A/N: Well, that took longer than I expected. This chapter went through 3 rewrites as I inadvertently made Dumbledore much more of a scumbag than I intended! I promise to try and do better with releasing new chapters in a timely manner (although I do seem to write that in every author's note now!)

As always, your reads and reviews are much appreciated. I do read them all, even if I don't respond directly to you.

Albus Dumbledore was frustrated.

Since first stepping foot inside the castle, Harry Potter had caused him more aggravation than any student had managed in many, many years. The boy just simply wouldn't do what was expected of him. Following the little chat where he'd returned James Potter's invisibility cloak, he'd been approached by more than forty different students, obviously at the direction of Harry, questioning him about the way the school was being run; asking things like whether he would consider expanding the sports programme to be more than just Quidditch, or complaining about the quality of the Muggle Studies course. It wasn't that he was unsympathetic to their views, nor was it that some of the suggestions he was receiving were not good ones, it was simply that the students only saw their small place in the world rather than the bigger picture – there were valid reasons, sometimes political or financial, that meant their ideas or criticisms needed to be set aside. Sometimes it was simply for the greater good. As their Headmaster, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump, they needed to accept that he knew best.

Truthfully, what was really getting his goat, however, was the fact that Harry had had his father's cloak for more than a month now and so far the boy had not strayed out after curfew once. The tracking charms he'd placed on the heirloom confirmed it. Frankly, the boy vexed him. How was he supposed to get the last surviving Potter to learn how the Mirror of Erised worked if he couldn't be encouraged to wander around out of hours? Perhaps a word in Hagrid's ear… he would be certain to accidentally let slip information that should motivate the young Hufflepuff to partake in a nighttime excursion and send him scurrying to discover the secrets of the third-floor corridor as well.

Slumping back in his desk chair, Albus sighed and looked down at the large pile of parchment awaiting his attention, knowing he'd have to deal with it himself as he couldn't just farm ICW and Wizengamot administration onto Minerva. He procrastinated as much as possible and, setting both the mound of work and The-Boy-Who-Lived aside, he allowed his thoughts to skim over the school year so far instead.

Whilst Albus needed to ensure he maintained his focus on the Stone and the trap he was laying for Voldemort, he wasn't ignorant of events going on inside the castle. He'd heard the muttered complaints of the students about their Defence Against the Dark Arts class and, as he'd suspected, Quirinus was patently not suitable for the job he'd taken on. Unfortunately, as the only applicant other than that fop Gilderoy Lockhart, he'd had no choice but to give the former Muggle Studies Professor a chance to prove himself able to fill the role.

Albus pondered his colleague. Quirinus had been behaving incredibly oddly since the start of the year; that awful turban didn't suit him at all, the stench of garlic that followed him around was appalling and that stutter he'd developed since his run-in with a Vampire in Albania was irritating beyond belief.

A thought tickled at the back of his mind. A few times since the start of term, he'd felt the wards he'd placed around the third-floor corridor tingle as though someone was probing them - although with the number of students poking around despite his warning at the welcoming feast (with the apparent exception of the one he truly wanted to test) it could be nothing - and he knew that, if his former pupil had not done so already, it was only a matter of time before he infiltrated the castle and made a move for the alchemical wonder that lay beyond Hagrid's Cerberus.

"Unless perhaps," he thought as he popped a Lemon Drop into his mouth, "Quirinus himself has been bent to Voldemort's will." Albus sat up straighter in his chair. "The last information I had placed Voldemort in Albania – is it possible Quirinus may have encountered Voldemort and is under his influence?"

Albus resolved to have Severus keep a closer eye on his colleague. Feeling slightly more satisfied that one problem may soon be back under his control, Albus begrudgingly picked up the first sheet of parchment from the large pile and began to read.

Harry Potter was happy.

He sat in the large, comfortable chair Hermione had laid claim to in the Hufflepuff common room and waited for his friends to appear so they could all head to dinner together. While he waited he allowed his thoughts to drift back to the previous weekend.

