Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. No shit.

Harry Potter and the News 5

by Big D

AN: Since this story was started before HBP came out, I've had to adjust a few things. There's really only one thing that you need to know. Everyone repeat after me: There's no such thing as horcruxes! Other than that, you should be able to pick up the rest as you go. Again, I apologize for how long this chapter has taken, but if you guys knew how many times I've butted my head against a wall trying to get it out, I think you'd forgive me.

“Have you even heard a word I've said?” Harry snapped.

Hannah's eyes jerked up to meet his, and she smiled at him warmly. He sighed, wishing he could go back in time and pick someone else to be his second Bonded. Or better yet, prevent himself from ever concocting this insane plan.

There just had to be a better way to fight evil.

Hannah had taken to the bonding poorly. It wasn't even that she minded what he'd done to her, she just now found it difficult to focus on anything other than getting her hands, mouth, and other assorted body parts back onto his cock. Through the bond, he could feel lust rushing through her veins, her whole body practically vibrated with it, to the point where all other thoughts had been pushed out of her head. She'd been squirming like a cat in heat, rubbing her thighs together and biting down on her lower lip ever since he'd forced her to stop touching herself and pay attention to what he was saying. She did make a valiant effort to look him in the eyes when he spoke, but after a few words her gaze would inevitably drift back down to his crotch.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten under his breath. “Hannah, honey, this is very important.” he said in a soft, quiet voice. She was annoying him, but he didn't have the heart to scream at her like he wanted to. It would be tantamount to kicking an over-affectionate puppy. Besides which, he had done this to her, he would just have to live with the repercussions, no matter how stupid they were. “You have to promise me that you'll act normal when we're in public.”

“Why?” she asked in a voice that clearly said he wasn't making any sense.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from slapping her. After he wrestled his temper back down, he answered in a still quiet, but no longer soft voice.

“I told you, we have to keep this a secret. If anyone finds out, it could be very dangerous.”

“But didn't you say that someone was watching us in the greenhouse? I mean, you know how fast gossip travels at Hogwarts. By now, I'll bet that half the school knows what we were doing. If we ignore each other, it'll draw more attention than if we were shagging in the Great Hall.” She paused for a moment, then continued in a lower voice. “ I know we have to keep the bond a secret, but what's wrong with people knowing that... I love you?” Her voice had a dreamy lilt to it as she said the last three words.

Harry opened one eye and looked down at the blonde girl. Her gaze was still fixed firmly on his zipper, but apparently she was paying more attention to his words than he gave her credit for. The point about gossip was valid, though overstated. Hannah was just fishing for more attention. If people knew, or believed, that they were together, then she would have an excuse to be close to him all the time. Keeping it a secret meant that she would have to keep her distance.

“I want to find out who's spying on us before I jump to any conclusions.” he said.

He reached down and placed a finger on her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. Even with only a tiny bit of physical contact, she let out a soft whine and he sensed a tingling wave spread across her skin. Underneath her robes, her nipples hardened, and a fresh wave of honey filled her snatch, which was already pulsing in time with her heart. Just the smallest bit of direct stimulation would be enough to send her crashing over the edge of a truly massive orgasm. In spite of that, she clutched the armrests of her chair, steadfastly refusing to touch herself or him after he'd asked her to stop earlier.

A few moments ago, Harry had been bemoaning Hannah's lack of control. All the sudden, he found himself impressed by it. Her whole body was going absolutely insane, but she was trying her best not to give into it, and she was doing it solely to please him.

The bond between them, as powerful was it was, didn't serve to take away her free will. He could give her an order, but she was fully capable of refusing it. What the bond did was make her love him so much that she didn't want to refuse. She wasn't a slave, who also happened to love him, she was a slave to her love for him.

When this had all started, Harry hadn't really been able to see a difference between the two... now he was beginning to understand just how far apart they really were. If he was going to get through to her, then perhaps a shift in tactics was in order. He gazed at her for a few more moments, noting the strained, almost desperate look in her eyes, then spoke.

“I know it's hard... ” he said, measuring his words for maximum effect, “but I need you to be strong for me.” He let his hand move along her chin to cup her cheek. Hannah closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. Harry could feel her heart swell with pride at the idea that he needed her help, and the junction between her thighs give another sharp twinge at his touch. Harry stomach turned slightly. It would almost be better if he could simply order her about, and know that she would obey. That way was... simpler... cleaner almost, than what he was doing, forcing emotions on her, then using those emotions to manipulate her. He pulled himself away from that line of thought. Dwelling on things he couldn't change was useless. He dropped to his knees before her chair, looking up at her and taking her hands in his.

“I swear I'll make it up to you one day, but for now you just have to do what I say, and trust that I know what I'm doing.” he told her softly.

It was a lie, of course. He could never truly make up for what he'd done to her, but he put all the sincerity he could muster into the words. It was almost disappointing when she smiled back down at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. There was a part of him that wanted her to hit him, to scream that he was a monster, to hate him for what he'd done. But, all he saw when he looked into her eyes, all he felt through the bond, was pure, boundless love.

A single tear welled up in Hannah's eye, then slipped down her cheek. “I trust you with my life.” she whispered tenderly, “I promise I won't let you down, ever.” The conviction in those pretty hazel eyes was almost frightening.

This time, it was Harry's heart that swelled a bit. Maybe Hannah's love for him wasn't natural, but the fact that she had such complete and total faith in him was enough to give him goose bumps.

