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Chapter Text

March 26, 2008

"Potter. I was wondering if I could have a word."

Harry looked up from his desk and frowned. Draco Malfoy stood in his doorway. And while Malfoy wasn't an uncommon sight, being a researcher in the DMLE, there was something wrong. Despite having not a hair out of place, there was a frantic energy to Malfoy that Harry hadn't seen since the two men had gotten particularly drunk after a tricky auror mission and the man had broken down and told Harry all about how much of a fuck up he thought he was and how he kept waiting for the ministry to fire him and stick him back in Azkaban. And before that it had been after the final battle of Hogwarts, standing with his parents looking pale and guilty. No. Draco Malfoy did not do frantic often. But here he was. Fidgeting in the doorway.

"What do you need, Malfoy?" Harry gestured to one of the comfy chairs across from his desk. Malfoy looked back into the hall before shutting the door, casting a quick privacy charm, and taking a seat. Harry raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"You know my sister, Felicity," he started.

"Sure. Met a few times." Felicity attended all the Malfoy galas and had been Malfoy's guest to more than a few outings and parties. He hadn't interacted with her much, though. All he knew was that she was pretty, American, had been a healer during the war, and that she was not actually related to Malfoy. Her dark hair and hazel eyes were proof enough of that. She also, if Harry was remembering correctly, was a muggleborn. The Malfoy's had used that information to gain back public favor at some point.

"She's an unspeakable." Malfoy looked like he was powering through a pre-prepared speech. "And they've just come across some sort of magical or cursed item in a manor somewhere. I don't know the details, only that I was just at lunch with my sister and she told me she was required to get an auror to help with something because it was deemed too dangerous for her alone or something like that. Now, my sister is incredibly powerful, there's no doubt about that, but if there's any danger to her..." Malfoy finally looked up from where he had been tracing patterns into Harry's desk and met his eyes. "I want you to be the auror that goes when someone is called. You of all people know I wouldn't ask if I had any other options.

Harry bit back the scoff that had crawled up his throat. This wasn't the time for banter between old colleagues. "Why me?" he asked instead.

Malfoy sighed, irritated. "You're really going to make me say it," he drawled. "Fine. It has to be you because you're the best one here on protective details. Everyone knows it. That hero complex of yours wouldn't let you lose her if something happened." Complimenting Harry was clearly painful for Malfoy, even after all this time. Some things never changed, Harry supposed.

He ran a hand down his face, eyeing his case load through his fingers. "I'm already bogged down, Malfoy."

"Please," Malfoy whispered, almost too quiet for Harry to hear. When he looked up at the man through his fingers, he could see Malfoy's pleading look and sighed.

"When do you think she'd need me and for how long?" he asked.

"It didn't sound like a long thing."

"So you have no idea." Harry didn't bother trying to hide his annoyance.

Malfoy scoffed. "I'm here moments after having a casual lunch with my sister, who cannot physically speak about most of the details of her work. What did you expect?"

A knock on the door startled both men, and Malfoy took down the privacy charm. "Yes?" Harry called. His secretary, Ethyl, an older woman with curly gray hair that she always put back in a different colorful handkerchief, poked her head in. She looked between the two men and smiled tightly at Harry.

"The director of the Department of Mysteries is asking for an auror to head down to them immediately for 1-2 afternoons. What should I tell him?"

Malfoy and Ethyl both looked at Harry expectantly as he sighed. "Tell him I'll go myself. I'll be there shortly."

Ethyl looked surprised, but nodded curtly and left, closing the door behind her.

Malfoy visibly relaxed and stood, picking invisible lint off his jacket. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Hero complex and all that, right?" Harry replied with a tired grin.

Malfoy chuckled at that. "Good luck Potter. Just follow her rules and you should be fine," he said cryptically, before he smirked and left the door open on his way out.

~~

Flick paced the hallway outside her office as she waited for her so called auror detail to meet her so she could give them necessary information and get going. Cursed properties weren't going to study themselves, and she had found a doozy.

"Will you quit pacing? It's making me nervous."

Flick tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Theo. "You're such a hypocrite."

He laughed lightly and pulled his hand through his wavy blond hair. It flopped immediately back into his face. "I could hear your impatience from behind my closed office door, Flick. Your knight in shining armor will get here soon enough to whisk you away to your dangerous haunted house."

Theo had taken to calling the places she went haunted houses after she showed him and Draco an American reality TV show about two men who looked for ghosts. It was close enough to the truth that she went along with it. Her study of cursed items and places with strong magical signatures led her to some actual haunted houses, but more usually to places that housed incredibly cursed or dark magic. Which, thankfully, she was good at dealing with after a decade on the job and living part-time in Malfoy Manor during the war. The need for an auror was because during retconning an old manor, she noticed life signatures that didn't belong to any species or creature in their databases. And that meant it was more like a raid. Which meant auror protection detail. Even if she didn't need one and they would only get in the way. The last time she was forced to let an auror come along, she ended up having to heal him after he touched a cursed fire poker and his veins began to burn.

Rule number one was no touching anything. Rule number two was no talking to anything. Rule number three was always follow Flick's instructions. It wasn't that fucking hard.

"Oh shit," Theo breathed. "Looks like they really pulled out the big guns for you, Flick."

Flick looked behind her down the hallway to see Head Auror Harry Potter walking towards them. He looked the same as always, other than the auror uniform, which she rarely saw him in other than in the papers. They had met a few times--he was a nice enough guy, good looking, and incredibly earnest--but they had never worked together. She wracked her brain for a time they had even had a conversation just the two of them, and came up empty handed. This was not going to be a smooth case at all, then.

"Head Auror Potter, I didn't expect you to come yourself," Flick said with a smile that Narcissa taught her to use during the war. Theo smiled lazily from behind her and nodded to Potter who nodded back.

"Potter."

"Nott." Then he turned to Flick. "I'm between cases," he shrugged. "And call me Harry."

Flick raised an eyebrow in interest as she flitted into the top layer of his mind--not enough for him to feel her there, but enough for her to see why he really came, because he was a shit liar.

"Call me Felicity, then. Or Flick." Flick sighed. "I didn't realize my brother was that persuasive." Harry's eyes went wide and Theo snorted.

"I forgot you had lunch with him today. Did you say hi for me?" Theo pouted.

"Of course I did. He said hi back." She smiled at her friend before looking back at the gaping auror in front of her. "Well. I apologize for Draco's idiocy. Next time I see him I'll have to remind him not to make extra work for people who are clearly very busy. But since you're here already, let's get to it."

She waved at Theo, who slipped back into his own office, and then gestured to Harry to follow her into hers. "It's a bit messy in here. Sorry." She took a pile of files off her desk and set it on the floor so that she would be able to see Harry.

Harry looked around politely before sitting in the chair across from her. "So, what do I need to know?" he asked. Flick could appreciate the man for getting right to the point. She wasn't patient enough to wade through pleasantries.

She opened a file in front of her. "We've found an old manor," she looked at him through her eyelashes and sighed. "It's an old Potter manor, actually. I didn't expect you on the case, sorry. Anyway. Made itself unplottable sometime in the 90s and seems to be housing more than just artifacts. I didn't expect anything dark magic or cursed, but a preliminary perimeter check told me that there was something in there. Nothing human or elf or anything else we know the signature of. But a living creature in the house puts this partly in your jurisdiction, as ridiculous as it is." She threw the file in front of Harry, who flipped through the meager information with interest. She knew some of it would be unreadable to him. Being an unspeakable made it difficult to work with others, sometimes.

"That was more detail than I expected, honestly," Harry said, eyebrows hidden under his unruly hair. "A Potter manor?"

Flick nodded. "All but destroyed in the first war."

"And something is living there?"

Flick shrugged. "Maybe? Life signature is there but nothing we know. Strange creatures and beings have been known to move into abandoned houses before."

"So what's the plan?"

"We go in, see what it is. If it's dangerous, we neutralize it--preferably without killing it--and if it's not dangerous then we investigate further."

Harry nodded. "And I'm there to make sure you don't die, I s'pose?"

Flick huffed out a laugh at that. "So they say. Which brings me to the next point of business. Although you're head of the auror department, I am the lead on this case. Which means you'll need to follow my rules. If you don't, one or both of us can end up in a lot of trouble and I don’t just mean within our jobs."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Rule number one is don't touch anything. Rule number two is don't talk to anything. And rule number three is to listen to my instructions. This is my specialty and I need you to agree because the last time I had an auror with me I had to stabilize him from a curse and send him to Mungo's after he touched a fire poker." She looked Harry in the eyes. "Do you understand?"

Harry nodded again. "Sounds easy enough. Don't touch or talk to anything. Follow your lead." He gave a lazy smile and Flick wanted to scream at the nonchalance rolling off the man. Aurors rarely followed instruction well from a researcher like her. But maybe this time will be different, she thought sarcastically.

"Are you ready to go now or do you need anything first?"

Harry shook his head, stood up, and patted his uniform down like an old man checking his pockets for his keys. "Got everything," he said with another lazy smile. His bright green eyes twinkled.

~~

Felicity explained on the way that since the manor had become unplottable it was no longer a Potter property, technically. Harry didn't really understand how that worked, but between the Black and the Potter vaults and properties, he didn't think he needed another one anyway. When they arrived at what looked like an empty field, Felicity stopped.

"You'll have to take my hand to get through," she said, holding one hand out and looking at him expectantly.

Harry's hair prickled on his neck, and his auror instincts kicked in as he surveyed the woman standing in front of him. She was shorter than he was, and he wasn't a tall bloke, with deep purple hair (it had looked black until they hit sunlight) held in a messy bun, and hazel eyes that bore into him like she could read him. Maybe she could. Malfoy could dip into people's thoughts like Dumbledore used to, which was handy when they used to go on missions together. Right now something felt off, though, and Harry tended to trust his instincts. Felicity sighed.

"It's hard to explain just, you'll have to trust me on this one. I promise I only bite consensually," she joked. Her eyes didn't hold malice, so Harry tentatively placed his hand in hers. "Take a deep breath and hold it," she instructed.

Confused, he did as she told. Then she tugged at him, the hold on his hand a much stronger grip than expected from her frame, and pulled him through what felt like a solid object. It reminded him of a portkey the way he was pushed and pulled, but without the feeling of being thrown around. As soon as it began, it ended. Felicity started to let go but stopped as Harry wavered on his feet and had to put a hand on his knee to stabilize himself. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Sorry. Before the war I used to be able to do that a lot more smoothly. Draco said it's something to do with being cursed so frequently followed by Azkaban that messed up my magic core or something."

Harry put a pin in asking her about 'being cursed' and 'being in Azkaban,' because he didn't know about either of those things and she spoke through them so casually and quickly that he almost missed it altogether. He looked up at her and was surprised to see a sort of concern in her eyes before she looked out into the field. He followed her gaze and his eyebrows shot up as he saw a large dilapidated manor. It was a similar size to Malfoy Manor. Most of the roof had caved in at some point, and vines grew out of windows and doorways to find light. As he surveyed it, his vestibular system relaxed and he stood straight--Felicity dropped his hand.

"Welcome to Potter Manor, I guess," she said, eyes not leaving the building. Then her hands began fidgeting the same way Malfoys did. "I, um, don't know what we'll find in there. I mean, I know the magical stuff we're after. But, uh, I'm just now realizing that there could be, um, Potter keepsakes or something."

Her eyes flitted nervously to his and he froze. He hadn't thought about the prospect of seeing pieces of his family. If someone had been living in it as late as the end of the first wizarding war, there could be things from his dad or grandparents in there. Harry sucked in a deep breath.

"Case first, then we can poke around, okay? I won't tell if any items go missing," Felicity said with a small, mischievous grin.

Harry nodded, unable to do much more. The hair on the back of his neck still prickled, but he ignored it.

"Remember, don't touch or talk to anything and stay close by," she said with a hard look, then began traipsing up to the front door through the tall grasses.

Harry would have laughed if it had been more appropriate at the image of Felicity knocking softly on a door that was already halfway off its hinges. It seemed a bit silly, but he supposed she was the expert here. They waited patiently at the front door for a few moments before Felicity shrugged and gently opened it herself, levitating it quickly as it began coming off its hinges. Harry followed quietly behind, his eyes darting around what clearly used to be a beautiful manor to find the exits and most likely areas to hide a malicious being. Something he started doing during the war and continued as an auror. Felicity didn't give him any time to gawk at the peeling wallpaper and half-demolished stairway as she started off down a hallway full of what could have once been paintings (now it was full of bug-eaten, water-damaged frames and it looked like the canvases had been torn out by something or someone). Harry tried to concentrate on the task at hand--once Felicity did whatever it was that she did, Harry could look around a bit more.

The unspeakable stopped at an open doorway and hummed before entering. Harry followed suit. She began in one corner, looking at every object and waving her wand around, muttering under her breath. After about fifteen minutes of this, Felicity had only moved a few feet, and Harry started to feel his mind drift. He knew he wasn't supposed to touch anything, but this was a Potter property, wasn't it? And something in the back of his mind whispered that he would be able to tell if something were a dark artifact. So what would it hurt to pick up something innocuous? He turned his back to Felicity, who seemed to be in her own world, and let himself look along the shelves on the wall he was closest to. A small hand mirror, similar to the two-way mirror he used to use to speak to Sirius, caught his eye.

He looked over at Felicity again and stuttered in his movement. He wasn't supposed to touch anything.

But it's your stuff, his own mind retorted. And you already know about communication mirrors. Harry shrugged and picked up the mirror.

Mirror mirror on the wall, he thought playfully with a smirk.

What do you wish for? the mirror asked back.

Harry startled slightly, looking back over his shoulder to see that Felicity was still poking around in the same corner she had been in the whole time. When he looked into the mirror, he didn't see himself. It was cloudy with what looked like black mist, and two bright green eyes stared back at him. They looked like his own eyes.

What do I wish for? Harry mused. His thoughts poured through him like a rolodex until they settled on the faces of people lost during the war. Ten years later he was still having nightmares of piles of bodies staring back at him, begging him to save them.

You've lost so many, the mirror said. And you carry so much guilt and pain.

War's a bitch, Harry thought bitterly.

What if you could do it again? But better?

Harry thought this sounded like a brilliant idea. How?

You just need to wish.

"Harry..." Felicity's voice floated into Harry's consciousness as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. "Harry what are you doing with that?"

"Just a communication mirror," he said slowly. He turned to look at her and saw something like concern and fear in her eyes. But there was no reason to be concerned. It was just a mirror. Sure, it spoke back, but loads of mirrors did that, really. And it was annoying that she thought he was dumb enough to pick up something cursed.

Felicity looked at the mirror and Harry could see her jaw tense, and the grip on his shoulder tightened slightly. "Maybe we should put down the mirror," she said slowly. Placatingly. Like he was a child.

"I'm not a child, Malfoy," he bit out, then turned back to the mirror. Felicity's hand tightened further on his shoulder, and he felt his irritation grow. "It's all my stuff anyway. It's not like it's a dark magic artifact or anything. The Potters were light magic users."

"It's not dark," Felicity confirmed. "But it doesn't belong in this room," she continued. "I think we should do what we came here to do before poking around, like we planned, right?"

Harry's eyes were looking at the green eyes looking back at him. His eyes. It was a mirror, for god's sake. So what if he whispered it a wish. And it was true. He would do it all over again if he could. He would save Sirius and Remus and Tonks and Severus and Fred and Collin and everyone else that died. The guilt of their deaths had weighed on him every day for ten years and in that moment the burden was too much.

"I wish we could go back and save everyone," he whispered quietly to the mirror.

"Harry what did you just do?" Felicity asked.

He looked at her and blinked, then looked back at the mirror where green eyes looked back at him, now sporting a grin full of too many sharpened teeth. "Oh fu--"

Chapter Text

June 20, 1996

Flick felt a pull in her core as she and Harry were dragged through what she could only assume was either time or space or both. Her mind whirled. There had been tales of other unspeakables going through time, but not very far back. That was Theo's specialty, so she knew a fair bit about it through their impromptu lunch dates or co-working sessions. The mirror Harry had been holding was definitely the sentient being they had gone to look for, and it had held an extreme amount of power to not only take over a manor and make it unplottable but to get into Harry Potter's head (Draco said he could throw off an imperius curse) and manipulate him to make a wish. That it could also grant that wish suggested a fae creature. But most fae required payment, and Flick was afraid of what they would be paying for whatever was happening to them. It felt like they were falling. Flick kept hold of Harry's shoulder. The man was solid, and it was all she could do to ground herself physically. 

After a few minutes of Flick's mind racing through every possibility--he had wished to go back and save everyone. Would the fae set them down in the past somewhere neither of them knew? Was there a catch, like a cursed monkey's paw? Would they be the same people they were currently?--the world stopped and they fumbled onto the ground. She kept her eyes closed but could tell that it was dark, and Flick thought she could hear whispering in a way she knew. 

"Harry," she said, and her voice sounded wrong. "Are you okay?" It felt like she was still wearing robes, but also a gaiter (she had quit wearing one after the war) and gloves. Which was both interesting and not a good sign. But now was not the time to panic, and she quickly worked to occlude those thoughts and emotions in an attempt to assemble some sort of control. 

"What the fuck just happened?" he asked, and his voice sounded wrong too. Just slightly. 

Flick slowly opened her eyes and looked around. They were at the bottom of a series of large benches and steps, sitting just below a dais holding a veiled archway that Flick was very familiar with. They were in the department of mysteries. Then she looked over at Harry. "Oh fuck." 

Harry looked like he was fifteen or sixteen years old. He hadn't filled out yet from his auror training, nor did he have the slight stubble she had seen on him earlier that day. He rubbed his forehead like it was in pain before he looked at her and froze. "Felicity?" 

"Yeah," she said dryly. She assumed she looked like her teenage self. Which was interesting, because her teenage self had never been in the Department of Mysteries. Flick cast a tempus and frowned. "Harry, what were you doing the night of June 20th, 1996?" 

"What?" he exclaimed, sitting upright. 

Flick sat up as well. "We're in the death chamber at the Department of Mysteries." Harry's eyes bulged slightly and his breath quickened. He placed a hand on his chest like he was starting to have a panic attack. Flick grabbed his other hand and squeezed it. She swallowed her own fear and instead focused on Harry's. "Harry, what's about to happen?" 

"A bunch of deatheaters are coming. And then Sirius and some other Order members. And then--oh fuck this is the night Sirius dies," he wheezed, looking at the veil. "I can't do this again." 

"Harry," Flick said, keeping her tone even. "You're having a panic attack and as much as I want to help, it doesn't sound like we have any time. Why don't we survive whatever nightmare your dumbass has gotten us into and then we can figure out what to do next?" She flitted into his mind, something she picked up on battlefields to try to find the right words to tell people to snap them out of shock. "Maybe Sirius doesn't have to die this time, yeah? Isn't that why we're here?" Time and fate had a way of trying to keep things the same, she knew, but it was always worth a try. And if it got the idiot auror who got her into this mess--and what a mess it was, she was not ready to be sixteen again--to calm down, it was worth it. 

Harrys eyes turned to her and shifted from frightened to determined. Noises came from outside the door to the room as the two of them stood, wands in hand (god was she glad her wand was in her robe pocket). "Please help me save him," Harry whispered as deatheaters dressed in black robes wearing silver masks flooded through the door. 

"Sure thing," Flick answered, drawing her wand up and pulling her gaiter up to cover the bottom half of her face. A sudden thought had her glamouring her hair to be black, too, just in case. Her mind raced as Lucius Malfoy pulled off his mask to face the two of them. 

"Potter, your race is run. Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy.." It was then that Harry and Flick both noticed that Harry was holding a prophecy. 

"Oh fuck off," Harry said angrily. Flick would have laughed if it had been more appropriate. Instead, she watched the group of deatheaters saunter towards them. Ten of them. 

"You are not in a position to be so haughty," Lucius said. "You see, there are ten of us and only...two of you--" his eyes flitted briefly in confusion to Flick, "--or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?" 

"And he's still god be!" a voice shouted from above them. 

"Fuck," Harry breathed, watching in horror as a boy with blood streaming out of his nose scrambled down the stone benches towards them, a wand held in his trembling hand. Harry's eyes then flitted to Bella, who looked delighted. 

"Murus!" Flick called, pointing her wand in front of the boy. A large translucent wall of light emerged from the ground, stopping him in his tracks. It wrapped around most of the amphitheater, giving them a few minutes to stall as the boy tried to make his way around, clearly confused. She had a million barrier and shield spells at her fingertips, and her magic felt alive in a way in hadn't for years. Since the war, really. And now it was before her time in the war, wasn't it?

The boy furrowed his brows as the deatheaters laughed. "See? Even your friends don't want you here," Lucius drawled. 

"Leave him alone," Harry said, stubbornly staring them down. 

"You'll find your fight is with us," Flick said lightly in a shitty British accent (again, she wasn't ready to tell these people who she was),  sharp smile on her face. They couldn't see her face, of course, but it gave her confidence. 

"Oh is it?" Bella laughed. "Itty bitty girl trying to stand up to the big bad deatheaters. I wonder how that will end." Flick always hated how Bella used a baby voice against her opponents. It was so creepy. But effective, she supposed, since it usually angered them. Now, Bella raised her wand and pointed it at Flick. "Crucio!" 

