Disclaimer: Jo owns it; I just play in her sandbox.

Rating: PG-13 for SPOILER and SPOILER

A/N: A big thank you to Abigail89 for the beta read, Archchancellor for the Brit picking, all my reviewers for their feedback and my Live Journal friends list for listening to my wibbles. This chapter is dedicated to me, as I turn 27 tomorrow and feel really, really old.

Birthday Boy, Part IV

Yours to Lose

Harry Potter was flying high above the streets of London astride a beast the people below probably thought only existed in legend. He was breaking at least ten different magical laws, but quite frankly, he didn't give a flying hippogriff.

The damp, chill air whipped around him, cutting through his thin t-shirt and tatty old jeans as though they were made of tissue paper. He urged Buckbeak higher still until his clothes were completely soaked, his skin raw and his stiff, frozen fingers barely hanging onto the hippogriff's feathery neck.

Harry had said nothing after Tonks finished tearing him apart with her tongue. Nothing at all. He didn't really know what to say. Of all the people he knew, she was the one person he thought would understand. He had watched her shrug her shoulders and turn her back to him in exasperation. Watched her walk straight out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

"The final showdown may be yours, but the rest of us are in this thing too."

Deep down he knew she was right, but he wouldn't accept it. Tonks couldn't possibly understand what it was like to watch Cedric and Sirius die over and over and over again. She couldn't know what it was like to watch Ron, eyes wide with shock, falling and falling as Bellatrix Lestrange laughed that horrible laugh. She couldn't know what it was like to see Hermione running after him and falling too...

No, he wouldn't tell them about the Prophecy and that was final. He would continue to distance himself. If it wasn't for him, they wouldn't be in any danger at all. Besides, they had each other now. They had something they couldn't share with him, and that stung. He had something he couldn't share with them either, so they were even. All for the best, really.

"I'm not yours to lose."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Harry wanted to scream. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he wanted to mean it like that, but really, it was just her. Her friendship, having someone to talk to. Having someone who would listen for once. Having someone he thought understood. Having someone who made him feel.... ok yes, he had meant it like that. A bit presumptuous, but he could just tell she felt the same way and it didn't take a Legilimens to figure it out. Or did she really feel the same way? Maybe she really thought he was a just a stupid kid like everyone else did and was too kind to hurt his feelings.

No, no, no... Tonks wasn't like that. Besides, she wasn't one for sparing feelings. She did kiss him back, not once, but twice, after all. Plus, she had never treated him like a kid, ever. Maybe she was just afraid of what people might say... she didn't seem to care otherwise, pink hair and all... Maybe she just doesn't feel the same way. Maybe she changed her mind.

This was all so hopeless. Why did he have to kiss her? Things were so much easier when he was just crushing quietly in the background. He really needed that book, Translating Mad Things Girls Do So Boys Can Understand Them. He had obviously gone very, very wrong with Cho and was definitely not doing any better with Tonks, despite her being a heck of a lot less leaky.

Forget it. He had too much to worry about now without adding girl -- okay woman -- problems on top of everything else. He would be the lone hero. He would take Voldemort down alone or die trying.

Die a virgin? whispered a little voice inside his head. How tragic.

No, Harry thought, he wouldn't die a virgin because he wasn't going to die.

"Okay, Beaky," Harry yelled, hoping the hippogriff could hear him over the rushing wind. "Time to go back."

Buckbeak bobbed his head and reluctantly turned back towards Grimmauld Place. They arrived to find Dumbledore sitting in Buckbeak's room, waiting.

"Good evening, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Have a nice flight?"

"Er, I can explain," stammered Harry. "Buckbeak--"

"I am sure Buckbeak needed to stretch his wings a bit," said Professor Dumbledore, looking a great deal more amused than Harry thought he ought to under the circumstances. "Though I would hope the next time you decide to go flying off for some wing stretching that you let someone know where you are off to. Your friend Ron is still awake, waiting up for you. He's very worried, you know."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I know."

"He wonders why you are avoiding him."

"Did he tell you that?" Harry asked, with an edge to his voice. Who was Dumbledore to chastise him for avoiding people?

"He didn't have to," said Dumbledore. "But I am not here on his behalf. I have been waiting here for you for another reason entirely."

"Oh?"

"You are probably wondering why I am letting you join Tonks and Kingsley on their dangerous Auror rounds, but not letting you into the Order," Dumbledore said.

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes," said Harry, growing irritated with the old man. Ever since last spring, he just couldn't look at Dumbledore the same way. He didn't quite trust him anymore. At least, not with the blind faith he once did.

"The Prophecy says that 'one must die at the hand of the other'," said Dumbledore. "And that means..."

"No one else can kill me?"

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "At least not until you have managed to vanquish Voldemort himself."

"But couldn't Voldemort just kill me at any time? Show up in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or something and hit me with a killing curse while I'm shopping for broom polish?" Harry asked.

"No, he could not. Not so long as you are under the care of your mother's sister," said Dumbledore. "And until your seventeenth birthday, no matter how much you despise her, no matter how horrible she is to you, you are under her care."

