asked, allowing Sirius to enter his bedroom without giving express permission.

Well, there were a lot of things wrong, but Sirius didn't say anything about that. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with his godson about things that were now out of his control. As much as he didn't want to be having this conversation, it was unfortunately necessary. They needed to talk, especially now that The Daily Prophet just confirmed the return of Voldemort.

Things were about to get... even more hairy than they already were.

"Look," Sirius started, cautiously stepping into the room. "I know you're angry right now."

Almost automatically, Harry's eyes narrowed.

'Angry' was definitely one way to put it.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something for some time now," Sirius continued, seemingly undeterred. "I just - I never quite found the right time, but it's something we have to talk about before you leave."

"Why?" Harry quipped. "Are you worried Voldemort will kill me before we see each other again?"

Sirius pressed his lips together, but he wisely didn't respond the way he initially wanted to. Harry was baiting him, and he was determined to be the adult here. "No," he said calmly. "You know more than anyone that the War has officially arrived, and I think I've waited long enough."

Harry frowned. What was Sirius talking about?

"Harry," Sirius said, sounding more serious than Harry ever heard him. "I would like to ask Lily to marry me."

Despite his residual anger, Harry's mouth dropped in surprise, before it spread into a wide smile. "Really?"

Sirius nodded. "Really."

"Are you asking for my permission?"

"More like your blessing," Sirius said. "I'm going to marry her whether you like it or not."

"She has to say yes first, Sirius," Harry said flatly, but there was a hint of amusement in his emerald eyes.

Sirius tried not to roll his own eyes, failing dismally. "What do you say?" he asked.

"I think you should definitely ask her," he said. "I don't know why it took you all Break to ask a question you already know the answer to."

Sirius shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, looking uncomfortable. "Well, there's actually more to it," he said nervously. "I have spoken to your mother about this and I suspect she'll probably also talk to you about it after."

"After what?"

"After you start talking to her again."

Harry said nothing.

Sirius sighed. "Well, look, you don't have to decide now. There's time."

"Time for what?"

"Time for you to think about it."

"Think about what?"

Sirius waited a beat, searching for the words. "I want to ask Lily to marry me, Harry, but I also want to ask you if - " he hesitated; " - if you'd like to be my son."

Harry frowned. What?

"I'd very much like to adopt you, Harry. I want you to be my official heir - not just because of some Will - and I want us all to be a family," he said. "A real family."

For the longest moment, Harry just stared blankly at his godfather, unable to process what he was being told. "Wait," he said; "you want to adopt me?"

"Only if you want that," Sirius quickly said, unsure if he would be able to handle the rejection. "I mean, I know you're almost seventeen and it's all moot anyway, but I would really like to be able to call you my son in the truest way possible." When Harry just continued to stare at him, Sirius decided the poor boy had to be overwhelmed, which was why he offered him the out he suspected he needed. "Look, Harry, you don't have to make any decisions now," he said, smiling in sympathy. "I know it's a lot to take in, and the last thing I want is for you to make a hasty decision that you may end up regretting, okay?"

Harry blinked once, twice, and then nodded. "Okay."

"Are you almost done packing?" Sirius asked, clearing his throat and moving them along. He suspected they both needed a change in topic.

"I just have a few more things," he said quietly, his mind elsewhere.

Sirius stepped towards the edge of the bed, his eyes lingering on the picture of Hermione sitting on Harry's bedside table. He understood the young witch was a sore subject for Harry at the moment, but there were still a few things he needed to say to the teenager.

Some very important things.

"Harry," Sirius started seriously. "Nobody can know."

Harry said nothing.

"It's important the truth of who you are, and who Jack is, remains secret to everyone," he continued. "Do we understand each other?"

Harry audibly swallowed, nodding once. "We do."

Sirius sighed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry, Harry. We both are."

"I know," Harry said.

"We never meant to hurt you."

Harry frowned. "Is that what you think I am? Hurt?"

Sirius turned to look at him. "Isn't that what you are?"

"Partly," he confessed. "But it's more than that." He dropped his gaze. "It's - " he stopped, suddenly unsure if he would even be able to explain himself. "My entire life, I've known these... facts about myself. These truths, almost, and they've helped me come to terms with the - the box I've been put in. One is that my father never wanted me. Another is that my brother is the Boy-Who-Lived. The third is that my mother would never lie to me, and the fourth is that the only thing I'm good for is making sure Jack Potter doesn't get killed, so he can finally defeat Voldemort." He paused. "Everything I thought I knew has been decimated."

Sirius let out a long sigh. "So, you are hurt?" he asked. "Just, on a deeper level than Lily and I understand."

"I don't know who I am anymore," he admitted, the movement of his hands growing still. "I thought - I thought I had a choice, but I don't, do I?"

"We always have a choice, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

Sirius shrugged. "I'm an optimist, or whatever."

"You're such an idiot," Harry said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Fine, fine," Sirius relented, relieved to get a smile out of his godson, even if it was a tiny one. For a while, it looked as if the teenager was never going to smile. "I'll give you this much, then. We cannot choose our fate, but we can choose it for others," Sirius said. "It's a wildly unfair concept because I know you never would have asked for this."

Harry shook his head. "No, Sirius," he said. "I would rather it be me than anybody else. If I'm the one who has to - " his voice caught, unable to finish his sentence. "Just, I'd rather it be me."