It was almost the end of October by the time Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had their first flying lesson. The joint Gryffindor/Slytherin class a month earlier had descended into chaos when Ron Weasley, at the goading of Draco Malfoy, had fallen from his broom whilst attempting an overly ambitious manoeuvre and landed himself, and several others, in the Hospital Wing. His grabbing at other students to slow his fall had resulted in several of the ancient school brooms snapping, causing all flying classes to be postponed whilst new brooms could be arranged. Harry had been pleased to hear that Neville had not been caught up in the accident and instead had been confident enough to help others land safely. He'd spent considerable time before they arrived at Hogwarts making sure his friend was comfortable on a broom and smiled widely, clapping the Gryffindor on the back proudly when Daphne and Tracey had joined Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown in publicly thanking Neville for his help at dinner that evening.

The delay in their lesson meant that Harry was itching to get back into the air by the time it rolled around. He knew that Cedric had the role as Hufflepuff's seeker well in hand and so it hadn't been a difficult decision to concentrate on dealing with Voldemort, rather than attempting to win a place on the Quidditch team in his first year. He'd loved playing Quidditch but he knew how worried Hermione got during his games – truthfully, based on the number of times he'd ended up in the Hospital Wing, he could hardly blame her.

The lesson itself had gone smoothly. As before, Harry's broom had instantly jumped into his hand and he'd proceeded to demonstrate great control and understanding of what Madam Hooch was trying to convey, leading to him being permitted to free-fly for a while. Rather than haring off as several others had done though, Harry stuck close to Hermione and Justin and helped them get to grips with controlling their brooms under the watchful and approving gaze of Madam Hooch. By the end of the lesson, both were moving with confidence and, although Hermione (who had never enjoyed flying previously) refused to go more than 15 feet from the ground, Harry knew she felt much more confident in her abilities with him flying alongside her, there to catch her if she fell.

Ron Weasley was angry.

He'd been put in a month's detention for his part in the flying lesson fiasco and was stuck cleaning the trophy room without magic. No matter how many times he polished the cups and shields that filled the cabinets in the large room, Filch was never happy. The bitter, old caretaker had taken to sitting with his feet up and watching him clean whilst providing a detailed running commentary of all the old punishments he'd have liked to use before the Headmaster became 'soft' and outlawed them.

Ron couldn't understand how he had taken the fall for the situation. How was he supposed to know the brooms would have snapped? It was all Malfoy's fault. Him and those other slimy snakes. Everyone knew they were trouble, something that should have been even more obvious when they got sorted into Slytherin.

As he scrubbed, he ranted to himself in his head. His first term at Hogwarts wasn't going at all as he had planned. He was supposed to be Harry Potter's best friend. They were supposed to be in Gryffindor together but the Boy-Who-Lived went and got sorted into Hufflepuff and ruined that plan. Every time he approached Harry, he was surrounded by other people - including more of those snakes! It didn't seem to matter what Ron said, Harry never joined him for a game of Wizard's Chess or to talk about Quidditch, he'd rather spend his time with the know-it-all. "Maybe," Ron thought, "that's the problem. If I could just get her out of the way, Harry would see what he's been missing by not being my friend!". A now determined Ron Weasley refocussed on the cleaning and began to try to come up with a way to separate Harry from Hermione, ignoring the droning voice of Mr Filch behind him and hoping that dinner, and the end of his final detention, would be soon.

Draco Malfoy was confused.

As instructed by his father, he'd introduced himself to Harry Potter on the train and had received a polite response indicating a willingness to speak in the future. He'd then watched as the Boy-Who-Lived was sorted, not into Gryffindor as everyone expected, but into Hufflepuff, where he had systematically set about forging bonds of friendship that spanned all houses and age groups. He'd then gone on to prove he was no slouch mentally either by sitting comfortably as one of the top two students of the year across all of their subjects and was more than willing to help out anyone that needed it with their studies - something he was continuing to do even though he and his friend Granger were tutoring a number of the other first-years for their Muggle Studies OWL to be taken a full three years early. Frankly, Draco didn't know what to make of him. Potter was a riddle, wrapped in an enigma and shrouded in mystery.

He had, of course, sent off a letter to his father detailing everything and asked for guidance on how to proceed but had received nothing other than the advice to continue observing and reporting back. He'd heard the wild stories about Muggles visiting the moon from Theo Nott and dismissed it out of hand but when he'd seen for himself the books Granger had provided, he'd found it hard to ignore the information in front of him. This evidence, naturally, had been denied immediately by his father who insisted it was all lies but the books were written by several different authors from around the world, published over many years, and more importantly, the details were the same in each. Could it be that Muggles really had done the things they'd said?

