Author's Note: Good evening! *checks calendar* Has it really been two years? I suppose it has, at that. To be honest, I'd given up on ever uploading this chapter; I made it halfway through and then hit a brick wall. But after a fair bit of frustration, griping, and about thirty drafts, here is Chapter Nine, birthed at last.

With love to my steadfast beta reader, powerof3.

For everyone who's waited.

Chapter Nine
The City of Realizations

Hermione was dragged out of a dream that she was naked, lost and late for an Arithmancy exam by an insistent pounding on the door of their suite. "Bnuh?" she said, lurching to her feet, waiting for both her brain and her vision to clear.

"I've got it, Hermione," Remus said, already up and moving to answer the door. Hermione blearily rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe the sleep grit out of the corners of her eyes, and then winced as Lupin pulled the door open, filling the dim living room with bright hallway light.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said, stifling a yawn.

"It's morning," announced Harry.

"Or will be soon, yes."

"I've had a rest. I'm ready to destroy those Horcruxes."

Remus sighed.

"What?" Harry demanded, rather rudely. "Last night you said we'd talk about it in the morning. It's morning now and I want to deal with those Horcruxes."

Hermione pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself and walked over to stand beside Lupin. Harry was standing in the hall, fully dressed and wearing the same mulish expression she'd seen on his face so often recently. He frowned when he saw her.

Lupin said, "You can't have slept more than three hours, Harry. I know I haven't."

"So?"

"So if you're expecting to be able to walk in and destroy the Horcruxes on the first try, you're expecting far too much."

Harry scowled. "Don't you tell me what I can and can't expect. You were rather wrong the last time you did."

"Harry, you're being unreasonable."

With an exaggeratedly feigned look of shock, Harry said, "Am I? Hadn't noticed. Good thing you pointed that out."

Briefly, Remus looked pained. Changing tacks, he said, "You may be ready to go, but the rest of the team, however, is not. It's barely seven in the morning. It won't hurt you to wait a few hours."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't need the rest of the team to do this. I'm ready to go. All I need from you is the Horcruxes."

Lupin rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Come inside." He stepped back, opening the door wider. Harry gave him a why-should-I sort of expression and Remus said, "Harry, I am not discussing this with you while standing in the hall. Come inside."

Defiantly, Harry stood his ground for just a second longer before stepping inside, coolly brushing past Hermione. Arms still crossed, he pointedly remained standing in the center of the sitting room, scowling heavily. Hermione covered her face with her hands, not sure whether to laugh or weep – or possibly just go back to bed. This would be more amusing if I weren't so tired, but it is too early to be dealing with Harry in a mood like this.

"Sit down," Lupin said, closing the door of the suite. Harry still remained standing, and Lupin sighed again. "Look, there's a perfectly good chair you can sit in so you won't have to share the settee with either Hermione or me. Sit."

Harry made an awful face, but he did take a seat. Hermione sank back onto the loveseat, and Remus perched himself on the opposite arm from her. The three of them sat in silence for a moment, Harry still frowning, Remus placidly thinking. Hermione grimaced and started twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

"Have you ever tried to cast an Unforgivable before?" Remus said, rather mildly.

Staring at the carpet, Harry said, "Yes."

"Which one?"

"The Cruciatus Curse."

"When?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not really." Lupin paused and looked to be turning something over in his mind. "Did it work, when you cast the Cruciatus Curse?"

Harry said nothing.

"Mm. But you do know what it takes to cast one of the Unforgivables?"

"Yes," Harry said, his tone short.

"You know that it takes will beyond even the hardest ordinary magic. You know that you have to deeply desire to cause pain or –"

Tetchily, Harry said, "I know all that! I've heard it all already. Righteous anger won't do it – you have to get a – a kick from hurting people –"

"And do you get a kick from hurting people?"

"I –" Harry stopped short.

"Are you even capable of getting a kick from hurting people? I'm not sure you are."

"You don't know anything about me!" exploded Harry. "Not anymore! You don't get to act like you understand me or anything I've been through or anything I've done!"

"Harry –" Hermione protested feebly.

"Stay out of this, Hermione!"

"I may have let you down, Harry – we may have let you down – but that does not mean we do not still care about you. It's not an easy thing, casting the Killing Curse. It's not a point of pride. It's not something you brag about – unless you're a Death Eater, but they have different standards," Remus amended himself. "Being able to cast Avada Kedavra, to be able to kill with a word . . . it means you're warped inside. Broken. And no, Harry, I don't think that what you've been through, whatever it was, whatever I don't know about – no, I don't think it's warped you enough that you can do this."

Harry roared, "I SPENT TWO YEARS MUMBLING TO MYSELF AND SCRATCHING THINGS IN THE WALLS AND YOU DON'T THINK I'M WARPED ENOUGH TO CAST AVADA KEDAVRA?"

"No."

"ARE YOU MAD?"

"Have you ever been able to cast the Killing Curse?" Lupin challenged, sharply.

Harry subsided abruptly, clearly still furious, and seemed to be wrestling with whether to answer Remus's question. Lupin sat and waited quietly in a pool of serene calm. Beside him, Hermione focused on not letting her inner agitation show. She could feel her fingernails digging into her palms and forced herself to unclench her hands.

The thought that Harry might possibly have cast the Killing Curse, might have killed someone, was horrifying. They were at war, she knew that, and part of war was death – was killing. Was it still murder if you killed an enemy combatant? She wasn't sure, and part of her was sheepishly and shamefacedly glad that it was a question she'd never had to answer to salve her own conscience. There were, she supposed, advantages to being unable to cast the Killing Curse.

Hermione shook her head. Although she couldn't cast Avada Kedavra, she had an idea of the depth of violence it took to be able to cast it. It was terrible enough that Remus had that core of blackness – it was even more terrible to think of Harry, courageous and noble Harry, having that core.

It seemed like several nerve-wracking minutes before Harry grunted, "No."

"Excuse me?" Lupin said, inclining his head politely.

"I haven't cast Avada Kedavra – successfully," Harry spat. "All right?"

Remus said nothing.

"But that was just because – because I didn't understand before what it took. I thought I did . . . I thought I knew. Now . . ." Harry gave Lupin an intense stare, the effect of which was undiluted by his unkempt appearance and wrinkled clothing. In a flash, Hermione realized that the gaze was the remnants of Harry's Gryffindor Hero look, that painfully serious look he wore when he was convinced there was something awful that had to be done and that he was the best person for the job. She'd hardly recognized Harry the past few days, the fury in him distorting his personality and affect, but that look – that was the first thing she'd seen that reminded her of who Harry used to be.