"So he shows up on my seventeenth birthday," said Harry. "I'm still no match for him."

"You have a year," said Dumbledore. "I suggest you use this time wisely."

"Study hard? Learn my lessons? That sort of thing?" Harry asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "Hope for some really awesome magical super powers to surface?"

"The Metamorphmagus abilities aren't enough?" Dumbledore said with an amused wink. "But, yes... and no. What I really mean is that you should take the time to enjoy your life and the people in it."

Harry chuckled bitterly. "Because come my next birthday, I may not have one, you mean?"

"Not necessarily," said Dumbledore. "You have one year to live in which nothing can kill you. However, this is a dangerous time. Not everyone who celebrates your next birthday will be here to celebrate the one after."

"You are assuming I'll be around to celebrate the one after next as well?"

"I am assuming nothing," said Dumbledore, his face more serious. "I am telling you to take nothing for granted."

"So why can't I join the Order then?" Harry asked. "If I'm the one saving the world, why am I still sitting at the kids table?"

"Because, Harry," said Dumbledore with a heavy sigh, "you have more important things to do than attend boring meetings and listen to status reports."

"Like what?"

"Like save the world, as you say," said Dumbledore. "The work you are doing with Tonks, Kingsley, Severus, Remus and --" Dumbledore paused, his eyes twinkling "-- my Army is many times more important."

"If you don't mind, sir, I would like to know what is going on."

"And you will. Nymphadora Tonks has been telling you everything, has she not?"

"Er," Harry wasn't quite sure how to answer that; he didn't want to get Tonks in trouble. "She's... she's told me some things."

"She will continue to do so," said Dumbledore. "Now, before I go, I have something for you." Dumbledore reached into his voluminous robes and pulled out a small, black King chess piece. It was a Muggle chess piece made of plastic, one that didn't move. "It's a Portkey," he said. "Just twist the crown, and you will find yourself back here at Order headquarters."

Harry took the tiny plastic King from Dumbledore and slipped it into his pocket. "Er, thank you... But sir, I really would like to join the Order. Be taken more seriously," said Harry. It was all well and good for him to be allowed his lessons and lead the other students, but he really thought he should be accepted with the adults as an equal, under the circumstances.

"The Order isn't what you think it is, Harry. Besides, I have other work for you," said Dumbledore. "Now if you don't mind, I must be getting back to Hogwarts. Goodnight."

And with that, he vanished with a faint pop.

"Hey wait --" Too late. I do mind.

Harry removed his sopping wet shoes and began crept down the hall towards the room he shared with Ron at Grimmauld Place, quietly shooting stunners at the random portrait that berated him for making puddles on the floor as he went. So nothing can touch me, he thought. The possibilities... he could do anything he wanted for an entire year. He could totally live it up. Harry wondered what sort of 'other work' Dumbledore had for him and if he could perhaps exchange that for admittance into the Order. How positively Slytherin of you, Potter, said a voice inside his head. Fair trade, he answered it back. Quietly, he turned the serpentine door knob, hoping to find Ron already asleep.

"There you are!" grumbled a very much awake Ron, sounding highly irritated. "Where were you? Hermione was completely sick with worry."

"Took Buckbeak out," said Harry, not meeting Ron's eyes.

"Is that why you are all wet then?"

"Yes, that is why I am all wet," answered Harry, shucking his dripping t-shirt. "That's what happens when you go flying in the rain."

"What if someone saw you? What if you got struck by lightning or got new-moana or something?

"Don't worry about me, Ron," said Harry, trying not to laugh. "It's pneumonia, and you sound just like Hermione."

"You could have told someone, you know," said Ron, sounding more hurt than angry. "Not that you tell any of us anything anymore."

In spite of himself, Harry began to feel guilty. This was Ron, his very best friend in the whole world. Even if he couldn't tell Ron about the Prophecy, even if he was still sore over Ron and Hermione being together, Ron was still his very first real friend.

"I-I'm sorry," said Harry quietly, toweling off his hair with one of Dudley's old sweat shirts. "Been having a rough time of it, you know? It's hard to be around people."

"Since when are Hermione and me 'people'?" asked Ron huffily. "We're your best friends."

Ron was right, they weren't just people, but still... Harry was finding it harder and harder to relate. "Yeah," said Harry, digging around in his school trunk for a set of pajamas. "You and Hermione are my best friends."

"Y-you mean that?" Ron asked, his blue eyes wide with earnestness. "Because, I still consider you my best mate. Always will."

"Yeah," said Harry, remembering the smudge-nosed redheaded boy on the Hogwarts Express who was his first true friend. "I mean it... and I always will."

"So... how 'bout you telling me what happened with the concert and the Death Eaters and all?"

"Sounds like you've already heard the whole story," said Harry with a laugh.

"Not the WHOLE story," said Ron. "And not from you."

Feeling slightly less ill at ease, Harry sat down on the edge of Ron's bed and told the whole story (plus a few embellishments, minus a few indiscretions). He was more than a little pleased that Ron laughed and gasped and was amazed at all the right places. "So you told the lady at the cathouse that you were Malfoy and Zabini?"