"I wouldn't."

"Well, I don't really care what you want," Harry said, the words harsh but his tone slightly amused.

Sirius smiled sadly. At this point, it didn't even matter what he wanted. If he had it his way, he would take Harry and Lily and escape Britain all together. They would go somewhere far, far away and just live, but even he knew they would never be happy wherever they ended up. Just the thought of people dying when they could be helping, somehow, would plague them for the rest of their lives, and he didn't want that for Harry, Lily or himself.

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm going back to school, Sirius," he said. "Apparently, I have people to protect, but so do you. Nothing can happen to my mother. I don't care what you have to do, or how you have to do it. You keep her safe. Nothing happens to her."

Sirius met his emerald gaze, noting the severity and intensity in his eyes. "I would much rather die than let anything happen to Lily," he declared seriously. "I know you know that."

Harry's stance faltered slightly. "Don't do that either," he warned. "She won't survive losing you."

"And you won't survive losing her," Sirius immediately countered.

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Will anything ever be easy?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Probably not," Sirius replied, truthfully and sombrely. "But, tell me this, would you want an easy life if it meant..." he trailed off, suddenly unsure what he wanted to say. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of a life without Lily or Harry or the prospect of the family they had the potential to build.

"No," Harry answered anyway, sensing the content of the unasked question. "I don't suppose I would."

Sirius stepped towards him. "I realise this is all especially difficult for you, but you're made of strong stuff. You have to be to get through all you already have. I know it'll take a while for you to trust us again, but just know that, as off base as you imagine we were, all we've ever done is for your protection. Maybe you can't understand it now, but I hope you will, one day."

"Are you about to tell me I have to have children of my own first?"

Sirius chuckled. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But, you know, hold off on that for a few years," he said; "I'm far too young to be a grandfather."

Harry's lips thinned into a line. "I can't imagine myself starting a family with anyone other than Granger," he confessed quietly, his brow furrowing. "What if - what if I don't get her back, Sirius? What if it's all too much, and she decides she really doesn't want me? What do I do then?"

Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know I talk a good game about me and the ladies, but it kind of took Hermione kicking me into gear to get things sorted out with Lily," he said, sighing. "My best advice, right now, is to talk to Hermione. Everyone's emotions were running high that day, and she panicked and ran. She might be seeing things differently now that a few days have passed."

Harry didn't get his hopes up for that happening. He doubted she wanted him to talk to her at this point. If he knew her at all - and he liked to think he did - then the more time he gave her to work through things without him; the better.

Hermione was a stubborn witch.

A little selfish too, a tiny voice muttered at the back of his mind, but he studiously ignored it. He was well-practiced in compartmentalisation these days, and he was able to file things away to be analysed at a later time. His brain was overwhelmed enough.

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'm ready?" he asked. "If Voldemort ever truly came for me; do you think I would be able to take him?"

Sirius swallowed, considering the question seriously. "I think you could hold your own," he finally said. "The problem with going up against someone like Voldemort is that he very rarely fights... fair. And, if he can help it, he wouldn't fight himself, at all."

"It's why he's been growing his... army?"

Sirius nodded. "I don't want you to worry about all of this now," he said. "You're safe at Hogwarts." He laughed at the incredulous look Harry sent him. "Well, you're relatively safe," he clarified; "from Death Eaters, at least."

Harry rolled his eyes, unable to mask his amusement.

"I think it remains without saying that you should keep up with your training," Sirius said. "Keep up with the fitness and with your spells, okay? Stay alert, but do try to enjoy the rest of your sixth year, okay? You get only one of them."

"We hope," Harry joked, and Sirius was immensely pleased that the teenager didn't seem to be so angry anymore. He knew it was probably a brief respite, but he would take what he could get.

"It's going to be okay, you know," Sirius found himself saying, his mouth moving before his brain could fully compute the words he was saying.

Harry's good humour instantly vanished. "You can't know that," he said, his voice hard.

"Maybe not," Sirius allowed; "but I'm bloody well going to try to make sure of it."

"No Hermione, huh?"

Harry glanced at Luna from his seat on the Express, wondering why she asked the question even though she clearly already knew the answer. Either way, Harry swallowed painfully and nodded. "I think she's at the Prefects' meeting," he answered, frowning slightly. "Or, she could be back at Hogwarts already, for all I know."

He didn't even know where she was.

How was he supposed to protect her when he didn't even know her location?

Luna moved to sit beside him, absently leaning against him as they waited for the train to fill up with students returning from the Break that seemed to last way too long and fly past all at the same time. "Do you know what I think?" she asked after a long silence.

"What?"

"I think the things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect," Luna said.

Harry sighed. "That doesn't really make me feel better."

"It's not meant to."

"Then, why did you say it?"

"Because, one day, maybe it will."

Hermione lasted exactly fourteen minutes of Jack sneaking looks at her before she set her fork down and levelled him with a glare heated enough to make him flinch. "Can I help you with something?" she asked pointedly, trying and failing to keep her irritation at bay. She didn't understand why everyone was making it such a big deal that she was sitting at the Gryffindor table while Harry was at the Hufflepuff one.

They didn't always have to sit together.

Jack cleared his throat. "Are you... okay?"