She pulled one of her hands from his, and reached out to touch his face, before stopping herself. She shivered visibly, torn between wanting to touch him, and not trusting herself to stop once she did.

Harry made the choice for her by taking her hands and placing them firmly on the armrests of the chair. He'd brought Hannah to Daphne's secret place in order to explain things to her in private, and to make sure that she knew how to act around other people before he let her out of his sight. Now that they had reached an understanding, he felt that she was due a reward.

Besides which, feeling her lust in his head was driving him batty!

An almost painful sensation of want and disappointment flashed through the blonde girl when Harry didn't allow her to touch him, but it was immediately replaced by happiness and anticipation when he reached for the laces of her robe. Her hands twitched, but she stopped again at the sound of his voice.

“Keep your hands where they are.” he ordered quietly, “Let me handle everything for now.”

He had two reasons for asking this. One was that he really wanted to give Hannah some relief, and didn't want her to think that she needed to please him at the same time. The other was that he wanted to see how long she could hold out without touching him. When they had made love before, she had touched him almost compulsively. Even now, he could feel a burning desire inside of her to run her fingers across his skin. It was a kind of test. If she could control herself now, at the height of her passion, then he could probably trust her to control herself in the halls and in class.

Still kneeling, he undid her robe, starting from the top. The backs of his fingers brushed against her cloth-covered breasts, causing her to suck in a sharp breath and the black fabric to pull tight against her chest. Harry grinned up at her and stroked the cloth with his thumb, right where her nipple was, under scant millimeters of cotton and lace.

Hannah dropped her head violently against the back of the chair and let out a loud half-moan, half-squeal. His touch went straight from her nipple to her cunt, then spread out in waves across her body. It wasn't an actual orgasm, though it was as close as you could get without actually having one. Hannah's body was primed to explode, but Harry wasn't quite ready to set her off yet.

He made short work of the remaining knots and pulled her school robe open. Underneath, she had put her uniform back on, though without the black and yellow tie. She hadn't bothered doing up more than a couple of buttons on her rumpled white blouse, and Harry could see her cute little belly button winking at him through one of the gaps. Possessed of a flippant urge, he gave it a quick poke with his index finger, catching Hannah off guard and causing her to burst out laughing.

She just barely stopped herself from taking her hands off the armrests to push him away from her ticklish spot. He felt a surge of love tinged with determination go through her, and she gripped the chair so hard her knuckles went white. For a moment, Harry wondered if she realized that he was testing her. Either way, she was doing well.

Her slim thighs were still pressed firmly together, not resisting him, just trying to provide some relief against the insistent, ever-present itch that started at her clit and radiated out along her labia, before making a quick u-turn deeper into her body. 'Itch' was the best word he could come up with to describe the feeling of female arousal, although it was wholly inadequate.

When Harry himself became aroused, it was a hunger, eager to be sated. But what he felt from Hannah was more like millions of tiny, invisible ants marching across her most tender and sensitive area. It was an itch that begged to be scratched, hard and deep, one that would only become more intense if ignored.

He grinned slightly. It wouldn't have to wait much longer.

He laid his hands on Hannah's knees, and she eagerly began to part them for him. He resisted, holding them closed until she looked back down at him in askance. Harry looked directly into her eyes and began sliding his hands slowly higher up her legs. He could feel goose bumps rise, both under his fingertips as well as through the bond. Hannah had lovely skin, soft and pliant, with a warm natural tan. Either that, or she'd spent a great deal of time in the sun over the holidays.

There was a little stab of pain through the bond, as she bit down hard on her bottom lip again. Harry's questing fingers slid under her pleated skirt, the trapped air inside damp and warm. Hannah's head dropped back against the headrest once more, and she let out a throaty sigh. Harry didn't need the bond to tell him that she wanted him to get on with it, but he wanted to stretch the moment out just a bit longer. He found the waistband of her lace knickers and started pulling them down. Hannah quickly lifted her hips to give him better access, but never took her arms off the chair. He pulled the strip of blue fabric all the way off of her, and examined it briefly. It was absolutely soaked with Hannah's own personal brand of lubrication, and gave off a strong, musky, but not unpleasant odor.

“I want you to stop wearing these.” he said, indicating the knickers, “The bra's fine, but I never want to see you wearing knickers again, unless I tell you to.” She didn't say anything, though the stab of excitement that went through her at his words was enough to tell him that she'd heard. He absentmindedly tucked the undergarment into his pocket and moved to undo her skirt. He pulled it off and tossed it aside, leaving Hannah exposed from the waist down. He eased her legs apart, and feasted his eyes on the petaled flower between them. Like everything about Hannah, it was very cute and well-formed. Her clit was as erect and engorged as it could be, but didn't stick out so far as to be unattractive. Her labia was flushed and spread wide, open and inviting, begging to be filled.

Hannah let out another loud moan when Harry took hold of her hips and scooted her forward. Her top half was slumped down in the chair, arms hooked around the sides so she wouldn't fall, while her legs hung off the edge, thighs spread wide.

Harry leaned down, kissing the spot just above her snatch, and she almost sobbed in frustration. He didn't think she could form words now, even if she wanted to. He stuck his tongue out and tentatively touched it to her clit.

It was as if she'd been struck by lightning.

Hannah's piercing scream bounced off the walls and rattled through Harry's brain. He could feel waves of pleasure wash over her body, each one a little bit stronger than the last. They started at her core, but spread until she tingled from her toes to the tips of her ears. Again, Harry was brought back to the idea of female arousal as an 'itch'. What he sensed now was akin to the mildly euphoric feeling that came with scratching a bug bite, only magnified a thousand times over. And much like the bug bite, the more you scratched, the better it felt.