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning in spite of himself. "Wouldn't it be funny if they found out?"

"What wouldn't I give to see the look on Malfoy's face?" Ron said. "So then what happened?"

"Well, er, well... we went up to the room," said Harry, trying to remember. "We contacted the Order, and then..." He couldn't exactly tell Ron about what happened between him and Tonks. Then again, Ron had a girlfriend, right? But that girlfriend was Hermione, and Ron would probably tell Hermione, and while Ron might be impressed, Hermione probably wouldn't approve. .

"And then..." Ron repeated eagerly.

"And then... we, er, we took turns on watch," said Harry. "I went first, and then Tonks. I fell asleep...." And had a horrible dream where you got knocked into this bottomless pit by Bellatrix Lestrange. And then I woke up... and Tonks was there, and ohmygodhowembarassing. "Er, yeah... and then Snape came and got us, and um, that was that. Yeah."

"Oh," said Ron, slightly disappointed. "Fred and George said that Snape said that you and Tonks were in bed together. I think you skipped over that part."

"Oh, yeah, well, we just fell asleep, you know?" said Harry nervously. "And then Snape, you know what a horrible git he is, just made an assumption that we were, er, you know..."

"An older woman!" exclaimed Ron, clearly impressed. "Wow, Harry!"

"Shhh! It wasn't like that," Harry said, trying to quiet Ron down before he woke the entire house. Harry's cheeks were burning, and he couldn't quite look Ron in the eye.

"Are you sure?"

"Ok, it was sorta like that, but --"

"Wicked!" Ron breathed. "So, how did this happen, I mean, Tonks is a woman and an Auror and stuff. She's really hot too. Did you --"

"Hey!"

"I mean, she's really, really nice and stuff," said Ron. "No offense, but what does she see in a scrawny midget like you?"

"Er, apparently nothing," said Harry, remembering Tonks's parting shot. "And I'm not a midget; I'm just not a mutant like you."

"So wait, what really happened?"

"It's kinda hard to explain..."

"Try me," said Ron, as though he were suddenly an expert on girl troubles.

"Ok, but you have to promise not to tell anyone," said Harry. "Magically binding promise."

Harry told Ron the whole story this time ('I can't believe you just kissed her like that! How was it?'), including the more embarrassing bits ('she kissed you when she looked like you? Fred and George told me...').

"Anyway, later, we got in sort of an argument..." Harry trailed off, remembering what it was exactly they got in an argument about. He couldn't tell Ron. Not yet. It was nice to be on speaking terms again, he had to admit, but he couldn't tell Ron about the Prophecy. He just couldn't. "And, well, she basically told me that there wasn't anything between us. Then I er, well, I got sort of angry and I flew off with Buckbeak."

"I'm sorry, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Maybe she'll change her mind? I mean, Hermione gets mad at me all the time and...."

"Yeah," said Harry, getting in his own bed and crawling beneath the covers. "Yeah, maybe she'll change her mind."

The knock at the door came well before the sun rose.

"Who's there?" Harry yawned sleepily. He was in the middle of a very good dream for once, and he couldn't quite remember....

"Go away," grumbled Ron, still half-asleep. "It's not even the bum crack of dawn..."

"It's Tonks. I've come to collect Harry."

"In a minute," Harry called. "Sorry, Ron," he whispered.

Harry quickly dressed as Tonks waited outside the door. He had forgotten he was to shadow her and Kingsley today.

"Hello," Harry said, closing the door behind him. He couldn't quite look her in the eye, but instead focused on her shiny, leather boots. Boots that went all the way up to her knees, ending just below her...

"Er, about last night..." she said, sounding as awkward as Harry felt.

"It's okay," said Harry, feigning an air of nonchalance. "It's probably best that, well, you know."

"Yeah."

They were to meet Kingsley in Diagon Alley, but first Harry needed to work on his appearance. He couldn't exactly go running around in public looking like Harry Potter. Quietly, they made their way down to the kitchen, which was dark and silent at this hour. Even Mrs. Weasley, who usually roused early to make breakfast, was still sleeping.

With a few flicks of her wand, Tonks lit a fire and several hanging candelabras. "We'll grab some brekky once we get to Diagon Alley. Molly'd flay me alive if I went digging around in here," she said, filling a hip flask with water from the sink.

"Fine by me," Harry said with a shrug. He wasn't hungry.

Tonks coached Harry along with his transformations, starting with a short warm-up, as she usually did for their lessons, only this time, things were different. Gone were the teasing grins when he got something wrong. Gone were the unconsciously intimate pats on the shoulder when he got something right. Harry sorely missed that. She spoke in crisp, clipped tones. Her face was pensive. Her hair (a medium blond today) was pulled back into a severe pony tail. All business.

When they were finished, Harry didn't recognize the face that stared back at him from Tonks's small hand mirror. The scar was, of course, gone. His hair was a brown, curly mop. His eyes were more rounded and hazel. With some difficulty, he had made his nose longer and had etched the barest fine lines around his mouth and eyes. He looked closer to thirty than twenty.

"Not perfect," Tonks said. "A trained eye would notice your pores are too small and your skin too smooth for the rest, but no one will be examining you that closely. You'll do."