For the most part, Hermione probably wasn't okay, and it threw her slightly to have him ask the question so frankly. "Of course," she lied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jack sighed, internally giving himself the pep talk to get through this conversation, when it was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to do. It was times like these that he really wondered about his own motivations. If anything, he should be ecstatic that Harry and Hermione seemed to be... having trouble. But, for all his desires, Jack just couldn't bring himself to feel that. Something like that just... wouldn't settle within him.

It didn't feel right, and he was trying not to be too much like his father.

So, sighing heavily, he asked the question.

"Are you and Harry okay?" he prodded carefully, keeping his face as blank as possible. He was trying to be better, and he had to reason that helping his former best friend and his half-brother sort out their relationship woes would have to count for something, right? Maybe, then, Hermione wouldn't look at him as if she no longer recognised him. That was the part that hurt the most, and he was determined to fix it.

Hermione moved to dismiss his concern - was it concern? - even opening her mouth to put an end to the line of questioning, but her voice faltered. She was just so... confused.

And heartsore.

And so many other things she didn't really understand.

Harry would. He understood more about her than she ever would, and she knew that was why he still hadn't tried to talk to her.

He knew she wasn't ready, and yet here was Jack who was planning on... pushing her.

It had to come from Jack, Hermione reasoned. It had to come from someone who wasn't Harry, or a Mosstrooper, but someone who could still understand her. Because, maybe their relationship had changed drastically since the start of their fifth year, but she and Jack were friends once. Best friends, in fact. All of that didn't just disappear because everything else changed, did it?

"Honestly," she breathed; "no, we're not."

Jack blinked, a bit surprised that she would even confess that much. "Did - did something happen?"

Hermione's stare intensified. "I don't know, Jack," she mused; "did something happen?"

Jack took a moment, but it clicked eventually. "Oh, this is about... that thing?" he asked, referring to the exciting events of the Break.

Hermione couldn't categorically say if it was or wasn't about that thing. If anything, she thought she just used the entire Department of Mysteries debacle as an excuse to pull away from Harry because... well, because she was emotionally stunted and a coward beyond help. She spent the last days of their Break mulling over it between awkward and stilted conversations with her parents and reading up on their upcoming schoolwork.

She thought she would be relieved to be back at school, if only to get away from her parents and their attempts to patch up wounds with tape, when they actually required surgery, but the relief didn't hit. Hogwarts used to be her safe haven, her comfort zone, and now she felt out-of-sorts and severely off-kilter. If anything, Hermione still felt raw and vulnerable after spending time with her parents, and all she wanted was to be cocooned in the safety and warmth of Harry's strong arms.

"Are you angry?" Jack asked cautiously, sensing the storm behind her dark eyes.

Hermione remained silent.

"Because, I mean, it isn't even his fault," Jack continued. "It's mainly mine." And, the fact that he was even admitting that had to mean something. It definitely piqued Hermione's interest, and she kept her focus on him. "I never should have believed that my dad was in danger, and we definitely shouldn't have taken off by ourselves." He looked a little sheepish. "Do you know what Harry told me when he showed up at the Ministry and I told him what happened?"

"That you're an idiot?"

He actually grinned. "Well, after that."

Hermione found it in herself to return his smile with a dimmer one of her own. "What did he say?"

"That we definitely wouldn't have ended up in that mess if you were around." The sentence started off light, but he finished it with a certain heaviness to his tone that gave them both pause.

If she were around.

So many things changed in the last year, and they weren't just able to ignore any of it. Hermione would have liked to. A large part of her wanted to be able to go back in time, knowing what she now knew, and try to do things differently. She would definitely try to get to know Harry better much earlier in their school lives, and she wouldn't spend so much time second-guessing everything - including herself and her feelings.

She would also probably pay closer attention to Ginny. Sometimes, Hermione allowed herself to think that Ginny's actions were partly her own fault, which she knew was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. The same way she couldn't help but run when she was faced with the possibility of actually losing Harry, not on her own terms.

She was just so tired of everything having to be so hard.

Why couldn't one thing be easy?

"Jack," Hermione suddenly said, startling them both. "What do you know about the... Prophecy?"

Jack's features immediately darkened, and she almost wished she didn't ask. But, then, his body deflated and he leaned forward. "Didn't Harry tell you?"

Hermione clenched her jaw. She didn't exactly give him time to tell her, and she was able to reason that her sense of flight kicked in the second it sensed that she probably wasn't going to like whatever new truth-bomb he was bound to drop on her. "No, he didn't," she answered.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, surveying the people around him. "Not here," he said. "Too many ears."

Hermione just nodded, realising the necessity of that.

Jack leaned forward. "Maybe we can go for a walk later," he offered, and then gave pause as he replayed his words. "Uh, a purely platonic walk, I mean," he added hastily. "It just seems that you could use a friend."

She dropped her gaze, positively hating that she was so easy to read. She wasn't meant to be so transparent. But, then again, this was Jack, and they spent years getting to know each other. "I'd like that," she said.

Before Jack could make any further plans, the sound of shouting reverberated in the Hall, and their collective attention was drawn towards the Hufflepuff table where Ron was standing in front of Harry and... serenading him.

Hermione rose to her feet, almost automatically, sensing something was amiss.

Jack watched for a moment, and then turned back, laughing uncontrollably.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked, realising that Jack knew more than most. "Is - is Ron - oh my God - is that a rose he's giving Harry?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder again, and then laughed even harder. "Oh, Merlin, this is too good."

"What? What is happening?"

"I'm surprised you don't know."