He wasn't paying attention to Hannah herself, so much as what he was feeling from the bond, so he was caught off guard when her hips bucked all the way off the chair and her pelvis smacked him right in the face.

“Ow.” he swore, jerking away and holding his nose. He gave it a quick wiggle, to make sure it wasn't broken, then took off his glasses just to be safe. He'd never realized that cunnilingus could be so dangerous!

Hannah was still riding the crest of her multiple orgasm, but was starting to come down slightly. 'Not if I can help it!' Harry thought. Her hips were still thrusting up, and her feet were kicking just enough to be dangerous, so he grabbed her by the ankles and threw her legs over his shoulders. He then took a firm grip on her bouncing ass, and dove back in before she could hit him again.

This time, he went straight for her hot, quivering snatch. She screamed once more when her nether lips parted for his questing tongue. She thrashed beneath him, a fresh gush of girl-cum flooding out of her and smearing his face. He tongued her open hole a while, then backed off to take the folds of her labia between his lips. He sucked gently, and had to adjust his grip on her again when her legs shot straight out behind him.

'Ride 'em, cowboy!' he thought, amazed by her reactions. If someone were to listen to her, without knowing what was happening, they would probably think that he was torturing her to death.

Right now, he wasn't sure they'd be wrong. Hannah's body was pushing overload, the bond told him that she actually was having trouble breathing, though not enough to put her in any real danger. He nibbled her vulva around the edges, carefully avoiding the protruding button at the top after what happened the first time he'd gone near it. He briefly considered trying to get a finger up her bung, but didn't think that he could spare a hand. He needed them both right now just to keep her under control!

Hannah finally found her voice. “please... please... no... no more.” she breathed, her lungs pumping like a bellows. In spite of the begging, her hands never left the chair. “I c-can't... can't stop. harry... har-IIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” She broke off her pleading when Harry finally wrapped his lips around her throbbing little nub again and applied direct stimulation.

Hannah's previous reactions had apparently only been a warmup. This time, her whole body came off the chair, so that only her arms, shoulders and neck still supported her. Harry was sucking on her clit, and flicking it with his tongue. She responded by wrapping her legs around his head and bucking like a wild bronco. It was almost like she was trying to shake him off and hold him closer at the same time. The noise she was making now wasn't so much a scream as it was a loud, uncontrollable sob. The bond was all but impossible to interpret, emotions and sensations were screaming through her mind in no discernable pattern, driving out all conscious thought.

Harry didn't let it go on for long. For one thing, she was just too damned hard to hold onto! He backed off a bit, and stimulated the bond to lessen her arousal to a more manageable level. Hannah seemed to deflate, her muscles unknotting and her breathing slowly returning to normal. He eased her off the chair and onto the floor beside him. Her robe was still on, so he slid it off her shoulders, before picking her up and moving them both to one of the small sofas. He set her down on his lap, careful to make sure she didn't crush his now-raging erection.

She was still out of it, making little kittenish noises against his chest as she tried to recover. He slipped one hand under her blouse and rubbed her sweat-slick back comfortingly, while his other hand stroked her hair. Not really paying attention to what he was doing, he started pulling her pigtails loose. Soon, her long, blonde hair was loose and fanned out across his chest and shoulder. Hannah was soaking wet, and her sweat, along with other heavily flowing liquids, had begun to seep into his clothing. He didn't mind. For the moment, he was content to hold her and let her catch her breath.

Hannah soon began to rouse herself, the kittenish mewls turning into a full-throated purr as he played with her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cuddled as close as she could, shivering slightly. He felt her mumble into his neck, and he made a questioning noise.

She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him. Her eyes were hooded and glassy, but still beautiful. “I said that I love you.” she murmured. She scooted up a little and started laying feather-light kisses all over his mouth, then his nose. Soon, she was covering his entire face in tiny kisses. Harry laughed and tightened his grip on her, pulling her tight against him, her tits mashing against his chest. It felt... comfortable, just holding her and letting the world outside attend to itself for once.

But not so comfortable he forgot about his own arousal. All that licking, bucking, and screaming had its effect on him as well. His cock was wedged painfully in his trousers, trying to push its way out by sheer force. He let his hand trail down Hannah's back, taking one of the fleshy globes of her ass into his palm and briefly kneading it like bread dough.

Hannah sighed out her pleasure at his touch and leaned her forehead against his. She kissed him once more, this time her tongue slipping into his mouth to do battle with his own, before adjusting herself so she was sitting astride his lap. She held his eye, and loosened the remaining buttons on her blouse. He helped her out of her top, and reached behind her to undo her bra. Her tits gave a happy bounce as they were freed from confinement, and she giggled like a little girl when he told her so.

“They're just happy to see you!” she laughed. Harry reached out and took them in his hands, stroking circles around the perky, cherry-red nipples with his thumbs. She gripped his shoulders and moaned deep in her throat. He leaned down and took the left nipple in his mouth, sucking on it gently while he rubbed the right one.

“AAAAHHHHHH!!!!” Hannah yelled, arching her back and thrusting her chest towards him. Her gushing cunt found the ridge of Harry's still covered cock, and she began to dry-hump it, grinding herself against his hardness, seeking relief from the rapidly returning itch.