Remus turned to Hermione and gave her a rueful, knowing look, one that said quite clearly what he was thinking: he can't do it, but we're going to have to let him try. Hermione frowned deeply and wrung her hands in her lap.

"I'm going to let you destroy the Horcruxes," Lupin said to Harry, who opened his mouth in response. Remus sent him a quelling gaze, raising one hand in a forbidding gesture. "Let me speak. I'm going to let you destroy the Horcruxes, but I have certain conditions. First, I will be there to supervise and the rest of the team will be there as backup. I know you don't want us, but you're going to need us if something does go wrong. Voldemort has been booby-trapping the Horcruxes and there's no way to tell what effects these Horcruxes might have on you.

"Second, you're going to eat a decent meal before you try – as decent a meal as you'll find in the canteen, anyway. I'd suggest that you try to get some rest, but – yes, I figured as much," Lupin said, seeing the thunderous look on Harry's face. "Third –" He seemed to be musing a moment before stretching his arm out in Harry's direction. "Hex me."

Hermione thought this was asking for trouble, but held her tongue. Harry didn't waste any time getting the hex off. His wand was out of his back pocket before Lupin had finished his sentence. "Spinosus!" Harry cried.

A small red welt appeared on Lupin's hand, making him wince slightly. Examining it carefully, he said, "Not bad. But I know you can do better – I've seen you do it. You may want to spend some time in the practice room before you attempt to destroy the Horcruxes."

"I haven't forgotten how to do magic," said Harry, giving first Lupin and then Hermione a dark look, as if he suspected them of taking his wand and giving him a useless stick in return.

"Oh, certainly I'm not suggesting that, Harry. Far from. Magic isn't something you can just forget how to do. It's part of you, as much as your blood or your bones. But it isn't all just talent, Harry. There is a discipline and a skill to magic – why do you think we spend seven years teaching you to perform magic before releasing you as adult wizards and witches? Those years are spent building skill, and skill decays with lack of use."

Harry had that mulish look again. "I was fine last night."

"Well, yes, that's as I was saying. Talent – if there's one thing you've always had, it was talent – that will always be there. But the magic you've done since regaining your wand hasn't been anywhere near the level of casting an Unforgivable. My third condition, Harry, is that you spend some time in the practice room polishing your skill before attempting to cast Avada Kedavra." Remus smiled crookedly. "I volunteer myself as a practice dummy. It shouldn't take long."

To Hermione's surprise, that provoked a smile from Harry – a small and bruised smile, but it was still the first one she'd seen out of him since his release from Grimmauld Place.

"All right," he said grudgingly. "Let's get started. Where's the canteen?"

"Hermione can show you where it is."

She pursed her lips. Hermione knew what Remus was trying to do – Harry would, if poked enough, come out of his snits, and Remus was giving him a poke – but it wasn't like him to meddle.

"Well, Hermione?" snapped Harry.

"I know where it is, yes – only Wesley said the canteen opens at seven, which is –" She searched the room for a clock. Remus produced a pocketwatch and handed it to her. "Which is fifteen minutes from now."

"Good," Ginny said decisively. Hermione jumped, reflexes on a hair trigger from nerves, and looked toward the bedroom door. There Ginny stood in her rumpled pajamas, arms crossed over her chest, regarding Harry with a miniature version of Molly Weasley's sabre-toothed tiger expression. "That gives us some time to talk."

"I don't want –" Harry started, bellicose, but Ginny cut across him as if she had a sword in hand.

"I don't care what you want, Harry Potter," she said, face and voice hard and fierce. "We're going to talk." Bright anger burning in every movement, Ginny stomped across the lounge, seized Harry by the arm and hauled him behind her into the bedroom.

Hermione blinked. She had been tolerating Harry's behavior – even if that tolerance was edged by despair – because she felt his actions were warranted. Evidently Ginny didn't share that feeling.

"Well," Remus said into the silence that surrounded them.

Hermione rubbed her face and sighed. "I can't believe you're letting him try to destroy the Horcruxes."

"Did I really have a chance to talk him out of it?"

"Yes," Hermione said firmly.

"I don't think so. He has to try, Hermione. I'll let him do that much."

"I'm just worried about what it's going to do to him!" she burst out. "He's supposed to be recovering, not casting all sorts of Dark spells! He's just been through a four-year-long dark night of the soul, and now we're encouraging him to muck about in all that darkness again? How is he supposed to heal and move on when you're sending him to dwell on everything he went through?"

Remus was silent for a long moment, long enough that Hermione began to wonder if she'd stumped him. At length, he said, "I'm going to let him try because he needs to feel that he's a part of things. Have you been listening to him, Hermione? This is his fight and he resents having been sidelined for so long. You remember – it was bad enough when we believed it would be only a few months. But four years wasted – and they were wasted for him, Hermione – he is exponentially more resentful. Do you blame him?"

"But it's not just his fight! It isn't and it never has been! He's always had help, right from the very beginning. Ron and I, and Ginny – we've always been right there with him, helping him."

Remus gave Hermione a measuring look. "Helping him and fighting his war for him are two different things."

Hermione spluttered and went pink, upset by the implications of his statement. "Are you accusing me of –"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Hermione. I'm trying to help you understand. Listen to me. You know Harry has a hero complex about fighting the war alone – how many times did you have to talk him out of trying to do everything himself? Then not only do we insist on running the war by committee, which infuriates him, we lock him into a dungeon for his own safety. And while he's in there, we carry on with the war and the business of fighting. We get so swept up, we forget about him entirely . . . until we need him, anyway." Remus was watching Hermione intently as he spoke. "Do you see how it looks from his perspective?"

Oh, she knew what it looked like well enough. This was what Hermione had been wrestling with since Neville announced that Harry was well enough to see her and wanted to talk. When she had confessed her fears to Ginny, worrying that Harry would hate her, Ginny had responded simply: He has a right to. Despite knowing then that Ginny was correct, as Remus was correct now, she was still wounded by the statement. At the time she'd made the decision to lock Harry into Grimmauld Place, she'd been convinced that she was acting in service of the greater good, and even now the line of reasoning she'd used to convince the others still seemed so clear, so logical. Harry is the only person who can defeat Voldemort. Voldemort can't be killed until we find the Horcruxes. We don't know where the Horcruxes are. Harry's life is in danger. We need to protect him. Her intentions had been noble – her actions, however . . . That was where she kept foundering. She had only meant the best, and yet from the other side it did look awfully like a betrayal.

Miserably, she said, "I was only trying to do what was best for everyone. I never, ever meant for things to get this bad. I've tried telling him that."

"He won't believe you until you earn his trust again. Which is why –"

"Which is why we're letting him try to destroy the Horcruxes." Hermione sighed. "I still don't like it. I'm worried about him – it's my job. To worry about him and to try to keep him safe."