When it clicked, her mouth spread into a grin. "Oh, I see," she said. "It seems to me that Ron has developed himself a bit of a crush on one of Gryffindor's prized Chasers."

"You should have heard him on the train," Jack said, laughing hysterically now. "He couldn't stop talking about how handsome Harry is, or how mesmerising his eyes are." He doubled over, clutching at his stomach. "Everyone was looking at him as if he'd completely lost it, and Emily was as confused as the rest of them."

Hermione let out a giggle as she retook her seat. "The next few days are going to be interesting, aren't they?"

Jack nodded. "One could say that, yes."

"Wait."

Jack paused.

"What does that even mean?" Hermione asked.

Jack was tempted to shrug, but he was actually curious to hear her thoughts on the Prophecy. They hadn't managed to get around to their purely platonic walk for a few days, given that Jack constantly had to stop Ron from trying to get Harry to go on a date with him. The redhead made an utter fool of himself in his pursuits of his fellow Gryffindor, his determination intensifying with every one of Harry's rejections.

But, it was over now.

Luna finally took pity on the boy, and Jack didn't think Ron was ever going to use an unknown spell ever again in his life.

"I don't really know," Jack eventually told Hermione. "Dumbledore claims the 'power he knows not' I seem to possess is... love."

Hermione blinked. "Love?"

"Don't ask me," he said, actually shrugging this time. "I suck at Divination."

"I still don't know why you insisted on taking that horrid subject."

"It was supposed to be an easy Outstanding," he defended. "Though, it more or less just freaked me out even more about everything."

"It was Trelawney, you said?"

Jack nodded. "As far as I'm aware."

Hermione seemed to give it some thought, but she wasn't willing to voice her opinions when Jack looked as lost about the entire thing as he currently did. She couldn't even imagine what it must be like for him, and she was actively forcing herself not to think about Harry's involvement in all of this. She couldn't figure if she was allowed to be relieved that the 'Chosen One' wasn't Harry, when it was Jack? It just didn't seem fair.

"How - how do you feel about all of it?" she asked, trying to buy herself some time.

"Honestly?"

She met his gaze unflinchingly, silently giving him the permission to unload.

"I'm angry," was the first thing he said. "I'm - I'm enraged, Hermione. My parents and Dumbledore have known about why Voldemort has been coming after me for years, and none of them thought to tell me it was because I was - " he stopped, his voice catching. "Because I was fated to kill him or be killed by him," he finished in a small voice, sounding younger than Hermione had ever heard him, and she's known him since they were eleven years old.

Hermione reached for his closest hand, confident he wouldn't read too much into it. "Jack," she breathed, trying and probably failing to soothe him.

"I kind of destroyed the library at Grimmauld Place when they told me," he admitted sheepishly, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. It didn't feel the way it used to. There was comfort, yes, but that was about it. "I'm - I'm not proud of it, but - but I could have been more prepared to face him all those other times if I just knew." He looked borderline distraught, and she squeezed his hand in sympathy. "I would have understood what I was seeing, and I would never have let us go to the Ministry. People - people wouldn't have been hurt, and nobody would have died."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. "Someone died?"

Jack blinked. "I thought you knew?"

If Hermione could feel any worse about her situation with Harry, now would be the time. She hadn't even let them talk, before she was running away. "No, I don't know."

"Because you and Harry aren't talking?"

She sighed. "Yes."

Jack didn't think now was the time to ask more questions about that, though he suspected they were going to have to discuss it at some point. She looked as if she needed it and, with all sorts of relationships lying in the balance, he was oddly determined to help her with her own with Harry. He'd done so many wrongs by Harry up to this point, and he was determined to do right by him.

Oh, how things had changed.

"Two Aurors were killed," Jack eventually explained. "It doesn't even matter that they caught three Death Eaters in the process, who decidedly aren't revealing anything about what Voldemort has planned. Because, I mean, now they know he's back, and he has a plan, because why wouldn't he? I mean, what has the Ministry being doing this entire time, when they didn't believe me? They could have been preparing! They could have - " he stopped, startling himself with how worked up he was getting. "Sorry," he murmured. "I'm just saying, of course, he has a plan, and more people are just going to die if we don't do something about it."

"We?"

He breathed out heavily. "It's up to me, Hermione," he said morosely. "It's never been more true than right now. There's no escaping it. It has to be me."

Before Hermione could stop herself, her mouth was moving: "And Harry."

Jack took a moment. "I suppose, yes," he said. "He's always been there, even when both of us didn't want him to be."

"He's pesky like that."

Jacked smiled sadly. "I'm going to need him, Hermione," he said; "which means he's going to need you. We both are."

She audibly swallowed, unable to look him in the eye.

"So, whatever you two have going on, please can you fix it," he said. "Because, it's obvious to me and everyone else that - "

"I'm the problem," she finished.

"I wasn't going to say that."

"But, you were thinking it," she pointed out. "And, you're right in your assumption."

"No, Hermione," he argued. "I don't think that, and Harry definitely doesn't. If we're going to be speaking truths here, then you're going to have to admit that you're the only one who does. It's why we're in this mess, isn't it?"

"I've always been a mess, Jack."

He shrugged. "So have I," he said easily. "We can be messes together."

"Can - can I tell you what happened?"

"Of course." He shifted on the couch they commandeered in the back of the library, trying to get more comfortable to deal with the upcoming discussion. It was Hermione's turn to unload, after he divulged what he could about the events of his own stressful and emotional Winter Break.

