Feel

By: Lady DeathAngel

Disclaimer: not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said

Warnings: more angst

A/N: So, after very little thought on my part and Return/Revenge of the Plot Bunnies, I threw out the last chapter and have put this up instead. This is the final chapter in Part I of this as-yet unnamed Arc, so after this Feel is over. I've made this decision for two reasons: 1) I'm busy so getting chapters out has been a problem, not to mention the fact that I've got the SB/RL fqf to write for and several other fics to work on and 2) it felt like a good stopping point. I'd been toying with the idea of giving Feel a sequel and this worked out well for that. Part II is being tentatively named 'Serenity' and as of right now I don't know when it'll be up. I'm still sorting through my plot bunnies after their invasion so I'm not sure what Harry's school term will bring besides more Draco (hopefully more sinister this time around, but will he stay that way is the question), more Remus (with a greater emphasis on his relationship with Harry both platonic and otherwise), more Seamus (just because), and possibly a resurrection of Sirius (because, come on, we all know he'll be back so leave him out of my story? Pshaw. P-shaw). It will be darker and there may or may not be death involved (but it's highly likely) and I'm really excited. Thanks to all who've reviewed so far and keep your eyes peeled for Part II. BTW, anyone looking to beta? Drop a line. Anyway, I love you all and I can't wait to get started on Part II, so in the meantime, please read, enjoy and review!

Platform 9 3/4 was bustling with activity, as was the norm on the first train ride back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All over the platform, students were greeting each other enthusiastically and bidding their families farewell. It seemed like ages since the last time Harry'd been here, taking a return trip to Hogwarts. It was hard to believe that just one year before, Sirius had been bounding behind him as Padfoot, making other students laugh and enjoying somewhere other than Number 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time in months.

Now he was arriving with Hermione and Ron and Ginny in tow. Mrs. Weasley and Tonks were around somewhere as well, and the twins were selling their wares not-so-discreetly to anyone interested in buying. All over people were happy and excited and maybe a little bit scared. Everyone, it seemed, but Harry himself.

He struggled to at least put on a cheerful front. He smiled and nodded and talked as enthusiastically with Ron about the coming term as possible. But it was hard, and he had other things to contend with besides his own abject misery. Because the minute he crossed through the barrier and stepped onto the platform he was assailed by schoolmates all waving around Thursday's issue of The Quibbler in his face.

"Did you know about this, Harry?" Seamus asked immediately. "I mean, Skeeter's done some awful stuff and told some pretty nasty lies, but nothing like this."

Perhaps he expected Harry to frown and ask what the bloody hell he was talking about, but he just shrugged.

"It's all true," he said.

The sandy-haired boy scoffed.

"Come on," he said. "You and Malfoy calling a truce? Hell must've frozen over when I was on holiday then."

Ron rescued him, wandering over and grabbing Harry's arm.

"Leave him alone, Seamus. It's all true, it all really happened the way they said . . . leave it be."

But he didn't, and neither did anyone else. By the time they made it onto the train and into a compartment, they had hordes of students trailing after them yelling about how this was all some nefarious scheme of Malfoy's and it couldn't possibly be true and he had to do something to make it right.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, I'll put an end to it, then," Hermione said, pinning her Prefect's badge on her robes and marching out into the fray.

Ron sighed but followed and Harry stared at the closed compartment door for several minutes before they wandered back in, Neville in tow.

"Hi, Harry," he said.

Harry nodded at him and then looked expectantly up at Ron and Hermione.

"Did you get rid of them?" he asked.

They shared a look.

"Well . . ." Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. But only because Ginny found the compartment Malfoy's in and called everyone over."

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, let him deal with it then," he said, feeling surly but content that at least for a few minutes he'd have peace.

The rest of the ride went by in a quiet blur. Ginny joined them along with Luna a few minutes later and then Ron and Hermione were off on official Prefect business. Harry wasn't feeling very talkative though, so he let the others carry the conversation and instead thought about the last few days.

After meeting with Rita Skeeter it had started to hit him that he was going back to Hogwarts in less than a week, and instead of the usual excitement of going home, he was filled with apathy. It didn't matter anymore. He couldn't visit Hogsmeade, he had a curfew, and it was still questionable as to whether or not he could play Quidditch. All in all, the odds weren't in his favor and he didn't want to go back. What he wanted, more than anything, was to kill Voldemort and be done with it.

