Despite most of them having done something to mark the occasion on Valentine's Day itself, a Hogsmeade weekend was still nothing to turn their noses up at — the idea of getting out of the castle was an excellent one.
So, weaving in between the third and fourth years holding hands and stealing shy glances at each other, Harry and Draco strolled down to the village — once again, Harry was wearing Draco's Slytherin scarf. Draco had developed a bit of a thing for seeing Harry in his house colours, ever since the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match.
When they reached the village, Harry saw two familiar heads of fiery red hair, and grinned, heading right over. The twins were a surprise — the two girls with them even more so. "Angie! Lissy!" Harry laughed as he was barrelled in a hug by the two chasers. "I didn't know you were coming down! What about the shop?" He cast worried eyes to Fred and George, who just smiled.
"Lee's manning it by himself today, no big deal. Alley hardly gets visitors anyway, these days." Fred's expression faltered ever so slightly, but then he was beaming, looking over Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't have time to turn around — a blur of dark hair sped past him, and Katie Bell bodily threw herself at her two best friends, screaming in delight. The noise was drawing attention, but none of them cared.
"Oh my God, I've missed you two. Ginny and Demelza are great but they're not you!" Katie enthused, still hugging the two girls, somehow dragging the twins into the mix as well.
"Don't suppose Ollie's gonna pop up somewhere, make this a proper reunion?" Harry half-joked. Angelina shook her head apologetically.
"He's got training. Sends his love, though."
Suddenly, George rocked up on his toes, darting off up the street. None of them even bothered looking — they knew exactly what had happened.
"That'll be Blaise, then," Draco sighed.
"Yup," Alicia confirmed, rolling her eyes. Then she turned to Draco, eyeing him appraisingly. "You're on our side, then, Malfoy?"
Of course; Harry forgot she hadn't yet met Draco as his boyfriend.
"Stand down, Liss," Katie assured, smirking. "Blondie's absolutely gone on our Harry, he's fine. Only time we need to hate him is quidditch."
Alicia blinked, gaze darting down to Harry's gloved hand brushing Draco's own. "Fair enough, then." She grinned, clapping her hands together. "Should we go fetch the lovebirds and grab a booth at the Broomsticks, before it gets too busy?"
"We'd better, yeah." With the four graduates in town, Harry anticipated quite a big cluster gathering throughout the day. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw George and Blaise approaching, bringing Daphne, Luna and Sullivan with them.
"Ginny and Neville are on their way down," Sully reported cheerfully. "Nev had to check something in the greenhouses. We didn't ask."
Harry snorted — that meant they'd be anything from five minutes to over an hour behind. "To the Broomsticks, then," he declared, hoping there would still be a table free big enough for all of them.
They had to get a bit creative with the seating, squeezing tight into booth seats and dragging another table over for extra space, but Rosmerta didn't seem to mind, greeting them all with a big smile and a wink at the twins when they began to flirt outrageously. Soon, Harry had a mug of warm butterbeer between his cold hands, Draco pressed close on one side and George on the other.
"How you doing, kid?" the redhead asked quietly, kissing Harry's temple as he leaned forward to grab his drink.
"Well enough, all things considered," Harry assured. "How about you? How's the shop doing?"
"Keeping Diagon's post office in business single-handed, it feels like, sometimes." George gave a lopsided smile. "Foot traffic could be better, of course, but we're still doing just fine. All thanks to you, naturally."
"Oh, shut it," Harry said, shaking his head. "I just gave you a boost — the genius is all you two." A thousand galleons had been a great start, but it wouldn't have gotten anywhere without the twins' great ideas and solid business sense. "How's the family? How… how's your dad?"
He'd only heard from Arthur Weasley once more since the initial letter after Christmas. The man was still incredibly apologetic for everything, even though absolutely none of it was his fault.
George's smile faltered. "It's… difficult. We haven't been home much since Christmas, but Dad's come over a couple times. It's hard for him — he loves Mum still, but he hates what she's done to you. To all of us."