"How long does it take to learn to look exactly like someone else?"

"Depends," said Tonks. "If you want to look like a specific person, you could probably do so with a few days of hard study."

"Er... so how were you able to turn into me so fast?"

Harry thought he saw Tonks go slightly pink, if only for the tiniest moment. "I had been around you a great deal, of course... and you were right there in front of me, so I um, well, I knew what you looked like. If it is someone I know well, I can transform into that person with relative ease, depending on, er, well, depending on how closely I had been observing them. Someone new would take a bit of study. Not days, of course, but with a good photograph I could get it within a few hours."

"So you had been observing me closely then?" Harry asked slyly.

"Dumbledore did ask me to keep a close eye on you, so, um, yes," she said to her shiny black boots. "All of the observing your transformations, and things. It... well, it makes you very aware of, um, of how someone looks." Tonks was clearly uncomfortable with this line of questioning, which pleased Harry very much.

They spoke very little on the journey to Diagon Alley. The Underground was relatively crowded with the morning rush, and unlike Mr. Weasley, Tonks had little difficulty with Muggle currency. Harry wondered if her dad had taught her or if interacting with the Muggle world was a part of Auror training. At any rate, she didn't need his help and they made the journey in an awkward silence.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron to find Kingsley Shacklebolt waiting for them at a corner table, drinking coffee and reading the Daily Prophet.

"Looking good," Kingsley said to Harry, pulling out a chair. "Didn't recognize you at all until I saw her." He nodded towards Tonks.

"Heard much of anything yet?" whispered Tonks, taking a seat.

"Not a peep," said Kingsley, shaking his head and folding the paper. "Nothing in the Prophet, but I didn't expect it."

"Probably a blessing, all things considered, at least until we can find out what we need to before the Death Eaters figure out we are on to them," said Tonks.

"But they saw us," whispered Harry. "We got away; surely they would know we told Dumbledore."

"Yeah, but they don't know how closely our department is working with Dumbledore. Snape's been throwing them off," said Tonks. "Neither he nor the Order has any jurisdiction to investigate, and as far as they know, Dumbledore doesn't trust the Ministry to get involved. Which he doesn't, but he does trust Amelia Bones as well as Kingsley and me."

"Once we find out what we need to, we'll blow the cover off the whole thing," said Kingsley. "A Ministry leak to the press." He winked at Tonks.

"Have we still time for a bite?" Tonks asked, leaning across the table to check Kingsley's watch. Leaning a little too closely, Harry thought.

Harry ate his breakfast in silence as Tonks and Kingsley chatted quietly. They had an ease and familiarity with one another that left Harry feeling more than a little jealous. Perhaps Tonks's warm, friendly way with him was just her warm, friendly way in general. Or maybe she just liked Kingsley more.

The Leaky Cauldron began to fill up with the morning rush, and it felt kind of odd not to have everyone staring at him for once. Harry rather liked it. It was almost like being invisible.

After breakfast, the three made their way to the Screaming Banshee, which looked like a real dive in daylight. The doors were barred shut, both with heavy locks and heavy magic, but Tonks and Kingsley found a way in. Harry followed. Dust motes swam in the early morning sunshine, filtering in from a row of small windows near the ceiling. Broken glass and paper refuse crunched loudly beneath their feet, echoing off the water stained concrete walls. The whole place had a rather unnerving air to it, and Harry was slightly relieved to see that both Tonks and Kingsley were also on edge.

"H-Hello?" Tonks called. No answer.

"There has to be a back office in here somewhere," said Kingsley. "Did either of you notice anything when you were here before?"

Harry shook his head. "We were at the bar, then up by the stage..."

"There were some corridors behind the stage," said Tonks. "Changing rooms, it looked like, but probably an office. Maybe a hidden flat. Did you find out who owns this place?"

"Bjorn Andersen," said Kingsley. "Danish bloke. Think he went to Durmstrang. At least, that is what I heard. Not from here, anyway."

"It was an American at the door," said Tonks. "Recognized the accent. Pot bellied. Stubby, cherry wood wand. Sound familiar?"

"No," said Kingsley, who was checking behind the bar.

"We'll need to get a subpoena for a Pensieve extraction on him, whoever he is," said Tonks. "The Yank would have seen every single person who entered the building. He's probably our only hope of tracking everyone down."

"Er, what's a Pensieve extraction?" Harry asked. It didn't sound very pleasant.

Tonks shot a quick glance at Kingsley, who nodded silently. "Well, there is a device called a Pensieve -" Tonks began.

"I know what a Pensieve is," interrupted Harry. "I've been inside one before."

"Then you have the basic idea of it," said Tonks. "Only, in a case like this, we have the witness take a special potion and it extracts every single memory from a certain time period. It's not very pleasant, quite intrusive, and very painful. It is not the same thing as the person extracting the memory themselves."

"It's also a terrible invasion of privacy," said Kingsley, his deep, usually mellow voice holding a hint of anger. "And while there are unscrupulous individuals in the Ministry who would like it to be standard practice, it isn't something we do unless absolutely necessary."