Tearing himself from his thoughts, Draco joined the rest of his year group as they made their way to the Great Hall. He didn't want to miss the feast tonight as it promised to be a good one. After all, it was Halloween.

Earlier that day, Harry and Hermione had made it through Charms and their lesson on 'Wingardium Leviosa' without incident, mainly due to Harry being paired with Ron this time around. As soon as Ron had realised Harry was his partner, he smirked across the room at Hermione before trying to draw Harry into a conversation about Quidditch. He was still trying to worm his way into Harry's good graces and so, when they eventually got started on their work, he had listened closely to Harry as he explained the pronunciation of the spell and shown a desire to please that Harry had only previously experienced from Dobby. There was a smug expression on Ron's face as he successfully completed the day's assignment and Harry carefully controlled his countenance as Ron loudly trumpeted his thanks to his 'mate, Harry' for the assistance. This, of course, meant no afternoon spent sobbing for Hermione – a fact she thanked Harry for later on.

Harry, Hermione, and Severus had talked for some time about whether they should expose Quirrell during the feast that evening. Hermione had suggested that once the Professor had fainted, Harry could try and put him into the recovery position – something that would allow Harry to make skin-to-skin contact. Had they found a valid reason to have Amelia, the Minister of Magic, and preferably some Press in attendance, they may have done so. Undeniable proof that You-Know-Who wasn't as dead as they'd long believed, would force the Ministry to begin ramping up their Auror recruitment, but short of having Minister Fudge presenting the cleansed Horcruxes to the school, they'd been unable to come up with a way to make this happen.

Their research couldn't conclusively prove that Voldemort's spirit would simply dissipate with the removal of his anchors so they'd agreed to try to allow things to play out as close to the original events as possible, instead aiming to end the threat of Voldemort once he had gained homunculus form. With Pettigrew captured and residing in Azkaban, they'd already changed the players who would be involved on that fateful June evening more than three years into the future and as a result, Amelia had reluctantly agreed to not yet make a move on Barty Crouch and his Imperiused son. They needed Voldemort to know he was unable to touch Harry to ensure he would be the target for the Dark Lord's rebirth ritual rather than having him change his plans for regaining his adult form. Consequently, Harry and Hermione had resigned themselves to playing Dumbledore's game, making their way through the trials below the third-floor and confronting Quirrell at the end of the year.

When their possessed Professor did stumble his way into the hall, yelling about a Troll in the dungeons, the pair rolled their eyes then stood calmly as the Headmaster directed the students to return to their common rooms.

"You know," whispered Hermione, "if the Troll actually was in the dungeons, this would be a really stupid idea. How likely is it that any of the Prefects would be able to take down a fully-grown Mountain Troll? He'd be sending both us and the Slytherin's directly towards it."

"The fact that we know it's not is the only reason I'm even moving, Hermione. It still amazes me that none of the Professors have called him out on it though…"

Harry and Hermione joined the queue of students leaving the Great Hall and followed the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Prefects through the labyrinthine corridors that led back towards their common rooms. As they walked, the pair chatted about inconsequential things with their housemates until Harry overhead a snippet of a conversation somewhere ahead of them.

"Gah! What's that smell? Alistair – was that you again?"

"No it bloody well wasn't." hissed the accused boy in return. "Smells like something's died…"

Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and glanced at her nervously. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh! That's revolting!" Susan groaned suddenly, pinching her nose and wafting her other hand in front of her face.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "What's it doing here," she whispered. "It's supposed to be up on the first floor…"

"I think we should move a bit quicker guys," announced Harry nervously as he looked around for the Troll. He quickened his pace and urged his friends to do the same.

The Prefects had reached the end of the corridor and began to lead their Houses to the safety of their common rooms. Hufflepuff turned left for their quickest route back and Slytherin headed to the right, aiming for the steep flight of stairs a short way in front of them, that led down to the dungeons. The wall of the corridor at the intersection was covered by a huge tapestry depicting several Centaurs examining a clear night sky. Harry and Hermione had dropped to the back of their group, still encouraging their classmates to move faster, when Hermione caught a glimpse of the tapestry rippling slightly. The stench was now overpowering and Harry abandoned any pretence at calm and began to push the slower members of the group forward. His shouts attracted the attention of both the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins who now stopped and turned to face him.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Dora called as she pushed her way to the back of the group just in time to see the tapestry tear from the wall and a hulking, grey Mountain Troll step out between the two sets of students, staring stupidly from one group to the other before raising it's huge wooden club threateningly and roaring its displeasure.