Harry pulled back from her breast, the nipple popping out of his mouth with a wet kissing noise. He buried his face in her cleavage, the hot flush of her skin burning his cheeks and the clean, sexy smell of her passion tickling his nose. His cock was demanding attention. It had been patient long enough.

Apparently, similar thoughts were going through Hannah's mind. He felt her hands slip between them, slender fingers fumbling with his belt, eagerness making her uncoordinated, before cool air finally washed over his shaft.

This time it was Harry who lost his voice when she took hold of him with both hands and stroked him double-fisted. This time it was he who had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep from cumming. Hannah pumped him a few more times, copious pre-cum making him slick and ready for her. Harry snuggled deeper between her tits, letting her do the work now. She lifted her hips and guided him to her wet, pulsing entrance. She was still vise-tight, having lost her cherry only a couple of hours before, and even as aroused as she was, her pussy still struggled to hold him out. 'Even her cunt is a Hufflepuff.' Harry thought wryly, just before Hannah pumped her hips again and slammed him home.

They both let out a relieved sigh. Hannah ran her fingers through his hair, hugging him closer while she gave herself time to adjust to his cock stretching her insides. She softly kissed the top of his head, and Harry could sense a feeling that he hadn't felt from her before... contentment.

Hannah's mind, he was finding out, was a very hard place to live. Almost from the moment the bond had taken effect, he'd noticed how chaotic and unfocused her emotions were. Underneath all the love and lust she felt for him was a raging inferno of depression, self-loathing, and fear, mixed with equally powerful amounts of hope, wonder, and an odd sensation he could only describe as giddiness. Taken together, it was no wonder that she'd hidden herself away from the rest of the world. How could she deal with other people when her own mind was pulling her in so many different directions at once?

It suddenly occurred to Harry that the bond might actually be a calming influence on the girl's tortured psyche. Instead of being alone, awash in a storm of conflicting emotions, she finally had something constant and unchanging to hold on to... her love for him. Instead of being pulled in a number of different directions, she now had a True North.

The fact that, for her, True North led directly to his cock would take some getting used to, but he would just have to manage.

Hannah sighed into his hair as she gave him a firm squeeze with her inner muscles. She began to lightly rock her hips, like a child trying to put itself to sleep, the gentle motion not really causing much friction where they were joined, but very arousing nonetheless. In her mind, the chaos was giving way to peace and order. The feeling of contentment grew until it overwhelmed everything else, until it almost matched the magically-induced love she felt for him.

Harry moaned into Hannah's cleavage. The feel of her body mashed against his, the crushing-tight, wet heat that enveloped his overstimulated cock, and the barely noticeable, but absolutely maddening sensation that came with the bobbing of her hips combined to put him on the edge of his biggest orgasm of the day.

He held back though. It wasn't that he didn't want to cum, he desperately did. But even more than that, he wanted to stretch this moment out, not only for himself but for Hannah as well. He strongly suspected that as soon as he pulled out of her she would be tossed right back into the state of mental pandemonium from which she'd only just now escaped.

He'd tried to give her some relief when he'd eaten her out before, but it had only stoked her fires hotter. This was what she really needed, to be joined with him, to hold him inside of her and let everything else fall away. It made a strange kind of sense, when he thought about it. The bond made her love him, so it stood to reason that she would be happiest when she was pleasing him.

In other words, Hannah was most fulfilled when she was filled up.

Harry nuzzled between her breasts, his hands rubbing circles along her smooth, firm back while she continued to rock on his lap. Bonding Hannah, and Daphne before her, had been a matter of necessity. He needed to do it in order to defeat Voldemort. But, if it had to be done, then at least he could it right. Their lives and futures, as well as those of anyone he bonded later, were in his hands, he owed it to them to take care of them as well as he could.

Hannah's breathing was growing heavier, her soft sighs turning into pants as she slowly rode him. She upped the pace slightly, her tits starting to bob on either side of his face. Her pussy was now sliding up and down his cock, but only about an inch or so at a time. Even so, the feel of her wet canal rippling and moving around him was almost unbearable. She kept up that agonizing tempo for several minutes before abruptly slowing down, then stopping. He could sense a feeling of anticipation and nervousness bloom inside her. She ran her fingers through his hair again, and pulled his face away from her breasts. Lovingly, she wiped the sweat off his brow with her thumbs then kissed it.

“Is it okay if you shoot in my mouth?” she whispered timidly, not quite looking him in the eye.

In all honesty, Harry didn't like that idea one bit. It wasn't that he was against blowjobs or anything, but the position he was in was extremely erotic, not to mention just plain comfortable. He wasn't eager at all to break off contact so she could indulge herself with a little cum-drinking.

Still, it was hard to resist the hopeful sparkle in her beautiful eyes, or the nervous way she bit her tongue, so that the soft, pink tip showed between her lips. Hannah might've had more than her fair share of flaws, but she was nonetheless adorable. He also knew that she would be disappointed, maybe even hurt, if he said no.

He stretched up and pecked her on the lips, playfully nipping at her still-exposed tongue as he did, making her jerk back a little and laugh out loud. Her movement and laughter made her vice-like pussy spasm around his overstimulated prick in an ungodly way, and he barely kept from pumping her full of Potter's Homemade Baby Juice right then and there. She leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose again before pressing her forehead against his.

“Please, Harry...” she whispered again, her voice now trembling with want, “...can I suck it again.” All he could do was nod.

Hannah let out a delighted squeal and quickly lifted herself off of him. The head of his cock pulled loose of her with an audible 'plop' and he immediately missed having her sweaty body against his. She settled in at his feet like an affectionate cat and wrapped her hand around his cock almost reverentially.