"It can be terribly inaccurate anyway," said Tonks with a shrug. "Not even admissible in a trial, but can be used in a case like this where the witness wouldn't remember every--"

Tonks was cut off by an ear-splitting sonic boom that knocked both she and Harry to the floor. The entire building shook violently, sending chunks of concrete and rebar crashing down around them. Harry grabbed Tonks by the arm and they both scrambled to their feet and ran towards the door. Kingsley was right behind, wand in hand, blasting the doors out of their way. They made it out of the building and across the street just in time witness the roof over the very spot they had been standing only moments before crashing down, walls folding in on top of it.

While Harry stood there coughing and spluttering on thick, white dust, a huge crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, talking excitedly and pointing at the building.

"What do you think happened?" asked a voice that sounded familiar to Harry.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Tonks quietly, reaching for her wand in its hip holster. "We need to get these people out of here."

"I don't know," said another voice sounding quite frightened, and this time Harry knew exactly who it was – Ginny Weasley. "But look!"

Harry did look, and what he saw made his blood turn to ice. Death Eaters, thirty at least, all raising their wands at once.

"RUN!!!" bellowed Kingsley, distracting the crowd before the Death Eaters could do what they had done at the concert.

The crowd became hysterical. Some running, some pulling out wands and taking aim at the Death Eaters. Harry picked off two himself before he noticed Ginny was still there, wand out, along with Dean Thomas.

"Get out of here, both of you!" Harry yelled at them, as a red flash of light narrowly missed his ear. How could they be so stupid? Dean looked at Harry as though he were confused and kept fighting. If they insisted on sticking around, there wasn't much Harry could do, though if anything happened to Ginny...

"Down!" Tonks cried, crashing into Harry and pulling him to the ground as something blue streaked past. "You can't get distracted like that. Let them go! There's nothing you can do."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and leapt to his feet again. More Death Eaters began Apparating all around where others had fallen. After a while, he began to lose count of how many he had taken down, though it didn't seem to matter as there was always one to take its place. He got hit himself many times, but it was as if the spells and curses weren't having the full effect. He could feel blood trickling wetly down the side of his face. His muscles ached from an attempted Cruciatus and his left leg was twitching slightly from what he knew must be a Jelly Legs Curse, but for the most part he was unaffected.

Harry tried to keep track of Ginny in the crowd, despite Tonks's warning. Turning back towards the collapsed building, he spied a thick, beefy Death Eater aiming his wand directly at Kingsley's exposed back from atop a pile of rubble.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled. The hooded man froze. Losing his balance, he plummeted to the ground, his skull hitting the pavement below with a sickening crack. Harry's stomach convulsed as he realized he had just killed a man. The Death Eater's mask slipped from his face. It wasn't a man. It was one of Harry's classmates, Gregory Goyle. Later, he told himself, deal with it later.

Bodies were piling up in the street. Some looked as though they were just stunned, but many were definitely far worse off, even dead. From somewhere far away, Harry could hear another explosion, but it didn't matter. The most important thing was staying alert and alive and taking out as many of the bastards as he could manage.

He didn't know how long it went on that way. The hot, summer air was thick with dust and sweat and the smell of charred flesh. His wand felt as though it was fused to the palm of hand -- a slim holly and phoenix-feather extension of his arm. For the very first time he was intimately aware of the magic coursing through his body. It was electric, exhilarating. It was as if he were a conduit for this enormous, invisible energy permeating the air all around, drawing it in and forcing it out again, laser focused, through the tip of his wand.
Colored light shot through the air and black hooded strangers fell, faceless. It was okay if he couldn't see their faces. He was operating on instinct, finely honed from D.A. practice and now battle. When the Death Eaters began to Disapparate, a small part of Harry was disappointed. The rest of him wasn't ready to admit how much he enjoyed this and longed to feel that strange, magical ecstasy again.

As the Death Eaters vanished, Aurors began Apparating all around. A little late, aren't you? Harry thought bitterly to himself, and that it is when he saw...

His vision was a bit blurry and his eyes stung from the sweat and blood, but a flash of flame red hair caught his eye. Ginny. Harry rushed towards where she lay in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk, Dean Thomas's dark, lean form draped protectively over her.

"Ginny! Dean!" Harry called. He fell to his knees beside them. Dean was conscious, but just barely. His face was bloodied, his right eye swollen shut.

"How... who... ?" was all Dean could manage, before his good eye rolled back into his head.

"You know these two?" It was a middle-aged witch in lime green robes. A Healer.

Harry nodded. "Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas. Will they be all rright?" His eyes searched the woman's kindly face, but she was looking at something else: Dean's leg. Or rather, what was left of Dean's leg.

"I-I don't know," she said uncertainly, then turned towards a tall, dark haired man nearby who was also in Healer's robes. "I need a Portkey stretcher here!"

"He'll be okay, won't he?" Harry began to panic. Dean was losing a lot of blood. They shouldn't have been here...

The Healers ignored him, and lifted Dean's mangled body onto a hovering stretcher. The dark haired man did something to the handle, and the stretcher vanished.

