A/N: You know, I’ve never truly appreciated how suggestive casting a Patronus is. And why is it that 1500 words on elastase come easily, but this needed ripping out of me? Exam season is upon me, as it has been every spring/summer for the past six years straight, and so the next update may not be until June, especially since I stupidly signed up for a Heroes ficathon.

Apologies, I know I’m rather sporadic with this story! It will not be abandoned (again!), I promise.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Harry had let Ginny’s ever-more studious behaviour and its underlying reasons slide for the time being, concentrating instead on learning how to conceal the form of his Patronus. The breaking open of Azkaban was only a week away now, and every viable moment was spent in the Room of Requirement going over the plans and preparations in his head – with and without company.

The term had passed quickly, and Christmas was looming. The decorations were adorning every corridor and classroom of the castle, and enchanted snow was substituting the real thing on the lawns and turrets. The Weasleys had extended an invitation to both Harry and Hermione for Christmas with them, but for different reasons they both declined. Hermione, for her part, was becoming more aware and worried about the war to come and how it could affect her and her family, and was eager to spend as much time with them as possible. Harry knew the Grangers only vaguely by sight, and the rest was all anecdotal and so he couldn’t be sure what they thought of their daughter’s front-line involvement, or if they even knew at all. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure how much Hermione told them about the unfortunate underbelly of Wizarding society.

Harry had simply told the Weasleys truth: he had far too much to learn and prepare for, and everyone was safer if he was within the school’s walls.

It was almost insulting how little protest Molly and Arthur had put up, but Harry couldn’t really bring himself to care too much. He had illegal acts to consider.

And so his Saturday night was spent alone, in the Room, listening to Tom’s gentle explanation of the theory for the thousandth time. It was late, probably even past curfew, but Harry couldn’t be bothered to look at his watch or a clock for confirmation. It was late enough that Tom was lying in bed with a novel and his glasses on. He couldn’t see it himself, but he could picture it, and it made him long for home. He wasn’t sure where Bella was, but he was enjoying the simple attention Tom was giving him, somewhere Harry was free to indulge in it.

Harry was tired, so very tired. He spent his days in public, playing Harry Potter the Hero, being appropriately stupid for his teachers and typically Gryffindor for his peers. He and Tom had little contact during the day, sometimes even little contact at night and so it wasn’t like he could distract himself. Planning to conquer the government of even a small group of countries like the United Kingdom (sadly not Britain, given the Republic of Ireland had a small government to themselves which wasn't of great concern) was a time-consuming and lonely business, as Harry was discovering. His only present confidant worked too hard and was around too little. Harry was finding that in his role as, what, spy? Agent? Double-crosser? Whatever, he just didn’t really have a chance to be the person he wanted to be.

You’re not paying attention, Tom said, not entirely amused. I know you’ve heard this before but you need to have perfected this by next weekend.

Harry sighed. I know. It’s just … Nevermind. I’m tired, I’m lonely and I miss you and Bella. Let’s just try again.

Tom, mercifully, didn’t try and push the issue. Hmm, how about… a wombat?

I don’t know what a wombat looks like, Harry replied dully, knowing Tom was rolling his eyes, miles away, in his own bed, in their home. The pure wave of homesickness and loss was held back from the connection.

Well, you know what a kangaroo looks like, don’t you?

A kangaroo, I can do. Harry pictured a beautiful bouncing marsupial (which was more cartoon than live-action), summoned his will, and cast. “Expecto patronum!” The white mist Harry was both very proud of, and almost sick of the sight of, shot from his wand and solidified sluggishly into the kangaroo shape Harry had been hoping for.

Not bad, but it needs to come faster - it’s still trying to form your stag which is why it’s so sluggish, Tom commented. Let’s try again.

Eventually he felt Tom fall asleep, like water draining down a plug-hole until there was just silence. It would stay that way until Tom began to dream, if he even allowed himself that much sleep. Harry asked the Room for a clock, and was startled to see it was three in the morning - not too bad for a weekend night, but Harry really did need all the sleep he could get, especially before next weekend. He gave the Patronus one more try, a badger, and was satisfied to see the shape come far less sluggishly than before, but still with a bit of reluctance.

Harry saw himself spending much more of this week in this Room, making animals.

He donned his Cloak and left, not passing a single soul on the corridors to Gryffindor tower, but thankfully not acquiring the attention of the portraits either. The Fat Lady was far too used to taking passwords from thin air and opened sleepily, allowing Harry to clamber into the common room. He would normally have waited until he was in the sixth year boys’ dormitory to take off the Cloak, just in case, but Ginny was dozing in one of the chairs by the fire and as the portrait closed behind him, the disturbance in the air caused the book on Ginny’s lap to slip to the floor with a bang that pierced the night. Making sure they were alone in the common room, he slipped out of the cover and to Ginny’s credit she only jumped a foot in the air with a gasp, not a scream.