Flick's shield raised just in time. She wasn't ready to feel Bella's crucio again any time soon. Her breath caught just thinking about it. Now's not the time to panic, Felicity Malfoy. You can do that later. "Oh I'm sorry was that supposed to hit me?" she jeered with far more confidence than she was feeling. Harry watched the interaction with concern as his eyes continued to flit to the door and to the boy trying to make his way around the large wall Flick had created. 

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and five people sprinted into the room. Flick recognized Remus, Alastor, Tonks, and Kingsley, and could tell the last man was Sirius based on photos she had seen in Grimmauld and the paper. 

Lucius turned and raised his wand, and Flick lowered her wall just in time for a stunning spell to get through from Tonks. Then all hell broke loose as Harry and Flick ran over to the boy to meet him at the bottom of the steps. 

"Are you okay?" Harry said loudly in the chaos. 

"Yes," said the boy. 

"And the others?" 

"I dink Ron's all right--he was still fighding the brain when I left--" 

Harry looked at Flick, and in that moment she saw the battle-worn eyes of a man who had spent years in war followed by years hunting down dark wizards. He nodded towards a duel between Tonks and Bella. "Bellatrix," he said, and Flick knew he meant that she would be the one to kill Sirius, and that she was the target for the night. Flick nodded and made her way up the stone benches in time to see the mad woman send Tonks sprawling and run off. 

Flick's old field healer habits kicked in. Not old. Current, she corrected. She checked Tonks over quickly, recognizing a triage situation when she saw one. Flick occluded the panic bubbling up inside of her, the dreams of dead bodies on the battle field that she couldn't save, their eyes looking up at her in disappointment and anger. 

Knowing Bella, Flick tried a few counter curses to dark curses the woman liked. But none of them did anything. That was when darkness started to spread through Tonks's veins on her face, and something clicked. "Ah," she breathed. It was a tricky curse, but she knew it and she waved her wand to stop the spread of it. Advanced healing magic, especially against dark curses, often didn't include a verbal component, instead relying on intention. She watched with bated breath for a few seconds to make sure the curse was in stasis. They'd still need to send her to St. Mungo's, but it would be a far easier recovery. As soon as she thought Tonks would be okay, Flick surveyed the room again to find the mad witch. 

Bella had bounced down into the fray to start a duel with Sirius while Harry tried to get the boy out of the way. Harry seemed to be doing well with it, in his element even. It helped that he knew more spells than someone his age should. She started back down the benches as she made a plan to distract Bella and get Sirius out of harm's way (and not into another harm, preferably). As it was, the man was awfully close to the veil. 

"Oi! Bellatrix! Lestrange!" Flick called. Bella cackled, but didn't seem to look her way. The woman would only respond to shows of power. "Inflagrante," she whispered, and grinned behind her gaiter as a whip of flames--Bella's favorite spell--came from the tip of her wand. She cracked it loudly, and Bella (as well as a few others in the room) jumped and turned. "C'mon then, you crazy bitch." Bella's eyes were wide with surprise until she smiled with what felt like too many teeth. "Murus," Flick said, pulling a wall up in front of the veil just in case. 

"Dubbledore!" she heard the boy call, and let herself briefly look up to see the old man in flesh and blood, coming down to the dais quickly. 

Sirius gawked briefly as Bella retreated from him and turned her attention to the stranger in the room. But then he noticed his godson struggling with the boy and Dumbledore racing down. Sirius made eye contact with Flick, who nodded at him before throwing up a shield to block one of Bella's stunners. Flick cancelled her flame whip as Dumbledore approached, as well as the wall. Then she backed out of his way with a wink towards her rabid opponent as he rounded up the deatheaters with the mass of power he possessed. She followed Sirius over to Harry and the boy, who were being ushered away from the fight by Remus. Everyone was alive. For now.

Flick wondered whether time would let it happen. 

Harry gathered Sirius into a tight hug and buried his face into the man's shoulder. Flick approached the stranger boy. "Sorry about the wall. Here," she grabbed his face before he could protest and tapped her wand on his nose. There was a brief cracking sound and the boy gasped, but the nose was no longer crooked. She completely ignored the looks of confusion she was receiving from Remus and Sirius (and now the boy) as she tapped Harry on the should. "Okay Harry, what's next?"

Fate clearly thought it would be clever, as in that moment Flick felt someone run past her and heard Bella's cackling. Harry pushed back from Sirius and started after her. Flick grabbed the sleeve of his robe. 

"Where are you going?" Flick hissed at him. 

"I have to stop her!" he yelled. "C'mon! Do your healing thing for the others up here!" 

She growled but followed after. Healing thing. Really. But he had used his Head Auror commanding voice, and this was his territory, and anyway who was Flick to say no to helping someone? She was nowhere near as fast as Harry was, and got to the next area just in time to see him leaving. 

"Who are you?" Ginny Weasley asked as Flick barreled into a room full of floating brains. 

"I'm the healer," she said, then knelt down next to the redheaded girl to cast a quick diagnostic. She had to pull down her gaiter so she could breathe more easily, then created a tourniquet for the girl's shattered ankle. It was going to be too much to fix in the moment, and Flick could see a giggling Ron Weasley and a very unconscious Hermione Granger not too far away. Luna Lovegood watched Flick with curious eyes from next to Weasley, but the diagnostic came back with nothing more than physical and magical exhaustion. 

"You're our age, though," Ginny said. 

"Brilliant observation," Flick said sarcastically with a grin as she flicked the leg brace. Ginny didn't recoil at the physical touch, so the brace seemed to be doing its job. "What's your issue?" she asked Ron as she cast a diagnostic on Hermione. Flick had worked briefly with Hermione in the Department of Mysteries, and had also healed her a few times during the war. There was something almost comforting about it, if it wasn't for the fact that they were teenagers again and that her diagnostic spell came back saying there was a dark curse at play. 

Ron giggled. "Your hair looks all shimmery," he said. 

"S'pose it would with the shoddy glamour I did on it," she answered with a smile, not unlike she would with a child. She laid Hermione out carefully and started going through counter curses, but nothing was working. "Did anyone see what she was hit with?" she asked the room. 

"Purple fire," Ron said through giggles. 

"Dolohov," Ginny added. 

Flick nodded. Dolohov only had a few curses he used. The man wasn't creative, but his curses packed a punch. This was information she could work with, though. That Hermione was alive seemed to be a miracle. Flick murmured counter curses under her breath as she waved her wand over the girl. Since she and Harry had gotten there after all this happened, it stood to reason that the girl would survive with or without Flick's help, but Harry had told her to heal and it was what she did, so she was going to heal. When her next counter curse hit, dark purple tendrils seeped out of Hermione's side like smoke before dissipating into the air. Flick let out a breath, slowly. 

"Pretty smoke," Ron said, still giggling. She was pretty sure the giggling would just wear off on its own, and the tentacle marks around Ron's neck would take time. 

"She's gonna need more help than that, but I don't think she'll have any lasting effects, and recovery should be smoother now than it would have been otherwise. Any other people I should be looking for or anything else major?" 

Ginny shook her head. "You're a very good healer," Luna said, and Flick swallowed a pang of emotion at hearing her voice. This was the girl she would visit with Draco in the manor dungeons to sneak food to and to keep company. Who, after the war, would speak at both of their trials and who determinedly became friends with them despite everything. Flick's movement froze for a second before she caught herself and continued her diagnostics on Ron. 

She nodded. "Who was the boy back there?" she asked, pointing back to the death chamber. 

"Neville?" Luna said. 

"That's Neville Longbottom?" Flick asked in disbelief. Luna nodded. Time would be good to that boy, but it hadn't just yet. The broken nose and bloody face hadn't helped, she supposed. 

"Where was Harry going?" Ginny asked. 

"Trying to take down Bellatrix Lestrange on his own, apparently." Flick rolled her eyes. This was exactly why she didn't like working with aurors. In her experience, they all ran in without thinking. Harry Potter, who should have been one of the most paranoid people in existence at this point, picked up a cursed hand mirror and made a wish to a fae creature. But, she reminded herself, there was no time to think about that yet. This was a battle. 

Ginny looked like she was trying to stand up, but winced as soon as she moved her leg. Luna put a hand on her arm. "Someone should help him!" the redhead said defiantly. 

Flick hummed. "Dumbledore should be up there by now. Probably through a back way. Loads of back pathways in this place." 

Sirius Black took that moment to run into the room, frantic. Flick was frankly surprised it had taken him that long to arrive. "Where's Harry?" 

"Come get healed first," Flick said in her best I-will-not-be-taking-questions voice. The man had a few well-placed cutting curses on him (way better than being dead, though). His black robes and clothing hid the blood well, but Flick had been healing brooding Slytherins during the war the first time, and knew blood when she saw it. 

"Who are you?" Sirius asked absentmindedly as he started towards the door. 

Flick stepped in the way again. "Healer. Harry told me to heal everyone. No idea where he is right now but Dumbledore is there with him." She wasn't actually sure that he WAS there already, but the papers the next morning had both Harry and Dumbledore on the front page. She remembered now. This was the night the world found out that Voldemort had returned. It was when she had been called in as a healer. Dumbledore had tried to recruit her around Easter, which she hadn't been very interested in when her alternative was a dragon sanctuary in Romania, but she had been convinced after tonight. 

"How did you--" Sirius began, but Flick stopped his sentence when she cast a diagnostic spell on him. It made him jump, and he watched her warily. Like a cornered animal. His eyes kept flitting to the exit behind her. 

"Let me fix those slashes and then you gotta get out of here before the ministry arrives." Convincing wary strangers in battle that she was there to help and that they needed to get out was her element. It had been years, but Flick moved like it had been yesterday, knitting skin back together gently and talking in low tones. She flitted into Sirius's mind to see only worry for Harry. "Harry will kill me if you end up getting kissed by a dementor after all his effort to save you, you know." 

Sirius's eyes focused on Flick, as though she hadn't fully existed until that moment. "Fuck," he said. Panic and thoughts of escape flew through his mind. 

"We'll disillusion you and you can leave with everyone else. As soon as you're able, get back to Grimmauld." 

"Who are you?" Sirius asked again, this time without the bite in his voice. 

"Told you. I'm the healer. Charlie Weasley sent me from Romania." She grinned. 

"I think he wanted to know your name," Luna said airily. 

"Names later," she grinned. If she was going to have to go to Malfoy Manor again for the summer, she couldn't be known to Bella yet, and didn't know if anyone was listening. 

"You're the one who got dear cousin Bella's attention away from me." 

Flick shrugged. "As I said, Harry did all this so you wouldn't die." 

Sirius's eyes softened. 

"How's your disillusionment charm?" she asked him, listening for anyone approaching. 

"A speciality of mine." 

"Good. Cast it on yourself. I can cast one on myself as well. I shouldn't be here." 

"You're fifteen." 

"Sixteen." Flick gave him a stern look. "But I'm good at stealth." 

"Why do you need to be invisible?" Ginny asked as Flick tapped her head and shivered at the tingling sensation of invisibility dripping over her. 

"She's not supposed to be here," Luna said with a tired smile. 

"Too true," Flick said. Ron jumped at the disembodied voice. "Anyway, I suppose aurors will arrive in a few minutes. Sirius and I will sneak out then and I'll meet you all in the Hogwarts hospital wing in a few hours." 

Chapter Text

June 21, 1996

Harry's night ended the same way it had the first time. He had chased Bellatrix out into the atrium and they had dueled until Voldemort showed up. And then Voldemort all but obliterated Harry until Dumbledore jumped in to save him. Voldemort tried to take over his body again, and it didn't work (this might have been different--Harry thought it had been easier to push him out this time). Then he disappeared as aurors and ministry workers started to show up in the early morning. Part of Harry was worried that he wasn't going to be able to make a difference after that night. If it had ended the same way with Voldemort, why would anything else turn out differently? Even after beating him already and years of auror training, Harry couldn't do anything in the atrium. He was starting to feel like maybe his first time around was all a fluke. 

Sirius was alive. That was what he kept telling himself. He hadn't seen him after he chased after Bellatrix, but none of the aurors arrested him. That had to be good news. And, he reminded himself, Felicity had been there this time. He made a mental note to ask her about her wall spell. 

Harry bounced his knee as Dumbledore gave him the same talk about Tom Riddle, promising to stop keeping secrets (not all the secrets, though, Harry knew). The conversation was more cordial than the first time around, since Harry was not in so much pain from losing Sirius this time around. He tried to remember to ask questions and answer Dumbledore as though he didn't know everything already, hadn't memorized that damn prophecy years ago and that it didn't sometimes still play in his head when he could feel panic start to take over. He was ready to get to the hospital wing and talk to Ron and Hermione. Or at least Ron, since Hermione would be unconscious for a while still. Felicity could be there, or she could have gone to Grimmauld with Sirius (he hoped Sirius was there), or she could have ended up someplace else. Harry was anxious to know how furious she was with him for dragging her into what was apparently twelve years into the past. As soon as he was able to, he was going to find out how to make it up to her. To send her back or something. 

"Harry!" Hermione called from her bed as he entered the hospital wing. She was pale but cheery. Ginny was curled up nearby regrowing her ankle bones, and Ron was laying in a bed next to Hermione's covered in tentacle bruises. Neville sat in a chair a little ways off, but came over as Harry approached. 

"Hey Mione," he said with a tired grin. 

"There's the man of the hour!" Harry looked past the beds to see Felicity standing in Madame Pomfrey's office doorway. She had a tight smile on her face that didn't bode well for Harry. 

"Mal--Felicity," he said with a nervous nod. He couldn’t call her Malfoy—that would be ridiculous. They would have to figure out something new.

"Told you to call me Flick. That's what my friends call me." She strolled over and stopped closer to Harry than he was ready for, and he took a small step back as she took up his personal space. But then she whispered, "Sirius is fine," and all the tension left his body at once. "I'm sure he's back at Grimmauld." Then she raised her voice to a normal level. "All ours are accounted for. The only death was Rowle." She tilted her head at him and raised an eyebrow. 

"Rowle?" he asked. Rowle hadn't died in the original Department of Mysteries Battle. 

"Yeah. Nasty man. Won't be missed. But unexpected for sure. He fell through the death veil while battling Remus," she explained. "Not many can say they died by stupefy, I suppose." 

Harry grimaced. Felicity shrugged. Hermione watched them with slightly narrowed eyes. 

"How do you know Felicity?" Hermione asked Harry slowly. 

Harry briefly looked like a deer in the headlights before schooling his features and shrugging. "Order needed a healer. Dumbledore's trying to recruit her. Don't know her past that." 

Felicity nodded with a glint of amusement in her eyes. He was glad he remembered that about her. Malfoy had once said that Dumbledore tried to recruit her to the Order but that she stayed neutral to be able to choose who to heal rather than being tied to one group. The timeline was never stated, but Dumbledore only had a year left and this summer seemed like the most logical time for that to happen. 

"He owled Charlie Weasley asking for a neutrally-aligned healer from abroad. Charlie sent me." 

That, Harry hadn't known. "You know Charlie Weasley?" 

"Worked at the dragon sanctuary," she shrugged. 

"But you're sixteen," Hermione said, likely affronted by the fact that Felicity would have had to drop out of school to do what she did. 

"Rueben didn't care," she shrugged again. Harry rolled his eyes. She was certainly like Malfoy in that she didn't like to openly share information. It had always infuriated Harry when they used to have to work together. "Anyway, good to see you alive and all that. I'll be around for another day or two to help with healing." She smiled, waved, and walked off. 

Other than Felicity's presence, the day went just like he remembered. Fudge finally admitted that Voldemort was back (he was "The Boy Who Lived" in the news again, too). Harry had a confrontation with Malfoy where the boy threatened him for sending his father to Azkaban. It was strange seeing it through new eyes as someone who would know Malfoy later. Who knew what the blond boy was about to go through and how little he wanted to do any of it. 

Most importantly: Sirius was alive. His godfather, who he hadn't seen in twelve years, was alive and at Grimmauld, probably waiting to hear from him through their two way mirrors. It was in his trunk, still wrapped. 

~~

June 24, 1996

Hermione and Ron were out of the hospital wing in a few days, but Harry went in anyway to see if Felicity was around. They needed to talk. "Looking for someone?" 

Harry held up a hand in greeting to Felicity, who gestured to a back room. He nodded and followed quietly, glancing around briefly to see whether there was anyone else around (Umbridge was still in her bed). The girl locked the door behind them and threw up a privacy charm. "So. We need to talk about what's happening." 

Harry nodded. "I was, er, hoping you might have an idea. Being an unspeakable and everything," he said sheepishly. 

The girl started pacing the length of the small space. "I think we've been tossed back in time after you got tricked by a fae into making a wish," she said clinically. Her eyes were sharp, and her jaw was tense. 

Harry knew this was coming, but it still stung to think about how badly he had fucked up. His ears burned and he assumed he had turned beet red. "I don't know how that happened, honest." And he didn't. 

Felicity sighed. "Fae can manipulate your mind. Kind of like an imperius. But instead of trying to get you to do something you wouldn't want to do, they can burrow into your mind to manipulate you using your desires. It might have read us as soon as we entered the wards and targeted you. Did you feel anything strange when we got there?" 

Harry nodded. "Felt kind of like someone was watching. My neck prickled." 

She pulled her currently-brown hair out of its ponytail and ran her hand through it. "I don't know if this is a situation where we fulfill your wish and then we are sent back to 2008 or whether we have to relive it all. Either way, we're both stuck." 

Harry frowned. He had been so caught up thinking about saving people that he hadn't considered having to relive everything after the war, too. He had barely thought past saving Sirius since they landed. "So. I really fucked up."

Felicity's eyes softened slightly and she huffed. "Well I'm certainly not looking forward to reliving a war in more than my dreams, or finding and rebuilding all my friendships and family ties. But we are at least more equipped this time. You wished to save people, right?" 

Harry nodded. "Sirius was just the first death I thought of. The rest have another year or two." 

"Okay." She breathed, and stopped pacing. "I'll help you save them if you help me save Draco and Narcissa. And Theo." 

Harry furrowed his brows. "But they survive." 

"They did last time. But barely. And you know that some part of them certainly didn't make it. We don't know if it'll be the same this time. Time doesn't like when you make changes. It's resilient. If we save lives, what if that means someone else has to die?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like Rowle."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared above his bangs. "Oh fuck." 

"Yeah. I'm not letting my family and friends become the bodies to save yours." 

Frustration bloomed in Harry at her tone, but he shoved it down. He wouldn't have traded his family and friends to save the Malfoys like this, would he? So he couldn't ask Felicity to do that. 

"So we save them all." 

"There's that hero complex Draco was always complaining about," Felicity grinned. 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fucking Malfoy. Can't believe I have to deal with him in school again." 

"We should find a better time to go over what all happened the first time. I don't know much about what you lot were up to. Then we can figure out what we can change to make the biggest impact and then we can just, you know, do that. But the more we change, the less we can predict. So we should be clever about it." 

Harry could only nod dumbly as he listened. He had very much not been thinking as deeply about this as she had, despite having the same amount of time. Maybe even more time, since Felicity was working as a healer as well. 

"Here." She pulled a notebook out of her shoulder bag and thrust it in front of him. "Two way communication. Like texting." 

"God I'm going to miss my phone." 

Felicity grinned at that. "This'll be as close as we can get to it. And easier to hide. It's paired with the one I have and charmed so only you can read it. Kind of like wards. Hard to explain." 

"Bril." 

"Draco taught me, surprisingly." 

"I'll make sure to thank him one day," Harry replied with his own grin. 

"Anyway, once you're settled in this summer we can chat via these, and then set up a time to talk in person. I reckon you'll end up at Grimmauld again since Sirius is alive. I'll make my way there, too. Probably better than the weird safe house I stayed at last time when I wasn't at the Manor." 

"I'm, er, sorry you got dragged into this," Harry said guiltily, fidgeting with the edge of the notebook. 

Felicity shrugged. "Shit happens when you're in my line of work. Time isn't well understood. But this isn't the first time someone has been sent back. Normally it's not very far back and they don't, um, age down like we have. But I guess there's a first for everything." 

"You're taking this way better than I thought you would." 

Felicity put up a finger. "Oh, make no mistake. I'm furious this has happened. I'm grieving the people I may or may not become close with again. I'm panicking about changing things enough that I lose those I love. I tried to say something about it all to Dumbledore when he came by earlier, but my tongue locked itself to the top of my mouth which means you're probably the only other one who knows this is happening. And, no offense, but that doesn't feel very comforting right now." She panted slightly, as though saying it all out loud was difficult. "I just happen to be very good at acting and I can occlude." 

"Jesus," Harry breathed. It was a lot to take in and, unfortunately, incredibly valid. "No offense taken, obviously. I don't think I'd be my first pick of someone to take back in time with either." 

"So." She smoothed out her robes and seemed to physically collect herself. "We can't tell people about being from the future. But we can use the information we have to keep out people safe and have a smoother war, whatever that might mean. Time will fight us to change it, but we won't know how it'll fight back until it happens so we will need to be flexible." 