"Let's take a look at this one," said the woman, pulling out a funny silver pocket watch with pictographic symbols instead of numbers. She moved her wand in the air above Ginny's body, and the hands moved around the face of the watch. The woman nodded her head as if agreeing with it. "She's got a mild concussion. A sprained wrist. Normally, we would take her in, but it is going to be a very long time before anyone can see to her, what with..."

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Do you know where she lives?"

Harry nodded. "I'll take care of her." The woman moved on.

He wasn't sure how he was going to get Ginny back to Grimmauld Place, when he suddenly remembered the chess piece Dumbledore had given him. The tiny black king was in his pocket, though he didn't remember putting it there when he dressed that morning, which felt like nearly a century ago. Harry touched Ginny's small fingers to the plastic, and was about to turn the crown when he remembered... Tonks. He couldn't leave her. He had to know she was safe. He knew she was a professional, that she could handle herself, that she'd saved his skin more than once already, but he had to make sure.

Desperately, his eyes searched the crowd as his heart thudded loudly against his ribcage. Aurors, Healers and Medi-wizards were all around. Wounded witches and wizards were milling about, but none of them was Tonks. He spied Kingsley, blood soaked gauze wrapped around his head, talking to another Auror, but he didn't see Tonks.

"Ginny," Harry said, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "I'm going to send you back to your mum now." He cupped Ginny's hands around the chess piece, manipulating them to turn the crown of little king, careful to touch no part of the Portkey himself. An instant later, she was gone.

Shakily, Harry rose to his feet. He approached Kingsley, who looked quite relieved to see Harry was relatively uninjured. "Have you seen Tonks?" Harry asked anxiously.
Kingsley shook his head. "Last I saw she was headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron."
"It's gone," said the Auror Kingsley had been talking to. He looked badly shaken. "The Leaky Cauldron, it's gone. Magical barrier's destroyed. Can't get in or out."
Harry swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
"Can't see it from the Muggle side. All that's left on our side is a collapsed stone wall. It's just gone."
"What about the people inside?" Kingsley asked.
"Vanished along with the building, we suspect," said the man.

"That must have been the second explosion," said Kingsley. "But how could that be?"
Harry didn't stick around long enough to find out. Stuffing his wand into his back pocket, he began running back down the road, shoving his way through the shell shocked crowd, towards where the Leaky Cauldron once stood.
A woman in torn and bloodied robes with red, swollen eyes grabbed hold of his arm. "Have you seen a boy, about sixteen?" she asked, on the verge of hysterics. "Light brown hair, blue robes? His name is Terry. He was just going to meet a friend while I got his school things. Have you seen him?"
"No," Harry said. "I haven't. I-I'm looking for someone, too."
"If you see him, t-tell him his mum is looking for him." She moved on.
When Harry finally got to where the Leaky Cauldron had been, he found it blocked off. There wasn't much there to block off – just a pile of stone and an odd, silvery mist that hung between the shops on either side. A crowd was gathered round, some arguing with the Magical Law Enforcement officers.
"My wife was in there!" a man yelled angrily. "You've got to let me through."
"I'm sorry sir," said a stony faced officer, holding his wand as though he fully intended to use it if need be. "Too dangerous."

"What's on the other side?" someone asked.

"Don't know. Nothing. You just disappear," said another. "Already lost two Aurors. Everybody needs to get back."

The bottom fell out of Harry's stomach. "W-who were they?"

"Don't know," said the second officer. "Not in my department. A blonde witch and an older wizard. Wizard named Bates, I think." The first officer nodded. "That's all we know."

Knees weak, Harry slowly turned around. Her hair was blonde that morning... If Tonks had gone through the mist, then she was simply gone. Just like Sirius... No, he would keep looking. And if he didn't find her, he'd come back with his invisibility cloak and go through the mist himself to search.

Harry didn't know how long he walked around Diagon Alley. But by the time he had canvassed the entire area, the crowds had begun to thin down a bit, though there were quite a few holding vigil near the Leaky Cauldron, holding up pictures of friends and loved ones. It was very difficult for Harry to look – too many faces he knew. Terry Boot. Eaun Abercrombie. A Hufflepuff girl in the year below him. Stan Shunpike.

"Did you find her?" It was Kingsley, favoring his right leg and walking with a limp.

Harry shook his head.

Kingsley swore under his breath. "Why don't you go back to Headquarters, tell Dumbledore what is going on, and I'll try to find her."

"I'm not leaving," Harry said quietly. "Not without Tonks. Besides, I can't get through to the Muggle side. Can't Apparate and I don't have a broom."

"Find someplace to Floo, and someone will come and get you," said Kingsley. "Don't worry about Tonks. I'm sure we'll find her."

"I-I'd really like to stay," said Harry. Even if she had gone through the mist, he'd like to search again, just to be sure. Maybe she was injured somewhere and couldn't call for help...

"Listen, Harry." Kingsley sighed. "That kid has luck like I've never seen before. As clumsy as she is, she should be dead by now. Kind of like you, only..." His eyes flicked to Harry's scar. Harry didn't feel very lucky just then. "I'll find her, I promise. She's like a little sister to me."