"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well," said Remus, somewhat enigmatically.

Hermione, not having a good response to that, fell silent. Lupin seemed content to sit in a meditative quiet. He pulled his pocketwatch out, checked the time, and stowed it again without telling Hermione what time it was.

She listened for noise from the bedroom, wondering how Harry and Ginny's conversation was going. From the faint buzzing sound she could hear, she suspected Ginny had cast Muffliato so she and Harry could talk in privacy. "I wonder what Ginny and Harry are talking about," she said.

"Oh, probably the same thing we were," said Remus.

They waited. Hermione felt like she should say something but wasn't sure what. She yawned and decided that this must be what zombies felt like.

Shortly after seven, Harry and Ginny emerged from the bedroom, Ginny looking pleased with herself and Harry as if his ears were ringing. They were, Hermione noted, holding hands. She made a note to ask Ginny precisely what she'd said to Harry.

"It's after seven," said Harry. "The canteen's open. Let's go."

Hermione frowned, remembering their last breakfast – first, its terrible quality, but second, that they had needed to pay for it. "I've got to call Angel before we can eat," she said, and forestalling Harry's objection, added, "He's got a code for the vending machines so we don't have to pay for things. Unless anyone has any Muggle money on them . . ."

Harry seemed willing to accept this delay and sat down in the chair without being asked. Ginny perched on the arm next to him, balancing delicately and yawning widely.

Hermione picked up the house phone, asking the receptionist to connect her to Angel. He answered on the fourth ring with a brusque, "Yeah."

"Angel, it's Hermione. I'm sorry to wake you –"

"I was up already."

"– but we need your code for the vending machines in the canteen."

"Going for breakfast?" Hermione could hear Angel thinking. "I have a better idea. Come up to my suite. It's on the ninth floor. Top floor. Whatever."

"We'll be there in ten minutes," she said, and hung up.

Angel's better idea turned out to be cooking breakfast for the group. He had appropriated the penthouse, which included a tiny but functional, if unstocked, kitchen. Neither Hermione nor Harry were any great shakes at magical cooking, so Remus stepped in to conjure food. "Bachelor cooking," he said. "You learn to feed yourself or you starve."

Angel methodically turned rashers of bacon in a frying pan. "Seems like that's the way it goes for everyone."

With great interest, Hermione watched him tend to breakfast. "You're a vampire," she said. "When did you learn to cook? Why'd you even bother? It's not as if you can eat it."

"I can eat," Angel said defensively. "Human food, not just O pos."

"But you're dead. You don't digest."

"Technically I'm undead," Angel said, waving a chiding spatula at her. "It's a myth that vampires are just reanimated corpses. Those are zombies. We're demons, Hermione. Digestive system included." He paused. "And cooking's a useful skill anyway. It passes the time."

Shrewdly, Ginny observed, "And it helps you pass for human if that's what you're trying to do." Hermione blinked. It was an unusual kind of insight from Ginny.

Angel shrugged. "I spend my time around humans. It helps."

"Look at you!" Spike said gleefully from the doorway. "Aren't you just the little housevampire, cooking for all your pals. And you didn't invite me. I'm wounded, Angel, really I am. After all we've been through, and you - is that bacon I smell?" He rubbed his hands together, crowding into the tiny kitchenette. "I love bacon."

"Do you have a reason for being here besides annoying me?" Angel asked, fishing the bacon out of the frying pan and setting it on a paper towel to drain.

Spike reached over and snagged a strip as Angel put it down. "Nope," he said happily.

Angel sighed.

Breakfast passed peaceably if not actually pleasantly. Harry worked his way through a plate of eggs and bacon and kept his attitude to himself. Remus and Angel shared war stories, with Ginny and Spike contributing more colorful details. Hermione gulped down two mugs of coffee and listened to the conversation around her, wishing her brain didn't feel like a waterlogged sponge.

After breakfast, Harry and Remus adjourned to the training room. Remus looked as if he wasn't quite sure what he was letting himself in for. "Don't kill him," Ginny said to Harry, who frowned in response.

"I won't," muttered Harry. He did look, however, as though he planned to settle some scores, thought Hermione. Still, she could understand Remus's line of thinking. If an officially sanctioned chance to attack the source of Harry's frustration helped him work through some of his issues, then a little roughing-up might be worth the pain.

She hoped that was the case, anyhow.

It was closer to ten in the morning when Lupin called the group down to the practice room. Hermione and Ginny were the first to arrive, finding Remus and Harry laying out the nine Hufflepuff cups in a careful line down the middle of the practice room floor. Remus looked a little battered – his robes and hair were mussed and he was sporting a small cut down the side of his face – but had a cheerful air. For his part, Harry looked grim as he set down cups, although after a moment of watching him Hermione recognized it as the usual mix of seriousness and determination he adopted before any complicated task. For now, at least, the anger that had been driving him was gone.

"All right, then?" Ginny asked.

Harry looked up, his expression softening as he saw Ginny. Hermione pressed her lips together, trying not to smile; for all the poking Remus had been doing, Ginny was proving far more effective at pulling Harry out of his snit.

"Hermione, Ginny, good," said Lupin. "The others should be here shortly. When they've arrived, we'll begin." Grimacing at the nearness of the silver, he dumped Slytherin's locket onto the floor at the end of the row of Hufflepuff cups.

"Did everything go all right when you were practicing?" Hermione asked, her voice coming out rather squeakily.

"Oh, yes. Quite well."

"Only there's a cut on the side of your face, Remus . . ."

"Is there?" He rubbed at the side of his face, looking concerned. "Well, it's nothing to be concerned about."

"But you're bleeding," Hermione said. She pulled her wand. "Episkey!" The cut sealed up, leaving an inch-long pink mark.

The doors of the observation room swung open and Angel entered, followed closely by Spike. "Are we ready?" said Angel.

Remus looked at Harry. "Are we?"

Harry nodded. "I'm ready."

Angel gave Harry a measuring look. "Here," he said, pulling a battleaxe off one of the racks lining the practice room walls. "Use this one." He handed it to Harry, who experimentally hefted it a few times.

"All right," said Lupin. "We'll be in the observation room. Good luck, Harry."

The group, all but Harry, filed into the observation room, lining up before the glass. Angel, last in, closed the door behind them. Ginny stared at Harry as if she could will him strength through the glass. On Hermione's right, Spike bounced slightly on his toes, an air of contained glee about him.

Under her breath, Hermione said to Remus, "Do you really think he can do this?"

"I think he's more than capable of swinging an axe, yes."

"That's not what –"

"You meant, I know. He's not what he was, true, but he might be able to if he believes he can."

"He's never been able to before."

"I suppose we'll find out, then."