To be honest, he wasn't sure what to expect, but the mention of her parents wasn't it. She very rarely ever talked about them before, and he was certain he didn't even know their names. He also wouldn't admit to being all that comfortable with hearing about her physical relationship with Harry, but she definitely mentioned it for a reason. It was something weighing on her mind, and it seemed to mean something very significant, given the state of their relationship.

"Do you think that could be part of the reason you ran from him?" he asked.

"What?"

"That your physical, umm, intimacy was starting to match your emotional one?"

Hermione stared at him as if he sprouted a second head. "That's a very insightful question, Jack."

"Well, don't sound so surprised," he grumbled, though he was wearing a smile. "I'm a little more self-aware, you know? I've been spending some time with - " he stopped suddenly, flushing at what he was about to reveal. Nobody was ready for what any of that would mean, least of all him. "With, uh, people who aren't just Ron," he said, saving himself. "You pick up a few things."

Hermione eyed him critically. "Broadening your horizons, huh?"

"Something like that, yes."

She fiddled with the hem of her school skirt, visibly thinking. "It might be part of it," she finally admitted. "The further we get in that department; the more serious the entire thing gets. I love him. I'm in love with him, but I am so terrified of him and it and the way he makes me feel, because what do I do when it's all gone? What happens to me when it's all taken away?"

"What makes you think that's going to happen?"

"It already has before, Jack," she pointed out.

He hung his head in shame, remembering the role he may or may not have played in breaking them up the previous year. "It's different now," he tried to protest.

"It is," she agreed with a nod. "It's worse now, because the outside forces acting against us are more sinister. I had him, right there in my arms, with the words on the tip of my tongue, and then he was just gone. I don't - I don't know how I'm supposed to live with the idea that he could be taken from me at any moment."

For the most part, Jack could understand that.

To some extent, at least.

The thing was that Jack was a Potter, which really meant he was impulsive, the kind of boy to jump in with both feet and no plan at all. He and Harry were somewhat similar that way, though Harry tended to be a bit more careful, which was probably his mother's influence.

Hermione, well, she was different to them both. She was too cautious, extra careful, suitably wary and extremely guarded, and he imagined life made her that way.

Still, he had to ask, "Answer me this, Hermione: is that anxiety you were feeling when you were with him better than what you're feeling now, without him?"

And, really, her lack of response was answer enough for both of them.

She shifted uncomfortably, and then tried to change the subject to take the focus off herself.

Classic deflection.

"Have you talked to Harry about the Prophecy?" Hermione asked. "Or, umm, Neville?"

Jack shook his head no. "There's actually something else I need to discuss with Harry first, which is a little more pressing."

"What is it?"

Jack shot her a guilty look. "Just know that he's probably not going to like it," he said. "In fact, you're probably not going to like it, either."

"So," Jack started, leaning back on the couch in the Common Room, his intention to look as relaxed as possible when embarking on this potentially volatile conversation. "I have to talk to you about something."

Harry, for his part, was convinced this conversation was going to have something to do with Hermione, given the way she and Jack seemed to be spending more and more time together since they returned from Break. If he and Hermione were any other people, Harry would probably be worried, but he wasn't. Still, he wouldn't go so far as to say he liked the idea of it.

He wanted his girlfriend back. He wanted her to be talking to him, and not Jack.

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"Probably not," Jack said, smiling sheepishly. "Definitely not, actually."

Heaving a sigh, Harry decided to give Jack the benefit of the doubt. "What is it?"

"Don't hex me or anything, but - " he paused. "Look, I'm all for Dean being our replacement Chaser but, well, he - "

"He sucks at it, doesn't he?"

Jack let out an unexpected laugh. "I thought it was just me who noticed."

Harry shook his head, shifting in his seat. "He's better suited for Keeper or Beater," he said. "He's just not... agile enough, I guess, and, if we want to win next weekend, then we're going to have to find someone else." He waited a beat. "Which is why you're here, isn't it?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Well, I mean, I was thinking..." he trailed off. "Look, I know you two don't get on, and I know we did something disgusting and horrible, and I know there's a Protection Order in place, but - " he paused.

Harry already figured out what Jack was alluding to, from the first sentence he said. "Jack," he said through gritted teeth.

"I want to win," Jack said, removing all pretences. "Badly. I mean, we could probably win with Dean, but I don't want to leave anything to chance. So, just, think about it, okay? She's good. Really good, and we could really win. We could. We could win, Harry, for Katie."

"Don't," he said coldly. "Don't drag Katie into this, and don't you dare try to guilt me into letting the girl who drugged me onto my Quidditch team."

Jack dropped his gaze, sufficiently chastised.

Harry sighed, not wanting to be completely dismissive. "Look, I'll think about it, okay," he finally said.

Jack smiled at him. "Great. Okay. You do that." He nodded several times, and then forced himself to stop when it started to get weird. "I'll, uh - I'm just going to go." He gently pat Harry's forearm, before he stood and left his younger brother to think about it.

If he was being honest, Harry was irritated with Jack for even deigning to mention the idea to him. He was sure he made himself perfectly clear at the beginning of the year that he would not play on the same team as Ginny Weasley.

Why would the absence of Katie Bell suddenly change that?