"Sure," Harry said, formulating a plan. Kingsley looked relieved. "I'll stop by Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and use the Floo there."

"You want us to do what?"

"Apparate over to Headquarters, one at a time. One of you talk to Dumbledore. Tell him what happened, while the other gets my Invisibility Cloak and brings it back here," explained Harry for the second time. "Oh, and there is uh... there is a broken mirror in my school trunk. Wrapped in paper. Bring me the two biggest pieces." Harry wasn't sure it would work, but he would have to try.

George held an ice pack over a large, purple lump on his forehead while Fred shakily downed a smoking Heating Draught to rid himself of the Shivering Shakes a Death Eater managed to hit him with during the attack on Diagon Alley.

"What are you planning to do again?" Fred asked, as white billows of steam poured from his freckled ears.

Harry sighed. The Weasley twins were usually up to this sort of thing. He had wasted nearly fifteen minutes already proving he was really the real Harry Potter (changing back into his normal self), assuring them that Ginny would be fine and explaining what he needed them to do.

"Tonks has gone missing. I think she went through the mist where the Leaky Cauldron used to be. I need my dad's cloak, it's the only way I'll get past the guards," Harry said, slightly exasperated. "What, you are in the Order now, so you have to look out for little Harry Potter? You two aren't losing your nerve, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Fred.

"You really like her, don't you?" George squinted at him from beneath his ice pack.

"Er..." Harry looked at the floor. "She's a friend."

"He fancies her, all right," said Fred, with a knowing look.

"Thought so," said George, with a nod at his twin.

"Will you do it?"

Fred and George looked at one another. Harry wondered if there was some kind of special Legilimency between twins.

"For our very first investor --" said Fred.

"-- and the love of a beautiful woman," said George.

"Anything we can do," said Fred, grinning, and they both Disapparated.

Nervously, Harry paced the floor of the shop. It seemed like an eternity before George returned with a knapsack.

"Listen, Harry, are you sure about this?" George looked quite serious. "Emmeline Vance saw the whole thing – the explosion, the Leaky Cauldron just vanishing, a few people went into the mist, but never came out. She said it had something to do with the destruction of a magical barrier. Creates some kind of magical limbo... no way back. I heard her explaining to our mum while I nicked you some food. She's going to flay us alive if she --"

Just then, Fred Apparated into the shop. "He hasn't left, has he?" Fred looked uncharacteristically frantic and out of breath. "Oh, thank Merlin, there you are Harry." He was holding something tightly in his fist. "Talked to Dumbledore... he said waste no time, and handed me this -- " It was the small black King chess piece, the one Harry had used to send Ginny back to Grimmauld Place, which Fred thrust into his open palm.

"How did...?"

"No idea," said Fred. "He just said it was for you and to hurry back. Didn't give me a chance to explain anything. I suppose he knew you were, well, I don't know. It was quite odd..."

"Thanks," said Harry, throwing the cloak over his shoulders. Waste no time... Dumbledore had the right of it for once. "I owe you one."

"Yeah, well, just come back," said George.

"Preferably alive," said Fred, clapping on him on the shoulder. "Or Mum'll kill us."

"Wait," said Harry. "I almost forgot." Reaching into the knapsack, he pulled out one of the pieces of glass from the mirror Sirius had given him.

"What is it?" George asked.

"Part of a two-way mirror," said Harry. "I-I don't know if it will work or not, but just in case..."

Quietly, Harry slipped out of the shop and down the road. He had to be careful not to bump into anyone, lest he be discovered. It was late afternoon, the sun was about to set, but the streets were still filled with the injured and the mourning. By this time the truly desperate had given in and the guards in front of the Leaky Cauldron were quite bored and not paying close attention. Harry snuck past them unseen beneath his cloak, taking one last look at the tangerine sky.

Resolutely, he stepped into the silvery mist and fell to his death.

Harry was falling, though he didn't know how fast or how long or where he might land. Everything around him was an indistinguishable silvery gray, and he couldn't see the ground. As a child he heard it said that if you fell from a great height, you would die before ever hitting the earth – the fright of it would still your heart. Harry's heart was definitely beating, and frightfully fast at that. He wondered briefly if would be able to cast a Killing Curse on himself. The thought of dying by way of having his guts splattered over a ten kilometer radius was much too gruesome to contemplate.

He didn't cast a Killing Curse, however, and continued to fall for what seemed like hours, maybe even days. There was no sound in this place and he could feel no wind, just the gravity of the fall acting on his body. There should be wind, he thought.

Eventually terror and panic gave way to a kind of surreal complacency. For all he knew, he might be falling like this forever. Maybe he would catch up with Tonks on the way down, he was at least a stone heavier than she was... but then he remembered an old physics lesson from back at his Muggle school – Galileo and the leaning tower of Pisa. He'd never see her again...

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. He would dream for a time, sometimes even dream that the falling was a dream, but then awaken, still falling. He had heard it said that when you were about to die, your life would flash before your eyes. For Harry, it was more like looking at the highlights reel and it didn't so much flash as play back in slow motion...