"He knows Dumbledore was the driving force behind it, right?" From everything Harry knew about the Weasley matriarch, he doubted she would have gone quite so far in her manipulations of Harry without Dumbledore assuring her it was for his own good. Of course, that didn't mean he was even remotely ready to forgive her for it or trust her again, but he didn't want to destroy her relationship with her husband and kids. In a way, she'd been a victim of Dumbledore, just like everyone else. "We've told him, yeah. Honestly, I think that made it worse — just made him think he should've done more to see what was happening. He's been feeling guilty ever since he found out how the muggles treated you, everything's just sort of piled on top of that."
Harry frowned. "None of that matters anymore, though. I'm done with the Dursleys. It wasn't your dad's fault." Sure, maybe at the time Harry might have raged at the whole Order guard who said nothing about a teenage boy not leaving his house once in an entire month, but even by then he knew not to expect anything. Dumbledore had them all too tightly wound in his web.
He couldn't let grudges like that linger, or they'd eat him alive.
Speaking of grudges — the pub door opened, and Ron and Hermione walked in, holding hands. Harry saw the moment their eyes landed on the large gathering; Ron froze, turning as if to leave, but Hermione tugged on his arm and took him over to a small table on the other side of the room.
Harry felt the same way about them, to a certain degree — they had been kids, manipulated by Albus Dumbledore. But they also should have had enough sense to know that being asked to stay friends with someone, to report back on their movements and keep them in with the right crowd was not normal, not something they should have been completely okay with.
Things would have been different, if they'd apologised for it and tried to work past everything. But instead the pair had doubled down, insisting they were in the right and Harry needed them, that none of Harry's other friends were good enough.
He wouldn't ever be their friends, wouldn't ever like them. But he was far too tired to hate them as much as they were determined to continue hating him. He preferred to just forget they existed.
"I'll talk to your dad over the summer, if I can," he said, turning back to George, who had followed his gaze to his youngest brother with an almost disappointed look on his face.
"I think he'd like that. I know he's trying to get Mum to be a bit more rational; I think he's starting with the easy stuff, really. Talking to Bill and Fleur about wedding stuff. Having me and Fred and Angie over for dinner. She even asked me about Blaise, once." He smirked. "Don't think he's worked her up to talking to Charlie and Sirius, though."
"Charlie hasn't told her about the kids, then?" Harry presumed. He'd heard all about the kids at Grimmauld from Sirius, knew how taken with the three siblings his godfather and Charlie were. Harry remembered Nashira Forrester, if only vaguely — he didn't interact much with the younger years, but he remembered her being one of the few Gryffindor first years in his fourth that hadn't gaped in either awe or horror at the sight of him. That was always nice.
George snickered. "Merlin, no. You've heard the story, then?"
"From Padfoot." Harry raised an eyebrow. "You really think they might be related to you?"
"I'd put money on it, honestly," George said. "But even if they're not, those two are hooked. The kids love them just as much — those twins think Sirius is even cooler than me and Fred! It's insulting, quite frankly." He winked. "You ready to be a big brother, then?"
"Can't be too hard, if you manage it," Harry teased, yelping at George's elbow dug into his ribs. "It all sounds a bit too easy, though. I mean… we don't even know if their parents are dead, do we?"
George's smile faded, eyes growing serious. "Tonks and Kingsley are looking into it, but… it's not looking encouraging."
A lump formed in Harry's chest. "Fuck. That's terrible." No matter how great it would be for Sirius and Charlie to adopt some kids, they would all much rather their parents be alive. "What about the other two? Frankie and Kevin?"
"Kevin ran in an attack — he's known his parents were gone for a while now, but he just got back in touch with an aunt who's going to come take custody of him." George's lips pursed. "We haven't found Frankie's older brother, but the kid told us to stop looking. Blaise said Frankie was on the house watch list even before things went to shit; when he didn't show up to school, they assumed the worst."
Harry grimaced — Slytherin house, by nature, tended to get more abused kids than any other house. They were keen-eyed for the signs, and Frankie being on the watch list didn't bode well.
Everything he'd heard about the third year boy hit a little too close to home, for Harry's liking.
The dour turn of the conversation was interrupted as Ginny and Neville finally arrived, and everyone had to squeeze in a bit tighter to make room. Draco took the opportunity to place a hand on Harry's knee, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. "You okay?"