"Right," Harry said, trying to step into his auror mindset. "Once term is over I'll be sent back to my aunt and uncle's until mid July, I think. Then Dumbledore will take me to convince Slughorn to teach potions again. Then he took me to the Burrow the first time, but it seems like it would be Grimmauld instead this time." 

"I'll see about setting myself up at Grimmauld before you arrive. I have a long discussion to have with Severus in which he should ask me to watch over Draco and train him a bit during the days. If he doesn't, I'll find a way to start the discussion instead. I'm not leaving my family with Bella without me as a buffer if I can help it." 

"Won't Bellatrix know who you are?" 

"Hoping my shitty glamour and shitty British accent was enough while we were all fighting. Also--" she pointed her wand at her hair, "--Colovarus." Her hair turned magenta and she grinned. "Gotta do what I can." 

"Right. What do we tell the others?" 

"Ron and Hermione will get suspicious if you don't say anything. You should tell them that I'm here to help. And that I'll be coming to Hogwarts in the fall so you're gonna befriend me or something." 

"Are you? Coming to Hogwarts, I mean?" 

"I think it would make the most sense this time. Easier eyes on my favorite snakes if I get into Slytherin myself. Plus you and I--and Hermione and Ron, if you like--can plan." 

Harry barked out a laugh. "You're gonna try to get into Slytherin?" 

"Draco always said I would make a good one. Afraid to work with me if I'm a snake?" she teased. 

"Malfoy and I did fine as partners," he replied, rolling his eyes. 

"Good. Go back to your lions. Tell them about me coming to Hogwarts and joining Grimmauld for the summer. Those aren't lies. Which is good, because you're not a very good liar. Hermione will clock you if you try too hard." 

Harry scoffed. "I can lie." 

"When Hermione comes to me asking what we are actually up to, I'll blame you then." 

Cheeky witch. 

 ~~

June 29, 1996

Harry (10:46pm): What do you know about horcruxes? 

Felicity (10:49pm): Dark magic objects imbued with a piece of someone's soul? Destroyed via fiendfyre, basilisk venom, or a particularly nasty potion that's primarily ground up acromantula exoskeleton? Those?

Felicity (10:50pm): Really, Harry, my whole thing as an unspeakable was cursed and dark objects and places.

Harry (10:52pm): Right. Should have known you'd know. I didn't know about the potion. 

Felicity (10:55pm): It won't be found for a few years still. I don't know the recipe. Why are you asking? Trying to make yourself immortal, Potter?

Harry (10:59pm): Fine. Yeah. So. Voldemort has a bunch of them and we have to destroy them before we can kill him for good. 

Felicity (11:08pm): How many is a bunch? 

Harry (11:09pm): Seven? But one is already destroyed. And I know where the rest are. 

Felicity (11:10pm): Holy shit. 

Harry (11:17pm): Maybe I should have waited to be in person for this conversation. But yeah. Gotta find and destroy them all. Then we can kill Riddle. 

Felicity (11:22pm): I'll add it to the to do list. 

 ~~

July 4, 1996

Felicity (9:36am): Grimmauld is awful but Sirius is here and alive (I assume you know because he's told me about your two way communication mirrors, which explains how the fae got your attention by the way) and I'm in place as planned. 

Felicity (8:06pm): Severus approached me like last time. I'll be at the Malfoy's during the day this summer. He's gonna ask Albus about getting me into Hogwarts as a transfer, but thinks it'll work and is a good idea. 

Harry (10:12pm): Bril. I can't wait to get to Grimmauld. This place is a hell I never thought I'd go back to. Can you stop Malfoy from taking the mark? I know he regrets that. 

Felicity (10:30pm): He took it as soon as he got home for the summer, unfortunately. Swift punishment for Lucius going to Azkaban, I guess. We'll talk more at Grimmauld. 

Chapter Text

July 1996

Flick arrived at Grimmauld Place earlier in the summer this time around, but went through the same motions she had the first time in the hopes that the same things would happen. Even though they had already changed the past, what with Sirius being alive, she was rewarded for her patience fairly quickly.

Severus Snape had been boring holes into the back of her head as she moved around the Order’s kitchen at Grimmauld Place making herself a cup of coffee. They had both shown up early for a meeting to go over what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Again. Flick wasn’t sure what else there was to say, but she was never one to turn down information. Her mother always told her that curiosity killed the cat (apparently a muggle saying), but Flick was always quick to remind her mother that she was not a cat at all.

“Can I help you?” she finally snapped, turning and looking him in the eyes. It was harder than expected to act annoyed at the man the second time around.

He did not back down from the stare. “Why did you turn down becoming an Order member?”

It was a fair question. In the original timeline, Charlie had gotten her in contact with the Order of the Phoenix as a possible addition due to her healing background, but she had practically turned it down. This time, she was here early, and had agreed to come when called to help with any injuries they didn’t know how to handle. But, like the first time, she turned down membership to the Order itself.

The question was loaded, coming from Severus. He was calculating, and she knew that, and he was looking for a specific answer. Flick knew what the answer was since she had given it to him the first time.

“I’m trying to be a healer, Severus. Being a member would mean I would be limited in who I can heal.” He looked like he was trying to formulate his next question. She sighed impatiently, trying to remember what she had told him twelve years ago and deciding to continue to speak until she hit the right note. “It’s not that I don’t agree with the overall views of the Order, of course. But the world is not black and white, and I’m worried that the Order is painting it that way, I guess, which means a lot of people—” mainly Draco et al., “—who don’t fit perfectly into that narrative can fall through the cracks.”

At that, Severus nodded slowly, and his thin mouth turned into a smile. Flick internally cheered that she had figured out what the man was looking for. He walked over to make himself his own cup of coffee, standing nearby and speaking quickly and in a hushed tone. “I think I might have a contract for you, but we’ll have to speak of it another time.” He handed her a folded piece of parchment and took his coffee into the dining room where he would wait for the rest of the Order.

~~

“What do you know about the Malfoys?” Severus was pacing around his home in Spinner’s End not quite meeting Flick’s eyes.

I know more about them than you do. “Not a lot,” she lied with a shrug.

“Draco is…difficult. But I don’t want him to, er, fall through the cracks.” Severus looked at her then and she nodded knowingly.

“Is the contract you mentioned with the Malfoys, then?”

“It’s with me, actually.” Flick quirked a brow at the nervous man, feigning curiosity to hide her foreknowledge. “Due to my…position…I have insider information on individuals who, as you have so nicely said, do not fit into the narrative, but who certainly need support and healing. Draco Malfoy is certainly the one I am most worried about.” He would do anything for his godson. (How much could Severus Snape get done if he didn’t put so much energy into being so prickly?)

“Support?” She furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the side.

Severus looked at the ceiling and sighed. “It seems some of my students need more than healing to keep them alive, and Charlie Weasley—” he said the name with a slight sneer, “—had stated that you were good at teaching people how to not to need healing in the first place. And who knows? Perhaps you would be a good influence.” He finally looked back her way. She was playing with her currently-braided hair as she pretended to think about what he was asking.

“You want me to train Draco Malfoy to survive a war?” It was more a statement than a question. She was hoping she wasn’t showing too much excitement over how the conversation was going. Acting was key.

“Yes.” He looked tired. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” He continued looking at his ceiling through a beat of silence. Flick wanted to take the contract immediately, but was carefully holding back. It would do no good to seem eager to the paranoid man. He opened his mouth to take it all back when Flick beat him to it.

“No one can know.”

His head snapped up and he surveyed the young woman—still a teenager—who stood before him. She let him and stared into his eyes determinedly. She hadn’t been nearly as good at legilimency the first time around, but this time she could see his surface thoughts and was pleased to note that he was wondering whether she could see more of the big picture than she let on. Of course she could. And really, he should know better than to not have his occlumency shields up at all times during the war. She’d chide him if it wouldn’t immediately give her away.

He nodded.

“To do this properly, I’m going to need to know a lot of things that you aren’t going to want to tell me, though.”

Severus pursed his lips. He had a lot of secrets, and wasn’t certain someone who was still a child was capable of keeping them. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Fair enough,” she said, softening her gaze. “I’m willing to do an unbreakable vow if you like.” She looked briefly away, trying to look a little nervous (was it bad that she was having a little fun pulling one over on Severus?) “I’ve never done an unbreakable vow before…” she swallowed. “But this feels important.” It was important. The lives of her eventual family hung on this. If she had to confundus the man to get into Malfoy Manor, she would.

Severus chuckled. It was a good sound, and Flick had missed it, she realized. He had an amused smile on his face as he shook his head at her. “I’m not going to make you do an unbreakable vow, though I do believe that you would. You’re too young to have your potential death hung over you like that. Have you ever learned occlumency?” He beckoned Flick to the couch as he sat in a chair.

Had she ever learned occlumency. What a question. She nodded her head slowly. “A teacher in my fourth year realized I was occluding naturally and found me a tutor.” It was a partial lie. Severus had found out she was a natural after testing her last time, but she decided it wasn’t going to be worth it to have him test her again and find out just how good she could be at it now. Even natural occlumens need training.

Severus relaxed and nodded. “Do you know any legilimancy?”

Did she know legilimancy. She was lucky she was good at lying. She bit her cheek to keep from smirking, and hoped it looked like trepidation instead. “I’ve…tried it, and it seemed to work, but I’m not very good at it.”

“I ask all of this because the Dark Lord is well known for his legilimancy, and I worry that giving you any information will put you in extra danger, and thus the Order in extra danger, if he learns of you. A natural occlumens, though.” Severus looked thoughtful. “I can help you with the advanced occlumency techniques—” (sure thing, bud) “—if you like. As for my secrets, I’ll simply have to trust you.” Flick made her eyes go wide, but didn’t need to fake the excited smile, nodding as Severus spoke. The man chuckled. He looked at the time and put his hands on the arms of his chair to get up. “How do you take your tea? I’ll tell you what I can and then we will make a schedule for your own training and contact Narcissa.”

~~

“Welcome back to consciousness, Mr. Malfoy. Take this.” Flick held out a potion for the boy, who looked warily at her until he saw his mother nod from the doorway. He took the potion and stared at it for a moment before drinking it with a grimace. She set a second potion down on his nightstand. When Flick didn’t immediately leave, Draco’s face changed as though he put on a mask (and Flick pretended it didn’t tear a hole in her heart to see). His eyes grew hard and his mouth smirked slightly.

“Can I help you?” he sneered. What a prat. She loved him so much.

“I’m Felicity, but most people call me Flick,” she offered with a lopsided smile and a sparkle in her eye that she wouldn’t have been able to get rid of if she tried. Narcissa quickly came up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder (she was proud of how she did not lean into it immediately. Her hopefully-future-adoptive-mother didn’t say anything if she noticed).

“Felicity has been sent to help with your…training.” Her voice was strained. “She is also an excellent healer.”

Draco furrowed his brows. “I don’t need training. Especially from some girl I’ve never heard about before.”

Flick forgot just how bratty Draco had been before he had opened up. It made her want to laugh, because this behavior would embarrass him so thoroughly later in life. Flick looked back at Narcissa and shrugged. Narcissa squeezed Flick’s shoulder knowingly at the gesture.

“You need to be trained.” She gave her son a pointed look and sighed. “The other option was your aunt Bella—” Draco cringed, as he should, “—but I thought someone closer to your age might be more preferable.” She looked down at Flick and nodded. The two witches stood and went to leave.

Before she closed the door, Flick turned. “Make sure you take the second potion once you’ve eaten something. It’ll help with the tremors.” She gave a sad smile.

Late in the evening, Flick returned to find Draco at his desk writing. It was good to see him up. She knocked on the open doorway and watched him flinch before turning towards her. If his constant sneer was any indication, she was not welcome. But that sneer hadn’t worked on her for years, so she just gave a small smile. “Came to drop off a dreamless sleep. If you’re feeling up to it tomorrow or later this week, I’d like to see where your skills are at to see what I can teach you.”

“I don’t see what you could possibly do for me,” he bit out.

She put her hands up placatingly. “I’ve just been told to keep you alive.” She stepped inside, knowing they were at an impasse, and set the potion down on his bedside table. She took the empty bottle that was there, pleased that he had done as directed. Then Flick turned to Draco again. “Can I do a quick diagnostic charm on you? Just wanna make sure everything is still good.”

He didn’t reply, but turned his chair to face her. It was as good as she was going to get at this point.

“All good! Highly recommend the dreamless sleep, by the way. I don’t know if this is your furst run in with that curse—” it was, “—but it has a way of creeping into your dreams.” She frowned, thinking about how she’d be back in the middle of the night to pull him out of a nightmare, then remembered herself and put on her own mask of a smile. “Just holler and I’ll be here.”

He grunted an affirmative then turned back to his desk, pretending not to watch her leave out of the corner of his eye.

“Tilly?” she called in the hallway. A small house elf in a tattered beige pillowcase appeared next to her. “Would you please let me know right away if anything happens?” She motioned to Draco’s room. Tilly eyed her for a moment before giving a big nod. “Thank you, Tilly. Let’s keep him alive, okay?” Tilly nodded once more before disapparating. Flick sighed. This was going to be a lot of work. At least she had gotten here, with a few less bumps than last time because she knew what to expect.

~~

Flick was pretending to sleep when a frightened looking house elf shook her “awake.” “Tilly,” she breathed, probably sounding far too relieved. But too relieved to care.  

“Master Draco is screaming, Miss.” Tilly’s eyes were round saucers that seemed to plead with Flick to do something.

“Knew that idiot wouldn’t take the potion,” she mumbled fondly as she tore the sheets off her and Tilly took her hand to apparate to Draco’s room.

He was, indeed, screaming. And also writhing in bed. The sound was enough to sound all the alarms in Flick’s brain even though she knew what was happening. It was difficult to watch someone you love suffer. “Right.” She kneeled on one side of the bed and grabbed Draco’s nearby hand and held it. “Hey,” she cooed. Moving in closer, she put her other hand firmly on his chest. “Draco. You’re okay. You’re safe.” She repeated the words as she did what she could to make her touch calming.

Draco’s movements slowed and his eyes opened. His screams turned to whimpers as he looked around confused. He sat up slowly and looked at Flick. She could see that he didn’t know what was happening or who she was, but that he was glad that she was there in that moment. She couldn’t stop her body from moving in closer and pulling him into a warm embrace.

“You’re okay, You’re safe. No one is hurting your right now. You were dreaming.” Flick didn’t need to use legilimency to know the right words. She had said them time and time again in the past. She rubbed soft circles into his back with her fingers like she knew he liked. When his breathing returned to normal, she pulled away.

Draco tried to put on a mask, but his words betrayed him as he stuttered. “How—how did you—why are you here?”

“Tilly came and got me, saying you were screaming.” There was no use lying. She leaned back on her heels and eyed the full potion bottle next to his bed. “And now I’m going to sit here and watch you drink that potion so that you can get some real rest.” She reached and grabbed the bottle and thrust it into his face, looking expectantly.

Draco took the bottle from Flick and drank it but did not say anything and refused to look at her.

“Goodnight, then.” She gave a tired smile as she left once again.

Back in her own room, Tilly was waiting, wringing her hands. “Can I help you, Tilly?” Flick asked softly as she closed her bedroom door behind her. Her bedroom. It would stay that way for years, even after the war. It felt good to be home, even with everything going on (and even if she wasn’t going to be staying here most nights). Tilly broke into tears and latched onto Flick’s leg. Flick leaned down and patted her back, not sure what else she could do. “He’s okay.”

She pulled out a simple silver ring from her pocket and knelt so that she was face-to-face with the house elf. “Here. This ring has a charm on it so that you can get a hold of me even more quickly if you like. I keep one on me at all times.” She released a notice-me-not from her own hand to show her. “Activate it once—” she pressed her fingers into the ring on both sides of it, her own vibrated slightly and heated up “—and I’ll know my assistance my be needed soon. Twice tells me that I’m needed but it’s not safe yet, and a big twist gets me there as soon as I possibly can.” She placed the ring in Tilly’s shaking hand. “Call me when you think I’m needed. I’ll trust you to be my eyes around here.” Tilly nodded solemnly and curled her fingers into a fist around the ring. Without a word or a sound, she vanished. Flick adored Tilly, and smiled at the place that she had just stood.

~~

After a week, Draco had learned to live with being startled whenever Felicity popped up. She had checked on him a few times, but mostly seemed to simply exist around him. They never spoke about his nightmare, and he often wondered if that had happened at all or if it had simply been an extension of his dreams.

He was currently shut away in his room sulking as the grown-ups talked in hushed tones downstairs. He practiced his wand movements as he thought about Flick’s “skill assessment” the day before. In the morning, she had arrived with a checklist and proceeded to quiz him on which spells he knew and how well, sometimes asking for a demonstration. For the afternoon she made him run laps, lift weights, fly, and dodge spells thrown at him. After dinner, she had showed up to his door with a stack of books full of bookmarked pages that she thought he would get the most out of and handed him a schedule. She would be there every weekday during the day unless she were called away, in which case she would try to send word.

He looked at the pile next to him at his desk. The top book, “The Fundamentals of Occlumency,” had a note on top of it.

Read this one first. I have a feeling you’ll want it.

He frowned. There had been a lot of spells that he had never heard of on Flick’s list, and he was more interested in the heavily bookmarked charms book than this one. He hadn’t read any of them yet, though. Draco may have gotten used to her general presence, but he didn’t know this person and wasn’t interested in listening to her until she showed him she was worth listening to.

~~

“Felicity asked that you meet her in the gardens after lunch.” Draco prodded the food on his plate and nodded at his mother’s words. “Draco, look at me.” He looked up. “I know what you are thinking. Do not try to scare her away. She is here to make sure you stay safe.” Her eyes were pleading, and he nodded more slowly. He had been thinking about how to get her to leave and hated that his mother had caught that.

“Fine,” was all he said.

After lunch he trudged down to the gardens, looking for Felicity. How could she be this difficult to find? Her hair was bright pink.

“Looking for someone?”

Draco jumped and turned to see Felicity smirking from the bench he had just been sitting on. “How do you do that?” he asked guardedly.

“Do what?” She bloody well knew what.

“Just. Appear places like that.”

“I’m good at stealth.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she shrugged. “Anyway. Have you started reading that book?” Draco tensed, and her smirk widened. “Didn’t think so.” She held out her hand, arm straightened parallel to the ground, as if to catch something. “Seems like a good use of our time today, then. Nothing beats reading in the garden.” She winked.

Draco furrowed his brow as he looked from her to her hand and then back at her. As he opened his mouth to say something, he heard something whoosh towards them. Felicity caught the book clumsily, its weight throwing her off balance. Instead of embarrassment, she laughed, then held the occlumency book out to a stunned Draco.

“You can do wordless, wandless magic,” he deadpanned. Of course she could. Who the hell was this witch? He eyed were warily as he took the book from her hand. While he was certain his face betrayed little emotion, she still seemed to think she knew something he didn’t.

“I think you’ll work on wordless magic this next year in defense against the dark arts, but you and I can work on it early if you get through enough this summer.” The glint in her eye stayed as she watched Draco vacillate between curiosity and frustration. Finally, he sat down on the other side of the bench with the book and opened it. She smiled and reached into her purse to grab her own book. It was old and tattered and depicted two wizards holding their wands up at each other. Must be a dueling book of some sort.

It went on like this for another week. After lunch each day, Draco would go to the gardens and find Felicity already there, reading her own book. She would ask if he had any questions about his current reading and they would discuss occlumency for a bit before settling into a companionable silence for the rest of the day. It was almost strange on Saturday to not see her at all. Almost. He finished the book on his own over the weekend.

Monday morning during breakfast, Draco wondered if his whole summer was to be reading.

“What’s wrong, my love?” his mother asked, concerned.

“Nothing.” He prodded an egg. If he complained, his mother would only say something about how reading is part of learning. He knew she was right, but it still didn’t make the summer seem interesting at all.

A knock on the doorway grabbed both Malfoys’ attention. Felicity stood there in jeans, a t-shirt, and black robes. “Room for one more?” she grinned as she surveyed the more-than-a-dozen empty chairs. Narcissa’s mouth quirked up as she patted the space next to her.

“How was your weekend?” Narcissa asked Felicity as she passed her food.

“Long.” Felicity wrinkled her nose. “I’m getting tutored myself on the weekend.”

His tutor was being tutored? By whom, and for what?

“How long have you been a healer?”

Draco tuned out their conversation. It felt too…normal for him with everything going on. A hand waving in his face brought him back. “What?”

“I’ll be waiting in the parlor whenever you’re done.” Felicity looked to his mother, and then back at him. “Today’s not going to be fun.” She grimaced slightly as she stood up. “You don’t need to bring any books.”

Draco looked to his mother for answers. “Do you know what she’s going to teach me?” It wasn’t the witch’s words, but the look on her face as she said them that made Draco suddenly nervous.

His mother gave a tight smile, which did not bode well. “She and I have spoken about what is likely necessary, but I’m not sure what her day-to-day plans are. I am certain it will be fine.” She placed her hand over his across the table and squeezed it.