Angel muttered, "I hope that axe isn't too heavy for him."

Hermione doubted it. In the practice room, Harry held the axe loosely at his side, staring down at Slytherin's locket, rage darkening his face. After a moment, he raised the axe; remembering what the locket was capable of, Hermione quickly closed her eyes and plugged her ears with her fingers. White light broke over her like a wave. When she opened her eyes, she saw Harry, a satisfied expression on his face, standing over the remains of Slytherin's locket, axe on the floor beside him.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny breathed. Hermione bit her lip.

Harry prowled in a circle around the tidy line of cups and the broken locket, the same darkness that Hermione had seen in Remus gathering on his face. She wondered what he was thinking of, what made him so sure that he could cast the Killing Curse. Face contorted with fury, Harry stopped, drawing in a deep breath –

Hermione held her breath –

With one fluid movement, Harry drew his wand, pointing it at the locket, yelling, "Avada Kedavra!" Green light erupted from his wand, blinding Hermione. Had he done it? She blinked hard and her vision cleared, revealing the locket – still in two pieces but otherwise unharmed.

Frustration rising in his voice, Harry cried, "Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!" Each attempt seemed weaker than the previous.

Beside Hermione, Lupin went solemnly resolute. "Excuse me," he murmured, brushing past Spike and Angel and out the observation room door. Sidling up next to Harry, he pointed his wand at the untouched halves of the locket. "Avada Kedavra," Lupin said, his voice clear. The same blaze of green light bloomed from his wand.

With a loud crack!, the locket tarnished and died.

Harry wheeled on Lupin, clearly furious. "I should have done that! You had – that should have been me!"

"Shoulds shoe no horses," Lupin said calmly, and Hermione burst into hysterical giggles at the incongruity of the remark. Lupin continued, "You should be glad that you cannot cast the Killing Curse. The things one must have seen to be able to perform the curse –"

"You don't even know! You don't know what's happened to me!"

"Nor do you know what I have been through in my lifetime. I assure you, Harry, I speak from experience."

"It's almost reassuring," said Ginny, watching the argument keenly.

Hermione glanced sideways. "You too?"

"What?" Spike asked.

"Seeing him be such a bonehead." Ginny snorted. "Better than all the shouting."

"You mean he's always like this? Yelling like a toddler who's had his favorite toy taken away from him?"

"When he's angry? Pretty much."

Spike considered. "Still better than Angel."

In the training room, Harry continued to rant, the measure of self-control he'd managed to regain slipping away from him. Hermione tapped on the glass, catching Remus's attention. Stop him, she mouthed.

Remus shrugged and raised his eyebrows slightly, a How do you propose I do that? sort of gesture.

"This has gone on long enough," Angel said. Barging into the training room, he said, "I know you're upset, but there's still another Horcrux in there. We need to get this done so we can move on."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?" roared Harry.

"Then get to work. Screaming isn't going to destroy those Horcruxes. You've got to just keep moving. Look –" Angel's voice went gentler. "There's – I know your life's kind of a mess right now. Hermione's told me some things about what you've been through. There's a prophecy about you?"

Harry swallowed. "Yeah."

"And the fate of the world depends on you."

Harry nodded.

"I can't – I'm not going to lie to you. That's a tough place to be." Angel shifted and leaned against a wall. "I knew a girl once. She was sixteen. Up against the toughest fight of her life and she found out there was a prophecy saying she wouldn't survive it. She didn't take it well. Screamed, threw things, tried to run away."

"Is there a point –"

"I'm getting there. She was upset. Not unreasonable. But she got her crossbow and she went after the Master. And she beat him, in the end. The point is, it's all right to be scared and angry. But you can't give in to the fear and the pain. You have to fight it and do what needs to be done, or else the world is gonna end. Well," Angel amended, "maybe not so much in your case. But you get what I mean."

From the look on his face, Harry had clearly gotten it, but was unwilling to admit it. Angel smiled slightly and said, "So you can't cast this killing curse thing. It's – I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but it's better that you can't. Killing is . . . it's not for people like you. There should be a better way."

"Not when it's justified. Not when it's the right thing to do. Not when you have to."

"Then save it for when you have to. I've killed a lot of people, Harry, some that I had to and a lot that I didn't. I live with the guilt from every one of those every day. This?" Angel gestured at the Hufflepuff cups and the ruined locket. "I know it seems like a case where you have to, but it's not. Save it for Voldemort."

Mulishly, Harry said, "I should still have been able –"

"But you can't, so just accept that you can't and move on."

Harry's bottom lip jutted out slightly, but he nodded.

Lupin dug in his pocket and produced a watch. Checking the time, he said, "Ready to start again, Harry?"

"Let's go," Harry said, looking resolute.

Angel and Lupin retreated to the observation room. Harry took a deep breath, picked up the axe, held it for a moment, and then buried it in the first Hufflepuff cup.

The room plummeted into total darkness. Hermione waved a hand in front of her face and couldn't even detect a movement. Beside her, Ginny said, "What's going on? I can't see anything."

"Probably just a power cut," said Angel. "Emergency lights should kick in."

The group waited. When no emergency lights immediately flickered on, Spike said, "Or not. Any other bright ideas there, mate?"

"Shut up."

Hermione fumbled for her wand. "Lumos!" She couldn't decide if she was surprised or not when her wand failed to light.

"This is like that battle at Hogwarts, fifth year," said Ginny, alarm in her voice. "When Draco Malfoy let off all that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. It was all dark and our wands didn't work."

"At the Riddle house. The last room was like this," Angel said. From his tone of voice, Hermione could tell he was frowning. "All dark. I only found that cup because I walked into it."

"So that's the booby trap." Hermione sighed. "Now what?"

"I strongly suspect that the only way to lift the darkness will be to destroy the cup," Lupin said.

Hermione heard the sound of the door to the observation room opening and then bodies colliding. "Watch out," Angel said. "That's me."

"Watch the hands there, mate," said Spike.

"Sorry," Harry said, as Lupin said, "Crave pardon."

"Be careful, Remus," Hermione said, turning toward where she thought he might be.

"I always am."

"Don't set off any other Horcruxes."

"I don't intend to."

Hermione waited tensely in the darkness. She could feel Ginny fidgeting beside her. From the practice room, she heard a great deal of shuffling and thumping and even a muffled oath. "Are you all right?" she called.

"Yes, thank you, Hermione," Remus said, with a wince in his voice.

"Nervous?" Ginny murmured.

Hermione sighed. "Aren't you?" It wasn't the darkness that was making her nervous, she thought, so much as it was that eight cups remained and the likelihood that each of them could contain booby traps more dangerous than simple darkness. The entire time they'd been searching for Horcruxes, she'd been waiting for them to hit the dangerous part, the part of the fight that would inflict massive casualties. This could well be it, she knew, and it made her antsy.