Of course he'd been keeping one ear on Harry's conversation. He was a Slytherin, after all. "Fine," Harry assured, covering the blond's hand with his own.
Draco didn't look convinced, but he let it drop, turning his hand over to hold Harry's as he went back to his conversation with Daphne and Sullivan.
They stayed at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, their table easily the loudest in the room — other Gryffindors dropped by to say hello to the graduates, not to mention a few of the heirs and their assorted social groups. It was quite possibly the most jovial crowd Harry had been part of since his birthday party; even at New Year's, there had been the strong undercurrent of melancholy, the awareness that the coming year would bring a lot of dark things.
This was just light, simple, easy fun with his friends. Catching up with his old teammates, getting the gossip from the outside world, trying not to laugh as the twins teased Neville and Ginny hexed them under the table in retaliation.
Because of that, Harry didn't notice the screaming at first. None of them did.
Then there was a thunderous crack from outside, and conversation died in an instant. Harry looked around his friends, colour draining from his face. "The wards," he realised in horror. "We're under attack."
Immediately, they all began to scramble into action. Harry almost fell flat on his face in his urgency to get out of the booth, wand shooting from his holster into his hand. "Katie, Sully, get the younger kids safe inside," he instructed immediately. "We need to clear the streets."
They flooded out of the pub, right into a battleground.
Black-robed Death Eaters were everywhere. Flashes of spellfire lit up the street, while students and Hogsmeade residents alike screamed and fled for safety. He could see Flitwick and Vector, the two staff chaperones, holding bright blue Shield charms over a cluster of students fleeing from Puddifoot's.
Harry threw himself in front of a pair of terrified third years, raising a shield and sending a Severing hex straight back at the Death Eater who had attacked them. "Get inside the Three Broomsticks," he told the kids. "Now!"
They finally snapped themselves out of their fearful stupor, sprinting across towards the pub. "Potter!" someone roared, voice echoing over the shouts of spells and cries for help. "We were wondering if you'd come play the hero!"
"Well, you've got me," Harry snarled, dropping into a defensive position, shooting off spells at whoever was within distance. Proper combat spells, not the stuff he taught the HA.
Harry wasn't going to pull his punches with people who came to attack children.
Around him, he noticed familiar faces standing their ground with their wands raised — those who had been with him in the pub, sure, but other members of the HA who had been in the village at the time. Cho with one of her yearmates; Justin Finch-Fletchley and the fifth year Slytherin girl he was currently dating; the Creevey brothers and Vicky Frobisher. All of them taking to the fight without fear or hesitation.
The Death Eaters didn't seem to know what to do. One of them yelped loudly as Vicky hit him with a Stinging hex, distracting him enough for Colin to Disarm him and snap his wand over his thigh. Another ended up with enormous bats flying from his own nose, attacking his face — that had to be Ginny.
Harry grinned, sending an Impediment jinx at a Death Eater before they could finish casting a fire spell at Dogweed and Death Cap. What the hell kind of idiot set fire to a herbology shop; did they not know what kind of reactions that could cause?
It was clear they had not expected this kind of resistance in Hogsmeade. "Has your master gotten so desperate he'd send his lackeys out to torture and kill a bunch of third years?" he taunted, firing a curse that would shatter the bones in one Death Eater's hand, making them drop their wand with a scream.
"You watch your mouth!" The screech was familiar, sending ice through his heart.
Bellatrix Lestrange was in Hogsmeade.
It looked like she had just arrived — back-up, perhaps? Or had she come late simply to gloat at their success? She must be disappointed, if that were the case.
As she sauntered down the cobblestone streets, two masked Death Eaters stayed close behind her. Harry wondered if it was the other two Lestranges; the brothers, Rodolphus and Rabastan.
He stepped up to face them. There was no way he was going to let the three of them loose on Hogsmeade. The HA could handle the rest — these three were all his.
"I'm only saying the truth," Harry drawled, keeping his wand raised as he stood merely feet away from Bellatrix. "Hardly seems like a fair fight. Does he even care that some of those third years might be his followers' kids? Or is he finally admitting that the whole pureblood supremacy stuff is just bullshit, and all he really wants is destruction." He ducked a jet of bright green magic, smirking. "Ooh, naughty Bella! Your boss won't like that; he wants to kill me himself, you can't take that from him."