“I love the way it feels.” she whispered. Harry couldn't tell if she was talking to him, or herself. “So warm.” She lowered her head and slowly licked the underside. Her hair draped over her face and obscured his view, but he could feel her rubbing the tip of his pole against her lips, before it was overcome by the warm wetness of her mouth.

She nursed on him for almost a minute, not bobbing her head, just holding him in her mouth and suckling with her lips and tongue. It was one of the most excruciatingly pleasurable things he had ever felt and he knew he wouldn't last long if she kept it up. Hannah had drifted off into wherever it was that she went when she sucked him off, and didn't hear his warning.

Or maybe she heard him, and just didn't care.

Harry's cock swelled and spurted, coating the inside of her mouth with his spunk. Oddly, she didn't try to swallow it, but pulled back until her lips covered only the very tip of his penis, then pumped him with her hand, milking him. Harry leaned back in relief while his balls drained into Hannah's waiting mouth.

When the final drop had been sucked out of him, Hannah let him go and rose. The happy smile on her face was spoiled a bit by the way her cheeks were slightly puffed out. Harry could feel a sense of... mischief coming from her, and it abruptly hit him exactly why she'd wanted him to finish in her mouth. She was going to carry his cum around with her the rest of the day, or at least as long as she could manage. He could still sense that warm, contented feeling inside of her, and suspected that the cum in her mouth was a big reason for it.

Still, he almost told her to spit it out, or swallow it... or something. Frankly, the idea of her carrying his sperm around in her mouth was a little creepy. Not only that, but it unnecessarily heightened the chances of them getting caught.

Hannah must've suspected what he was thinking, because she was dressed and ready to go in a flash. She rushed over and gave him an appreciative little hug. Thankfully, she didn't try to kiss him, but simply rubbed her cheek against his in an loving way before leaving the room and heading back to the Hufflepuff dorms.

Harry dropped his head back against the chair in pleasant exhaustion. He really shouldn't have let her run off like that, but in all honesty, he was feeling too good to put much force into any argument against it.

'Besides,' he thought reasonably, 'what could it really hurt?'

A few hours later, Harry found himself wandering the halls of Hogwarts aimlessly. He'd gone back to his dorm, showered, and tried to relax, but found himself too keyed-up to stay still for long. Pacing gave him time to ponder the events of the day, which was still not quite half over.

He was trying to figure out if his mind was playing tricks on him or not. Before he had blacked out, he was sure he had glimpsed someone watching himself and Hannah, but upon awaking, he'd seen no evidence that anyone had been there, and the locking charm he'd placed on the door had still been intact. All the same, he'd bundled Hannah up and gotten the both of them out of there as quickly as he could. Explanations and... other things had taken up the rest of the morning.

Harry sighed. Less than two days into his plan, and things were already becoming too complicated. With only two girls under his belt, he was already up to his armpits in trouble. If it wasn't Daphne trying to manipulate him, it was getting caught in compromising positions with Hannah. And then there was the situation with Hermione and Ginny. His first thought had been that it was one of them who'd caught him in the greenhouse, but there was no way to be sure without asking, and that was the last thing he intended to do. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Harry's train of thought was derailed by someone bumping into him from the side. He turned to excuse himself, but the words died in his throat. In front of him was perhaps the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had honey-gold hair swept back to show a creamy, flawless face with dainty, almost elfin features and round, wide gray eyes. The girl was wearing a sleeveless pink top and denims that left her calves bare. She was almost as tall as Harry himself, with full, lush curves that were accentuated by her height.

“Watch where you're going!” she snapped, before getting a good look at him. Her eyes flickered up to his scar and the angry look on her face melted into something half-pleased, half-predatory.

“Harry Potter.” she purred, looking him up and down. The way she said his name sent shivers down his back. Just the sound felt like a passionate kiss. She raised a hand towards him, and for a moment he thought she meant to touch his chest, but she let her hand drop before she made contact. “I've been looking everywhere for you.” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a high-pitched voice hollering his name from the other end of the hall.

“Harry! Harry! Wait up!”

He turned to see who was calling him, and bit down a curse. By the time he turned back, the girl had disappeared without a trace.

A boy who somehow managed the remarkable feat of being both short and spindly at the same time quickly caught up to him. Colin Creevy was a little difficult to describe, an unfortunate grouping of elbows, knees, acne, buck-teeth, and watery blue eyes topped by mousy brown hair, grown out to chin-length in imitation of Harry. Colin slammed on the brakes just before he would've slammed into Harry, and stood there for a moment, squirming like an excited puppy who's just about to piss itself. Harry decided he should've started running as soon as he'd heard his name called... anything Colin found this exciting could only be bad news.

Five seconds...

Ten seconds...

Thirty seconds...

Colin was still staring at him with that dopey smile on his face, bouncing on his toes like he knew a secret he desperately wanted to share. A part of Harry wanted to see how long it would take for the boy to remember that he was supposed to say something, but he just didn't have the patience today.

“Yes, Colin?” he asked tersely.

The boy blinked, surprised, then quickly stuttered out his message. “Pro- Professor Dumbledore t- told me to find you. He... he said he wanted to s-s-see you in his office.” Colin grinned at him like he deserved a treat... or at least a pat on the head.

Harry ignored him. He knew it would be bad news.