In the practice room, the bumps continued, until abruptly the room lit up putrid green as Lupin cried, "Avada Kedavra!"

Abruptly, the overhead lights flickered back on. Ginny winced and covered her eyes; Hermione stood there blinking dumbly until her vision cleared enough to allow her to see Lupin standing in the practice room, pushing at the remains of the first Hufflepuff cup with one foot. "Not the Horcrux," he reported.

The cup had certainly been mangled and mutilated by the spell, but Remus was right, it didn't have the tarnished look Hermione associated with destroyed Horcruxes.

"Perhaps it'll be the next one," she said, hoping that for Harry's sake it would be.

"Perhaps." Remus kicked the shattered false cup aside and said, "Harry? Let's try this again."

The next cup, when Harry smashed it with the axe, produced a crowd of Inferi. Harry, who hated Inferi, started shouting, "Reducto! Impedimenta!" and firing curses in all directions, succeeding mostly in collapsing weapons racks and blowing holes in the walls.

Hermione was nearly bowled over by Ginny, who then collided with Angel in her haste to get to Harry. Lupin wasn't far behind her, crying, "Hold your fire, Harry!" Hermione bit her lip – she too was less than fond of Inferi – and then plunged through the door and into the fight, shouting, "You have to use fire against them, Harry, remember! Incendio!"

Destroying the Horcruxes devolved into a team effort after that. The cup continued to spawn Inferi at a prodigious rate, keeping any of the four wizards from casting Avada Kedavra at it, lest they be mobbed by zombies in the time it took to cast the spell. Angel and Spike waded into the fight, providing cover for Lupin. Although they couldn't destroy the Inferi, they could keep them busy, and working together, they managed to clear enough space for Lupin to cast the Killing Curse on the cup.

The next Hufflepuff cup produced snakes, dozens – if not hundreds – of them, carpeting the floor of the training room. Hermione, who loathed snakes after being Petrified by that basilisk second-year, froze. Even Angel and Spike looked uneasy at the writhing mass of snakes.

To Hermione's surprise, Ginny snorted in disgust. "Always snakes with him," she said, voice scornful.

Hermione attempted to swallow and couldn't manage it, her mouth having gone completely dry. She noticed that every one of the snakes conjured by the cup was venomous or at least extremely dangerous. Cobras. Rattlesnakes. Black mambas. Copperheads. Pythons. Even an enormous anaconda as thick around as Angel's thigh.

Harry frowned down at the snakes surrounding him, particularly a rattlesnake that was coiled dangerously and rattling its tail vigorously, and hissed something.

The rattler backed off.

Harry hissed something else. The mass of snakes hissed in return and Harry quickly seemed to be embroiled in an argument.

"What's he doing?" asked Angel.

"He's a Parselmouth," Hermione said.

"He talks to snakes," Ginny added, deadpan.

Angel looked annoyed. "I can tell that. What do you think he's doing now?"

"With some luck, convincing these snakes not to kill us," said Remus, looking discomfited as a cobra slithered past his ankle.

"Doesn't seem to be going too well," Spike observed.

Hermione licked her lips and watched Harry, who was scowling, continue to negotiate with the rattlesnake.

"They want to make a deal," Harry said after a moment.

"What sort, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"They'll let us have the Horcrux."

"That's good," said Ginny.

"In exchange for one of us."

"That's not."

Lupin frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do they mean, one of us?"

"Obvious, innit?" said Spike. "In exchange for getting to sink their fangs into your tender, juicy flesh, they'll let you have the Horcrux."

Harry nodded.

Hermione looked at the line of Hufflepuff cups, guarded by a group of coral snakes, and pursed her lips.

"No deal," Ginny said immediately.

"Wait," Lupin said, sharing a significant look with Angel.

Hermione exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"

"It won't hurt me," Angel said patiently. "Well . . . much. Well – it won't kill me. The snakes get what they want, we get what we want. Win-win."

"Or we could use Spike," said Ginny.

Spike threw his hands up in protest. "Hang on just a moment, now. I came over here for a fight, mind you. Not to get chomped on by snakes. Have you ever been bitten by a snake? I have. It hurts. A lot."

Hermione frowned. It might have made tactical sense, but she didn't like the idea of deliberately feeding someone to a snake, vampire or not. "Will they accept another deal?"

Harry hissed at the snakes. "No."

She'd suspected as much, but had to ask anyway. It wouldn't be a good trap if one could barter one's way out of danger. "I don't like it," she said, "but we haven't got a choice."

Remus nodded at Harry. "Tell them we'll take the deal."

After a great deal of hissing from Harry and the snakes, a black mamba slithered over to Angel and coiled, waiting. Angel rolled up a sleeve and didn't even flinch as the snake struck, sinking its fangs into his arm. Then his mouth and eyes went wide and, clutching at his chest, he crashed to the floor and was still.

The snakes moved away from the Hufflepuff cup. Acting quickly, Lupin cast Avada Kedavra at the cup, which skitterd across the floor from the force of the spell.

The snakes vanished.

Groaning, Angel pushed himself to his feet. "Remind me never to volunteer to get bitten by a snake again."

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, frowning. "You looked –"

"I'm all right. The venom didn't go far. No heartbeat – no circulation." Angel flexed his arm slightly and scowled. "This stuff burns a little, though."

"Oh, whine, whine," scoffed Spike. "You're carrying on as if you had your hands cut off or something."

"Didn't you just finish saying that getting bit by a snake hurts a lot?" Ginny asked.

Ignoring her, Spike turned to Remus. "That was fun. What's next?"

"I'm not sure," Lupin said, pushing gently at the remains of the cup. "I think this may have been the Horcrux."

As a group, they clotted around the cup, peering speculatively down at its remains. Hermione thought Lupin might be right; it certainly had that tarnished, wizened look about it that all the destroyed Horcruxes had in common. Angel agreed, but added, "Should do them all, just to be sure."

"Ready, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry nodded.

One by one, they dispatched the remaining six cups. By the end of it, Hermione was feeling as if she'd been through a prolonged battle. One of the cups, when Harry cast Avada Kedavra on it, melted down into a rapidly spreading pool of greenish, smoking acid. Only Harry's quick Hover Charm saved him from losing his trainers. Another cup, when it was attacked, emitted a flash of light that paralyzed them all for close to an hour. The cup after that turned into a swarm of bees.