"Stay back!" yelled one of the male Slytherin Prefects before attempting to stun the twelve-foot tall creature in front of him. The spell reflected uselessly off the Troll's magic-resistant hide but the shout had drawn its attention. The Troll lumbered, slowly at first but with increasing speed, toward the group of Slytherins who were screaming with fear and scrambling over one another in an attempt to escape. The Prefect stood frozen as the Troll bore down on him and the Hufflepuffs could only watch in horror as it reached their schoolmate. With a swing of its broad club, it sent the Prefect crunching into the nearby wall where he lay unmoving, blood trickling from a large cut on his head and his legs bent at an impossible angle.

Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed. He stared into her wide brown eyes apologetically before dropping her hand and sprinting towards the Troll's back. He took an enormous leap and, as he had before, managed to fasten his arms around the Troll's thick neck. The Troll swung round, attempting to shake Harry off but he clung on like a limpet. The wand in Harry's hand, once again found itself embedded itself inside the right nostril of the Mountain Troll and Harry pulled on as much of his magic as he could before yelling "REDUCTO!"

The top of the Troll's head exploded, covering the walls and nearby students in blood, gore, and bits of brain matter. The Troll swayed unsteadily on its feet for a moment before collapsing forward, throwing Harry toward the Slytherin students who were watching in terror, unbelieving of the scene playing out in front of them. A thunderous boom sounded, echoing along the now silent corridor, as the Troll's corpse hit the floor. Harry lifted himself from the ground and stood shakily, covered in the remains of the Mountain Troll. He took a deep, tremulous breath and sought out Hermione's gaze. He staggered slightly and reached out an unsteady hand to brace himself against the wall as she dashed to his side.

"What on earth is going on here?" The distinct sound of Professor McGonagall's voice broke the silence as she forced her way through the crowd of students with Snape and Sprout by her side. The Professors all stopped suddenly as they attempted to absorb the carnage in front of them.

"Ah! Professors!" Harry mumbled, "We found the Troll!" With his vision rapidly fading to black as he began to lose consciousness, he slipped out of Hermione's grasp and crumpled to the floor.

With Hermione and Dora accompanying Harry to the Hospital Wing, Professor Sprout and her Prefects attempted to restore a measure of calm to the Hufflepuff common room. Although the younger students were more vocal in their distress, it was clear that many of their older housemates were struggling as well. Calling for two of the numerous Hogwarts House Elves, Professor Sprout asked one for some food and warm drinks to be brought to her Badgers, before sending the second Elf to request some calming draughts from Madam Pomfrey

"Professor?" the small, worried voice of Susan Bones drew the Head of Hufflepuff's attention. "Will Harry be OK?"

"I'm sure he will," she said soothingly. "I believe he's just exhausted his magic. He'll be as right as rain in a couple of days – Madam Pomfrey will take good care of him."

"I can't believe he did that… he could have died…" Hannah Abbot said, joining the conversation with watery eyes. "We all could have died!" The tears that had been threatening to make an appearance now did and Professor Sprout gathered both Susan and Hannah into a comforting hug.

Cedric Diggory had been whispering with his friends but now approached his Head of House. "Sorry Professor, we're all worried about Harry and it's good to know he'll be OK but… what was a Troll doing in the school in the first place?"

"I'm not sure Mr Diggory," she replied grimly. "But you can rest assured the rest of the Professors and I will be looking into that very question."

With that, the entire occupancy of The Sett settled down to await the return of their first and seventh-year friends who would hopefully bring positive news of Harry's condition.

Whilst the atmosphere in Hufflepuff was one of concern for their housemate and friend, the reaction in the Slytherin common room was more of disbelief.