The parlor was quiet when Draco arrived. Felicity was sitting on a chair near the fireplace reading a book and chewing on her lip. When she heard the door close, she looked up and smiled. It was clearly strained, which only increased Draco’s uncertainty.

He sat down on the couch across from Felicity, trying to look bored. His bouncing foot, which Felicity of course managed to zero in on, gave him away. “What are we doing today, then?”

“When Voldemort—” Draco flinched at the name, but Felicity continued, “—was here, did he break into your mind?” Draco shook his head. “Good. I’ll be a lot more gentle than he will be.”

Felicity muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t here. He locked eyes with her in confusion and then immediately felt something cold and fluid seep into his consciousness. He shut his eyes firmly and pulled his hands to his face as a dull ache permeated his head. Draco realized in horror that he was viewing his own memories, reliving them almost, in bits and pieces as the cold liquid flitted around. He saw fragments of the last six months—sneering at Hermione Granger and Harry Potter; reading the Prophet and smiling at his aunt’s escape; snogging Pansy Parkinson in hidden alcoves; his arm burning as he was called like a dog to his master’s side; his father’s scowling face on the front page of the Prophet; the Dark Lord coming to their home to punish them for his father’s capture—the memory of his torture played out and he thought he heard himself screaming. The cold retreated and suddenly his could feel his throat hurting and his cheeks wet and his knees hurt. He opened his eyes to find himself kneeling on the floor in front of the couch he had been sitting on, cradling his head, tears running down his face. A hand landed softly on his back, the thumb rubbing it reassuringly.

After a beat, Draco wiped his face and glared up at the girl standing behind him. Her eyes were glassy and she had her own tears trailing down her cheeks. Instead of backing away, Felicity came in close and hugged him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder. He didn’t know whether she was apologizing for what she saw or the fact that he was hurting, but he was thankful for the warmth even as his thoughts swirled angrily. They sat there for a moment before she stood up and went back to her original chair. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robes and put her hair back into a ponytail.

“What the fuck was that.”

“Legilimancy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do that?”

“Most people aren’t going to tell you what they’re about to do, Draco.” She wouldn’t meet his eye. “Especially not in a war.” The silence hung between them for what felt like eternity. Draco slowly stood up and sat back down on the couch. Felicity pulled a potion out of her bag and nudged it towards him. “For the headache.” He didn’t even think about it before taking it and drinking it. It did help.

Draco finally broke the silence. “Will occlumency really work against that?” His voice was hoarse.

“Yes. It takes a lot of practice, and it’s not very fun, though.” She gave a look of disgust like she had just eaten something rotten. “Mostly it’s a lot of emotional fatigue. Sometimes there’s a headache. People who want to hurt you can make it a lot more painful, though.” She looked down at her clasped hands.

Draco eyed Felicity. He wasn’t sure how to react. Her relaxed charisma that he was slowly getting used to was missing, and her raw and open emotions made him uncomfortable. He was always told that showing your emotions like that was showing weakness. But he thought, looking at the tired witch in front of him, that she didn’t look weak. She had, in fact, just performed what seemed like a difficult bit of magic on him and didn’t seem the least bit scared of him or his family or his anger.

“Shit,” she said, her hand going to one of her fingers. “I need to go.” She pulled something out of her bag and shoved it into his hand. “Chocolate will help. Kind of like with dementors. I’ll try to be back this afternoon.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she disappeared with a pop.

After lunch, Draco decided to go back to the parlor with the next book on the pile to wait and see if Felicity would show up again.

“Guess I didn’t have to worry about you getting on without me.” Draco jumped, looking up from his book. Felicity’s robes were wet and splattered with mud. Her hair was plastered in her face. A moment later she had cleaned up and dried off, grinning tiredly. “Hurricane,” she shrugged, as though that were a sufficient explanation. Draco stared at the witch and decided he did not want to know the details. “Which spell are you eyeing right now?”

The next few weeks went on like that. Monday was for occlumency (“May as well get the hard part of the week out of the way, right?”) and they mainly focused on spells the rest of the week. Every day the first half hour was physical conditioning, though, because Felicity had said that running a way was part of surviving. Draco wasn’t certain about that—running away would certainly make him a wanted traitor—but at least his quidditch would get better.

Chapter Text

August, 1996

By August, Draco stopped jumping whenever Felicity appeared, and they had settled into a comfortable routine. He no longer sneered at her, and even caught himself smiling a few times. He had two other nightmares in that time, and each time he woke to Felicity comforting him. Despite the fact that she had theoretically been brought in to teach and heal, it became apparent that she was enjoying her time there. She would chat with his mother over meals and verbally spar with him when he got a little sassy (which was frequently). He wasn’t used to making friends at this age, but that’s how it felt with Felicity.

The witch was never around when the Dark Lord called on the family. Narcissa told Draco that all anyone else needed to know about Felicity was that she was tutoring Draco so that he could focus on his mission that year. If Felicity knew about the mission, she said nothing, but sometimes her comments would dance around the subject as though she knew what topic she was avoiding and liked to push the boundaries for fun.

“Let’s take a break.” Draco blinked up at Felicity’s offered hand from his supine position. She had been lazily throwing minor stinging hexes his way while he practiced shield spells and dodges. He had gotten angry at her nonchalance and in a huff threw a stupefy her way only for her to block it and throw one back that hit. He took her hand and she helped him stand and handed him a conjured glass of water.

Felicity always took the time to patiently talk Draco through exactly what went wrong and what went right. It had taken him a while to get used to her bluntness, but now he took her feedback in stride knowing she was just trying to advise him. A noise from the manor snapped them out of the conversation, and Tilly appeared in front of them and looked anxiously from one to the other. “We have guests.” The way the house elf said ‘guests’ was enough to know exactly who she meant.

“Shit. I can’t be here,” Felicity muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t follow Voldemort.” Draco flinched at the name and then looked hard at Felicity, who gave a casual shrug.

“Then why are you helping me?”

Her eyes were soft and she smiled, if a bit mischievously. “I help whoever I please, Draco, which means I’m here because I want to be. Simple as that. Now. We can talk about my proclivity for living in gray areas in a world sold as black and white another time. Your presence is sure to be requested soon enough.” She grabbed her robes and silently vanished.

Draco turned to his house elf with furrowed brows. “Do you know something?”

Tilly cowered slightly. “Tilly has been told nothing, Master Draco. Tilly has only been told by the Madame to help Miss Felicity protect you.” She fiddled with her pillowcase and looked at the ground, awaiting punishment that never came.

Instead, Draco sighed. “Thank you, Tilly. I’ll head up to the Manor to join the others now, then.”

Unfortunately, Aunt Bella was there. Draco almost would have preferred any other deatheater than her. “I hear you’ve found yourself a little pet to tutor Draco,” she crooned at Narcissa in the drawing room. Draco stood off to the side trying to be invisible.

“We have.” Narcissa gave a tight smile. “I wanted to give him a head start on the year so that his attention could be elsewhere.”

“And where is the little pet?” Aunt Bella craned her neck to look around the room and spun as though Felicity would appear out of thin air.

Draco felt the edges of his lip twitch as he realized that’s exactly the kind of thing Felicity would do. He had been thinking intently on what she had said before she left—not to mention the fact that she could apparently apparate without a sound. He wanted to know more about what she meant by living in gray areas, and why she wanted to help him if she knew what he was. He self-consciously tugged at his robe sleeve.

“She isn’t here all the time, Bella. I’m sure you’ll meet her someday.”

“I want to know why you wouldn’t choose me first, Cissy. I’m your sister and you know how good I am with a wand.” She flipped her new wand through her fingers and grinned.

“I’ve already told you, Bella, I wanted someone Draco’s age to tutor him.”

Draco realized that his mother must know enough about Felicity to know that she didn’t follow the Dark Lord. He wondered what else was being kept from him and whether Felicity was really a friend or just another person who saw him as a child that didn’t deserve information. But she had told him that she would tell him about it all, hadn’t she?

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve been learning, then, Draco?” Aunt Bella’s voice interrupted his train of thought and he nodded. Felicity told him not to mention the occlumency training to anyone—occlumency worked better when your opponent didn’t know you could do it—but made sure to teach him some showy spells that would impress anyone who asked. He brought out those.

~~

Bellatrix had been staying at their house for a few days, and it seemed Felicity was told to stay away for the time. Draco filled his time flying his broom, working through his books, and practicing his occlumency. Other deatheaters came through the house in meetings that Draco was not privy to. All of this to say, he was surprised when he was awoken at 3am to his own screaming and the comforting arms of Felicity.

“Aren’t you in danger here?” Draco choked out in lieu of a greeting. His mother would have chastised him for his lack of manners, but she wasn’t there at the moment.

Felicity pulled away and put her hands on his cheeks, tilting his face to look at her. “We live in war. I’m always in danger.” She gave a warm lopsided smile. “A few deatheaters aren’t going to keep me from showing up.”

“I’m a deatheater.” It came out quickly and quietly, and Draco wasn’t even sure whether he had said it out loud or only thought it.

“Not really.” She grabbed his forearm and brushed fingers over the dark mark. He flinched at the casual touch. “You just have a shitty tattoo.”

He pulled his arm out of her grasp and hugged it to himself. “I am. This is what I’ve chosen.” He found his voice and it felt louder than it needed to be in the silence that engulfed them.

Felicity shrugged. “If you say so.” She wasn’t here to fight and they both knew it. She leaned back on the headboard, watching Draco from the side of her eye.

“What did you mean when you said you live in gray areas?”

She grinned. “I suppose 3am post-nightmare is as good a time as any to talk about politics and war, isn’t it?” She put her arms behind her head and looked up at the canopy. “I heal all sorts of people, you know? Witches and wizards and magical creatures and muggles alike.

“Why would you heal muggles?”

“Someone’s got to. They certainly don’t know how to deal with magical maladies and curses.”

“But they’re inferior.”

“Are they?”

“Father says that muggles are inferior due to their lack of magic. And muggleborns are weak because of their lack of pure blood. They’re really just stealing magic.”

“And you believe that?” The tone was light, but Felicity had shifted and was now giving him a hard, questioning look. Her hazel eyes laser focused on Draco in a way he wasn’t used to.

“Yes?” Of course he believed it. He had believed it his whole life. His father had told him so many times. Why did he sound so unsure?

A glint returned to Felicity’s eyes at whatever she saw in him. “Okay,” is all she said as she turned to look out at the room in front of her.

“Is that…” Draco couldn’t find the question to ask. Felicity continued to watch him from the corner of her eye as he grappled with the discomfort of not knowing where she stood.

“it’s not what I believe, no,” she said to put him out of his misery.

“Why not?”

“I guess I’ve just worked with a lot of people and met a lot of competent muggles and muggleborns. And how much of pureblood competency is because of access to personal tutors and all the best gear? There are so many factors that determine what someone can do, and it just seems really strange to think that blood purity would be such a large part of that. There isn’t a lot of blood purity talk in America, you know. So my opinions are likely colored by that, too. It’s all a bit complicated and I’m probably not very good at explaining it.” She let out a long breath.

After a stretch of silence, during which time Draco was trying and failing to come up with something to say, she turned away and moved to leave. Draco caught her hand, however, and she looked back with soft hazel eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, because even if her political views were slanted in the wrong direction, this was Felicity, his friend. “For…everything.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”

~~

“What’s happened?” Flick appeared immediately in front of Tilly, wearing jeans and a t-shirt but no socks or shoes, her hair in a messy low bun with her wand stuck in it.

They were not in Malfoy Manor, and Flick did not know where she had been summoned at first (the sleep was still making everything a bit fuzzy) until she realized with a start that Draco was kneeling over someone behind Tilly. A figure crumpled on the floor. She immediately cast some silencing and protection spells in the area before she rushed over. It had been so long, and she had forgotten how Theodore Nott had come to them wrapped in his own pain.

“Move.” She physically shoved Draco out of the way to see Theo laying on the floor covered in blood. “What happened?” she asked forcefully while casting a diagnostic charm. She knew what happened and what she would see. Nott Sr. was a bastard of a man and she hoped he died sooner rather than later this time around. Blood loss, likely concussion, lacerations along his side, cutting curses, broken cheek, broken, broken, broken god everything was broken and this time there was panic because it was someone she loved and not just another face in a war. Even though she knew she could—would—heal  him, it hurt so much more to see him like this. “Anapneo,” she whispered hoarsely, and heard a wheeze replace the latest sound of choking. She let out the breath she was holding, then brought out blood replenishing potions from her bag and began tipping them into his mouth. He was not conscious, but she could push a little in and close his mouth to make him swallow.

“Draco.” She chanced a glance at him to see him covered in Theo’s blood with distant glassy eyes. “Draco talk to me and tell me what happened.”

Draco seemed to finally see and hear her. “Can you—is he—”

Flick breathed and nodded, looking back at Theo. “What’s his name?” she asked as she vanished the blood enough to see what was happening with the lacerations. They were lucky there wasn’t any internal bleeding.

“Theo,” he choked out through tears. “Please.”

It hurt her heart to hear him plead. Malfoys weren’t known for showing this much emotion or for saying please. She decided to distract him with questions (with a vague memory of doing the same long ago). “Where are we?” She kept her voice soft and casual as she continued to work. At least she knew Nott Sr. wasn’t around and about to make their lives hell.

“Nott Manor.”

“Who did this?”

“His father.”

“Fucking hell.” Hearing the confirmation didn’t help the anger bubbling up in her. Flick had to swallow her anger and disgust back and continue to her work.

Draco watched her tap her wand to different areas of Theo’s form as she mumbled spells, asking him questions about Theo as she did. Theo was no longer losing blood and was breathing, but was still unconscious and grimacing. Flick poured more potions into his mouth and slowly made him swallow them all before turning to Draco. “Are you hurt?” She surveyed him, just in case something went differently this time around, but he shook his head. “Okay. What happened,” she breathed.

Draco finally found his voice and told her about how Theo’s father had always been incredibly abusive, and how his friend would often end up with bruises or broken bones or cuts. This time was different, but he wasn’t sure why, and instead of stopping, the man continued to throw Theo around. Draco had been grabbed by one of Theo’s house elves as soon as Nott Sr. had left. The rage inside Flick coiled dangerously in her chest as she watched Theo’s breath slowly even out. She had to take out some of his bones and give him skele-gro so he could re-grow them overnight. It was not going to be pleasant, so it was rather good that he was unconscious already.

“We need to take him to his room.”

Draco nodded and they both stood up on shakey legs. Flick cast a levitation spell on Theo and followed Draco quietly through the house.

“Will you stay?” Draco’s voice was small as he sat next to his friend’s bed. They did their best to clean the blood from his skin and hair, so he looked okay, but Flick didn’t want to revivify him until the bones had finished growing since, again, painful process.

Flick nodded. “Of course.”

“Where are your shoes?”

“I wasn’t wearing any when Tilly called for me.” She giggled then, a sound that felt foreign and inappropriate for the moment, but she couldn’t help herself, thinking of what she must look like. Draco looked over at her with an eyebrow raised, but there was a twitch at the edge of his lips. “I guess I was time to get rid of these jeans, anyway.” She looked longingly at her comfiest pair, sighing when she saw the blood stains down the front of each leg. The jeans had frayed holes in the knees, so her knees also had dried blood still on them. Inspecting her feet, she realized there were probably bloody footprints leading away from the scene of the crime. She groaned, feeling grimy. “I’m using his shower and stealing his clothes,” she stated.

“Theo probably wouldn’t care if you stole everything he owned after what you just did for him,” Draco said cooly, apparently having found his usual neutral expression once the panic wore off.

Twenty minutes later Flick came back out from the attached bathroom wearing new slacks and a button up that she had to charm not to fall off of her—but there was really only so much someone could do and clothes-related charms weren’t her specialty. “Your turn.” She nodded back towards the bathroom. “You’re looking worse than I was.”

Once everyone was clean and no one was dying, Draco fell asleep in the chair next to the bed as Flick took up space on a nearby chaise. She put an alarm charm on Theo to notify her if he woke up or if something happened to his vitals, and then went to sleep.

~~

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Theo.” Felicity and Draco were leaned over Theo and she woke him up. “Take this for your headache.” She held a potion in front of his eyes, which went a little crossed and couldn’t quite focus on anything yet.

“What?” was all he could manage for a moment before he realized that Draco was there was well as a stranger. “Who’re you?” he slurred.

“I’m Felicity, but most people call me Flick.” She grinned.

Draco sighed. “Flick healed you last night. Saved your bloody life.” He looked over at Flick, arm still outstretched with the potion. “Better take the potion. I watched her pour like five of them into you while you were unconscious and have a feeling she’d do it again.”

Theo tried to shrug but winced instead, before taking the potion and drinking it. His hand shook slightly, and Felicity grabbed it. “Did he use the cruciatus on you as well?” she asked curtly. Draco watched her purse her lips.

Theo looked to Draco, who nodded. “You can tell her.”

Theo looked back at Felicity and nodded his head slowly. She looked far less surprised than Draco thought she should have as she reached into her bag and pulled out another potion. “This’ll help.” He slowly took the second potion. “Do you have a house elf you trust beyond belief?”

He coughed at the question as he was swallowing, but nodded and choked out, “Henly.” An older, slightly hunched house elf appeared when his name was called.

“Sorry mate, she’s like this all the time.” Felicity shot Draco a glare, but there was no malice in her eyes and even if there had been he wasn’t sure anything could bring him down when his best friend was sitting here peachy keen after everything. “Henly is the one that came to get me.”

“Henly, may I speak with you quickly?” The house elf looked suspiciously at the new addition but nodded and followed her across the room.

“What the fuck happened, Theo?” Draco asked his friend as Felicity spoke in hushed tones with the house elf. From the corner of his eye, it looked like she was giving him potions and care instructions.

“I got a little sassier than I should have, I guess.” Theo tried to grin, but grimaced and gingerly touched his cheek. He looked at his friend, concerned. “How bad was it?”

Draco gave Theo a hard look as he contemplated how to answer that.

“Well when I showed up you were choking on your own blood, bleeding out, and mostly a sack of broken bones.” Felicity walked back over to the conversation with a tight smile as the two boys stared in horror at her comment. “Sorry I only learned how to heal. Never learned the whole bedside manner thing.”

“Merlin, Felicity, I know you can do better than that, though!”

Theo started laughing before he groaned in pain. “Noted. Can’t laugh yet.”

“Everything is where it should be but you’ll be hurting for a few days.”

“Better than the alternative, I guess.”

At that, Felicity laughed, “I like him,” she said to Draco, then turned back to Theo. “Henly has everything you’ll need for the next few days. I’ll be back to check in.”

“Wait, how did you get here?”

“Apparated.” Felicity said it like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“But we have wards. Like, a lot of fucking wards.”

Felicity winked and then promptly changed the subject. “By the way I don’t think I’ll be able to transfigure your clothes back to fit you. It’s not something I’m very good at.” She gestured to her wardrobe. She was still barefoot. “Anyway, I should head out. It was nice to meet you Theo. Hopefully next time will be on better terms?”

“Er, right. Thanks,” Theo said slowly.

And then she disapparated with a ‘pop’ that Draco now knew was optional when she was concerned.

“She’s a bit of a whirlwind, isn’t she?”

Draco nodded. “I’ve known her for a little more than a month and it still kind of feels like that.”

“You’ve known her that long? Who is she?”

“Oh, uh, my tutor. And a healer, obviously.” Draco knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything about Felicity, but this was Theo, who knew that Draco rarely met new people and was, in fact, renown for getting rid of tutors and nannies throughout their childhood. Theo, who was giving him a thoughtful frown that let him know that he was thinking about this as well.

Theo nodded, a silent agreement that they’d share information at a later date. “Can I stay at yours some this month?”

Draco grunted and nodded. “We’ve had a lot of…visitors. But after last night I’d say you’re still safer at mine than here.

~~

Theo comfortably inserted himself into Draco’s home and life, including attending his tutoring sessions. Felicity quickly agreed to him attending and made him go through the same baseline testing as Draco had while Draco practiced hitting targets while flying on a broom. Theo knew a few more spells than Draco had, but had less proclivity for flying and was clumsier while dodging. By the next day, Felicity handed a stack of annotated and bookmarked books to Theo, who looked like someone had given a precious Christmas gift. The swot.

During the rest of the summer, they had tea and read books, and Felicity was there more than she wasn’t during the day, other than being called away to do whatever it was she did elsewhere. Heal, probably.  

“Where do you always go off in such a hurry?” Theo asked casually near the end of August. He was twirling his wand idly as they chatted during a break from dueling.

“I get called away to heal people. When I’m called it’s usually an emergency.” She shrugged. Draco and Theo noticed she shrugged a lot, and that it usually meant there was more to it but that she wasn’t going to give them anything unless they found the right question to ask. She didn’t lie to them, but was awfully good at giving only partial information.

Theo stopped spinning his wand and grabbed some water. “Suppose that makes sense. You’re a good healer, Flick.” He was looking directly at her when he said it without a joke in his eyes, which caught her by surprise.

“Oh! Thanks.” She flushed slightly. “Just doing what I can, I guess.”

“What are you two on about?”

“Idle chatter.” Theo’s face turned into a smirk. “And talking about you, of course.”