Hermione's least favorite cup was the one that lit up like a supernova, blinding them, whiting out the room with a light that burned on the skin like being scalded. It probably took Lupin no longer than a minute to destroy the cup, but it felt like ten years of being under the Cruciatus – worse than the Cruciatus, like being under Cruciatus while submerged in an acid vat, like being under Cruciatus while submerged in an acid vat and being set on fire. When it was over, Hermione only just made it to the wastebasket before becoming violently sick, emptying her stomach and then continuing to have the dry heaves for several more agonizing seconds. Angel and Spike were curled on the floor, not moving, and even Remus seemed near to sobbing. The only upside, as far as Hermione was concerned, was that now the Cruciatus Curse should seem like a resort vacation compared to that.

By common consent, after all the Horcruxes were destroyed, everyone took an hour to rest and recover before regrouping in Angel's office to discuss strategy. Wesley turned up with a stack of books. Remus spread his sheaf of parchments and maps over the conference table, huddling together with Angel and Wesley, forming and reforming battle plans. Harry and Ginny conferred quietly in one corner of the room. Hermione, feeling as if the top of her head was about to pop off, reread debriefs about Castle Yfelwulf obsessively, tossing observations into the discussion group at the end of the table.

The phone on Angel's desk rang. Frowning, Angel answered, listened for a moment, said, "We'll be right there," and then hung up. "Visitors," he announced.

"Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Emily didn't say. Come on, let's go."

As a group, they trooped out to the lobby. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw who was standing there. Beside her, Harry pulled his wand, clearly ready to hex first and ask questions not at all.

Standing across from them, flanked by eight Death Eaters, was Lucius Malfoy, a smugly superior look on his face.

"Good afternoon, Minister Malfoy," Lupin said calmly.

"We know who you are," Malfoy said imperiously. "We know what you're doing. Come with us and we may be lenient."

Discreetly, Hermione put a hand on her wand. All around her, the others were in various states of readiness for battle – she could feel Angel and Spike concentrating on Malfoy and the Death Eaters. Only Lupin seemed at ease, frowning politely at Lucius Malfoy in manufactured confusion.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Surely it isn't unlawful for us to seek legal –"

"Don't try to pretend, Lupin. It's a insult to both of us. You're a terrorist and you stand accused of leading an insurgent organization, attacking Ministry personnel, breaking into Ministry facilities, steaking valuable Ministry artifacts, harboring dark creatures –"

"I beg your pardon," said Spike.

"He means me," Lupin said.

"– treason, and slander," Malfoy finished with a sneer. "I would advise you to come with us."

"Does he think we're stupid?" Ginny demanded.

"Plausible deniability," said Angel. "That's what this is about. When they attack, they can say they gave us a chance to surrender and we didn't take it."

"Look around you, Lupin," Lucius Malfoy said. "You're outnumbered. The last time you fought my Aurors, you lost. This is your last chance. Come with us."

"Is there a class all villains take to make them talk like this?" Spike interjected. "You need a mustache, mate. So you can twirl it."

"It's hardly less cliche to joke about villains twirling mustaches," pointed out Wesley.

"I'm afraid we won't be coming with you," Remus said to Malfoy. "Good day, Minister." He turned as if to head back into Angel's office. Before he could take a step, Malfoy and his Death Eaters had their wands out and pointed at him. The room erupted into cacophony as twelve people cried out spells – the Death Eaters were shooting to kill, but Hermione heard Ginny cast a Bat-Bogey Hex and Harry go for a Stunner. She waited for the lines of light to lance out, strike Remus –

Nothing happened. The Death Eaters looked confused and even a little frightened, mirroring how Hermione felt. Lupin turned around again, looking coolly collected and as if he'd expected the situation. Into the silence, Wesley said, "For the protection of our clients, Wolfram and Hart enjoins hostile uses of magic inside the building."

For just a moment, Malfoy looked disconcerted. Then his face smoothed out into its usual smug expression and he said, "That's as may be, but we have Aurors outside the building. They'll be putting up Anti-Apparition wards once we leave the premises. You can't stay in here forever. Good day, Lupin." With a stiff nod, Malfoy and the Death Eaters swept out of the lobby.

"Well, this is a pretty kettle of fish," Spike said dryly.

"What are our options?" Lupin asked, looking at Angel.

"Wait them out. Fight our way out. Or –" Angel looked grimly amused – "let one of the drivers chauffeur us to a safe house."

The plan developed rapidly from there. Harry protested that they would be too easy to track in one car, and after a brief discussion, they divided into four groups. Ginny ran upstairs to pack, while Wesley excused himself to search for Illyria. Ten minutes later, luggage having been swapped around and Illyria found on the fourth floor communing with a potted fern, they were ready to go.

Angel led the group down to the garage, where four drivers stood ready next to four cars. "All right," said Lupin. "Good luck, everyone. I'll contact you when I've reached a safe house. Don't stop for anything until I've contacted you and you know you're not being followed. Gentlemen, whenever you're ready," he said to the drivers.

Hermione's car would be leaving third, meaning she had ten minutes to wait. Somehow, she had ended up partnered with Illyria for the escape. She braced herself for endless questions about good and evil – or anything that entered Illyria's purview – but after one haughty and disinterested glance, Illyria seemed content to stare into space in silence.

As her car exited the garage, Hermione realized she was holding her breath from nerves and forced herself to breathe normally. No attacks rained down immediately upon them, but, craning her neck to see through the back window, she saw a Ministry of Magic car pull smoothly away from the curb and merge into a nonexistent gap in traffic behind them.

Are they following all cars that leave the building as a matter of principle, or have they figured us out? Hermione wondered.

The Ministry car stayed with them as they worked their way southeast through city traffic. Do they plan to follow us all the way to Dover? thought Hermione, and then to distract herself from her nervousness, she said, "Where do you go?"

Illyria refocused on her and gave her a stern blue gaze. "I do not understand."

"We haven't always been able to find you recently," said Hermione. "Where have you been?"

Illyria went back to staring out the window at the passing cars as they sped down the A20. "Am I not free to pass my time as I wish?"

"Well, yes, I just wanted –"

"I walk," Illyria said with chill disdain. "I must learn to suffer this world, so I walk in it. Your concerns do not require much of my time."

Hermione knit her brows together. Illyria was claiming boredom with the whole affair. But that didn't seem right – back in Los Angeles, Illyria had been emphatic that it wanted to come along. And hadn't it a week ago been brimming with questions about Voldemort and his schemes? This sudden ennui was perplexing.

"Where do you walk?" Hermione tried again.

"Where I wish."

Pursing her lips, Hermione reflected that she might as well try to wring blood from a turnip or water from a stone. Illyria was obviously stonewalling her, but why? What was it planning? Hermione scowled and joined Illyria in staring out the window.

They were nearly to Folkestone and Hermione was debating whether to run to France when her phone rang. "Birmingham," Lupin said, and hung up.