“Twat,” she cursed softly. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what you were up to so late, would you?”

Harry just shrugged with a small smile. He certainly wouldn’t utter the words “breaking” and “Azkaban” so close to the event and in the Gryffindor common room for anyone to hear. He moved forward, and picked the book up for her, noting the title. “Now, I know you couldn’t have gotten this book without a teacher’s permission.”

Ginny snatched back The Dark Arts – Invention or Intention: A Collection of Opinions on ‘Dark’ Magic with a smug grin. “We all have our ways. Our dear Potions Master took only a little persuading to help me with my studies.”

He raised an eyebrow, but Ginny wasn’t keen on elaborating, it seemed. “You’ve been working hard,” was what he said instead.

“And you know why,” Ginny replied.

“Yes,” Harry nodded. Deciding he would just have to talk to her as plainly as he could, he threw up a muffling charm around the both of them (another little extracurricular gift from Bella) to ensure they wouldn’t be heard. Ginny noticed and visibly relaxed. “He may not Mark you even if you leave, you know.”

“That’s not the point. But I don’t care, I can wait.”

“It may not take that long,” Harry replied, honestly. He didn’t think it would take until his own graduation for this all to be over, let alone Ginny’s. If they could get Dumbledore out of the way, they could get the relevant legislation passed and they’d have won. Of course, some minor players in the Ministry would also have to disappear, but really, who would be keeping track of them? Ginny was silent, so he continued. “I understand what you’re doing, but I don’t quite see why.”

A sigh, and Ginny scrubbed a hand across her face. She was clearly exhausted, with dark circles lining her eyes and her skin was thin and pale. “I want to help,” she said. “I want to be useful and I’m sick of being stuck outside of it all.”

Then Harry asked the bonus question. “What about Hermione?”

Ginny’s eyes flicked to the girls’ staircase and back to Harry. “I don’t know if she feels strong enough to abandon Dumbledore. Even with everything she knows about the politics of the situation… I don’t think this is something she feels strong enough to act upon. House elves are there, you know? Right in front of her, something she deals with every day she’s here. This is all outside of Hogwarts, even outside of Diagon Alley. It’s a wider-world issue and she doesn’t know quite how to involve herself rightly. She believes in our cause, I know she does,” she breathed deeply, “But she doesn’t want to betray you.” And those liquid brown eyes turned from the fire to Harry with a deadly intensity.

“I can’t tell her yet.”

“She’s tearing herself apart inside, Harry,” she pleaded.

“Not yet,” he repeated adamantly, dropping the charm and left for bed. The guilt gnawing at his heart was left to fester a little longer.

Tom woke to warm curves in his arms, something he’d quickly gotten used to recently, but more recently lacked. He nuzzled into the apple-scented, coal black hair, his eyes still closed. “I missed you,” he murmured, not really knowing if his lover was awake but taking the opportunity to speak his mind regardless. He’d learned many things in the past few years, and that letting people in was sometimes necessary (and even beneficial) was one of them. Bella had clearly come home late, but had taken the time to strip to her underwear before joining Tom, and he took comfort in her warmth as the December night-time temperatures seeped into the room. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, his head dipping under the duvet to do so, and he settled himself to sleep some more.

“It’s morning,” came a whisper, and Tom groaned.

“You could have let me sleep,” he suggested, pulling Bella closer to him almost as if to stave off the impending day with a physical barrier.

Bella smiled, her hand coming to cover the one resting on her stomach. “I could, but we both have so much to do.”

“What happened to the day of rest?”

“We’re atheists,” she snorted, turning in Tom’s arms to finally face him in the winter light pervading the room. She swung one leg over his hips and settled herself as though they weren’t preparing to get out of bed at all. “Do you want to hear how it went?”

Tom shifted his hand to her hip and kissed her softly. “No,” he said almost petulantly, before dropping his head to her shoulder. “Alright, fine.”

“It works,” she grinned suddenly, and he looked up. “Every single one we had trapped, and we got a few wild ones around the woods.” Tom was staring, almost expressionless but for the gleam of triumph in his eyes. Bella continued, “If we can the Death Eaters trained to do it right, then we can probably Banish the Dementors faster than they can breed.”

“I’m really starting to detest that moniker. You’re amazing, you know,” he said to her, the satisfaction coursing through his veins. “How soon can they be trained?”

She shrugged. “A month at the most, but tracking the Dementors will be the hardest, and some of them can’t produce corporeal enough Patronuses to start the process off.”

“Speaking of, Harry’s about got it down perfect,” Tom smiled, proud. “A little sluggish, but he’ll be ready for next weekend.”

“Will he be staying the night?” Bella asked, hopeful.

“Too risky,” Tom and gave her another, conciliatory kiss, muffling her sigh of disappointment, before stretching and sliding out of bed.