Bellatrix scowled, and the next spell headed his way was a Cruciatus. Harry dodged that, too. "You don't understand the Dark Lord's master plans, you stupid half-blood!"
"Neither do you, by the looks of it," Harry retorted. "Killing magical kids just to make a point? So much for preserving the bloodlines."
The woman screeched, firing another spell, which Harry deflected. It left a huge gouge in the cobblestones when it hit the ground. "We don't care about the ickle babies," Bellatrix spat. "We're here to make sure you and your blood-traitor boyfriend get what you deserve."
Harry's instinct was to look for Draco, but he didn't dare turn away from the Lestranges. Draco would be fine. He could handle himself.
"Leave the others alone, then," he challenged. "I'm right here. Leave them, and come get me."
Not all of the Death Eaters took up the challenge. Some were clearly having too much fun terrorising the village — those ones didn't last long against the HA.
But within moments, Harry found himself utterly surrounded. Bellatrix's smirk was sharp as a knife, her wand drawing close to her face.
And the fight began.
All of Harry's training could not have prepared him for this — there were more people after him than he could count, spells coming from every direction. He shielded and dodged and deflected, trying to send their spells back at them where he could, sending his own spells out when he got the chance. He wasn't creative; Cutting curses, Bone-Breakers, Disarming charms. Anything quick, easy, and not likely to have him called a Dark Lord when the dust settled.
The HA were trying to help, picking their own fights with Death Eaters, those brave idiots. Fred and George were stood protectively over a huddle of kids who looked too injured to make it to safety, working almost as one singular being they were so in tune.
Suddenly, Harry caught a spell to the side, and fell to his knees with a scream of pain as all his nerves caught fire at once. Bellatrix cackled delightedly — a sound that was cut off with a wet thud, ending Harry's pain just as abruptly.
When Harry looked up, he saw Neville stood over him, blood splattered across his face. In front of them, Bellatrix was hunched over, hand grasping at her chest and face going chalky as she gasped fruitlessly for air.
"You will not use that spell on anyone ever again," Neville growled, helping Harry roughly to his feet. Bellatrix dropped to the ground — the two Lestrange brothers didn't like that one bit, and Harry was given no time to recover as he jumped right back in to defending himself. But at least this time, he had Neville there, too.
The Death Eaters were outnumbered, their resolve weakened by the felling of their leader. Harry's limbs burned with exertion, but it was easier with Neville at his side. Easier still when a tall, pale blond form appeared on his other side, face set in fierce determination, wand slashing down in a movement Harry recognised but hadn't dared use himself, couldn't without giving away where he'd learned it.
Rabastan Lestrange's left arm dropped to the ground, his wand going with it. The man screamed, while his brother snarled.
"You!" he roared at Draco, firing a Killing curse — Harry immediately summoned a broken bench to take the curse, though Draco ducked all the same. "I'll kill you, you blood-traitor scum!"
"I'd like to see you try!" Draco retorted, eyes blazing as he aimed another Sectumsempra, at Rodolphus this time.
Rodolphus screamed, arching his wand high above him, even as his chest split open from shoulder to stomach. There was a sound like a tree snapping, then the two Lestrange brothers huddled together over Bellatrix's slumped form, and with a crack of apparition they were gone.
Within a heartbeat, several more cracks of apparition sounded — Harry whipped around, wand raised and ready for the next round of the fight, but it wasn't more Death Eaters. It was the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Alastor Moody.
They looked around, blinking at the destruction surrounding them — and at the assortment of Death Eaters on the ground, some dead, some merely bound with magic, all with hard-eyed Hogwarts students standing over them.
"Potter!" Moody barked, limping forward. "What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?"
"Playing at?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I'm not playing at anything — I'm saving lives, because your lot were too fucking slow to get here!"
"This isn't a fun little training exercise for your bloody duelling club, boy!" Moody argued. Harry blamed his exhaustion for the way that he flinched at the word.