Hermione said, "Stop the car. Pull over."

In the rear-view mirror, she could see for just a moment the driver think, What, here? but all he said was, "Yes, miss." As soon as the car came to a stop, Hermione grabbed Illyria's arm and focused on the small flat in a side street the Order had rented as a safe house. With a crack! she and Illyria reappeared behind a Dumpster. Holding her breath to avoid the smell, Hermione edged between the bins and headed for the stairs.

Lupin opened the door at her knock, looking relieved to see her. "Good to see you've made it," he said, ushering them inside. "There's just –" He was interrupted by a crack! and some banging noises. "That'll be Harry and Wesley."

Hermione, towing Illyria, stepped into the main room to find Ginny staring anxiously out the window. Spike and Angel were nowhere to be seen. Hermione smelled the faint stink of burning flesh and grimaced sympathetically. Midday escapes were tough on vampires.

Lupin cleared his throat softly as he stepped into the room, followed by Harry and Wesley. "Have any of our friends followed us?"

"Probably," Ginny said from the window, letting the curtain drop, "but they're not making themselves obvious."

"So what's our next step?" Wesley asked. He rubbed his forehead.

"We go after Voldemort," Harry said roughly. "Tonight. We've destroyed all the Horcruxes we can. We're ready."

"I, for one, would feel more comfortable waiting until tomorrow night," Lupin said.

"Why?" demanded Harry. "He knows we're coming. We can't keep that a surprise any more, so we might as well go quickly and give him less time to prepare for us."

Wesley said, "It might be prudent to allow Angel and Spike some time to rest and recover."

"And waiting gives us time to gather more information. I understand your concern, Harry, but there are still things we need to know, things that will get us killed if we don't know them." Lupin looked grim.

"What are you proposing we do?" asked Hermione.

"I think it's time for our informant to pay us a visit."

The sun was low in the sky before Hermione heard a knock at the door. She rose to answer it, but Remus held out a cautioning hand and answered the door himself. "This had better be worth it," a male voice said from outside. "You would not believe the excuses I had to make to get out of there."

"Good evening," Lupin said, opening the door further. A tall, heavyset man with iron-gray hair and a deeply lined face stepped inside, looking peevishly around at the assembled group.

"This way," said Lupin, taking the man by the arm and signalling Hermione to follow him. Ginny fell into step beside Hermione and said, at Hermione's raised eyebrows, "You need me. I can think of things you won't."

And you're curious, Hermione thought, but she didn't say anything.

Once the four of them were ensconced in one of the flat's bedrooms, Lupin said, "We're going into Castle Yfelwulf tomorrow. That's why I summoned you. It will be worth it to you."

Looking around grumpily, the gray-haired man said, "You'd better not get me killed, any of you. If I wind up dead, I'll know who to blame."

"Less stalling," said Ginny sharply. "More talking."

"Ask me a question and I'll start talking."

For three-quarters of an hour, they did. Lupin asked questions steadily, as if going down a list, while Hermione pressed for more information when she felt that the gray-haired man wasn't being complete enough in his answers. Ginny asked fewer questions but was useful in another way: her willingness to match the gray-haired man barb for barb helped to keep him answering questions when he started to veer off into insults.

They had covered Castle Yfelwulf's defenses, its residents, Voldemort's schedule, how to get access to Nagini, potential allies on the inside, major threats and how Voldemort took his tea before Remus finally seemed to run out of steam. "Can either of you think of anything else to ask?" Lupin asked. The gray-haired man frowned belligerently at them from his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione met Remus's eyes and said slowly, "I think that we need to know who you really are."

The man spluttered. "Of all the crazy things you've said, Granger, that's the craziest. The point of being a secret agent is that my identity is a secret."

"No, I think she's right," Ginny said.

Hermione pointed out, "You're going to be in Castle Yfelwulf when we go in tomorrow. Obviously, you don't look like that when you're not meeting with us. We need to know who you are so we don't go in wands blazing and accidentally shoot you."

Scowling, the man said, "He knows who I am. He can tell you not to shoot me."

Flatly, Ginny said, "We're going to find out eventually. It might as well be now."

The gray-haired man shot an exasperated look at Lupin, who shrugged. "They're both right."

"I should have known better than to trust a werewolf," the man muttered. "Fine. When the Dark Lord finds me and kills me, I want you to know it'll be your fault." He pulled out a silver pocketwatch and checked the time. "This will wear off in about five minutes."

The four of them sat for five of the longest minutes in Hermione's life, the man scowling blackly at all of them, Ginny fidgeting nervously. "Now," said the man, and he grimaced as the Potion wore off. His hair lightened, went blond; his features changed, growing pointy; when it was all over, Hermione was wholly unsurprised to find herself staring at Draco Malfoy.

"Well?" said Malfoy with his usual sneer.

"I thought so," Ginny said, looking rather disgusted. "No one else could be as repugnant as you."

"No one asked for your opinion, Weasley."

"So you finally smartened up and joined our side," said Hermione. "Congratulations, Malfoy. It's probably the first clever thing I've ever seen you do."

"Finally? Finally?" Malfoy elaborately rolled his eyes. "I've been passing information to the werewolf there for two years. There's no finally about this, Granger."

"I'm surprised to see you doing the right thing for once."

Malfoy seemed insulted for a moment, then he chortled gleefully. "Are you that deluded, Granger? Do you really think I'm doing this for the sake of what's right and good? I'm not doing this because I want to help out Potter, that moron you keep trotting around as your last best hope. I'm doing this because I want to screw him the way he screwed me."

"Him?" said Ginny.

"Don't be thick, Weasley." Malfoy snorted. "Although I suppose you can't help it, mother like that. The Dark Lord. That 'him'."

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, although she had her own theories.

Malfoy made a face. "When I was younger, I thought the Dark Lord recruited me because I'd be useful to him. He told me how I was 'special' and 'only I could perform the task that now lay before me.' I bought it. Idiot. I realized later. He only assigned me to kill Dumbledore because he knew I couldn't. He set me up to fail to punish my father for failing him. He used me. No one uses a Malfoy like that."

"So this is all for petty revenge?" Ginny asked, looking unconvinced.

"It's not revenge. And it's not petty."

"It is! Voldemort made you look like a chump, which isn't that hard if you ask me, and now you want to make him pay. That's pretty much the definition of revenge."

"It is not." Malfoy looked mulish.

"That's not all there is to it, though, isn't there, Malfoy?" asked Hermione. "You've got a toehold with both sides. If we win, you're a war hero who turned traitor and spied on the Death Eaters. We couldn't possibly send you to Azkaban."

"I had thought of that," said Malfoy smugly.