Draco looked between Theo’s smirk and Felicity’s amused eyes and huffed a laugh. “Can’t bear to be away from me for even a moment?” Theo was always good at bringing out some mischief in people when he got to know them, which Draco had always appreciated. It was especially nice during a war. Theo’s addition to the group had brought out a bit more of Felicity’s personality, too, Draco noticed approvingly. He still felt like she held back from them despite the three of them clearly being friends at this point (at least he hoped he wasn’t reading that wrong). He wondered if she would have been a Slytherin.

Theo walked over and put his arm around Draco’s shoulders. “Flick, can you perform a sticking charm? I don’t want this man out of my sight for a moment longer!” He then faux swooned into Draco, who caught him with a laugh. After a moment, Theo grew wistful. “I’m gonna miss this when we head back to Hogwarts.”

Felicity smirked. “Afraid I won’t be sorted with you, are you?”

Both boys’ eyes snapped to her. “Are you saying you’re coming with us?” Theo asked hopefully.

“Of course I am.” She rolled her eyes, like this was the stupidest question she had ever heard. “How else can I keep you two from getting into too much trouble? Plus, Slytherin does sound nice, although I’m not sure how well I’ll be accepted.”

“Why wouldn’t you be accepted?”

“Hard to be neutral in the snake pit, so I’ve gathered.” Theo cocked his head at this and Draco looked at the ground. “But no matter what remember that I’m on your side, yeah?” The two boys were speechless as her eyes flitted between their own, and they knew instantly what she meant: She wasn’t on a side for the war, but she would be there for the two of THEM. “Now then, let’s work on our disillusionment and silencing spells.”

Chapter Text

July 1996

Harry stared at Grimmauld place with wide eyes. He was actually here again, not running for his life, but because his godfather was here and he got to see him. Dumbledore smiled down at him, eyes twinkling. He's a legilimens, Harry reminded himself for the umteenth time, eyes flitting away from Dumbledore's. 

"Here is where I leave you, Harry," Dumbledore said warmly. 

"Thanks professor. I'll, er, see you around then," he said awkwardly. Then he walked up to the front door and, after only a second of hesitation, opened it and walked in. "Hullo?" he called. 

"Harry?" Sirius called from somewhere further in the house. 

Harry chuckled and stepped further in. His trunk and Hedwig's cage were already at the bottom of the stairs. "Yeah, it's me." 

"Harry!" Harry's breath caught in his throat as Sirius barreled around the corner, narrowly missing Hedwig's cage, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Hermione and Flick said you were okay and I got to see you in the mirror but I needed to feel it." He pulled away and looked Harry over. 

Harry grinned and did a little turn to show off how not-hurt he was. Sirius barked out a laugh at that. "Better now that I'm here, though." 

"Dumbledore said you'd be here, but didn't say when." Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him further into the house. "Remus is here. We've been going through the library to figure out which books are cursed." 

Harry decided not to say anything about how Felicity was the most qualified in the house to deal with cursed books, or that Harry already knew which ones were which after years of cleaning the place out and making it livable. He nodded instead, happy to just listen to Sirius talk to him again. He forced tears back. It would be hard to explain crying right now. 

"Felicity Burke—” apparently that was the last name she gave them, “—the healer girl from the Department of Mysteries, moved in not too long ago. She's not here now, of course. Something keeps her away most days, and some nights. Says it's a mission but won't give any details. She's usually back before dinner, though. Strange girl, but friendly enough, even if she won't talk about herself. Remus keeps trying, you know. He's such a softy for a runaway teenager." 

Sirius levitated Harry's trunk and Harry grabbed the owl cage as they went upstairs to the room he used to stay in. Before he owned the place and took Sirius's old room. 

"Tonks and Hermione are out right now but should be back soon enough. They've been around the last week since a deatheater approached Hermione at a coffee shop. The Weasley's are all at the Burrow, but Molly's agreed that Grimmauld is still safer so they'll all be making their way over here soon enough." 

Harry smiled as his godfather blathered on. He let the man lead him into his room and help him set up his things before Harry promised to be down after settling in. Once the door closed behind Sirius and Harry was alone, he sat on his bed, put up a locking and privacy charm, and cried. 

Big, heaving sobs wracked his body as it hit him that Sirius was here. Remus was here. Tonks was here. He didn't know it would be so hard to be around people who were alive, that when he saw them all he would see was their death. It was unfair, to be given such a gift as a second chance only to not be able to enjoy it. Obviously, he could appreciate it. He was hoping the true enjoyment would come, still. 

Harry made another note to himself—how many did that make? he should probably write these down—to ask Felicity about occlusion. He had to learn it for work, but was still pretty bad at it. Could people read that they were from the future from their minds? It was certainly something to think about. And if Harry already knew so much about the future and the horcruxes and the war, what was stopping the bad guys from using that information if they got hold of him? 

Get it together, idiot, he chided. You're not alone in this. He stood and went into the nearest bathroom, glad to not be seen, and splashed cold water on his face. In the mirror, bright green eyes stared back at him. He gave it a smile, and was pleased that it was his face and his normal number of teeth and not a potentially-dangerous fae creature looking back at him.

Kreacher was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found. Harry felt almost lonely without the old house elf popping up in front of him. He had eventually become a friend. It would be grief all over again having to interact with him, since right now Kreacher was an elf that hated him. It was only because of the locket--

Harry froze on his way down the stairs and his eyes flitted to the kitchen, where he knew Kreacher had a small nest of items. When had Mundungus stolen the locket form him and filched it to Umbridge? Could he convince Kreacher to give it to him without the replacement fake? Harry shook his head--it wasn't time to think, it was time to eat and pretend the people around him weren't dead. Because they weren't. Thinking could come later.

Sirius was putting dinnerware on the table while Remus could be heard humming in the kitchen cooking. Tonks and Hermione were due back, as was Felicity. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, the front door opened and the floo activated at the same time. Tonks and Hermione stopped short seeing Harry at the bottom of the stairs before Hermione leap at him in excitement, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 

"Harry! I didn't know you'd be here! I would have had us come back sooner!" she said into his shoulder. 

Tonks chuckled and brushed past them. Harry grinned. "Didn't know I'd be here until Dumbledore dropped me off," he semi-lied. He couldn't remember the exact date he had gone to the burrow the first time--in his defense it had been twelve years--and he wasn't entirely certain he would end up here this time. Things had already changed.

Felicity came from the other side, wearing slacks, a blouse, and black robes and holding a book. "Oh! Hey, Harry. I was wondering when you'd show up." 

"Anything new and exciting you can't tell us about today, Flick?" Hermione asked the girl teasingly. 

Felicity smirked. "You know me so well. But alas, it was not an interesting day. Mostly read in the sunshine, as I'm want to do." She held up a book and shook it in her hand. It was a slim volume, old enough that it didn't have any title on it, and Harry had a feeling it was restricted or illegal. 

Hermione followed the movement, eyes glinting with interest at what the mystery book could be. "Reading anything good?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could muster. Which was not at all to anyone paying attention. 

Instead of a response, Felicity laughed and tucked the book back under her arm. "I'll see you lot in a few for dinner," she said, taking the stairs two at a time. 

"One day I'll figure out what she gets up to," Hermione said wistfully. "I like her but it's frustrating how much she isn't telling." 

Harry chuckled. Hermione had no idea the extent to which Felicity was hiding things. "You would get mad that you aren't given all the information available." 

Hermione lightly smacked him on the arm as she scoffed. "That you and Ron don't do the same, I'll never understand." 

Hermione being at Grimmauld was going to make it a lot easier for Harry. He was glad that he, Ron, and Hermione were always friends. They stayed best friends all those years, and even though this was 1996, he and Hermione shared the same easy conversation and company. All he would have to do was not show how much he knew in classes. It wouldn't do to piss Hermione off by knowing the sixth and seventh year spells already. 

If anyone could figure out what was going on with Harry and Felicity and what they might be going through, it would be Hermione. It was sad that they couldn't tell her everything. And, even though Ron wasn't yet the smart man he would become, Harry realized he would be having a much better time if the two just knew everything. He decided that this time around, he'd fill them in sooner rather than later on everything else, though. 

Dinner was weirdly normal. It was lively and chatty. Harry talked about Slughorn coming back. Sirius and Remus shot easy jokes at each other. Felicity and Hermione talked about books, bringing Harry in every once in a while. It was nice. It would have been easier if Harry's eyes didn't catch someone in his periphery and see lifelessness rather than the very lively picture in front of him. But he would take it over the reality he had lived the first time. 

Sirius firecalled the Weasley's to invite them over. Molly agreed that it would be best if they all ended up at Grimmauld with the rising danger of deatheaters. She asked after Harry and offered a bed for him and Hermione until they came to Grimmauld. Harry almost rolled his eyes (fondly, of course)--the woman hated not being the one to take care of everyone. When Sirius mentioned Felicity, Molly excitedly asked after her (and had to explain to Sirius that Charlie was her mentor in Romania) then said she was welcome at the Burrow as well without hesitation. Harry was still surprised that Felicity knew the Weasley's in any capacity. Despite knowing her the best out of everyone there (and wasn’t that a strange thought), Harry realized he knew very little about Felicity.

~~

As soon as the Ron arrived at Grimmauld a week later, Harry called a secret meeting. They met in the Grimmauld library in a hidden corner. Harry put up some simple notice-me-not and privacy wards once all four of them were there. If anyone noticed the boy cast advanced magic wandlessly and wordlessly, they didn’t say anything.

"What's she doing here?" Ron asked, nodding at Felicity. 

"She's transferring to Hogwarts with us, yeah? And she knows all the Order stuff already. Just made sense," Harry shrugged. He couldn't very well tell them that he and Felicity were from the future and she was a necessary part of the equation now, and that they had already been planning since before summer break. Hermione gave him a calculating look, but nodded regardless. Ron was going to be the difficult one to convince. “Be good to have a healer on the team, right?” he added for posterity. His best friend gave Harry his own calculating look—Ron always said that he would agree with Harry sometimes just because he’d see the stubborn set of his jaw or something and knew that there would be no arguing—before shrugging. It was as good as he would get at this point.

"If y'all need privacy, I won't be offended, either," Felicity said, her hands in front of her placatingly and a small smirk on her lips. 

Harry sighed. She was now a necessary part of the plan, but getting her in with the other two wasn't something he had thought through. Years later in the original timeline, the three would look back and wonder how they had gotten through school in such an insular group. Sure, they played exploding snap with Dean and Seamus, and played quidditch with friends (oh god he was going to have to be captain again wasn't he?) but no one they seemed to truly trust. Maybe Luna, Neville, and Ginny—shit. 

What was he going to do about Ginny? They had dated for a few good years, even got engaged, but it was never the right time for marriage for one reason or another so they mutually called it off. At least it hadn't been explosive like Hermione and Ron's break up had been. It had taken years for the two of them to become good friends again. Another thing to look forward to. 

"Earth to Harry--" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face. 

"Oh, er, sorry." 

"Ron asked what you wanted to talk to us about." 

"Yes. Right. Well, it's about what our plans are for the war, I suppose." Harry Potter, head auror, internally chided himself as he forgot all his training and public speaking. 

"Figure out how to kill Voldemort and then do it, yeah?" Ron said. Hermione rolled her eyes fondly—yeah he wasn't going to enjoy watching that dance again this year—and Felicity tilted her head with a neutral expression, looking at Harry to continue. 

"Exactly. But we might need help, like we did from the DA last year. Maybe a way to get the word out to others that fighting is an option." 

"Have you thought about what to do with those who would otherwise be pushed to Voldemort?" Felicity asked. Her nonchalant tone made it sound like it was something she just thought up, but Felicity thought fast and in large quantities, and likely already had a plan for this conversation. Harry wished they had talked about this beforehand, but was willing to let her take the reins. 

"Like the Slytherins? No," Harry replied with a slight frown, hoping it was the set-up she was looking for. 

Felicity hummed. "I could work on neutral and dark aligned students. See if I can coax them to us since I can start out on neutral territory with everyone." 

"I don't think Malfoy and his cronies are gonna change that drastically." 

"Who?" Felicity asked. If Harry hadn't been from a future where Felicity and Malfoy were not only best friends but considered each other family (and knew that she had been at Malfoy Manor just that afternoon) he would buy her light curiosity. This was a woman with the potential to be dangerous, and he was suddenly very glad she was on their side. 

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione clarified with a cold air to her voice. 

"He's an utter prat. All high society, blood purity, better than everyone bullshit," Ron spat out. 

Harry nodded darkly. At least he hoped it was darkly. It was a bit silly to say such things about Malfoy when the two of them had worked together for more than a year. They weren't best friends or anything, but Harry saw Malfoy join the aurors and take down dark wizards; he saw the man regret joining Voldemort despite doing it to save his mother. But at this point in time, they had a teenage rivalry. Having lived so much longer than his two best friends, the teenage angst did feel a bit silly. 

"I'm not sure you'll be able to do much with people like him," Hermione said slowly. There was pain in there. 

"Slytherin is full of dark wizards," Ron said with a frown.

"If we could get someone in Slytherin on our side," Harry said slowly, "maybe we could use them to get us information or get neutrality from some of the people in there. I can see the merit of having fewer people to fight." 

Hermione looked at him like he had grown a second head. "That's very logical." He would have been offended by the surprise in her tone if he hadn't just been thinking about what an idiot he had been at fifteen. 

Harry shrugged. "Best defense is a strong offense, or something." 

Ron nodded. "How would we get someone there, though?" 

Harry looked at Felicity point blank, and Hermione—bless her—noticed and widened her eyes. 

"Flick," she said, "Do you know which house you'll be in?" 

Felicity smirked, not even hiding that she had been waiting for the question. "Could be Slytherin," she said coyly. 

"Are you sure you'd be okay there?" Harry asked genuinely. He knew she would have Malfoy (and Nott, maybe? They were friends as unspeakables, but he didn’t know when that had started), but it was one thing to be around Malfoy outside of school and another to be in Slytherin. He thought she was mental for it. 

Felicity shrugged. 

"I actually think Flick would do well in Slytherin as long as she's careful," Hermione said thoughtfully. Ron looked like now it was Hermione that had grown a second head. 

"Clever and secretive, with a smirk Malfoy would approve of? Should do," Harry said with a grin that Felicity returned. 

"So we're making a spy then?" Ron asked, unconvinced. 

"I can do occlumency, I know a lot about pureblood culture, and I'm a fair hand in defensive magic if the need arises." Felicity ticked off her qualifications on her fingers. 

"How did you learn about pureblood culture?" Hermione asked curiously. 

"Purebloods," Felicity answered cryptically. The Malfoys, Harry thought. 

"Well you've certainly got the Slytherin non-answer down," he said. 

Felicity gave a cheeky little bow from where she sat on the floor. 

"So we have a spy--" Harry started. 

"And someone who will try to sway those who are currently neutral or leaning dark." 

"Right. A spy and someone working on the Slytherins. The other thing I want to talk about is how we kill Voldemort." 

Hermione and Ron leaned in. "Did you learn something else from Dumbledore?" 

"Oh, er, yeah." 

Felicity leaned back on her hands and watched him try to lie with amusement. She was absolutely right that he was pants at it. But it wasn't a total lie. Their first time around, Dumbledore had told him about the horcruxes. Just...later. He started by finally telling them about the prophecy and what it said. They gasped at all the right times and asked all the right questions. Then came what he really wanted to talk about. 

"So. There's a dark magic called horcruxes." 

Felicity pursed her lips, playing her part in a way that Harry was beginning to be very jealous of. "I've read about those," she said slowly. "But I can't remember where. They're really dark magic, Harry." 

"You know an awful lot about dark magic," Ron said. 

Felicity only shrugged. "Know thy enemy and all that. Coming in handy now, though, isn't it?" 

Ron's ears reddened and he nodded. 

"What's a horcrux, then?" Hermione asked, getting them back on task. 

Harry grimaced. "It's an object with a piece of a person's soul in it. Voldemort literally tore his soul into pieces and until those are all destroyed he can just keep coming back like he's been doing. It's why he didn't really die when his killing curse rebounded off me as a baby." 

"Pieces, plural?" Felicity asked, eyes narrow. Merlin but she was a good actress. 

"Dumbledore reckons there are at least five. The diary from second year was one." 

That was actual news to Felicity, who perked up at the new information. "A diary?" 

"It possessed my sister," Ron said with his own grimace at the old memory. 

"Opened the chamber of secrets and woke up a basilisk. The basilisk’s body is still down there," Hermione added. 

"A basilisk!" Felicity's eyes gleamed. "I'd love to see that. Isn't it supposed to be the most venomous snake?" 

Harry's eyes lit up. "We can use basilisk venom to destroy horcruxes!" He exclaimed, then quickly added, "Dumbledore said it was one of the few ways." 

Why hadn't he thought about it before now? (He knew it was because his mind was full of his loved ones being alive and worry on keeping them alive and frustration that it might all be a fluke from the first time, but he was still mad at himself for not seeing it.) It was a good thing he had Felicity there to remind him, he supposed. Even if she was a bit difficult and her presence continued to remind him of how he had royally fucked up and dragged her into the past. Hard to argue with his godfather being alive, though.

"So we grab some fangs for later?" Felicity asked, or rather suggested based on the excited look in her eyes. 

"Sounds like we have the tools. We just need to find the horcruxes." Hermione looked determined. 

"We can't tell anyone about them, though. The more people who know, the more likely it is to reach back to Voldemort and then what if he makes another or something? This stays between us." Harry looked at each of them in turn. Ron and Hermione looked determinedly back at him and nodded. Felicity gave her own little nod with a smirk. 

~~

Even after all these years, Harry still stayed up until midnight to wish himself a happy birthday. Call it sappy, but it always reminded him of how far he had come. Hermione said it was sweet. Ron said that if it worked, it worked and didn’t question it. Ginny thought it was daft but still made sure there was a single cupcake sitting out for him at midnight in the kitchen every year when they lived together.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispered to himself as he sat up in bed with his head resting on the headboard. He let himself smile, thinking about the fact that his godfather was alive, one floor up, and that he would get to continue to see him every day. That he would wake up and Sirius would be in the kitchen, quipping with Remus or arguing with Molly or huffing angrily at the Prophet. He laid back and stared at the ceiling, reciting the names of the people who were still alive rather than the list of the dead he used to recite after the war. The lists were nearly identical.

Harry didn’t think he would be able to go to sleep, so he was surprised to wake up to his bedroom door slamming open and an overenthusiastic godfather jumping on his bed.

“Harry!” the man exclaimed, grinning widely (at least Harry thought he was grinning. It was hard to tell without his glasses on).

Harry groaned, which was better than his immediate idea of shooting off a hex at whoever was waking him up (and thankfully he had grown out of his reflex of shooting a hex at anyone who startled him—thanks war trauma).

“Happy Birthday!” Sirius yelled, in lieu of leaving Harry to sleep in on his own birthday. “Come on, sleepyhead. We have pancakes and gifts downstairs waiting for you. You don’t want to keep your adoring fans waiting.”

The only present Harry really needed was the one jumping on his bed. Sirius was alive, and that meant that this birthday was a hell of a lot better than previous years. However, his stomach gave a resounding growl as Sirius was leaving the room. The man laughed, and Harry groaned again but managed to drag himself out of bed and into some sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.

He shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen. And then Harry realized his mistake in looking like a homeless youth when he was met with not only Sirius, but also Remus, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. Even so, he couldn’t hold back the grin at seeing so many people he cared about in the same room. There were, indeed, pancakes in the middle of the table, plus a sizable pile of presents in various colored papers and bags.

“Happy birthday, Harry dear!” Molly said, pulling him into a hug.

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” he chuckled into her shoulder.

There were hugs all around, then, before Sirius demanded everyone take a seat so that he and Remus could pass out pancakes. It was all very domestic and celebratory, despite the war raging outside.

The gifts were the same as last time, except for the heavily warded notebook from Felicity with the words “PLANS FOR WORLD DOMINATION” in big block letters on the front and the records and record player from Sirius. He tucked the notebook sheepishly into his trunk, because enough people thought he would be the next dark lord at this point in the timeline (even if it was a very funny and honestly thoughtful gift), but they spent the rest of the day listening to records and playing games together. Every once in a while, Sirius would turn to Remus and ask if he remembered the first time they heard so-and-so song, and Remus would get a sappy look on his face, and Harry would get to hear stories he had never heard before of his parents and godfather and…whatever Remus was to him (family, but without a proper title).

Bill, Fleur, Arthur, Tonks, and Felicity were able to join for dinner, once they were done with their work for the day (or whatever it was that Felicity did with the Malfoys). Florean Fortescue had been dragged out of his ice cream shop, according to Bill. Remus brought up Karkaroff’s death and an increase in Dark Mark appearances. Mr. Weasley mentioned the disappearance of Ollivander (who Harry knew was tucked in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor already). And just like that, the war was back in the house.

At least there was cake.

~~

August 1996

Last time, when Harry had gone to Diagon Alley to gather his supplies for his sixth year, he had ended up trailing Malfoy around Knockturn and managed to make his best friends think he was starting to go barmy. He wasn’t interested in all of that, this time. This time, he wasn’t even sure if they were going on the same day or not, since it felt like so much had already changed, and Felicity had said that the more that changed the less they would be able to predict. Harry was glad that he was used to flying by the seat of his pants, so to speak.