In his darker moments, alone with Nyx on his lap and Malfoy somewhere else in the room, he thought it would feel good to kill him. Not in the 'It's finally over' sense, but rather in the 'Die, bastard, die' sense. And he thought it couldn't be that hard. He'd escaped him plenty of times and luck was generally on his side. No one else's, it would seem, because the death and injury tolls around him didn't show any signs of becoming stagnant, but his at least. He could do it, he could kill him.

Malfoy thought he was being stupid.

"He's the most powerful Wizard of the age," he said with an eye roll. "Sure he's supposedly scared of Dumbledore, but for how long? You-Know-Who's stronger, smarter, and he's got no morals. You can't defeat someone who'd as soon kill you in a fair battle as drag your children into it and slaughter them in front of you. It doesn't work that way."

They didn't mention that the only way it would was if they fought back just as hard. Harry shuddered slightly when he thought of casting an Unforgivable with the intent of torturing Bellatrix and realized that he'd probably have an easier time of fighting fire with fire. It would be easier for him because he hated so much and it was a dangerous thing (reminded him, actually, of some movie Dudley and Piers had watched several times. Star Wars or something, where hate turned people into black-cloaked figures with acute asthma and made them evil).

He hadn't talked to anyone about that. He knew that Remus, at least, knew. Snape probably knew as well. But he felt that if he didn't talk about it, it wouldn't be as real. He didn't know if it becoming real would make him feel ashamed or proud or what, but at least this way it was a sort of detached amazement that he'd tried it. He was only slightly revolted, and he could ignore the twinges of excitement he got when he thought about it. It was like it had happened to someone else.

Other than those morbid thoughts, he'd spent the last few days carefully thinking about nothing but pretending to be happy. It was easier to pretend and that way no one asked questions. Ron and Hermione didn't pressure him, though he spent quite a lot of time with them, resting with his head in Hermione's lap, her fingers laced with Ron's in his hair, just feeling content despite the fact that all three of them worried about what would happen this year. He saw Snape once and he said he'd send word for him when his Occlumency lessons were to start.

"It will be as soon as possible, Potter, so don't get too comfortable," he'd said.

He had one last conversation with Malfoy, two days before they were going to leave.

He'd been sitting in the drawing room, staring at a book but not reading a single word of it, when the blonde had practically stumbled in.

"Just spent half an hour with Snape picking at my brain," he said in answer to the unasked question. He flopped gracefully onto the couch across from Harry. "Father told me he was a skilledLegilimens and I know I've felt him poking around in there before, but this time it was definitely more intense."

"Why was he doing that?"

Malfoy shrugged.

"To make sure I don't know too much. After all, I've been holed up behind enemy lines. If I wanted to get into You-Know-Who's good graces, I'd have found out all about your plots to bring about justice, I'd have seduced you to the dark side so I could deliver you to him with a silver collar on begging for the Mark, and . . . let's see . . . I'd have planned to kill Granger and all the Weasley brood . . . I'd be taking Lupin to him since he could probably find some use for a werewolf . . ."

Harry smirked.

"You'd have seduced me to the dark side and sent me to him with a silver collar?"

Malfoy smirked back.

"Yes well, we'd make a lovely couple don't you think? You'd also look fabulous in a silver collar. Kink is all the rage in the social scenes of the youthful. Not to mention how delightful it would be. Son of disgraced Death Eater and insane mother seduces Boy-Who-Lived and gets him to take the Dark Mark and pledge his fealty to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I'd be even more famous than I already am."

"You're ridiculous," Harry commented drily.

"Yes, but fabulously so," he shot back sarcastically.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Harry spoke again.

"Why'd he do it, really?" he asked softly. "I mean, you already know too much. About us and Snape . . . even if you don't know details."

Malfoy frowned and looked away.

"Snape explained it all to me," he said, carefully nonchalant. "So your lot has nothing to worry about. I only know what he told me and it wasn't much."

It was a very vague answer and Harry suspected there was more to the story than he was being told, but he didn't press the issue, and anyway, Malfoy changed the subject.