"Does it look like we were training?" he retorted, spreading his arms wide. "We're the only damn reason Hogsmeade is still standing. You should be thanking us."
Moody scoffed. "For putting yourselves in danger because you think you can stand up to a real fight, just because you've done it in your classroom? You're going to get them all killed!" He looked around, glaring at the HA members. "All of you! Idiot children, involving yourselves where you're not wanted. And you!" He rounded on Fred and George. "Where the hell were you two? You were supposed to be guarding the place, not reliving your glory days with your little friends!"
"Mad-Eye, I think you need to calm down," Kingsley started, placing a hand on the man's shoulder only to be roughly shrugged off. "Potter and his friends did good work here."
"Potter and his friends need to keep their heads down and their noses out of other peoples' business!" Moody snapped.
"They came here for me," Harry said hotly. "They made it my business. Regardless, I wasn't going to stand by and let them torture a bunch of third years!"
"You had no right to ask students to fight your battles for you! It's one thing to take on Death Eaters yourselves; it's another to throw kids in their way. Or do you want another Diggory on your hands?"
"Harry didn't ask us to do anything!" came Ginny's furious response. "We fought on our own decisions. And we won." For good measure, she kicked the bound and unconscious Death Eater at her feet.
"And don't you dare talk about Cedric like that!" Cho added, voice shaking only slightly.
Moody growled, turning back to Harry. "I knew something like this would happen. Before he left, Albus said—"
"Albus?" Harry repeated, wide-eyed. "You're still listening to what Dumbledore told you, after he tried to kill me?"
Moody's gaze narrowed, his electric blue eye darting up to Harry's scar. "Don't think because you've got the rest of the world convinced every word out of your mouth is bloody gospel, that you can hide the truth from those of us who know it."
"Mad-Eye, that's enough," Kingsley cut in sharply. Another Order member scoffed.
"You would say that, wouldn't you?" she muttered, glaring at Kingsley. "Still bitter you're not leading the Order yourself, Shacklebolt?"
As the tension rose, the Order began to shuffle unconsciously into two sides — those with Moody, and those with Kingsley.
Harry wondered if he was being premature in thinking the fighting was over.
"You can't say you condone this!" one of the wizards on Moody's side exclaimed. "Just because we all know Potter needs to fight You-Know-Who doesn't mean he should let kids in the fight as well!"
"I don't think those kids had a choice when the Death Eaters started attacking them!"
They argued all at once, only snippets even audible over the combined din. Meanwhile the crowd gathered, staring incredulously at these grown adults bickering like children over a fight they'd been too late to help with.
It was too much for Harry. With an impatient growl, he raised his wand, creating a loud cracking noise that had everyone going silent at once. "Look. I don't care what you think. The fact is, you were too slow. We had to fight, or we would have died. Children would have died. What's done is done. Now, you can either fuck off back where you came from and sulk about a bunch of students stealing your thunder, or you can help us get our injured back to Hogwarts where they can be seen to. And you can deal with these scum," he added, glancing at the downed Death Eaters in disgust. "I don't know what you want to do with the alive ones. Can't exactly take them to Azkaban these days." Later, he might worry about how many of them weren't truly loyal, were working for Voldemort just to save their own skin or their family's. But right now he was in pain and tired and pissed off, and it was tempting to just kill every one of them and be done with it.
"We'll handle it, Harry," Kingsley assured. Then he turned to Moody, scowling. "And if this is the direction you're taking the Order, you can count me out. I refuse to let children die just because the adults want to shelter them from reality."
With that, Kingsley strode off towards the nearest group of students, healing charms already on the tip of his wand. A beat, and Sirius stepped forward. "What he said," he agreed, glaring at Moody. "You can take whatever Albus bloody Dumbledore has told you and you can shove it up your arse. Stay the hell away from my godson."
One by one, the Order fractured — Remus, Tonks, the Weasley siblings; all of them gave the rest of the Order disgusted looks and went to work on clearing up the aftermath.
"Throw your lot in with him, then!" Moody snarled. "You're only signing your own death warrants!"
Then he glared at Harry one last time, bent down to grab a dead Death Eater, and apparated away.