"And if we lose, you're the cunning double agent who manipulated us to our downfall." Ginny curled a lip.

Malfoy's smug look grew insufferable.

"Don't give me that look," Ginny said, face and voice hard. "You're only doing this to save yourself. You know you picked the losing side and now you're clinging to us because you know we won't kill you if you fail us, unlike Voldemort. You're despicable."

Malfoy scoffed. "And you're so much better? At least the Death Eaters are straightforward about being evil. I know what you all do. You lie and you kill and you torture and you tell yourselves it's all right because you're doing it for good. Say what you want about me. I never locked anyone I loved in a dungeon and left them to rot."

"You shut up," Ginny snapped.

"That's enough," Lupin said. "Maps, Mr. Malfoy. I want updated maps. Floor plans. Anything you can provide me. And I want them as soon as you're able to provide them."

"How am I supposed to get them to you? It's not as if I can send an owl."

"Find a way."

"You're just trying to get me killed now, aren't you?"

Ignoring him, Remus asked, "Is that it? Are we done here?"

"Done enough for me," Ginny said with loathing. "Get out."

"Good to see the Weasley charm and manners in you," sneered Malfoy.

"That's enough," Lupin repeated. "Come on, Mr. Malfoy. I'll see you out."

Once Lupin and Malfoy had left the room, Ginny said, "I was really hoping he wasn't the informant. I mean, I knew it probably was him, but I was hoping it wasn't." She managed to look both morose and disgusted.

"He's been useful," Hermione said, trying to be evenhanded, although privately she agreed with Ginny. "He saved our lives in Bath. He might only have done it to preserve his chances at revenge, but he did it."

"He's still a miserable little wanker and I don't want a thing to do with him once this is all over."

"I doubt he'll be clamoring to spend time with you either."

"I hate this," Ginny said without much force behind the words. "Come on, let's go see what there is to eat in this place."

Although Malfoy had been unpleasant about the entire encounter, he proved the worth of his word. A barn owl bearing a packet of maps and a letter for Lupin arrived halfway through dinner, and before long plates were set aside as the meal turned into a final planning session.

With Wesley's help, they laid out their final plans for attack. With only eight of them, it wasn't going to be a grand multi-targeted invasion, but they were able to pick out some weak points and plan ways to capitalize on them. Wesley shrugged off their thanks, noting wryly, "It's hardly like planning the invasion of Normandy."

"More like planning the charge of the Light Brigade," Spike observed, making Hermione wince.

"With luck, we won't be facing cannon," Remus said calmly.

The meeting broke up around nine in the evening, and all good intentions, Hermione headed for bed immediately afterwards, knowing she needed a good night's sleep before tomorrow's assault on Castle Yfelwulf. Nerves kept her awake, though, despite her exhaustion, and she had finally pulled out her knitting needles, deciding that if she couldn't sleep she might as well do something useful with her time.

She was nearly done with a hat for Maddy – it was blue, not pink, but she could use a Color-Changing Charm on it and Fleur would never know – when there was a knock on her door. Wrapping her dressing gown around herself, Hermione padded over and cracked the door. "Remus?" she said, pulling the door open all the way.

He looked up at her from under his brows. "Hermione –" he started, and then paused, tucking his hands into his pockets and immediatelly pulling them out again.

Hermione frowned slightly but said nothing. Nervousness like this was uncharacteristic on Remus, even the night before a major raid like the one they had planned.

He shook his head and stood up straight. "I need to talk to you. There's something I want you to know."

She felt the frown deepening on her face. Is he going to –

Remus said, "I know we'd agreed that we had to stop seeing one another. I know that. And I meant it, I honestly believed that we could – that I was over you, that we would just be friends. These past two years, when you were away . . . it was easy to tell myself that I'd only been using you and it wasn't right. But, Hermione –"

He looked at the floor. Hermione recognized the gesture and realized she knew exactly what he was about to say. Oh mercy, he is.

"I was wrong," Remus said after a moment. "Spending this time together, talking to you, I realized I wasn't over you – I was never over you. You remember the last time, the fight we had –"

"Yes."

"I said that whatever we had, it wasn't love."

"Yes."

"And that we should stop acting like it was."

"Yes."

Finally, Remus met her eyes. "It was love. It always has been, the whole time. I'm in love with you, Hermione."

Hermione opened her mouth, realized she wasn't sure what to say, and closed it again. The fact that she'd known he was going to say it from the moment she opened her door didn't blunt the impact of actually hearing him say it. "Is now really the best time for this?" she asked quietly.

"There might not be another time."

"'Who knows but the world may end to-night,'" said Hermione, with a touch of asperity.

Remus smiled slightly. "I didn't want to regret not having told you."

She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible as she asked, "Would you have told me if you didn't think you were going to die?"

The question took Remus aback; Hermione saw his eyes widen as he thought about it. "Eventually," he allowed.

Hermione covered her face with both hands, utterly adrift. Her relationship with Remus – if it could even properly be called that; it was less a relationship and more a series of assignations – had always been emotionally fraught. They had started sleeping together in the summer of 1999, drawn together by their mutual grief; hers over Ron's death, his over Tonks's murder. Most of that year had been a waking nightmare that she had drifted through in a haze of loss and sorrow. Being with Remus had, for a little while, made her feel less alone, had had a narcotic effect upon the pain. Eventually, they'd realized that putting off dealing with their grief was just making it worse and had agreed to stop seeing each other.

Except they hadn't. Their rendezvous had continued for three years after that, at irregular intervals. The only thing that had finally put an end to their encounters was her break from the Order's fight to search for a different way. She had never been sure what had kept bringing them together – loneliness? Regret? Lingering grief? Or something more?

She thought back. Had it been love that drew them together? At the time, she had thought her ability to love had been buried with Ron and it was merely her own weakness that kept landing her in Remus's bed. Some women only love once, she had said to Ginny. I'm one of them. It had seemed disloyal somehow to carry on with someone else or admit to the possibility of another relationship. Like Ron knew somehow and disapproved.

Now, she wasn't sure. She couldn't deny that a part of her still grieved for Ron and might always ache for him; even five years later, she still felt the pangs of his loss. But the sense that she was dishonoring his memory, that she was upsetting him, had faded. Hermione considered. Was it possible to move on without realizing you were doing it?

She hesitated, consulted her feelings, and then decided to jump. "I think you'd better come in," she said. Remus looked up, surprise and a certain hope in his eyes, and then stepped into her room.

The door shut behind him with a crisp snap.

Author's Note: So there it is, chapter nine. I apologize for the inevitable disappointment.

There will be one more chapter and an epilogue after this. I'm afraid I can't offer much in the way of a target date for posting.

Reviews, flames and rotten produce welcome.