"Your parents were killed in a car crash! Don't ever speak of them again!"

"Harry -- you're a great wizard you know."

"...to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"...I stand by what I said before... you would have done well in Slytherin."

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!"

"Dobby knows, sir! Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy..."

"Kill the spare!"

"Wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on?"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone."

"...AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES..."

"No one else can kill me?"

"Precisely"

Harry awoke to crazed laughter. It took him a moment to realize that the laughter was his own. It took him yet another moment to realize he was no longer falling.

There was a slight breeze caressing his cheek, brushing his messy fringe across his forehead and tickling his nose. The ground was warm and slightly damp against his back. He could smell grass and soil and something tantalizingly sweet like honeysuckle. He could hear insects and a rushing stream. The sound of water over stone was soothing, hypnotizing. He was thirsty.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and crawled to his knees. He was completely overcome with thirst, so weak and dizzy he could barely hold his head up. His mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton and his throat was so parched he could no longer swallow.

On all fours, he made his way to the stream, its gurgles and splashes magnified tenfold in his water starved ears. The water was clear and probably very cold and he ached for it like nothing else ever before in his entire existence. Harsh sunlight beat down upon his neck. The breeze that had awakened him grew still. Just a few more feet...

A noise, a rustling of leaves, perhaps, on the opposite bank caused him to look up. He blinked a few times, unable to believe the sight before him. It was a woman...

Long, red hair cascaded over her shoulders. She had sad, green almond shaped eyes. Tears stained her cheeks and her face was a strange mixture of elation and sorrow and longing all at once. "Harry..." she said. He knew that voice.

"Mum?" Harry managed to croak through chapped lips. "Mum, I-I'm so thirsty..."

There was a man standing next to her. Harry hadn't noticed him before -- it was his father. Harry's mum buried her face in his shoulder. She couldn't look at him.

Harry tried to call out again, but the sound died in his throat. His tongue felt like a dead thing in his mouth. He just needed some water. If he only he had some water, he could talk to them. He could be with them... just a few more inches...

His fingers grazed the cool, glass surface of the stream. Greedily, he raised his hands to his lips, just enough to wet them, just enough to tell his mum and dad how much he loved them and how he would be with them real soon. But before he could taste the precious water, he saw another man – it was his godfather, Sirius Black. He was shaking his head.

"No Harry," Sirius said, his voice coming from so very far away. "You can't..."

His mother looked so sorrowful, yet gazed so hungrily upon him... She was only a few feet away, and all he needed was one small taste... just a bit... just enough to tell her...

"Don't drink it." It was Sirius again, his voice even farther away. "The water... it will make you forget what you have to do... you have to go back. You can't stay here."

Harry's hands were shaking. Droplets of water clung to his finger tips, glittering like precious jewels, forming small rivulets that snaked towards his wrists. It was so hard... his fingers were almost to his lips...

"No..." Sirius was fading... "You have to tell Remus I-I... tell him..."

Harry never found out what he was supposed to tell Professor Lupin, as the world quite suddenly went completely black.

Cool hands caressed his forehead... life giving water slipped between his lips, filled his mouth and slid down his throat. Coughing and spluttering he awoke, gasping for air. A very pretty, but very soot stained face hovered over his. The face looked worried.

"H-Harry?" Her voice was apprehensive, bordering on panic.

Harry blinked, and the world swirled around him, misty gray, but the face – he knew. "Tonks?" he croaked.

She sighed with relief and flung her arms around him. "Oh, thank God... you didn't drink from the Lethe! I thought for sure I'd lost you."

In spite of himself, Harry began to shake with silent laughter. "I'm not yours to lose."

Her body stiffened, but before she could pull away, Harry pulled her back down again hard against his body, her legs straddling his hips, their noses practically touching. Tonks was about to say something, but he didn't let her finish. His mouth captured hers in a long, bruising kiss – one she didn't pull away from. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair and she kissed him back hungrily, both forgetting completely where they were or how they'd ever get back.

A/N: If you want updates and the occasional cookie, you can subscribe to my yahoo group (see my ff.net profile). If you just want updates, you can click that little box below your review. I have a paid account, so you'll get an email when I update to ff.net. If you are interested in the Harry/Tonks romantic pairing, please see my profile for useful links.

Mark Turnlach: I love Ron! It's still Harry/Tonks though, and they will be the main focus, not Ron/Hermione (I ship H/Hr too, btw). As for dangerous situations... I think Tonks is pretty good at keeping her cool in hairy cough situations. She's an Auror, and damn fine one... most of the time.

FREAKSHOW1: glad H/G shippers can like H/T too :D

Tal: By my calculations, Tonks is 21-22 as of OotP. 17/18 3 years Auror training 1 year as an Auror = 21/22. So 6-7 years older than Harry.

mistik-elf13: We'll see Draco's reaction to Harry's little misadventure eventually ;)

Bowser: Dumbledore is an accomplished chess master; he always makes time for chess ;)

Shadowface: yes, she was trying to distance herself, but... heh. Resistance was indeed futile.

Thanks for the reviews! If anyone has questions, I'll answer them with the next chapter.