Hannah might have transformed into a cock-starved attention whore, but she was right about one thing, news travels fast at Hogwarts. Apparently, word had gotten back to Dumbledore about his little tryst in the greenhouse. At least, he couldn't think of any other reason why the man would want to see him on a Saturday. If it had been something Voldemort-related, he would've sent a teacher.

He walked away, taking the long way to the Headmaster's office. It wouldn't hurt Dumbledore to have to wait, and he wanted the extra time to figure out what he was going to say to the old man. He wasn't terribly worried about the lecture he was sure to receive, Dumbledore would probably go fairly soft on him, but he did want to make sure that he steered the older wizard away from any line of questioning that might reveal parts of his plan, and he would have to do it without lying. His occlumency was passable, but Dumbledore was a master legilimens, and would spot any true lie a mile away. Best to dance around the truth and hope for the best.

The stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office shuffled aside when it saw Harry coming around the corner. It gave him a sullen glare as he passed, but he took no notice. Halfway through the last term he'd lost his temper and dropped the blasted thing in the lake when it refused to let him pass for the fiftieth time. The Headmaster hadn't been pleased, but ever since then he hadn't had any trouble getting through. Whether that was Dumbledore's doing, or the creature had simply given up trying to stop him, he didn't know... and didn't really care.

He took the stairs two at a time, and quickly pushed open the inner door, not letting Dumbledore get a chance to call him in. Most people didn't think much about the fact the Headmaster always knew who was calling on him, but Harry strongly suspected that the old man did it to prove that he could never be caught by surprise, at least not here, in his own office.

For a wizard, particularly one as powerful as Albus Dumbledore, there was strength in places that were familiar. When a wizard spent a great deal of time living or working in one place, his magic tended to settle there, like a pair of shoes that fit just right. It was a subtle thing, but when it came to magic a subtle advantage could easily be the difference between life and death. Harry very much doubted that anyone, even Voldemort himself, could challenge Dumbledore in this room, this place, and defeat him.

Small sliver instruments whirled and hummed in alcoves and on shelves all around the room. Paintings of previous Headmasters lined the walls, chatting amongst themselves, or napping in their frames. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see two of the portraits playing cards to pass the time. Fawkes sat on his perch near the desk. Normally, he would have his beak tucked into a wing, resting in preparation for the next time his master needed him, but right now he was totally awake, staring intently at the person sitting across from Dumbledore, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of hostility.

'Oh yes,' Harry thought, 'trying to fight Albus Dumbledore in this room would be a mistake for anyone.' The phoenix would tear apart anyone the man himself couldn't handle.

“Are these the kind of manners you teach here, Headmaster?” the woman said, not even turning her head to acknowledge Harry's presence. “Barging into your office without so much as a knock? How are these students supposed to learn proper respect for magic if they don't even have respect for those teaching them?”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and fingered his beard. He was dressed normally for him, which meant that he was fully prepared to do battle with the forces of darkness, or entertain at children's parties. “I'm sure that Mister Potter simply forgot himself in the excitement of a new term beginning.” he said, giving Harry a significant look over the woman's shoulder. “I think that an allowance can be made, given that it's only the second day back, and classes have not yet officially begun.” The woman let out a sharp, derisive snort.

While they were talking, Harry began making some hasty mental adjustments. He highly doubted that Dumbledore would want to talk to him about screwing Hannah in front of this woman, so this must be about something different.

So she wanted him to show proper respect, did she? He sauntered over and plopped down in the empty chair next to her, hitting the cushion in just the right way to cause it to let out a loud, rude noise. The desk thudded as he put his feet up on it, then folded his hands in his lap and calmly looked at her.

Dumbledore gave an exasperated sigh as Harry studied the woman. She was very tall, close to six feet, with long, almost white hair. Her face was sharp and angular, but lovely, with a delicate chin and an upturned nose and skin like living marble. Her eyes were a stunning shade of blue, but cold as the deepest winter. She wore a dark green dress, not robes, suitable for a ball, with sliver embroidery down the sleeves and small pearls sown into the bodice. The neck was cut low and tight, showing off a generous amount of cleavage that rose and fell noticeably with even the shallowest breath. It took him a moment to see past the woman's obvious physical charms, and realize exactly who she was. His hands tightened in his lap, fingers knotting into white-knuckled fists that ached to wrap themselves around her pale, slender throat.

“Malfoy.” he half-growled, half-spat.

Narcissa considered him with those ice-like eyes, then dismissed him like he was nothing, turning back to Dumbledore. “I hope we can dispense with this matter quickly, Headmaster. I have a great many preparations to make if I'm to be ready for Monday.” she said in clipped, businesslike tones. “I'd say that a month of detentions, and removal from his House quidditch squad would be appropriate.”

Harry hardly heard her. His wand burned in his sleeve, the almost foot-long length of holly demanding to be pulled free, to be used on this woman who had helped to end Sirius' life. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, waiting. Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to attack someone in his office, he knew that. Harry didn't stand a chance against the man here, and maybe not anywhere else either. Fawkes turned his head towards Harry as well, unblinking eyes staring a hole in him. He and Fawkes had always gotten along well, but he had no doubt who's side the firebird was on.

He forced his hands to unclench and rolled his shoulders to loosen the knots building there. He flashed Dumbledore a reassuring grin and a wink. The older man settled back into his chair and looked at him with kind, approving eyes. He probably thought that Harry was willing to let the matter lie. Nothing could be further from the truth. Harry had every intention of exacting bloody revenge on Narcissa and the others involved in Sirius' death. But he could wait. He could wait as long as he needed to. Acting without thinking was what had gotten his godfather killed, he wouldn't allow it to ruin his vengeance as well.