"What the hell was Potter playing at – throwing himself at a Troll?" A fifth-year boy who looked remarkably like a Gorilla grunted the question to no-one in particular. "What's he after? Is he trying to get something to hold over us?" The boy turned suddenly to Daphne. "Greengrass! I've seen you hanging around with Potter. What's he up to?"

Daphne looked up from her seat, noticing that all sound and movement in the common room had ceased as everyone waited for her response.

"I've known Harry for a few years and I can tell you now that he's not 'up to' or 'after' anything. He saw his friends were in trouble and tried to help –"

"He risked his damn life for us!" The boy interrupted. "Let's be honest, there's more than a few of us in here whose parents were accused of supporting the Dark Lord. Why would he try to protect their children?"

"Because," Daphne said, standing abruptly and glaring at the boy for cutting her off mid-sentence, "Harry doesn't believe that children should be blamed for their parent's choices." She looked around and gestured at the rest of the Slytherin students. "You're right – there are more than a few here whose families followed You-Know-Who. Does anyone here honestly believe that thought even entered Harry's head before he jumped onto that Troll's back?"

The students sat in silence, contemplating that statement.

"Before we came to Hogwarts my friends and I talked about the Houses. My family have nearly always been sorted into Slytherin and I – as well as almost everyone else - assumed Harry would end up in Gryffindor. I didn't want to lose my friendships with Harry, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom but I'd convinced myself that I'd have to give that up to survive for seven years here. Harry looked me in the eye and told me that he knew about the problems between the Houses and that, if it made me feel safer we could try and hide our friendship, but there was no way he'd give up on it completely regardless of where we were sorted. He said to me that we absolutely should remember and learn from our family and House histories. We absolutely should respect our traditions and culture. The one thing we shouldn't do is allow it to dictate our futures. So what if your parents followed You-Know-Who? What difference should that make to how people see you?" She focussed once more on the boy. "Harry Potter jumped onto a Troll's back this evening and blew it's brains out, saving us all from probably being killed and leaving him needing a stay in the Hospital Wing. You want to know what he was up to? Showing us it's alright for us to live our own damn lives." Daphne sat back down firmly, crossing her arms and glaring around the room. As she turned her head she caught a glimpse of Professor Snape who was stood in the doorway, listening to her speak. He gave her a short nod of approval, then disappeared back into the shadowy corridor.

Harry awoke slowly. The distinctive aroma and low murmuring of voices revealed he was currently a resident of the Hospital Wing, and the gentle pressure on his right hand made it clear he had company. He lay quietly, listening to the soft conversation that was being batted back and forth across his bed.

"… the obvious choice!" Hermione murmured.

"Better than Huffindor?" Sirius responded.

He cracked open an eye and tried to focus on the blurry, bushy-haired figure sat next to his bed. He felt too exhausted to begin a search for his glasses and so settled for a light squeeze of the hand that was holding his.

"Harry!" Hermione squeezed his hand in return, "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake!". She took Harry's glasses from the table next to the bed and carefully slipped them onto his face before picking up a glass of water and allowing him a small sip through a straw. Harry looked at her with gratitude and sought her clasp again when she resumed her previous position. He tried to sit up but a steady hand from the other side of the bed held him back. "Lay still Pup," Sirius' voice was tender but firm, "Let Poppy check you over first."

At that moment, the school's long-serving Nurse bustled in with potions in hand and Sirius stood and moved round to Hermione's side to allow her access to her patient. She looked down at him sternly but Harry could see relief flickering in her eyes as she spoke. "You know you can just pop in to see me, Harry. You didn't have to do anything quite so foolhardy to spend some time with me."

Harry shrugged. "What can I say?" His voice cracked from lack of use. "I wanted your undivided attention." Madam Pomfrey snorted as she began to cast diagnostic charms over Harry. He turned his attention to the pair stood next to his bed. "How long was I out?"

"Two days. You gave us all a bit of a scare." Sirius smiled down at Harry.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Just the boy from Slytherin. They transferred him to St Mungo's about 15 minutes after you were both brought in. He had most of the bones in his lower body vanished and regrown but he'll be OK." Harry winced, remembering full well the side effects of Skele-Gro. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Both Hermione and Poppy answered in unison before Harry was able to, then looked at each other and burst out laughing. Harry frowned at the pair which only caused them to laugh further. "Well, at least there's someone else that knows he likes to trot out that ridiculous answer." Poppy straightened up and smiled kindly at Harry. An expression of sadness and anger momentarily flickered onto her face as she remembered the small, broken little boy she and Severus had helped only three years earlier. "You'll be fine Harry. I want to keep you in for the night anyway but you'll be up and able to attend classes again on Monday. Just take it easy for the next week or so – I'll make sure the Professors are aware to limit your spellcasting."