The Leaky Cauldron was empty as they walked through it, and Diagon certainly looked war-ravaged already. Security advice pamphlets and posters depicting deatheaters plastered the outer walls of shops. Places were boarded up, sketchy street stalls lined the street selling protection amulets and shield charms, and the streets were far sparser than they would be in another decade or so after the community had ample time to heal from the war. Those who braved the area wore harried anxious looks, and everyone stayed together in their own tightly knit groups. No one was alone, and no one made eye contact.

Hagrid took Harry, Ron, and Hermione to Madame Malkins to get new robes while Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley went to get everyone’s books. At the sound of Malfoy’s voice complaining to his mother about not being allowed to shop on his own, Harry craned his neck to see if Felicity would be there as well. She wasn’t, which shouldn’t have been much of a surprise since she told him she was training with Severus on the weekends.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed when he noticed the golden trio arrive. “If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” Madam Malkin said. “And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop either!” she added hastily as soon as she saw Ron’s drawn wand.

Hermione, who was standing behind Harry and Ron, whispered, “No, don’t, honestly, it’s not worth it.”

Harry hadn’t even thought to draw his own, because honestly, it was Malfoy. The sneering blond reminded him a bit of a cornered animal in this moment, his eyes a little feral, and if there was one thing he had learned about angry animals it was that they were more afraid of you than you were of them, and lashed out because of that fear. So Harry decided not to add to Malfoy’s fear, and internally patted himself on the back for being so mature.

“Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,” Malfoy sneered.

Harry held up his hands placatingly. “We’re just here to get robes, right?” He looked pointedly at Ron, who looked a bit confused and a bit betrayed. Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again, lowering his wand. “See?”

It was good to know that some of his auror training had stuck with him. Deescalating situations would have been a useful skill to have his entire life, but he was getting to use it now, years before he would have otherwise. And Malfoy didn’t seem to know what to do with that, because he wasn’t used to Harry being nice. Before, they would have kept fighting until Malfoy refused to give them up as Bellatrix tried to get him to confirm that they had all caught the golden trio. It was a turning point in the first go-around, but Harry was hoping he could turn things around a bit sooner this time. Clearly Felicity hadn’t had enough time to make the boy a good person yet, and probably hadn’t mentioned that she was a muggleborn, but things took time, and Harry had learned to be patient (well, more patient than he used to be, at least).

Hermione was looking at Harry with a sort of silent pride from behind him, and he shot her a smile. Because she didn’t want them to fight, even if Malfoy had called her a mudblood. Because Hermione was clever and knew that it would only make it worse. It took Harry almost a decade to learn the same lesson, and, ironically, it was Malfoy that would teach him one day.

“Why don’t we wait over here for Malfoy to finish and then we can have our turn?” Harry suggested, hands still out and open in front of him.

“There are chairs around the corner you can wait in,” Madame Malkin said, looking relieved.

The chairs were easy to find, in a little waiting area near some dressing rooms, and the three took their seats. “What was that all about?” Ron whispered angrily. “We can’t just let Malfoy talk like that!”

“It would cause far more trouble than it’s worth to make a scene,” Hermione whispered back. “Besides, it’s only a word, and it only has power if I let it have power.”

Harry felt a warm pride towards his best friend, who was mature and sensible even though he knew the word still hurt her. “He’s just being a twat. Malfoy knows you’re the brightest witch of our age and it just pisses him off.”

Hermione gave a shy smile. “Thanks, Harry.”

Ron looked confused, but he nodded slowly seeing that Hermione seemed pleased with the lack of altercation and the words Harry had spoken. “Yeah,” he added, “He’s probably just jealous of you and trying to make you feel as bad as he does.”

It was, actually, wildly close to the truth. Malfoy apologized profusely to Hermione after the war, and admitted that he was such a twat the whole time because he couldn’t keep up with her and she broke all the rules he had been told his whole life. But he respected her. Even now, Harry suspected that respect was there (even if it was covered up with vitriol and confusion and fear).

Hermione grabbed both their arms and squeezed them, like a mini hug, and kept smiling even after Malfoy and his mum (who was incredibly confused when Harry nodded at her in acknowledgement) left the store.

Their own fittings and adjustments were quick, and Madame Malkin seemed thankful that they had managed to not make a scene.

Harry ended up with more from Weasley Wizard Wheezes this time around, namely instant darkness powder, extra decoy detonators, and a few of the shield cloaks that were definitely going to friends for Christmas. Always good to have some extra equipment.

The rest of the day was unexceptional. No tailing Malfoy to Borgin and Burke’s. No beginning of an obsession (years later, he could admit that it was a pretty ridiculous obsession he had with Malfoy this year, even if he was right the whole time).

Ron had been a bit sullen at the lack of a fight with Malfoy, and kept shooting Harry and Hermione furtive glances, but they pretended not to notice and Ron stopped eventually and things seemed right back to normal.

~~

“Okay, so the plan is for me to show up at a different time tomorrow and sit with the snakes on the train,” Felicity said.

“Are you sure they’ll let you?” Ron asked. He had stopped being suspicious of Felicity (or decided it wasn’t worth it, at the very least) at every turn and instead was asking out of concern.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” She grinned and Harry was, again, glad that she was on their side. He knew that the scene had already been set, and that Malfoy and Nott would be waiting for her at the station after becoming friends with them (just like the first time, according to her) over the summer.

“You should have seen how happy Theo was when I told him I had found a way to get into Hogwarts,” Felicity said, smiling brightly (it was such a genuine smile from the secretive witch that Harry was sure he was hallucinating it at first). “Draco refused to show it, but I could tell he was thrilled as well. Stupid snakes and their ideas that emotions are a weakness.”

“Do you really think you can pull Malfoy to our side with Voldemort living in his house?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I’m going to get him to stay at Hogwarts over all the breaks while I find a way to keep him and Narcissa safe. If he knows she’s okay, he’ll jump ship. She’s the only reason he’s still there, anyway.”

“And if she’s not fine, she can come find us,” Harry offered.

“And I apologize in advance for any coldness or pretending I don’t know you so that I can convince the snakes that I’m trustworthy. I’ll do my best to not be an outright asshole.”

Ron and Harry chuckled at that, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Chapter Text

September 1996

Flick left Grimmauld early, her shoulder bag packed with everything she would need for the year and then some. She had never been on the Hogwarts Express, and was excited despite the small part of her that said she was almost thirty and shouldn’t be so excited about childish things. A much larger part of her reminded her that she was sixteen and was going to have to grow up again anyway so she may as well let herself be sixteen and enjoy it.

The summer had been more pleasant than the first time around. She knew how not to piss off Bella as much, and when to hide Draco from the action happening in the rest of the house. Overall it left her with much less spell damage and a brighter outlook on the future. The best part was that if Bella recognized her from the Department of Mysteries, she hadn’t said anything. Which meant she hadn’t recognized her.

Draco met her right inside the archway onto the platform. “I can’t believe you actually came,” he said quietly.

She did a little twirl and smirked. “And yet here I am. In the flesh. When’s Theo meeting us?”

He chuckled at her theatrics. “He’s already on the train. Grabbing us a good compartment.”

Flick hummed and fell into step with Draco as he led them through the crowd that was beginning to form and up to the train. “I guess we got here early. Doesn’t seem very crowded yet.”

“Theo was too excited to get here later like we normally would,” the blond said with a slight pink tinge on his cheeks.

“Suuure,” she teased, poking him in the arm. “I’m sure it was juuust Theo.”

“Oi, quit with your violence, woman!”

Flick laughed. Despite everything, this was still her Draco. Their easy banter never changed, and it was a comfort to know that she had gained his trust and friendship back. Theo was indeed waiting for them in an otherwise empty compartment. He jumped up as soon as she and Draco entered and wrapped her in a hug.

“It’s only been like a week, damn,” she muttered into his armpit.

“We weren’t sure you would actually come,” Theo said into her hair.

“You two are ridiculous. You know that? Of course I was going to be here. I said I would be, didn’t I?”

“How did you get Dumbledore to let you in?” Draco asked.

“Severus,” she answered with a shrug, pushing a pouting Theo away gently and sitting next to a window. “Apparently it wasn’t a difficult ask.”

“Did you hear? Severus is going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead of potions this year!” Draco said excitedly. “He’s always wanted to teach it, and he finally gets to.” Draco’s love for his godfather was always so precious in Flick’s eyes.

“I’m sure he’ll be fabulous in the role. He seems to know a lot about dark arts,” Flick said. She was both joking and also serious.

“You’re going to get sorted into Slytherin, right?” Theo asked nervously.

“Afraid you won’t be allowed to be my friend anymore if I’m not?” Flick asked teasingly, but could see the concern on both her friends’ faces and added, “Slytherin does seem to be the best fit for me, though, doesn’t it?”

“I think you’d fit right in,” Theo said.

“You’ll get to meet a few of the others on the train, too. Vince and Greg usually sit with us, and Blaise and Pansy said they would be by as well.”

“Can’t wait.” Pansy was in love with Draco at this point in their lives, something that adult Draco and Pansy thought was hilarious and also entirely too embarrassing to talk about. After the war, Blaise and Flick had made fast friends with their similar sense of humor and interest in secrets. She was rather hoping that Blaise would be her way in with talking about neutrality or going against Voldemort among the sixth years. He was far more open-minded than he let on, and secret sharing could get her into his favor quickly. Vince was dead where Flick was from, and she was going to have to work to not see a charred corpse when he walked into the train compartment. Greg was a very sweet but very unintelligent man. Overall, Flick was certain she would be able to fit in with them.

Right before the train left, the other Slytherins arrived one after the other. Once they were all in and the train started moving, Blaise cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Flick.

“This is Felicity Burke. She’s transferring into our class,” Draco explained, gesturing across the compartment at her. “Mother has had her over for tea this summer on multiple occasions, and Theo and I have had to pleasure of getting to know her.”

Theo gave a small smile from beside Flick.

“You can all call me Flick, if you like.”

“These are the other Slytherins we were telling you about earlier. This is Pansy, Blaise, Greg, and Vince.” Draco pointed to each in turn, and they nodded politely like good little purebloods. Flick nodded back (Narcissa would have been furious if she had forgotten any of her training, even if she hadn’t technically had the training yet).

“Do you think you’ll be in Slytherin, then?” Pansy asked, eyeing her up and down.

Flick shrugged. “Probably. I can’t really see myself in the other houses after spending so much time with these two.”

The rest of the ride was uneventful. At some point during the train ride, Blaise headed to something called a ‘slug club’ meeting, which sounded unappealing to Flick but which seemed to make Draco very jealous. Pansy cooed at him until the boys came back while Flick and Theo read and Vince and Greg played games. When they got out of the train, the whole group of snakes guided her to the carriages, which were pulled by thestrals. Draco’s eyes went wide briefly, and Flick put a hand on his shoulder. It must have been the first time he had properly seen them.

“I can see them too,” she whispered, ushering him into the cab before he had to come up with a reply. 

~~

“Before we get to the first years tonight, we have a transfer student from Ilvermorny joining us in her sixth year—” Flick almost snorted. She hadn’t been at Ilvermorny for years at this point, even in the first timeline. She ran away at fifteen and never finished her studies. “—who will be sorted first. So please, Burke, Felicity!”

Flick walked up to the small stool made for firsties and sat on it, placing the old pointed hat onto her head.

Okay, hat, I’d like to be in Slytherin, please, she thought. Harry said the hat was a sort of legilimens and that you could converse with it. She felt ridiculous, but Harry was a terrible liar so she took it as truth.

Slytherin would certainly fit. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with Ravenclaw? An unspeakable tends to have a thirst for knowledge, a foreign voice echoed back in her head.

Flick grinned slightly, despite being stared at by hundreds of people. I have something I need to do. An ambitious plan, if you will. And I need to be in Slytherin for it to work. Plus, as you said, it would fit.

The hat didn’t say anything back, and Flick was pleased with how short her talk with it was when it yelled out loud “SLYTHERIN!”

Draco whistled and the other Slytherins clapped, those who hadn’t met her yet following Draco’s lead. “Knew you’d be here,” he said, scooting over to make room for her next to him and Theo. Pansy sat on his other side and gave her a small frown. It wouldn’t do to have the girl jealous of her, but they would be roommates so she would have plenty of time to fix that misunderstanding.

“You and Theo were nervous, don’t lie,” she teased. “But I’m glad I’m here,” she said genuinely.

From her seat, she could see the Gryffindors across the hall. Harry caught her eyes and nodded while everyone else seemed to be focused on the first years getting sorted. She smiled. A well-laid plan felt good when it started to fall into place.

“Does Ilvermorny do OWLs?” Daphne Greengrass—one of Flick’s roommates--asked during dinner. Ilvermorny did do something akin to OWLs, not that Flick had ever taken them.

“It’s not quite the same. And there are some different classes overall. But I think I’ll be in Potions, Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, and Arithmancy.”

“No runes?” Draco asked, knowing she used them on occasion during the summer for special spells.

“Thought about it, but I think I’ll have my hands full already without it, if I’m being honest.” She thought about dropping one of the other classes, even, but it would be good to have more classes so she could interact with her housemates more. She had become an unspeakable without NEWTs at all in the first timeline, so she wasn’t too worried.

~~

Harry (10:31pm): Congratulations on getting into the snake pit.

Felicity (10:34pm): A true Odyssey getting here.

Harry (10:36pm): Any trouble?

Felicity (10:42pm): Not unless you count having to convince Pansy that I’m not a threat to her crush on Draco. A conversation I will hold over her head for the rest of her life.

Harry (10:44pm): You truly are a Slytherin, aren’t you?

Felicity (10:47pm): Hat tried to tempt me with Ravenclaw but in the end agreed Slytherin was the best fit.

Harry (10:49pm): Hat actually tried to convince me to be in Slytherin back in first year.

Felicity (10:52pm): You can’t see it but I’m laughing right now picturing you in Slytherin.

Felicity (10:53pm): Can’t argue that green is your color, though.

Harry (10:56pm): You are not the first person to laugh when I told them that. Malfoy wouldn’t shut up about it. Said I would have gotten eaten alive.

Felicity (11:00pm): You absolutely would be eaten alive. Charisma can only get you so far in a snake pit full of secrets and dark wizards.

Harry (11:03pm): Are you calling me charismatic?

Felicity (11:06pm): I would never deign to pretend you weren’t, Potter.

Harry (11:07pm): I’m going to remember you said that next time you lot try to hex me in the halls.

Felicity (11:08pm): I don’t try to hex people. I succeed at hexing people. But anyway, even Draco knows your charismatic. Drives him nuts.

Harry (11:11:pm): God I wish I could hold that over his head right away. It’s barmy but I miss future Malfoy.

Felicity (11:14pm): Me too. He’ll show up, though. Hopefully much sooner than last time.

~~

“You will now divide into pairs,” Severus said to the class. “One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on.”

Flick grinned at Draco who was standing next to her, and he rolled his eyes. “Not fair. You already do nonverbal spells.”

“I’ll block first, then. You can practice nonverbal jinxes. The key is intention.”

Draco frowned, then nodded. They had practiced a bit over the summer, but nonverbal magic was one of those big obstacles in a wixen’s education.

A few minutes later, he had cast a successful jelly-leg jinx and a stupefy, but Flick had a million shield spells to choose from. For the purpose of a sixth year class, she stuck to protegos. Draco’s gaze drifted across the room and he sniggered. “Weasley looks like he’s constipated,” he said conspiratorially.

Flick turned in time to watch Severus call Ron pathetic before taking his place and casting what looked like a stupefy directly at Harry. Harry Potter, head auror, the idiot he is, seemed to forget they were doing nonverbal spells (and really, how could he forget?) and yelled “Protego!”

The shield was strong enough to knock Severus off balance. The man was scowling, while Harry looked sheepish.

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.” Several people gasped. Draco looked furious that Harry would dare to talk back to his beloved godfather. Flick smirked as Severus’s eyes flitted about the room surveying the damage.

“Miss Burke,” he called. Her smirk dropped as she approached with a neutral expression. It was kind of the sour man to pretend he hadn’t caught her amusement.

“Yes, sir?” And if she spun a little extra on the word ‘sir,’ no one said anything.

“Why don’t you pair with Potter. Weasley can pair with Mr. Malfoy.” Ron looked slightly queasy, but Draco looked delighted at the opportunity to jinx him.

“Yes, sir!” she held back a mock salute, assuming it would be bad form in class. Instead, she turned to Harry, who looked amused. “Having trouble with your nonverbal spells, Potter?” she teased quietly as they took their spots.

“New to ‘em, aren’t I?” he replied cheekily.

Flick hummed. “Do you want to jinx or shield first, or shall we have a mini duel?”

“Watch out, Burke. Don’t want to stand out too much, do you?”

“Fair. I’ll jinx first, then. Nothing dangerous, obviously.”

She threw a few stupefy spells, as well as a jelly leg jinx and a tickling jinx. Harry let about seventy percent of them through, but blocked the others. If one was paying attention, they might notice he wasn’t throwing up shields on purpose. Each time he fell, Flick would wordlessly cancel the spell and help him up from the ground with a smirk. When they switched, she did the same thing, but let in only about sixty percent of the spells. She was competitive enough that she had to do just a little better than Harry. He seemed to find this just as amusing, though. It was more difficult than expected to try to not excel for once. At least once, she accidentally cast a counter jinx instead of just blocking, which Harry dove out of the way of and it hit the wall, cracking off a small piece of the stone. Severus gave Flick ten points for it, though. There were definite perks to being in Slytherin in Severus’s class. Helped that he was also her spy mentor (or whatever) and knew that she was already proficient in nonverbal spells. Flick wondered if he noticed that Harry was doing the same thing she was, or if his disdain for the boy—disdain she couldn’t quite understand—colored his judgement of all Harry’s actions.

Potions was that afternoon. Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Flick found themselves waiting outside the dungeon door. “Didn’t realize the golden trio would be here,” Blaise mumbled quietly. They were all close together along the wall.

“Just my luck having to see Potter’s face in potions again,” Draco pouted.

Flick poked his arm and laughed. “You think about Harry Potter far more than is healthy, Draco,” she teased.

“Oh fuck off.”

Flick shrugged, watching Ernie Macmillan hold out his hand to shake Harry’s at the Gryffindors approached. “At least things are interesting with them around. Who knows, maybe when we’re all adults, you’ll find you don’t hate them so much.”

Draco looked at her like she was mad. Which was fair. She sounded like she was mad. Blaise, however, gave her a calculating look that she had grown to know from him in her old timeline. He thought she had more to say and wanted to know what it was. Flick only shrugged again and pushed herself off the wall just as Slughorn opened the door.

They all took their seats, and Flick looked into the cauldrons bubbling away near the center of the room. She couldn’t see into them, and was about to stand to get a better view, but was distracted as Slughorn directed Harry and Ron to the cupboard to get books and scales.

“Can’t believe those idiots didn’t get their supplies,” Draco said under his breath.

“I was mostly guessing on what I’d be taking. Glad I grabbed a potions book,” Flick whispered back with a grin. “Would you have made fun of me if I hadn’t?”

“Absolutely I would have,” Draco grinned back.

“At least he’s consistent,” Blaise said, amused.

“I’ve prepared a few potions for you to look at. Just out if interest, you know. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

The cauldron nearest the group of Slytherins was full of a clear liquid. Harry and Hermione both raised their hands. “Yes, Harry m’boy!”

“It’s Veritaserum. Forces the drinker to tell the truth,” he said. It was good to see that some of that auror training had stuck. There was a slight disdain in his tone, though, suggesting a dislike for the potion. Interesting, considering how much the department of magical law enforcement loved to shove the stuff down your throat.

“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn happily. Harry looked a bit embarrassed—perhaps he wasn’t supposed to know that one. “Now, this one here is pretty well known. Who can--?”

Hermione’s hand was fastest this time. “It’s Polyjuice potion, sir,” she said.

“Excellent, excellent! Now this one here—”

Hermione’s hand punched the air again, and she didn’t even give him the chance to call on her before saying, “It’s Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world.”

The smell could have easily told anyone what it was. It was supposed to smell like what or who you were attracted to in some way shape or form. It didn’t mean you loved them, as many thought. Despite being called a love potion, it didn’t create love. Flick’s amortentia changed throughout her life, as it should. Today, it smelled like fresh cut grass, rain, and old books. The fresh cut grass was new. Harry frowned from across the room as he looked at the potion, as though it had personally offended him. She could think of a handful of reasons why the famous Chosen One (and an auror) would dislike amortentia on principle.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room—oh yes,” Slughorn said, nodding gravely at Draco and Theo who were smirking skeptically. “And now, it is time for us to start work. I think twenty points to Gryffindor for those answers should do.”

“Sir, what about the liquid luck?” Flick asked, pointing to a small black cauldron on Slughorns desk that looked like molten gold. She had only seen it a few times before, in poisonings and batches gone awry during the war the first time around, but it had such a distinct look to it that it couldn’t be anything else. 