Narcissa didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow to show that she was aware of how close she had come to death, but Harry had no doubt that she knew. She probably thought it was amusing, Dumbledore protecting her from Harry. It made him seethe inside, but he forced his anger back down and tried to focus on what the Headmaster was saying.

“-we decide on a punishment, we should find out if there is anything to punish, don't you think, Mrs. Malfoy.” he said.

Narcissa made an annoyed clicking sound with her tongue. “Very well, Headmaster.” she said in a condescending tone before turning towards Harry. “Potter, please explain to me why my son is lying unconscious in the hospital wing.”

“How should I know?” he shot back, “I'm not Draco's keeper, much as he needs one.” Narcissa's eyes tightened in anger, and Harry smirked at her. He might not be able to attack her magically or physically, but there was nothing stopping him from pissing her off. He continued without letting her get a word in.

“If a student has been injured, isn't it customary for both parents to be notified?” he asked the Headmaster, before snapping his fingers as if he'd just remembered something. “Oh that's right, Lucius is a bit... indisposed at the moment.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed regretfully. “Well, I suppose it's for the best, really. I suspect that it's rather difficult to have a civil conversation with someone who's busy screaming at the walls and defecating on themselves.”

The ice in Narcissa's eyes had melted and turned into a raging storm. “Why you arrogant little half-blooded...” she began.

Dumbledore raised a hand. “Please Mrs. Malfoy, control yourself.” he said, before turning to Harry and snapping. “Mister Potter, if you cannot conduct yourself like the young gentleman you are, I shall do precisely as Mrs. Malfoy suggests and give you detentions for the next month.” Harry drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, but held his tongue. Dumbledore nodded to himself and continued. “We have called you in here because young Mister Malfoy was found in one of the hallways near Gryffindor tower. He was the recipient of a rather nasty Mad Medusa Hex. Do you know anything about it?”

This was going to be tricky. Harry couldn't afford to answer too directly, or Dumbledore would know he was lying. He also couldn't be too vague, or they would both know he was prevaricating. So instead of addressing the question, he tried to divert them.

“People play pranks at Hogwarts all the time.” he said dismissively. “I bet half the school has a reason or seven to want to take Draco down a peg. Why bother me with it?”

Dumbledore peered at him suspiciously, but Narcissa took over the questioning before he could get a word in. “This was hardly a simple prank, boy.” she snapped. “Those weren't grass snakes or something silly like that, they were adders. Small, and not terribly venomous, true, but Draco had taken more than two dozen bites before he was found. As to why we are bothering you with it,” she continued snidely, “I doubt there are more than a half-dozen students in this school capable of modifying a spell in that manner, and given your jealousy of my son, you seemed the most likely culprit.”

Harry felt a slight chill go down his spine. Daphne had hardly even glanced at Malfoy after she'd cast the spell, did she know how dangerous it was? He'd just assumed that it was a standard Mad Medusa Hex, difficult to pull off, but fairly harmless. What kind of person had he bonded himself to? One that could cast a potentially lethal hex, then calmly lead him off for some nookie, never even giving it a second thought?

He suddenly realized that Dumbledore and Narcissa were looking at him expectantly. He got up and handed his wand to the Headmaster, who muttered a few words over it. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Narcissa looking intently at what Dumbledore was doing. He thought that she was simply watching him preform the Priori Incantatum Spell, but he saw a flash of hunger in her eyes and realized that she was actually staring at his wand like she wanted to jump up and snatch it out of Dumbledore's hand.

“I'm afraid that Mister Potter is innocent.” he said, handing the wand back to Harry. Narcissa continued to stare at it until he slipped it back into his sleeve, then gave a slight shake of her head and addressed the Headmaster.

“We'll see about that when Draco wakes up.” she said, cold as mountain snow. She rose gracefully and looked down at Harry. She had the height for it. “As for you, by the time I'm done with you, you will learn to show proper respect for your betters. I swear it.”

He watched her glide to the door, like some kind of queen among peasants, and leave, before turning back to Dumbledore. “What does she mean; when she's done with me?” he asked.

“It would seem that Mrs. Malfoy has been named our new Defense instructor.” he replied, sliding a piece of parchment across his desk towards Harry. Dumbledore looked as tired as Harry had ever seen him. Bags hung under his eyes and it looked as if he'd lost a little weight. He still had his customary smile, but it was more rueful than mischievous. Harry read the parchment out loud.

“By order of Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic for Great Britain and the Commonwealth, Lord Protector of the Realm, High Enforcer of the Good Queen's Justice, Defender of the Waves, yada, yada, yada... bloody hell, it's a paragraph before he even gets to Order of Merlin, First Class.”

“Most of the titles came with being elected Minister.” Dumbledore explained, “The position has been around for some time, and past Ministers occasionally felt the need to add a new one at times when the citizenry had begun to doubt that they were necessary.”

Harry skipped down. “In accordance with Ministry Educational Decree Number Twenty-Seven...” He looked up. “I thought they overturned that.”

Dumbledore bestowed a chiding smile on him. “You'll find as you get older, Harry, that once a government in power has ceded itself authority over something, they do not give it up easily. I personally submitted a request to the Wizengamot to have the Decree overturned, but it was blocked by another request to “study” the measure.” He waived a hand dismissively. “Until the study is completed and submitted, the law remains in effect.”

“How long will a study take?”