Just then the doors to the Hospital Wing swung open and the Headmaster strode into the room. Hermione watched as Madam Pomfrey changed suddenly from friendly and familiar to cool and professional. "I hope, Mr Potter, that you will follow my instructions with regards to this?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied meekly and in complete contrast with the easy way they had been communicating a few moments before. Hermione shot Sirius a quizzical look and received a very slight shake of the head in response and the word 'later' whispered softly enough that only she could hear it. Sirius himself had also adopted a disapproving expression and was short in his greeting of Dumbledore.

"Ah! Harry my boy! I trust you are feeling better?"

"Yes Sir. A little tired but OK."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure you'll be please to know that, other than Mr Sykes from Slytherin, none of your schoolmates suffered any injury." Dumbledore paused. "In fact, due to your courageous actions in protecting your fellow students, you are to be presented with an award for Special Services to the School." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Hermione who was watching the Headmaster and chewing on her bottom lip as he spoke. Dumbledore stood in silence, clearly waiting for a response from Harry.

"Errmm... Yes Sir, thank you."

"Now then, I suggest you get some more rest my boy. Good day, Sirius, Miss Granger." Nodding his head at the two bystanders, Albus Dumbledore swept from the Hospital Wing without giving anyone a chance to ask any questions.

"I'll go and let Poppy know he's gone then I'll be off. I'm glad you're alright Pup." Sirius gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "We'll speak later. Just do me a favour? No more attacking Trolls please?"

"I'll try." Harry grinned at Sirius who pulled him into a quick hug before turning to leave. Harry now focussed on his best friend. "Are you OK Hermione?"

"Harry James Potter! Of all the things…!" Hermione's eyes glistened with tears as she finally allowed the emotions she had been suppressing while Harry was unconscious to rise to the surface. "You could have died you prat!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Come here!" Harry pulled Hermione to him and held her as she cried. When her tears had subsided he released her from his embrace, allowing her to sit back up but he kept a tight grasp on her hand.

"It could have been worse. As you once told me, I could have been expelled."

"Not the time Harry!" Hermione said indignantly as Harry started to laugh, something she put a stop to with a firm punch to his arm. Her tone turned serious. "I can't do this without you, Harry. I need you to think before rushing into danger. Promise me."

"I promise, Hermione."

As he rubbed the now sore spot on his arm, she spoke again. "What was all that with Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore? She completely changed how she was speaking to you when he arrived."

Peering around to make sure the Matron was still in her office, Harry explained in a low voice how she and Severus had taken care of him following the beating he'd received the night before his return to the past. "She's been looking out for me ever since."

"And her reaction to Dumbledore?" Hermione pressed.

"She knows Dumbledore put me with the Dursley's in the first place and blames him for my condition at the time. She doesn't know about the future but she's firmly in my corner when it comes to the Headmaster."

Hermione abruptly changed the conversation as Madam Pomfrey reentered the room. "Dora has been here whenever she's been able for the last two days. Susan, Hannah, Daphne and Neville have all popped in too."

"That's nice to hear, thanks," Harry replied. He took another sip of water and frowned at Hermione. "What were you and Sirius talking about just before I opened my eyes? Something about Huffindors?"

Hermione let out a short laugh. "We were trying to come up with a word to describe a Hufflepuff with Gryffindor tendencies. Huffindor was Sirius' suggestion."

"Huffindor? Surely Gryfflepuff is the obvious choice?"

"That's what I said!" Hermione beamed down at Harry, whose eyelids were beginning to droop once more. "Right, time for you to get some more rest." She released Harry's hand and bent down to collect her bag.

"Hermione?" Harry mumbled as he began to drift off. "Stay? Please?"

She retrieved a thick book from her bag and placed it on her lap before making herself more comfortable in her chair and taking Harry's hand once again. Harry only just made out her one-word reply before he slipped off to sleep.

"Always."