“Oho! I am surprised you know about Felix Felicis, Miss…”

“Burke, sir.”

Slughorn looked thoughtful. “From the English Burkes?”

“I’m American, sir.” Draco sniggered. It was certainly better than telling everyone she was muggleborn. It wasn’t time for that yet.

“Right, right, that must be it. Anyway, ten points to Slytherin for being able to identify this tricky little potion. Disastrous to get wrong, however if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off.”

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” asked a Ravenclaw.

“Too much of a good thing,” Flick said, frowning at the cauldron. “If you take too much it’s highly toxic.”

“Quite right, quite right! But taken sparingly, and very occasionally…” Slughorn said, gazing dreamily into the distance. “and that,” he said, “is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson.”

Flick raised her eyebrows at that. Seemed like a wild prize to give out. Once they were given their assignment to make Draught of Living Death (a tricky light pink potion that put someone into a coma), everyone in class frantically began adding weights to their scales in complete silence.

Flick knew healing potions. She was good at those. And thankfully, that meant that with instructions she could usually do pretty well with other potions as well. It was like cooking, really. And just like cooking, the recipe wasn’t always perfect. With soups, she would add more garlic and seasonings. With curries, they needed stirring more frequently than expected. With salads, there was a good way to toss them. With potions, it was the same. And the longer you brewed potions for in your life, the better you got at knowing when it needed something a little different.

The first half of the potion was easy enough based on the instructions, until she got to the sopophorous beans, which said they needed to be cut. But cutting beans was a drag, so she quickly crushed hers with the flat part of her palm first like she would a garlic clove. It smashed in much the same way, except she accidentally ended up with sticky juice on her hand. Flick sighed but continued on.

“What are you doing?” Blaise asked from beside her, watching her manhandle her ingredients.

“Brewing a potion,” she said with a grin.

“Cheeky witch,” he smirked, eyeing her movements as she did the same with a second bean. “Either you know what you’re doing, or you’re barmy.”

“Guess you’ll find out at the end of class,” she said slyly, stirring in the two beans—twice as many as the recipe called for. But the second one would be helpful in getting the potion stabilized into its final color, assuming she could get it there. At the moment, it was lilac. Which was better than the deep purple or black currant colors of the cauldrons around her.

“You would be good at potions too,” Draco pouted. “What have you done, then?”

“I’ll tell you once the competition is over.”

“Asshole.”

“Mooch.”

The book said to turn counterclockwise. But once you were in potions this tricky, they tended to actually need a clockwise turn every once in a while. On the other hand, Flick didn’t want to be the top of the class. With her other small changes, even stirring only one direction would likely turn the concoction slightly pink. And it did. At the end of the class, hers was a sort of dusty pink rather than a pale pink. Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. His eyes perked up when he saw Flick’s, and she groaned inwardly thinking she might have accidentally made the best potion until he meandered over to the Gryffindors and smiled widely at Harry.

“The clear winner!” he cried to the dungeon. “Excellent, excellent Harry!”

Draco looked down at his own lilac potion and scowled. “Fucking Potter,” he mumbled.

“I added a second sopophorous bean, and crushed them before chopping,” Flick whispered into his ear.

He glared at her. “You could have told me that before.”

Flick shrugged. “Mine still wasn’t as good as Potter’s, was it?”

Draco grumbled but his frustration was directed to his book rather than to her. “Why do they even have the instructions if they don’t work?”

“Next time I’m just following you,” Blaise chuckled to Flick as they left.

~~

Felicity (8:56pm): Who knew Harry Potter was such a potions master?

Harry (9:15pm): Won the first time around, too. Originally I did it solely with the help of Severus Snape’s sixth year potions book. Nice to know this time I just knew the recipes. Taking classes more than once makes them really easy.

Felicity (9:34pm): What will you do with the liquid luck?

Harry (9:36pm): Honestly, no idea. I used it the first time to get a memory from Slughorn about Horcruxes. But I don’t need that this time, do I?

Felicity (9:38pm): Might need to do it again, though. To keep up appearances and all that.

Harry (9:43pm): Seems like a waste of good liquid luck.

Felicity (9:46pm): Just pretend to use it, then, and do all the things you did before. Then you can save it for a rainy day.

Harry (9:49pm): I knew there was a reason to keep you around, Burke.

Felicity (9:54pm): And here I thought you kept me around for my personality and dashing good looks.

Harry (10:07pm): Just that brain of yours, I’m afraid.

Felicity (10:15pm): Alas.

Chapter Text

September 1996

Harry (7:00am): Meet us outside Gryffindor tower tonight at half past ten?

Felicity (7:06am): Are we going on an adventure?

Harry (7:07am): Chamber of Secrets errand and then horcrux destruction mission.

Felicity (7:09am): Hell yeah.

~~

The first month of school had passed quickly, but Harry knew that they needed to start destroying horcruxes as soon as possible. Being in the actual school, the diadem was an easy option.

Harry fidgeted on his way down to breakfast, trailing after a bickering Ron and Hermione. Part of him thought it would be best to go with only Felicity, but a larger part of him knew that this was something they should all be doing together. Like the first time. But also with Felicity, obviously.

Despite their bickering, Hermione, at least, had the wherewithal to notice that Harry had something on his mind. “Come out with it, then,” she said as they sat down for breakfast on the far end of the Gryffindor table, away from others.

“I think I know where to find some treasure,” Harry said slowly, grabbing a piece of toast and lathering it quickly with orange marmalade. “But we’ll need a way to destroy it first.”

Hermione seemed to immediately understand and nodded. Ron looked briefly confused before dawning hit his features. “What’s the plan, then?” he asked excitedly through half-chewed food.

“Felicity will meet us outside Gryffindor tower at 10:30. We go to the chamber, grab some fangs, then head to the room of requirement.” He paused, trying to decide whether to lie now or wait until Felicity arrived and let her do it much better. “Can’t say more than that right now,” he landed on, looking around suspiciously to try to drive home how unable he was to talk about it.

Hermione gave him a shrewd look but nodded just the same. Merlin, but Felicity was right about Hermione catching everything, wasn’t she? His eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table, where Felicity was throwing toast at Malfoy as Parkinson hung on her arm pouting. He wasn’t even going to try to figure out what was going on there. As though she could feel his eyes, Felicity looked over briefly and smirked before going back to whatever ridiculousness was happening. Harry was honestly happy to see that she was getting to have a fun time as a student. The first time around it sounded like she had been almost as miserable than Harry was, not that it was a competition.

“What’re you grinning about?” Ron asked, looking over his shoulder to see if he could see what Harry was seeing, and wrinkling up his face when he couldn’t.

“Nothing,” Harry said too quickly, wiping the grin he didn’t know he had been sporting off his face. Hermione smirked from next to him.

~~

“Why do you call her Felicity instead of Flick?” Hermione asked as they sat impatiently in the common room waiting for 10:30pm.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we all call her Flick when it’s just us, don’t we? Because she told us that that’s what friends call her. But you still call her Felicity.”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Doesn’t feel right for some reason, I guess.” He wasn’t sure why, but ‘Flick’ felt too…something. He liked the name Felicity. It felt nice on his tongue. And she never corrected him, so he assumed she was fine with it.

In the hallways, of course, she had to be Burke, which felt even stranger than Flick in his mouth, but it was for the greater good, or whatever Dumbledore might call it.

Hermione shrugged and went back to her book, while Ron hadn’t even noticed the conversation as he was working diligently (for once) on a transfiguration essay. Harry wished he could concentrate like that with the night they were about to have ahead of them. He neither looked forward to returning to the Chamber of Secrets nor destroying a horcrux, which tended to fight back somewhat. And he hadn’t been in the Room of Hidden Things since it had burned in fiendfyre, taking Crabbe with it. But Crabbe was alive, he had to remind himself, and the room was still just fine. Malfoy would be going in there periodically to try to fix the old vanishing cabinet this year, if things were still the same as before—and he hoped like hell tonight wasn’t one of those nights but thought maybe even if it were that Felicity would find a way around it.

When they stepped out of the portrait hole at 10:01, Hermione frowned. “Flick isn’t normally late,” she whispered.

Harry looked around and, indeed, Felicity was nowhere to be seen. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. “Homen revelio,” he whispered, and the distinct outline of Felicity Burke leaning against the wall made him grin. “Nice disillusionment.”

Felicity wordlessly cancelled her spell and smirked. “I wasn’t about to be seen in front of the Gryffindor portrait, especially not alone. What would people say?”

“Spooky how good you are at that,” Ron muttered. Hermione was looking between Harry’s face and his wand, and he tried not to think about the fact that he just used advanced magic in front of the witch.

Felicity ignored Ron’s misplaced concern and instead turned to Harry. “I don’t suppose four people fit under that cloak of yours.”

“How did you know about the cloak?” Ron asked.

“Oh everyone knows about the cloak. Even the Slytherins know that Harry Potter has some kind of invisibility cloak.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

“We probably can,” Harry shrugged, ignoring the comment about how well known his cloak was even in school. He hadn’t really thought about whether they would all fit, if he were honest. He was making it all up as he went along at this point (nothing new there). “We’ll just have to go slower and move together. Ron and I will have to slouch. Well, mostly Ron will.” He grinned and Ron’s ears turned red.

Harry pulled the light fabric out of his pocket—it really did pack down nicely—and gathered the other three to him. Felicity hesitated briefly, looking a little out of place, before she took a breath and joined the huddle. It was quite the tight fit with four of them, but with the map they could walk almost normally until someone was coming, at which point they would be able to slow and make themselves as small as possible. Harry took the lead, with Felicity and Hermione right behind him and Ron bringing up the rear.

“This is cozy,” Felicity whispered, and Harry could almost feel the smirk on her face.

He rolled his eyes even though he knew no one could see and led them slowly but surely to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was. They didn’t come across anyone on their way, which was lucky, and so it was a quick walk down.

Once inside the bathroom, Harry pulled off the cloak. “That was easier than expected,” he voiced.

Hermione and Felicity, who had not been to the Chamber of Secrets before, watched Harry expectantly as he approached the broken sink. Ron looked on with a small smile, no doubt loving that he knew something the girls didn’t.

Open, he hissed to the small ornamental snake on the sink. It slithered in a figure eight, and the whole sink began to recede, showing a large slide-like pipe to jump down. He grinned back at his friends, but Hermione and Felicity were looking at each other like they weren’t sure they should have signed up for this adventure.

“Did Salazar Slytherin really slide down a pipe?” Felicity asked, her nose wrinkling at the smell and head tilting to the side.

“He didn’t seem the type, no,” Hermione said quietly, eyeing the entrance like it might bite.

“It’s not so bad,” Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Think it would give us stairs or an elevator or something if you asked?” Felicity asked Harry.

Ron furrowed his brows. “What’s an elevator?”

Why hadn’t he ever thought of that?

Stairs, he hissed, as Hermione delightedly told Ron about elevators in the background. To his utter delight (but also merlin he was kicking himself for not even trying the first time), the sound of shifting started somewhere underneath them, and the pipe turned into a tight spiral staircase. The railing still looked a bit slimy, but it was far better than gooping up their robes. And it was an easy way out—they wouldn’t have to fly out on the brooms he miniaturized and stuck in his pocket. It would have been a little awkward explaining how he knew how to do that tricky bit of shrinking magic, in retrospect.

“Lead the way, oh Chosen One,” Felicity said, gesturing to the entrance with a grin. Harry rolled his eyes—he didn’t think he had ever rolled his eyes as often as he did with her—and started off down the stairs. It was certainly a longer trip down the stairs than it would have been sliding, but a much cleaner trip. There was magic in the stairs, however, as the number of stairs did not equate to the actual distance between the depths of the Chamber and the second-floor bathroom. For that, everyone was glad.

“We’re under the lake,” Ron said proudly, scuffing his feet through some rat bones on the ground. Hermione conjured some jars containing blue flames that Felicity floated alongside them as they crunched their way down on large hallway and into another. It wasn’t nearly as scary as it had been in second year when they were certain to come across a very alive basilisk and were, in fact, going as quickly as possible to save Ginny’s life. If not for the disgusting mass of bones, it would have been almost a pleasant walk.

“This place is massive,” Hermione whispered.

“Why are we whispering?” Harry whispered back, a little louder.

Ron and Felicity snorted, and Hermione scoffed. “Just felt right.”

“The space does elicit a sort of reverence worthy of whispering,” Felicity said diplomatically.

“Exactly,” Hermione replied with a nod. But Harry noticed she was using her usual voice again.

Who decided it was a good idea to let those two be friends? The smartest witch of their age and a woman with a frankly astonishing skillset for stealth and acting should certainly not be friends.

They made quick work of the second door, which opened into a familiar chamber with an unfamiliar foul smell, likely coming from the rotting basilisk corpse in the middle of the room. Despite four years for it to decompose, there were still bits of flesh and scale clinging to the bones, and a veritable puddle of…he was going to pretend it was all blood, but in his heart of hearts he knew that there was just liquified snake underneath the carcass. Ron made a retching sound and pulled his robes up to cover his nose. Hermione and Felicity, being far too clever, cast bubblehead charms on themselves that wrapped around their mouths and noses like surgical masks. Harry was used to the smell of death after years in the auror business, so he chose to go Ron’s route and covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve.

With his other hand, Harry gestured to the pile of bones and slop in the middle of the floor. “Well, there are our fangs,” he said, voice nasally and muffled.

“Lovely,” Felicity stated with a grimace. She shared a quick glance with Hermione and then the two looked expectantly at Harry and Ron.

“What?” Ron asked.

“I don’t suppose either of you have a nice spell to summon the fangs?” Harry asked, knowing very well that if either witch had something that would help that they would have said so already.

“Magical creature parts can’t be summoned,” Hermione stated, as if reading from an invisible textbook. Felicity shrugged.

“Right.” He looked over at Ron, who was looking a bit green but just as equally determined. “You can clean magical creature parts off of us though, right?”

Hermione looked thoughtful, but Felicity nodded more certainly, a small smirk letting him know that she was, in fact, expecting him and Ron to simply traipse through the blood and guts. He sighed and approached the creature, Ron at his side. He felt a veritable warmth for his friend for doing this with him. The pool underneath the creature wasn’t fully liquid, and the moment Harry stepped into—onto?—the sludge he regretted it immediately.

Felicity better make good on those cleaning charms.

The fangs, thankfully, came out easily enough. Harry and Ron each grabbed two and tossed them into a small bag that Hermione had charmed to keep sharp things in. No need to be stabbed by a basilisk fang twice in his life. And the substance of unknown consistency was wiped clean from their shoes and the cuffs of their sleeves easily enough, with a promise of air-freshening charms to get the smell out of everyone’s robes once they got back into the rest of the castle.

“Wait,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin as they made their way up the spiral staircase. “Couldn’t you have vanished the gross bits before we grabbed the fangs?” 

The wide, too-innocent eyes and the slight upturn of Felicity’s lips was enough of answer as she shrugged and said, “Would have been bad if we had accidentally vanished the fangs, too. Didn’t want to chance it.” Harry shot her a glare, but that only seemed to make her laugh.

~~

The walk to the seventh floor corridor was slow because they had to stop twice to stay under the radar of a prefect and then Filch. But as soon as they arrived, Harry pulled the cloak off them and shoved it into his pocket. He then proceeded to walk back and forth in front of the blank piece of wall, thinking about the room of hidden things. At least it wouldn’t be on fire this time.

As the door appeared, Hermione quietly asked, “How did you figure out there was something here?”

Harry opened the door and gestured for them to enter as his mind raced through possible explanations. He made slightly-panicked eye contact with Felicity as she passed, and despite being absolute pants at legilimancy could practically hear her thoughts chastising him for not having a reason by now. She wasn’t wrong, unfortunately, and this should have been something he thought up far sooner.

Except that no amount of preparation would help Harry lie. Harry was a terrible liar and everyone knew it, including himself.

“Er,” he said slowly as he closed the door behind him and turned to face his friends and the seemingly endless piles of junk. “It’s kind of hard to explain?” He nervously scratched the back of his head.

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. It was too much secrecy from his friends, but how could he explain that he knew it was in there because he had been there and seen it before? There just wasn’t a way to talk around that.

“Harry mentioned that horcruxes emit really intense dark magic,” Felicity said, looking around thoughtfully. “What better way to hide that than here? Draco and I stumbled upon this version of the room while we were fucking around.” The lies fell from her lips so easily.

(Although. How had Malfoy found the room in the first place? Either he was told about it or, much to Harry’s delight at the mental image, had actually just been messing around with the room at some point.)

Unfortunately, Hermione knew Felicity could lie, and had instead been watching Harry as the witch spoke. Something in his face must have looked off (his relief, probably), because her eyes were now narrowed. The one thing he didn’t need was a suspicious Hermione Granger. There wasn’t anything she loved more than solving a mystery. Maybe sugar quills. Could Harry distract her with sugar quills? Probably not.

“Come on, then. I still have some homework to finish tonight,” Felicity said, nodding her head deeper into the space.

It was enough. Harry nodded, pretending not to notice Hermione noticing him. He then made a show of looking in each direction before shrugging and starting off in what he knew was, in fact, the correct one.

“Blimey, look at all this junk,” Ron said, turning around and kicking a pile of papers over that might have been history of magic essays from some long-forgotten time. The papers spewed satisfyingly over the floor behind them.

“I imagine there’s more than just junk in here,” Felicity said thoughtfully, grabbing a book off a precariously balanced pile of similar objects. It looked old and musty, like most books the witch carried around, and she tucked it under her armpit casually without missing a beat.

“Do you think there might be important historical artifacts in here?” Hermione mused. She had stuffed her hands in her pockets, as though she were trying to keep herself from temptation.

“Don’t doubt it,” the other witch replied.

Important historical artifacts, indeed. Specifically, one they were about to destroy with basilisk venom that may or may not scream at them as it died (is that what Voldemort’s horcruxes did? Die?)

“How are we supposed to find a single item in this place?” Ron asked. “It’ll take years!”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to placate his friends. “Er, well we’re looking for something emitting really dark magic, aren’t we?”

“I don’t exactly have any dark magic detection charms, Harry.” Hermione narrowed her eyes again at him.

“Between Harry’s connection with the Dark Lord and the fact that he’s been around a horcrux before, might be that he can sense it if he really pays attention. Might be able to narrow it down based on the type of item, too. Doubt the snake man would hide part of his soul in—” she paused as she picked up a dusty orb “—this broken miniature scrying ball, for example.”

Harry couldn’t find it in himself to look into the glass ball, afraid he might see something looking back out at him. In fact, Harry had been trouble looking into any reflective surface that he didn’t already trust, not that he was willing to admit that to anyone.

“Why’d you call him that?” Ron asked, half his attention on the stack of brooms next to him.

“What?” Felicity turned back to them as she placed the item (that didn’t look back at them) back in its pile.

“The Dark Lord. That’s what his cronies call him.”

“And Flick has to fit in with his cronies and live with them,” Hermione chided lightly. Ron, rather than being embarrassed, seem to nod at this like he hadn’t considered it as he continued visually sweeping the room.

“Voldemort likes to show people how much power he has, so he probably used items that would do that,” Harry explained further.

“Like important historical artifacts, you mean?” Felicity asked, smirking.

Hermione gasped. “We aren’t going to have to destroy something like that, are we?”

Three somethings, actually, but Harry couldn’t tell her that nor did he want to based on the indignation on her face.

“Might,” he shrugged. “It’d certainly follow Voldemort’s modus operandi.”

“Diary didn’t, though, did it?” Ron pointed out.

“No, but that was his first one. He was probably just experimenting or something.”

“Maybe it was a diary that had sentimental value,” Hermione suggested.

“Might’ve. Maybe there are other objects like that.” There weren’t anymore, since Dumbledore had already destroyed the ring (his blackened hand stared Harry in the face whenever he saw it, because he could have prevented that, couldn’t he? Why hadn’t he remembered?)

Harry led them in a winding path to the diadem (he still didn’t understand the difference between that and a tiara—why couldn’t they just be called the same thing?) so it wouldn’t look like he was leading them anywhere at all. Even if the man couldn’t verbally lie, he was plenty good at physical evasion. Years of looking like he was doing chores in a home with the Dursleys instead of his homework, he’d guess. That, and this room really was quite large and ridiculous and he was certain he didn’t remember that particular pile of furniture.

Okay. Harry was pretty sure he was leading them on a winding path to the diadem.

“I think we’ve already been this way,” Hermione said slowly.

Harry was slightly less sure.

Felicity hummed. “I can’t make heads nor tails of the place. Any funny feelings from dark artifacts, Harry?”

He shook his head and tried to think about what kind of stuff was around the damn thing. There was a mannequin head or a bust of some kind, he though, because something had been wearing the diadem. So he was looking for that. And was there an armoire? Or maybe a cupboard? That sounded right. Because the diadem had been higher up than he had expected. Felicity had been speaking out of her ass when she said Harry might be able to sense the object, but he had a sinking feeling as they approached an intersection and a buzzing started in his ear and his scar stung that she might have been right.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, staring at him with concern.

He lowered his hand from his forehead and pointed up ahead. “It’s that way, I think.”