He supposed he, too, wanted to win, but did he want victory that badly? It wasn't as if Ginny would be playing just any position, either. She would be a Chaser. Not a Beater or a Keeper, but a Chaser. With him.

Harry didn't think he could handle it.

But.

"Okay."

Jack looked up from his breakfast the next morning to find Harry standing over him, looking pensive. "Okay?"

Harry carefully slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, keeping his body turned towards Jack. "She can be on the team," he said carefully; "on one condition."

"Anything," Jack was quick to say, abandoning his scrambled eggs in favour of... negotiations.

Harry shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You're going to wish you didn't say that."

"Why?" Jack asked, suddenly wary. "What is it?"

Harry just shook his head again as he stood and turned away. "I'll see you at practice," he said over his shoulder, before he walked away, feeling oddly lighter than he had since they returned to the Castle.

Maybe, if he could focus on something else entirely, he could somehow forget that he was actually the Boy-Who-Lived and that his girlfriend decided on a break.

Was that even what this was?

Because, it felt permanent, whatever it was.

It remained to be said that Harry Potter's start to the year of 1997 wasn't going exactly to plan.

Really, Harry was ready to give up on planning for anything at all. Everything about his life - bar his studies and fitness regimen - just felt so disjoint and out-of-sorts. He wasn't on proper speaking terms with two of the most important women in his life, he had decisions to make about both Jack and Sirius, and he still hadn't yet decided if he was going to let Neville and Luna into the truth about who was the real Boy-Who-Lived.

Sirius warned him not to tell anyone, and Harry reasoned it was probably the smarter thing to do at this stage. Information like that was dangerous, and the less people who knew; the better. Neville and Luna were bound to get hurt in the War that was sure to come because of their connection to him, and Harry was willing to do all he could to protect them, even though he already knew they would follow him anywhere. He didn't know what he did to deserve such love and loyalty from them, but he was starting to feel unworthy of it with all the lies he seemed to be telling.

It was one of the reasons he started opting to spend more and more time alone, dedicating hours to learning and perfecting spells and using them. He imagined his friends thought he was brooding over his situation with Hermione - which was partly true, he supposed - but it was more than that. He wondered if Luna heard from his mother about their situation or something, because Luna decidedly didn't bring up Lily in any conversation.

She did, however, have no qualms with talking about Hermione.

"I talked to her yesterday."

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at Luna, choosing rather to keep his focus on the parchment in front of him as the two of them occupied their table in the library. He was working on an essay for Potions that was coming to him far too easily and quickly, and he knew he was going to have to find something else with which to distract himself from thinking thoughts he really didn't want to be when he was done.

Perhaps Dean would be up for some Quidditch practice later.

"She was with Jack," Luna continued through Harry's silence. "I think he's actually helping her with all of this."

"All of what?"

"You."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He was still torn, really, because, as much as he wanted to be with Hermione, he didn't want to straddle her to the boy who was fated to kill the darkest wizard alive, or die trying.

"She looks... better," Luna said, answering his unasked questions. "I think she's getting more sleep, now."

Harry just nodded, unsure what to say.

"She's not as talkative as she usually is, and I've been hesitant to ask about what her time was like with her parents, because it doesn't seem like something she's going to be talking about any time soon." She looked away for a moment. "Not with me, at least."

While Harry was thankful for Luna's desire to keep him up to speed on all things Hermione, the fact that he couldn't learn all these things on his own was equal parts frustrating and heartbreaking. He almost wanted to go back in time to New Year's Day, maybe, and just make sure she stayed in bed with him. He would have held onto her with all his might, never letting go.

Never letting them feel this.

"Jack also mentioned that he brought up the idea of possibly allowing Ginny onto the team, and you didn't seem to take it all that well, despite the fact you agreed to it," Luna said, switching the topic to offer Harry a bit of a reprieve... which, ultimately, didn't work.

Harry sighed heavily, deflating as yet another thing not working in his favour was brought to his attention. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say in this situation," he said. "Did Jack tell you that because - "

She cut him off, smiling gently. "Because he's worried about you, Harry." She giggled at his incredulous look. "I know; it surprised me too."

Harry just about managed to smile back at her.

"I do think he's being sincere, though," she said knowingly. "The Jack that's shown up this term feels like the real one, almost; the one not under James' influence, now that the divorce has finally gone through."

Harry could admit to the truth of that, at least, but he was distinctly uncomfortable with Luna showing that much insight into his half-brother. As far as Harry was concerned, the two of them didn't interact.

Right?

At the mention of the divorce, Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking of his mother. He could only imagine what she was feeling, or even what Marlene Potter was feeling, when it came to all of this. James didn't make it easy on the woman, and the fact that she was also a Pureblood is one of the only things that granted her the separation in the first place.

At least, that was what he heard, but he had problems of his own.

"Are you about to ask me to give Jack another chance?" Harry asked, even though he couldn't be certain when or what caused the initial break in their growing relationship. It just seemed like such a long time ago, and so much seemed to have happened in the last few weeks.

"I would never ask something like that of you, Harry," she said, her tone very serious. "I just wanted to check in to see how you're really feeling about having to play on the same team as Ginny."

He pressed his lips together, visibly thinking. "I think it's going to be all right," he eventually said, knowing they had their first scheduled practice at the end of the week. He would need to speak to Jack before then. "Well, my dear Luna, if I get my way, I won't actually be playing with her."