The remaining Order members looked uneasy — some of them did the same, picking up a corpse and leaving to dispose of it. A few went to go aid in the repairs, but they were eyed with distrust.
Harry was glad to see Tonks carefully rounding up the still-living Death Eaters. He trusted her with them a hell of a lot more than he trusted Moody's people.
"Are you hurt, pup?" Sirius asked, rushing towards Harry and grabbing him gently by the shoulders. "Draco, Neville, are you boys okay?"
"Nothing major," Harry assured, giving himself a once-over now the adrenaline was beginning to fade. There was nothing he couldn't heal himself, he didn't think.
"I'm fine," Draco confirmed.
"I— I think I killed her." Harry turned to Neville, who looked like he was going to faint. His hazel eyes were glassy with tears as he looked back at Harry. "Did I kill her, Harry? Did— did I kill Bellatrix Lestrange?"
Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. Harry bit his lip. "I don't know, Nev." He would hazard a guess and say yes, but he wasn't completely sure what spell Neville had used. She certainly hadn't looked alive when her husband had apparated her out. "But if you did, good fucking riddance is all I can say." He placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder, meeting his gaze intently. "You saved my life, Neville. Saved dozens of lives, if you got rid of her. Don't you dare feel guilty for putting that bitch down. Not after what she did to your parents."
Neville nodded jerkily. Still, his whole body began to tremble.
"Come on, kid," Sirius soothed, putting an arm around Neville's shoulders. "Let's get you sat down, yeah? Give you a minute to breathe. Look, there's Ginny." He glanced back at his godson. "Get yourself up to the Hospital Wing, I'll meet you there."
Harry nodded, but when he turned, it wasn't to head up to the school. It was in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. The pub was a little charred and damaged out front, the sign nothing but splinters, but the line of students defending the doors had stood strong. Rosmerta stood with them, and now the fight was done she approached Harry. "I don't care what that idiot thinks — you're a damned hero, Harry Potter, and this whole village owes you our lives. You and all your friends." Around her, other shopkeepers who had dared venture out of their premises nodded. "We just did what we had to do," Harry said, shrugging somewhat awkwardly. He wasn't used to being thanked for throwing himself into danger.
"Darn sight more than most would dare," Rosmerta returned. Then she straightened up, squaring her shoulders. "Let's get this mess cleaned up, then, shall we?" She looked at the crowd. "Anyone who doesn't have the strength to get back up to the school yet, come on in. I'll get butterbeer and sandwiches going, on the house." She smiled slightly. "And anyone who can fix my window gets a bottle of Ogden's Finest for their troubles. I was never any good with glass."
Several people perked up at that, including some of the students.
A hand on Harry's arm made him turn, meeting Draco's concerned gaze. "Sirius was right; you should get back up to the castle."
"Only once I know everyone's okay," he insisted. He might have told Moody that he hadn't asked his friends to fight, which was true, but that didn't mean he didn't feel some measure of responsibility for them. They were his students, of a sort.
For a moment, he thought Draco might argue. Then the blond merely sighed, pulling Harry in to a tight hug. "Fucking Gryffindors," he muttered. Harry laughed against the collar of his jumper.
Someone must have sent word up to the castle — McGonagall, Hagrid, Snape and Pomfrey arrived, Pomfrey immediately setting up a triage station just outside Honeyduke's as Draco hurried to assist her, the unconscious Professor Vector their first patient. The sweet shop was the least damaged of all, and Mrs Honeyduke was handing out bars of chocolate for the shock. When he drifted by to get a headcount of HA members, Harry found himself getting a huge bar of his favourite milk chocolate pressed into his hands. "Thank you, Mr Potter," Mrs Honeyduke murmured. "We wouldn't have stood a chance without you and yours." Then she was off, herding up a group of fourth years, sending them to catch up with the group Flitwick was leading back to the school.
Harry pocketed the chocolate, shaking his head bemusedly as he turned.
And immediately found himself at the end of the Hogwarts Matron's wand. "Sit down before you fall down, Potter." She gestured towards a conjured cot in front of her.
"Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine."
"I'll be the judge of that. You're limping." Over her shoulder, Draco scowled as Harry backed away from the mediwitch.