“As long as the bureaucracy wishes it to.” came the even reply. Dumbledore peered at Harry over his glasses. “Do you see now why I never wanted to be Minister? Any real changes I could have made would have been tied up in red tape until you were a grandfather.”

Harry held up the parchment. “I thought that they could only name someone to an empty position, what does Snape think about this?”

Snape had finally been named DADA Professor the year before. To the surprise of everyone, he'd proven to be a far more capable Defense instructor than Potions master, actually teaching things instead of simply yelling and pointing. And at Dumbledore's request, he'd even begun teaching Harry about dark magic. It was those teachings that had given Harry the idea of changing his mother's bond into something he could use to fight Voldemort. Snape didn't know that, of course, but he had developed a very grudging respect for the speed and ease with which Harry had picked up the dark arts.

For once, Dumbledore didn't call him down for not calling Snape a professor. Instead, he looked down at his hands and spoke in a troubled voice. “Severus has gone missing.”

Harry wasn't sure what he should feel at hearing that. After all, he'd never liked the man, and certainly wouldn't feel much loss if he were dead. But at the same time, he was a valuable member of the Order, as well as a competent teacher. And Harry needed someone to teach him the dark arts. All the power in the world wouldn't do him any good if he didn't know how to use it without killing himself.

“What happened?” he asked.

Dumbledore rose and moved over to Fawkes' perch. He rubbed one gnarled finger along the old bird's beak. “Severus maintains a small home in the south of France, for when he feels the need to escape Hogwarts. It's not much, one brick house on a few acres of land, but it's quiet, a place for him to relax and study without distraction. At the end of last term, I encouraged him to go there and... what is it the muggles say? Recharge his batteries?” Harry nodded and Dumbledore continued. “I spelled a portkey that would take him directly there, and return him at a time of his choosing. That was more than two months ago.” He turned and sat back down at his desk.

“After a few weeks, I went to check on him. The door was unlocked and open, but the wards were intact and functioning. I could tell that he had been there, but not for very long, and there didn't appear to be any sign of a struggle. He was simply... gone.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, then asked a question. “What kind of wards did the house have?”

“Every kind I could think of, as well as a few of Severus' own design that I would have had a great deal of trouble with, had he not shown me how to circumvent them.” He paused and looked at Harry. “It was also protected by the Fidelius Charm.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Who was the Secret Keeper?”

“I was... I am.” the Headmaster replied, not looking at him.

“So what you're saying is that this place would've been practically impossible for Voldemort to find, much less attack. And that even if he had been attacked, the wards would've given Snape plenty of time to portkey back to the school. But that doesn't matter, because you don't think the place was attacked. So what do you think happened?”

“It's possible that Severus went outside the wards, and was captured.” Dumbledore said, but it sounded hollow.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, because that sounds like the Severus Snape I know.” he said sarcastically, “It would be just like him to nip down to the muggle village to pick up a loaf of bread and thumb through the magazines. He probably joined the Holyhead Harpies while he was at it.”

“We don't know that Severus has betrayed the Order.” Dumbledore said, but didn't sound convinced himself.

“Whatever.” Harry muttered. “So how did we end up with Mother Malfoy?” he asked, tossing the Minister's order back on the Headmaster's desk. “Scrimgeour doesn't strike me as the type to do favors for suspected Death Eaters.”

“He's not.” Dumbledore agreed. “But he will do favors for someone who has betrayed them.”

That caught Harry's attention. “What do you mean, betrayed them?”

“Two nights ago, Mrs. Malfoy walked into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and admitted to being a Death Eater. She claimed that she had reformed her ways and started naming names and places, with the lone demand of protection from prosecution, as well as from Voldemort.

“The aurors were naturally suspicious, but after checking a few of the leads they were able to raid a dozen Death Eater hideouts. They captured almost forty Death Eaters, as well as hundreds of dark artifacts.”

“How come I haven't heard about this?” Harry asked, “Wouldn't something like that be all over the papers?”

“It will be.” Dumbledore said. “Minister Scrimgeour first held back the news for security reasons, but when he realized how successful the raids had been, he decided to delay the release of the information so that it wouldn't be “wasted” on the weekend editions of the Prophet. By Monday, I suspect that the entire wizarding world will be talking about the devastating blow that was struck against Voldemort.”

Harry thought about what Dumbledore had just told him. Forty Death Eaters! That really was a devastating blow. It was probably half of Voldemort's strength.

“He also felt that Mrs. Malfoy would be safest within the walls of Hogwarts.” Dumbledore continued. “After I voiced my reservations, he invoked the Decree.”

“It's quite a coincidence, isn't it?” Harry said. Dumbledore looked at him in askance, and he continued. “Snape goes missing, and Narcissa Malfoy pops up in just the right place, at just the right time to replace him.”

Dumbledore grimaced. “The thought had occurred to me, as well. But it seems like a great deal of trouble to go to, simply to get a spy inside Hogwarts.” He frowned. “Particularly if Severus had already been serving in that capacity, which we still don't know for certain.”

Harry gave him a flat look, but didn't say anything. Instead, he looked out the window. The sun had risen to its peak while they spoke, the early morning clouds and fog had burned away, leaving Hogwarts bathed in brilliant, shadowless light. All the same, Harry couldn't help but shiver slightly. He had a strong suspicion that Voldemort was readying his own plan to end the war, and that the first moves had already been made. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out how it all added up.

One way or another, he would have to. Because if he didn't, he had a feeling that there might not be a world left to save after the Dark Lord finally struck.