Luna frowned, clearly not following. "I don't know what that means."

He smiled then, a genuine, happy thing that she hadn't seen since they returned to the Castle.

Frankly, from the sight of it, she couldn't bring herself to care about what put it there.

"Are you kidding me right now?"

Despite his perpetual somber mood, Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning. Jack looked like he was about to burst an aneurysm, the vein in his forehead threatening to pop from his obvious anger and disbelief.

"Seriously?"

Harry's body started to shake from the force of his suppressed laughter.

"You want to play Seeker?" Jack asked, his voice slightly higher in pitch. "What am I supposed to play?"

"Chaser," Harry immediately answered, rolling his eyes. "I thought that much was obvious."

Jack growled. "I can't play Chaser," he argued. "I don't know how."

"I'll teach you," Harry said with a slight shrug. "It's really easy. I mean, you're athletic enough to pull it off, and you already know all the plays. You can do it. I believe in you."

Jack just glared at him, and Harry's laughter bubbled to the surface again. "Do you want us to lose?" Jack accused.

Harry couldn't get himself to stop laughing. "Oh, Jack, don't be so dramatic," he said. "We're not going to lose. You'll see."

Jack shook his head. "I don't get it," he said; "what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying not to have to play alongside Ginny," he said soft enough for only Jack to hear him, his laughter falling away and a slight shudder running along his spine. "It's just for this game, you said. We can wipe the floor with Hufflepuff, regardless of the positions you or I play. As long as we both play, and I promise you that I won't if I have to play alongside her."

"But - "

"It isn't even really about me," Harry said. "I don't want Granger to have to worry about this, okay? She's already working through enough stuff also to have to deal with the potential of Ginny getting near me again, for whatever reason."

Jack immediately gave in at the mention of Hermione - exactly the way Harry knew he would. Despite the state of all their various relationships at the moment, Jack would always care about her. Harry was sure a part of the boy would always love her in some way, and he chose to view that as a good thing. If there was another person out there who was willing to look out for her, then his job of protecting her was made slightly easier.

"Okay," Jack finally said; "but you're going to have to be the one to tell the lot of them."

"Fine," Harry agreed, grumbling under his breath, already started preparing what he was going to say to the team.

Which ended up being unnecessary, because the whole of Gryffindor already knew of the planned Potter switch by the morning, one of the Second-Years having overheard Jack and Hermione discussing it in the Common Room.

Opinion on the matter was split, with some not worried at all and a lot of others convinced they were effectively throwing the game.

Hufflepuff even started to get a little too cocky.

The Gryffindor team, however, wasn't worried. Harry was proving to be right. With Jack's natural athleticism, he picked up the nuances of the position of Chaser very quickly, and he learned right alongside Ginny as Harry and Demelza took them through the paces to become decent Chasers in the little time they had until the upcoming match on the second Saturday of February.

Even Hermione had something to say to Harry about it, which were words the boy replayed over and over in his head.

I sincerely hope you intend to outfly Jack in all the best ways.

As if that was ever in doubt, Granger.

Good luck, anyway, Harry.

It was nothing and everything, and Harry knew it probably wasn't healthy to read too much into it, but he couldn't help it.

He missed her.

He missed being able to look at her, to talk to her, to touch her, to hold her and kiss her, and just be with her.

As dramatic as it probably sounded, he couldn't get himself warm. With all his coats and thermal vests and scarves and woollen hats; he constantly felt cold, and he was convinced it was because he didn't have Hermione with him.

Which, okay, was also a little pathetic.

But no less true.

Owing to the switched positions, Harry had very little interaction with Ginny. Besides instructing her and Jack on potential plays, they didn't have to talk to each other, which was perfectly fine with Harry. He could probably go his entire life without having to have another conversation with her, given the severity of the last one they shared.

There were tears and shouted words and threats and desperate begging.

Harry was convinced he would have dropped to his knees to make sure the girl said nothing about what really happened in the Department of Mysteries.

So, if he could spend as little time in Ginny Weasley's presence as possible, he would do it. The good thing was she didn't try to talk to him either. If she was just adhering to the Protection Order, or if it was something else entirely, he didn't know.

And, frankly, he didn't care.

As January came to an end and progressed into February, the weather didn't let up at all. In fact, it probably got colder, and Harry grew more irritable with his inability to get warm. He even braved mentioning his theory to Luna, and she actually took him seriously. She always would, he realised.

"We could probably test it," she said, immediately reaching for her Mosstrooper notebook to write her observations.

"How?"

She looked at him, already sporting her thinking-face. "Clothing, mainly," she said, as if she was talking to herself. "Maybe you're just wearing the wrong things. Location, also. Neville and I could both cast Warming Charms on you and see what results those give us. We can make notes on all of that now, and then compare them to how you feel next month."

He looked puzzled by that. "Why next month?"

"Well, working on the assumption you and Hermione get back together before the end of this month, it's the only time we'll be able to test your theory."

He held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head at her presumption. "Wait. What makes you think Granger and I are getting back together by the end of this month? Or, at all?"

"Because she's almost ready."

He just stared at her, daring to hope. Luna very rarely said things for the sake of saying them. "How - how do you know?" he found himself asking.

She offered him a small, knowing smile. "Believe me, Harry, I know."

And, really, that was good enough for him.

"All right, listen up," Jack yelled, getting the attention of the team. "This is it, boys and girls. Hufflepuff have been talking smack about us for weeks, now, and we're going to go out there and show them just where to stick it!"