"There's students in far worse shape than me. Pass me a Healing potion, I'll be fine."
Pomfrey didn't look happy, but she couldn't deny the crowd of students needing her services was growing, so she let Harry be with the potion and a Nerve Tonic, as well as a mild threat to see her before he snuck away to the castle.
He stayed as long as he could, helping gather frightened students from their hiding places and offering what limited healing magic he knew. He levitated the corpses that hadn't been taken by the Order off to the side, where no one had to look at them. When some of the masks fell off, he recognised students who had graduated within his time at the school, and had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat.
He conjured sheets to cover the two dead students, still held in the lifeless arms of a stout woman he vaguely recognised as a clerk at Gladrags, her protection clearly not enough.
The hand on his shoulder was McGonagall's this time, her weathered face drawn. "I can take it from here, Potter. You four are the only students left in the village; we've accounted for everyone else."
He blinked — waiting by Pomfrey's triage tent were Draco, Katie and Blaise. "I…" He trailed off, looking back down at the cloth-covered bodies. "I'm sorry I didn't save them, Professor."
McGonagall's lips pursed, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. "Far more of them would have died had you not been here, Potter. Unfortunately, even the best of us cannot save everyone."
He gave a stiff nod, barely a jerk of his chin. He understood that, but it didn't stop the guilt. The Death Eaters had come for him, after all.
McGonagall released him, and he headed for his friends, stumbling a little as his quivering muscles began to protest a little too much, the ache in his hip turning sharp with every step. Now the adrenaline was starting to wear off, he was starting to realise he was not quite as unscathed as he'd thought.
"Don't make me send you back to the castle on a stretcher, Potter," Pomfrey called, not looking up from the patient she was dealing with. "Oh, for Godric's sake," Katie huffed, stepping in front of Harry and turning her back to him. "Go on, on you get."
He stared. "Sorry, what?"
"You're no heavier than my little brother, and I give him piggybacks all the time. It's me or a stretcher; you're in no shape to make that walk under your own power."
Blaise had his arm in a sling, and Harry could admit there was no way Draco was strong enough for that. He groaned.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I can walk!"
"Me or the stretcher," Katie reminded. "So button it, Potter."
Harry could count on one hand the number of times he'd been given a piggyback. But that was how he left Hogsmeade after his heroic battle against the Death Eaters — clinging to the back of Katie Bell, body slowly making its protests known, too tired to even argue at this point.
He would get Draco back for laughing at him, though. After he'd had some sleep.
.-.-.
Dinner that evening was a subdued affair. To no one's surprise, McGonagall announced that all future Hogsmeade weekends were cancelled for safety reasons. There was a small group of quietly crying students at the end of the Ravenclaw table, mourning the two kids that had died.
Harry couldn't look at them without his chest hurting.
He ate mechanically, half propped up by Draco, wondering how the hell a day that had started out so wonderful could end so tragically.
"I was going to go up to the Hospital Wing, to visit Daphne," Draco told him quietly. "Did you want to come with me? Pomfrey can get you checked out properly."
Harry groaned, but nodded — the mediwitch was bound to get him eventually. Might as well get it over with. And he was pretty sore.
Then the rest of the sentence filtered through his foggy brain, and he stiffened. "Daphne's up there? Is she okay?"
"She will be in a few days. She got caught by an Entrail-Expelling curse, but whoever cast it botched it, so it was reversible."
Harry's stomach knotted tight in horrified sympathy. "Fuck." That was incredibly lucky. Draco nodded, eyes hollow.
"Yeah. You coming?"
As always, eyes followed Harry on his way out of the hall. But this time, instead of being suspicious or accusing, they were all filled with respect. The Hospital Wing was far more full than Harry would have liked to see, most of the beds curtained off as their occupants rested. Daphne was at the far end, in the same bed Harry usually ended up in. Luna was sat in a chair beside the bed, braiding glittering purple wool into Daphne's hair. At the foot of the bed, Astoria Greengrass sat with her knees tucked up beneath her, worried gaze stuck on her sister.
"Oh, good. I was hoping Mr Malfoy might be able to bring you up here tonight," Pomfrey said to Harry, patting the bed beside Daphne expectantly. "Come on, let's get this over with."