"I just thought you should know things haven't changed much. The truce still stands but we aren't friends or friendly acquaintances or anything of the sort. I don't like Granger or Weasley or you or Dumbledore or any of your other justice cadging friends."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "And that's how it'll always be."

Malfoy stood up and stretched a bit.

"One can only hope," he said in complete seriousness. "See you around, Potter."

And then he was gone. He left with Snape that night and it was odd not seeing him around, but at least things felt slightly back to normal. The next day passed by quickly, with everyone getting their things together and a large family dinner. Remus was there and he kept shooting Harry veiled looks and the boy got the feeling his former teacher was going to seek him out. He wasn't wrong.

"Harry, I'd like to speak with you," he said in his hoarse voice after dinner.

He had no reason to refuse, so he went to Remus' study with him and sat uncertainly in the chair in front of his desk. Remus leaned his hip on the edge and raked a hand through his hair.

"Look, about . . . when . . ." He sighed and then started over. "It's not your fault," he said gravely. "I know that I made you think that I think it's your fault but I don't and it's not. Sirius did what he wanted to do because he loved you and he wanted to help you. Some people say it was because he felt useless in the Order and that's a part of it, but Albus always told him that he had to bide his time for when you needed him most and he couldn't just sit back and wait around here for news of whether you'd lived or died. It wasn't his way."

"If he hadn't loved me then it wouldn't have happened," Harry told him, not quite able to keep himself from saying it. "If he hadn't cared he'd still be alive."

Green eyes widened when Remus' hands came down heavily on his shoulders.

"Don't say that. Don't you dare even think it. Don't take what Sirius had for you and make light of it. He loved you. Just like James loved you, just like Lily loved you. You're too young to understand, Harry, but that kind of love isn't turned off and on and it isn't rational in the way everyone wants it to be. Someday you'll love someone and you'll know what it's like to care so much you'd die for that person to get just one more shot at happiness because that's all you'll really want. For them to be happy."

"But I'm not!" he screamed, wrenching away from Remus. "I'm not happy. The only family I've ever known hates me and the one shot I had at having a real family is gone. I have to watch my friends suffer because some madman's out there ruining their lives and they're all living in fear and I'm their only hope. Me, a sixteen-year-old kid who's got to kill the most powerful wizard in the world right now, or be killed by him. What have I got to be happy about?"

Remus' frown was so severe he looked years younger and much stronger and more like a man to be feared than Harry'd ever seen him.

"How about the fact that your best friends are still around and still by your side? You've got people who love you. And yes, it's a lot to have put on your shoulders at your age, but you're not the only one being forced to grow up ahead of his time. You're not the first either. Sirius, your father and mother, me, we all had to grow up too fast. None of us wanted that for you, you've got to believe that. And it kills me and it killed Sirius to watch you have to go through this but you're not alone. You can do this and you can survive this, but you've got to let yourself grow up enough to accept it and let the ones who love you, help you."

Harry looked away and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"I don't want to lose anyone else," he said softly. "I won't have anything to live for if I lose everyone I care about."

"Don't take their sacrifices lightly," Remus told him sternly. "And don't try to make their decisions for them. If they love you enough to die for you and it's the only choice they have, it's not up to you to tel them they can't do it."

He thought about what Ron had said weeks before. About how he meant more to them than just the future of the world. How he'd die for him, not because of him. And maybe Remus was right. He was too young to understand what that felt like, but he had to try because he couldn't go on like this.

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "I mean . . . can I write you?"

It sounded almost like a change of subject, but Remus understood and nodded. Harry would make the effort, the same way he'd started to with Ron and Hermione and it wouldn't be too bad to have someone there who understood him better than his best friends did. Someone who'd known his parents and Sirius and who could tell him about them. Someone who was always supportive but didn't coddle him. Someone who made him feel safe and so much more than he was, older and stronger but with all the potential in the world to become even greater.

He sat in the train car, listening to Neville and Ginny and Luna argue over something and he was still dreading going back because everything that had made up his life was gone or subject to change. Ron and Hermione weren't there to talk to and even then, it would be a while before he was comfortable telling them everything. But there was always Remus and the fact that making the effort wasn't that hard at all, not when there was so much to be said and someone so willing to listen.

Luna lent him a spare bit of parchment and a quill and making himself comfortable, Harry wrote.