Harry raised his eyebrows, even as the rest of them frowned. "Jack," he said pointedly; "you've really got to cut down on all that Muggle television you've been watching."

The boy flushed under the scrutiny. "Whatever," he grumbled. "You get what I'm trying to say."

"We do," Demelza confirmed. "We have to beat them to shut them up."

Harry raised his hand, wearing the most innocent expression he could muster. "Motion to make Robins in charge of all pre-game speeches?"

Jack laughed. "Denied, you idiot."

Harry just grinned a little lopsidedly, and the Co-Captains' ease managed to bleed out some of the tension in the air. While the team was substantially confident, they were trying out a new combination of players, and adding a new one to the mix.

Anything could happen.

"Okay, two minutes," Jack said, quickly falling into line and trying to centre himself for the upcoming... battle. Normally, before matches, Hermione might have sneaked into the tunnel to wish him luck, but things were so different now.

She wished him earlier at breakfast.

In fact, she wished them all.

Harry took his own moment to steady his breathing. Every match was important and, like Jack, he really wanted to win, if only to shove it in the Hufflepuff's team's faces.

Wow, okay, he also needed to ease up on the Muggle television.

"Harry?"

He turned at the voice, his heart rate rising without his consent. He didn't acknowledge the person who spoke verbally, but he did manage to look at Ginny's face, not sure what he was expecting.

"Is it normal to be nervous?" she asked.

Harry pressed his lips together, and then nodded. "I was before my first one," he said. "It would have helped to have had a warm-up game for you, but it is what it is."

"It seems a lot of things are," she mumbled, more to herself, looking away from him.

"What does that mean?"

She waited a beat before she met his gaze, her voice quiet when she eventually spoke. "Do you really think there's one person on this entire planet that's right for you?" she asked, standing closer to him than they both knew she was allowed.

"I do," he answered, surprising them both by actually engaging in her unexpected question.

"And you're willing to spend your life looking for her?"

He shook his head. "No."

She frowned, clearly confused by his response.

"I don't have to spend a single second more looking," he admitted, stepping back into line. "I've already found her, and her name is Hermione Granger." Despite everything going on inside of him and between them; that truth would always remain. As much as he wanted to protect her from himself; she was forever imprinted on his heart; she was practically swimming inside his veins.

Ginny just shook her head, slightly in awe at how sure he sounded. "She'll come back, you know," she said gently, dropping her gaze.

He sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

Ginny bit her bottom lip in thought. "Is it - is it because of... you know?"

Harry's eyes snapped towards her, suddenly blazing. "Ginny," he hissed. "I can't be sure, but don't they teach the intricacies of an Unbreakable Vow in second year?"

Ginny raised her palms in innocence. "I didn't actually say anything," she defended. "I'm just saying that it would make sense for her to pull away if you said something."

He huffed in irritation. "Well, I didn't tell her," he said flatly. "This is something else entirely."

Whatever history the two of them had, she hated to see him look so forlorn, but she was unsure what she could say or do to help. Experience taught her she was bound to make things worse, and it would be best to leave things be.

But, as with most things, it was easier said than done.

While the switch in the Potter positions was unorthodox, nobody could fault the sheer brilliance of it when Gryffindor ended up demolishing Hufflepuff 220-60. It was almost too easy, with Harry hovering high above the pitch and barking out plays as he saw them. It was useful for when he did return to his position, getting to witness all their actual plans come alive.

Jack was half-decent, as well, and, when Harry caught sight of the Snitch, he took off like a lightning bolt.

Hah.

It was only his initial head start on the Hufflepuff Seeker, Louise Enbridge, that allowed him to get to the Snitch first, because the Hufflepuff Seeker was good. He heard rumours about her intention to continue professionally, and he imagined it was a good career move on her part. She was definitely talented enough to be successful.

Still, Harry managed to get to the Snitch first, with some extra help from his superior broom and general carelessness. It was one of the reasons his mother explained to him that it was actually proven that men are better drivers than women. Women are too cautious, and men tend to just go for it, as it were. That topic of conversation sparked debate over the dinner table, with Sirius and Hermione chiming in with their own facts and opinions, and Harry was content just to sit back and enjoy his family.

Now, everything was just wrong.

He couldn't imagine them having another night like that, with the way things currently were. He was just at a loss as to what to do to make it better. How did he just stop being angry, and how did he convince Hermione that he loved her beyond anything and everything else?

How?

The second the game ended with Harry's fingers closed around the Snitch, the stadium erupted in applause. As if he could tell what kind of applause it was; nothing about it sounded surprised because, really, as if it were ever in doubt.

Harry didn't immediately fly down to the grass. Instead, he lingered a while, hovering in the air after Madam Hooch retrieved the Snitch from him. He wanted to feel elated and overjoyed with his accomplishment, but he just couldn't bring himself to. Everything else was weighing too heavily on him, and he just couldn't shake the thought that he missed his mother.

He felt a bit childish when it crossed his mind, but he wasn't going to take it back.

He missed his mother.

And, it seemed, she missed him, too, provided his eyes weren't actually deceiving him. That shock of red hair could belong to only one person, and it sure as hell wasn't Ginny.

Harry almost forgot he was still supposed to be angry with her when he shot off without another thought, spiraling downwards, only one witch on his mind.