Daphne gave a weak smile at Harry's grumbling. "It'll go quicker if you quit bitching, you know," she teased. Her face was pale, the sheets pulled up to her chin, but she looked in fairly good spirits for a girl who had almost died.
"Can I help with anything, Madam Pomfrey?" Draco asked politely, and Pomfrey shook her head.
"Be glad you're not sat right here next to Mr Potter — don't think I didn't notice you healing your own curse wounds down in the village."
Harry turned accusing eyes on his boyfriend. "What curse wounds?" He hadn't seen more than a few bruises on the blond when they'd snuck off to the prefect's bathroom to clean themselves up, once they got back to the castle.
"Minor things," Draco assured evasively. "As Madam Pomfrey said, I healed them all."
That wasn't nearly as reassuring as he probably thought it was. "You should have said something."
"Pot, meet Kettle," Draco said succinctly, making Astoria giggle. He turned to Daphne, gaze softening. "How are you feeling?"
"I think I'm going to go vegetarian," Daphne answered, making all of them but Luna stare at her in confusion. "After seeing my insides on the outside, the idea of eating meat has become quite unappealing."
A beat, then Draco snorted. "I told you not to look at it."
"Yeah, but I wasn't going to just close my eyes and let you rummage around my intestines."
"Quite frankly, Miss Greengrass; Mr Malfoy's rummaging is the only reason you're still able to eat at all," Madam Pomfrey remarked. There was pride in her eyes as she looked at Draco.
"Wait, Draco reversed the curse?" Harry asked, wide-eyed. "You didn't mention that part!"
Draco blushed under his scrutiny. "It was before help arrived. There was no one else there to do it."
"You saved your friend's life, Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey told him. "Did a very fine job of it, too. You've the instincts of a battlefield healer to you." Then she glanced askance at Harry. "I suppose you'd have to, willingly tying yourself to this fool."
"Hey!" Harry protested. Pomfrey clucked her tongue.
"You've been walking around all day on a fractured hip, Mr Potter," she told him bluntly.
"…Oh. Thought it was a bit sore."
The matron rolled her eyes heavenward for a brief moment. "Hold still." She tapped his hip with her wand, murmuring a spell — there was a strange cold sensation, then the pain began to fade. "You'll take it easy for a week, Potter," she instructed. "No quidditch. No duelling practice. No other strenuous activity." Her pointed gaze moved to Draco, and Astoria giggled again. "A week, and then you'll come see me again. Clear?"
Harry swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got other patients to see to. Miss Greengrass, your guests can only stay another twenty minutes; you need your potions and then rest." Pomfrey bustled off down the other end of the ward, leaving the teens alone.
"A whole week? Not sure you'll cope," Daphne teased feebly.
"It's going to be even longer for you, so don't be smug," Draco scolded. He perched on the bed with Harry, leaning to take Daphne's hand. "Are you sure you're alright? I didn't — I didn't mess anything up in there?" Nerves strained his voice, and Harry squeezed his knee.
"You heard Pomfrey," Daphne insisted, "you did a very fine job." Her smile was tired, but genuine. "Thank you, Draco. I owe you my life."
Draco swallowed tightly, squeezing her hand. "I'm just glad you're alright."
"It was a close one," Daphne agreed. Her sister whimpered softly. "Tori, I'm okay. Draco patched me up, yeah? Good as new. Don't even need to tell Uncle about it."
Astoria's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm telling him," the fourth year insisted. "Daph, you almost died. In Hogsmeade! What if next time—" She cut herself off, shaking her head defiantly.
"The war will be done by the new school year," Luna said suddenly, confidently, knowingly. Harry's spine straightened.
"You See it?" he asked, and she nodded.
"By summer's end, the fighting will be done," she said in that same Other sort of voice.
"Don't suppose you See us winning, do you, hun?" Daphne asked. Luna shook her head apologetically.
"There are too many paths, too many wrackspurts. The outcome is unclear."
Ignoring the ache in his hip, Harry slithered an arm around Draco's waist, hugging the blond to his side. That was good news, of a sort.
But it still made his stomach churn with unease, imagining the battle to come.