Now there were three pairs of concerned eyes on him, which really wasn’t fair when he was finding them a bloody horcrux. It was far more unnerving than having two pairs, somehow.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, walking into the noise and the discomfort with a grimace. His steps grew quicker as he decided that, actually, the discomfort was awful and he was ready to get it all over with already. It had really been the fiendfyre that killed this particular horcrux last time, so he wasn’t entirely certain what would happen or if it would try to fight back in a larger way. Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

The wardrobe with the stone bust on top sporting an ugly wig and a slightly-too-sparkly diadem made him stop and point. “I’ll grab it. But watch out because it might try to fight back.”

“What?” Ron asked, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“Well the diary did, didn’t it?”

“The diary had a big bloody snake.”

“I, er, just don’t want to be surprised if it’s not as easy as we want it to be.”

“Ah yes, because finding basilisk fangs, a room of hidden things, and the correct object in that room was a walk in the park,” Felicity said wryly.

Hermione stepped slightly behind Felicity and opened the sharps-proof pouch. Harry was simply not going to question where she got the dragonhide glove as she reached in a gloved hand and pulled out a fang, nodding at Harry.

He took one look at the pile and realized there was probably an easier way to do this than to just scramble up the side. Looking at Felicity, he asked, “We can’t summon horcruxes, but if we summon that bust do you think the horcrux diadem will come with it?”

“What’s a diadem?” Ron asked.

Felicity smirked. “Sounds like a clever plan worth trying.” With a short wave of her wand, the stone came zooming towards her still wearing the diadem. She let out a soft “oomph” as the stone hit her bodily, but held onto it okay and didn’t fall.

“A diadem is kind of like a tiara,” Hermione explained. “Are we sure that’s it, then?”

Harry looked resolutely at the object now staring Felicity in the face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I’m just going to…” Felicity set the bust on the ground with some difficulty and took a step back from it, downright scowling at it. Dark objects were the witch’s specialty, and Harry briefly wondered if she had ever seen a horcrux before. She had known how to destroy them, which was more than most people would know, but maybe that was just part of her training. “I think we shouldn’t give it any time to come up with a defense against us, yeah? Hermione?”

Hermione didn’t even question it. She nodded and stepped calmly towards it before bringing the fang around from behind her and aiming it quickly at the diadem. The static buzz in Harry’s head grew suddenly such that he fell to the ground with his hands over his ears. And in the next second, there was darkness.

~~

Harry came to, blinking up at dim lights. He was lying on his back on something hard, but his head was pillowed on something soft, and the room around him sparkled like broken glass, he thought vaguely. Everything was blurry, but at least the ringing in his ears had stopped and the pain in his scar had dulled to a low throb. He started taking inventory of his body, like he would after waking up from an auror mission gone awry. He wiggled his fingers and toes, then slowly tensed and released his muscles. Nothing hurt but his head, which was probably good.

Quiet voices dragged him out of his process, and he tilted his head to the side of this body they seemed to be coming from. Three blurry figures stood close together nearby, whispering. Then the whispering stopped.

“Harry?”

He hummed in response to Felicity’s voice, softer than he’d ever heard it.

That seemed enough for the figures, who immediately rushed over.

“You should have told me you reacted to the Dark Lord’s shit like that.” The softness has left her voice, but the concern hadn’t, making him feel properly chastised. Felicity sat close enough that he could (mostly) make out her features. She cast what he assumed were diagnostic spells without saying a word, her mouth stuck in a thin line and her eyes flitting everywhere and never landing on anything in particular.

Harry squinted. “Why’re you blurry?” he asked, a bit slurred from sleep, or unconsciousness, or whatever you wanted to call it.

There was an impatient sigh from beside Felicity, and then Hermione moved in to grab his hand and put something into it. His glasses. He gave a small grin and awkwardly put them on from where he was lying. Did he have to be there, still? Harry placed his elbows on the ground and started to get up, but Felicity placed a hand flat on his chest with enough force to tell him to stay. She was frowning at him. It was so different from her usual wry humor, her usual smirk, her usual playfulness, that he caught himself frowning as well.

“What happened?” he finally asked, eyes drifting between his three compatriots.

“When ‘Mione stabbed the crown—” Ron started

“Diadem,” Hermione corrected quietly.

“—Right, the diadem. Anyway, the diadem screamed and then you screamed and fell over clutching your head and then you fell unconscious.”

That was disconcerting, because Harry was pretty sure that hadn’t happened the first time around, though the stress of it all and the fact that he had been running from fiendfyre might have been enough of a distraction from whatever pain that killing a horcrux might have inflicted upon him. That it inflicted any pain at all was…unexpected in a truly disconcerting way. He’d add that to the list of things to ask Felicity about.

“You’re fine, though,” Felicity was quick to add, though her eyes did flit up to his scar briefly as she said it. Maybe he wouldn’t have to ask her about it at all, and she’d bring the situation up on her own. Normally he’d be upset that the witches around him seemed to see everything, but in this case, it would be one less thing on his list.

“Did that happen with the diary?” Hermione asked slowly.

“Well,” he replied, raising an eyebrow at Felicity as he attempted to sit upright again. She let out a small ‘tsk,’ but her hand retreated anyway and he was able to push himself up to seated. “I had just been bit by a basilisk and was dying of its venom, so I don’t remember much about how it felt to destroy the thing.” It was mostly true. He was pretty sure the pain had been from the basilisk and not from the diary, but could he ever be sure? Not unless he lived that again, but he was prepared to never mess with time ever again if he could help it.

“Maybe that was it trying to defend itself, somehow,” Felicity said evenly, though she was watching Harry still with concern in those eyes. Merlin, but Harry was lucky he wasn’t alone in this whole journey of partial lies and cover ups. While he felt awful lying or omitting information, there was something amusing about watching Felicity twist everything into a nice package. So he let himself smile at the witch in front of him and his two best friends who looked almost convinced.

“And as you said, I’m fine.”

“Would you tell us if you weren’t?” Felicity asked, the wry smile finally making an appearance on her face.

“Yes,” he said, just as Hermione and Ron said, “No.”

Felicity sat back and laughed, then, which seemed to be enough to break the tension because soon they were all smiling.

“But it’s really gone, then?” Harry said once they had settled down.

Ron silently slid two pieces of metal over to Harry. Two pieces of a broken diadem, with a mottled black substance along the jagged edges as though it had oozed out and then immediately hardened. When he looked back up, Ron was grinning triumphantly at him, and he let out a breath (he didn’t realize he had been holding it) and smiled again.

~~

“What’s that under your arm?” Hermione asked Felicity as they wound their way slowly out of the room of hidden things. Harry followed behind the two witches, next to Ron, and pretended not to notice that everyone kept sending him concerned glances.

Felicity smirked and pulled out not one but two old musty books, waggling them in front of Hermione. “Books, of course.”

“Anything good?”

“They’re earlier editions of some books I already have,” Felicity said with a glint of something warm in her eyes as she looked down at the objects.

“Why grab books you already own?” Ron asked.

The witch shrugged. “I like old books.”

Hermione nodded. “There’s something about them,” she agreed.

“The smell, maybe.”

“Or the knowledge that others have read that particular copy before.”

Felicity snorted. “You sound like Theo.”

“Theodore Nott?” Hermione tilted her head to the side in question. Felicity nodded. 

“Who?” Ron asked.

“Slytherin swot like Felicity,” Harry said with a grin. Felicity narrowed her eyes playfully at him at being called a swot, but didn’t correct him or reprimand him, so he decided it was fair game. When Ron continued to look confused, Harry added, “He’s in potions with us?”

“Really, Ron, how could you not know the names of the people in our classes?” Hermione chastised.

Ron scoffed. “Not like I’ll ever speak to them, is it?”

“Theo’s good, even if his father is a Death Eater. He’s soft, and kind, and likes to think about how the old books he holds have been held by so many people before him,” Felicity said softly. “I’ll have to bring him back here to snoop around.”

Ron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you at least keep the children-of-death-eaters away from any potentially powerful artifacts?” he asked with an exasperated tone, but Harry could see the jest in his eyes.

“No promises,” Felicity replied as she tucked the books back under her arm and shot the redheaded wizard a wink.

Chapter Text

Harry (12:06am): Hogsmeade weekend is coming up. This is the day Malfoy buys a cursed amulet and imperiuses Katie Bell to take the amulet to Dumbledore but then she accidentally touches part of it and becomes cursed. Would be great to not repeat that.

Flick (6:24am): It was a dumb plan the first time. I mean, it had so many moving parts that of course something was going to go wrong.

Harry (7:00am): I don’t think the fact that it didn’t work is the problem here, Felicity.

Flick (7:01am): I’ll try to talk him out of it.

Harry (7:04am): Could always petrify him and leave him somewhere for the day so he doesn’t have an opportunity.

Flick (7:55am): I’m not going to petrify Draco.

Harry (8:02am): I was joking (partly).

October 12, 1996

Flick was curled up with a book of charms in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. The room was cozy. The flames and the late afternoon sun filtering in through the lake made the light in the room dance. She often came here to read, with the low murmur of people around her becoming a sort of comfort of the last month and a half. She was surprised at how difficult it had been to get back into going to school. Lectures and practical magic were easy enough, and she understood the theory, but writing papers was tedious and even more so when she had to make sure they were at a sixth-year level instead of the type of research paper an unspeakable with a decade of experience might write.

Other than that, she loved Hogwarts. Flick got to mess around with her friends and make jokes and didn’t have to spend so much time getting cursed or laying people out on battlefields. She still popped off from time to time when she knew there would be a skirmish or a “natural disaster”. It had meant she was often exhausted, leading to concern from her housemates, but she would brush it off as stress from classes or insomnia. She couldn’t simply let those people die, though. Even if she wasn’t sure it had been her presence that had let them survive the first time around, she wasn’t going to take the chance if she could do something about it.

Movement in the corner of her eye brought her attention back to the room as Draco sat next to her, his hands fidgeting. It was a clear indication that he wanted to talk about something, but didn’t want to look weak.

He needed help.

She closed her book and turned to face him, tucking her feet underneath her. “Do you want to go for a walk?” she asked. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded silently.

She grabbed his arm and led him out of the common room, through the dungeons, and up into the daylight of the Hogwarts grounds. They slowed their steps as they meandered towards the lake. There were others out and about, but it wasn’t crowded due to the cold and snow on its way. Flick threw up a privacy charm so all anyone else would hear would be a vague sound of speaking without hearing any actual words and then looked at Draco, concerned.

“What’s bothering you, then?” she asked quietly.

“I—how much do you know about my, er, task from—you know?” If Flick weren’t holding his arm, she was certain he would be fidgeting with the fabric of his robes.

She hummed. “I know about it, yeah,” she confessed. Flick always tried to tell Draco the truth if he asked her a direct question. Part of this was because it was how they had always been with each other, but the other part was because it let him know that she wasn’t going to lie to him when it really mattered (when she needed him to trust her enough to leave Voldemort, for example).

Draco didn’t seem particularly surprised by this information as he nodded, face set in a sort of grim determination. “I have to do it. I have to, Felicity, because he has my mother. But I just…I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sixteen. I mean, who sends a sixteen year old on this kind of mission?” Flick went to open her mouth, but Draco held up his hand. “No, I know it’s a punishment, and he probably doesn’t even think I will be able to do it. I’m certain I’ve been set up to fail. Which is precisely why I cannot.”

“Do you have a plan, then?” Flick asked, squeezing Draco’s arm a little harder. She had no love for Dumbledore, but she knew that killing the man wouldn’t do any good for Draco. He would regret it his entire life. Hell, he would still regret the attempts he was about to make even though they wouldn’t succeed.

They didn’t succeed the first time, but this time could be different, her mind supplied unhelpfully.

“There’s a cursed amulet.”

Flick raised an eyebrow. “A cursed amulet,” she repeated.

“Yes. If I can get Dumbledore to touch it, that would certainly kill him.”

That was putting it lightly. The amulet Draco was talking about was based on touch, but it wouldn’t just kill the man. First, the curse would cause immense pain, and then whoever touched it would be stuck in an eternal scream, from what she understood, until they died or were put out of their misery. And she was pretty sure she understood it, seeing as she spent almost a decade specializing in deeply cursed artifacts. And boy, was this one deeply cursed.

“How would you even get the man to touch an amulet? Is it shaped like a lemon drop or something?”

Draco did not laugh at her very good jab at the old man. Another telltale sign that he was not doing well. She had seen other signs, of course. Not eating. Not sleeping. Snapping at his friends more frequently. Not shooting gibes at Harry and his friends. During the summer, his task had felt like it was so far in the future that they could pretend it didn’t exist, but now the man Draco was tasked to kill was always around (smiling serenely) and it was clear that the time was now.

Flick had thought a lot about how to convince Draco to not kill Albus Dumbledore. Even with knowledge from the future, and more than a dozen future conversations with Draco about how he wished he hadn’t done all the things he had (even if they had mostly failed), and a heads up from Harry that this was about to happen, Flick still wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Nothing to it but to wing it, then.

Maybe being around Gryffindors was wearing off on her. She internally cringed at the thought.

“Well obviously he would never accept something from me. But he’d probably take anything a Gryffindor handed him.”

Draco wasn’t wrong. Dumbledore, along with a few other professors, had a deep-seated distrust surrounding the pureblooded Slytherins, as they had family who had followed Voldemort or stayed neutral (and neutrality in the face of oppression is its own sort of violence). But the children had never done anything wrong, so the mistrust only created resentment in the Slytherins, who were then more likely to be pushed towards Voldemort and following in their parents’ footsteps. It was one of the many reasons Flick didn’t really like or trust the man.

“So now you have to hand a cursed amulet over to a Gryffindor and convince them to deliver it without it killing them?”

“Er, right. Don’t suppose you would convince one of them for me?”

“I’m not that close to them.” She was, actually, but that information was neither helpful to Draco now nor was she willing to share it yet.

“You’re always on about being the charismatic one of the group. Plus, you and Granger have been partnered together in class. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you two actually work together instead of sniping at each other like anyone else would.”

“You think I could convince Hermione Granger to deliver a suspicious package to Dumbledore?” Flick gave Draco her best unconvinced look.

Draco scoffed. “Of course not. She’s too smart for that.” He looked stricken as soon as he said it, and looked at Flick with wide eyes as she smirked. “You can never tell her I said that. Never, Felicity.”

“Scout’s honor.” She held her free arm up over her heart. At Draco’s blank look, she added, “Muggle saying, I guess,” with a small shrug, ignoring his subsequent confusion. But she would certainly be holding this moment over his head for eternity. Because that’s how siblings worked, even if they weren’t there yet. There was a beat of silence before Flick narrowed her eyes. “I think this is a bad idea.”

“Do you have any better ones?”

“No.” She had plenty of better ideas, but he didn’t need to know that. If she thought killing Dumbledore would actually do anything, then she would have helped him in a heartbeat. As it was, most of her ideas involved Draco leaving the Death Eaters and coming into the safety of the Order (however much safety such a group could actually provide).

“Well then, sounds like I’m going through with my idea, then,” he sniffed.

“You’re going to regret it, you know. What if someone else gets hurt or killed in the process?” It was hard not to keep the slight pleading out of her tone, but she did her best to sound clinical.

Draco stopped and turned to Flick, and she pretended not to see the uncertainty in his eyes even as he gave her his best look of determination. “I have to do this. My and my mother’s lives both depend on it.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t it be easier to find a way to get your mother out of harm’s way instead of doing a task the Dark Lord himself likely thinks is impossible for you to do? I just—Draco, I just don’t want you to regret this, you know?”

Her friend—her brother—tugged her arm and started leading her back across the lawn and up to the castle. He was thinking, his brows drawn together and a small frown on his face. They walked without speaking, a tenser-than-usual silence hanging between them. The conversation likely reminded Draco that they had different beliefs when it came to the war, that Flick wasn’t a follower (that she didn’t believe he was truly a follower either). Flick thought about Narcissa. Her fervent apologies after the war to the two of them as she pulled them into embraces and told them how much she wished she could have kept them from the Dark Lord’s attention.

She was lost in her thoughts, the two wixen heading back to the dungeons on auto pilot. When they arrived at the expanse of wall that held the Slytherin common room entrance, however, Draco stopped.

“I’ll think about it,” he whispered, before giving the password.

Any further conversation would have to be pushed back, as they were immediately met with Pansy demanding they take her side in an argument against Daphne about something to do with the existence of a secret potions room.

~~

October 13, 1996

Flick (10:04pm): Katie will be okay. Sent her on to Mungo’s for better curse care.

Harry didn’t reply, and Flick was thankful for that. She wasn’t sure she could handle talking about her failure with him at that moment.

~~

October 16, 1996

Draco had been trying to speak with Flick for the few days since the amulet incident. Each time, she had ignored or avoided him like he didn’t exist without any indication that she was still angry. He was pretty sure he was about to tear out his hair in frustration. No one else knew why she wasn’t speaking to him, and when he asked around it seemed she hadn’t said anything about his stupid cursed quest or the fact that he had been behind the amulet that almost killed Katie Bell. But everyone knew there was something wrong. Everyone.

The last thing she had said to Draco was a hissed, “I told you someone could get hurt,” as she stormed tiredly through the Slytherin common room the night of the incident. Rather than let him reply, she had immediately gone to the sixth-year girls’ dorm for the night. No one else had heard what she said, but everyone had seen the venomous look on her face and Draco assumed he had been sporting something akin to fear or shock.

In the end, he continued the charade that he didn’t know why she was angry, and she continued to tell no one why she refused to speak to the wizard who was clearly her closest friend other than forced polite conversation. (Was he still her closest friend? Or had he fucked that up like he did everything else?)

That was bad enough, except she had also been avoiding everyone else, it seemed. It was like she had curled in upon herself and refused to let anyone near her, assuming her classmates could find her at all. Pansy and Daphne refused to say anything, but Millie mentioned that Flick had been taking a lot of late-night strolls through the halls, and that she was worried about the girl.

Theo seemed to have decided to also be angry at Draco, simply for making Flick upset. While fair, it was frustrating to see the distance between himself and Theo, his best friend since childhood. The boy was still talking to him, at least. Even if his words were laced with a tone Draco knew Theo usually pulled out for his father. It was all polite conversation with a smidge of defiance, and somehow that hurt even worse than if Theo had refused to say anything at all.

If Flick wasn’t going to talk to him, then he would write her a letter.

Felicity,

I know I messed up. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make this better though if you won’t talk to me. Please, just tell me what to do.

Draco

It was pleading, and pitiful, but he didn’t care as he sent it off with his owl.

At breakfast, Flick sat at the end of the table. Millie sat across from her, reading but still present, and Pansy sat beside her chatting with Daphne. They didn’t know what was wrong, but they had automatically formed a barrier between Flick and the rest of the Great Hall (including Draco. Especially Draco, actually). When Draco’s eagle owl Artemis landed in front of Flick, she frowned but fed the bird a bite of bacon and pet his feathers gently as she took the roll of parchment off his foot. She waited until the bird flew off to open his letter, and her frown turned into a pained scowl very briefly before she managed to school her features.

She didn’t set it on fire, nor did she seek out his eyes (she had to know he was watching). Instead, she folded up the paper and shoved it into her pocket before saying something quietly to the girls around her and leaving.

She didn’t look back as she exited the Great Hall. When Draco looked around the room, feeling a bit lost, he caught Potter watching Flick’s retreating back with concern. The Gryffindor then frowned, his eyes immediately going to Draco as if he knew. But he couldn’t have known, so Draco sneered back at Potter before turning back to his breakfast. 

~~

October 20, 1996

When she wasn’t in classes, eating, sleeping, or out doing field healing, Flick holed herself up in a dusty abandoned classroom near the dungeons. It was less dusty after a few cleaning spells she picked up from her stay in Grimmauld, and she had managed to transfigure one of the chairs into something a bit more comfortable. It also had multiple privacy wards around it so that no one would be able to find her. She didn’t want to be found. She wanted to figure out how not to fuck up so royally the next time.

In the first timeline, Flick remembered not having cared much about the Cursed Amulet Incident. She remembered very little about it at all, which suggested it was more of a passing conversation between herself and Draco, or perhaps a cryptic letter and nothing more.

Now, it was a failure.

Flick’s failure, to be specific.

Armed with knowledge of the future, knowing it wouldn’t work and that Draco would regret it forever anyway, Flick still wasn’t able to convince the boy she knew better than anyone else that he shouldn’t go through with what was obviously a stupid plan. The logical part of her brain whispered that he was a stupid boy still, and that he would do stupid things and that wasn’t her fault. But a much larger part had been so sure that he wouldn’t go through with it. Draco was sixteen, yes, and scared for his mother’s life, but he was so clever and sensitive and compassionate. Flick really thought that pointing out the potential collateral damage and large risk for failure as well as giving an alternative would have been enough.

The witch looked down at the long cut that trailed her calf, which was bleeding but wasn’t deep. There had been an “earthquake” in a mixed muggle and magical area out in the countryside (giants, of course), and Flick had been called in to heal survivors of some fallen-in buildings. In the rush, she had managed to stumble into something very sharp (metal or glass, likely). She sighed, following the cut slowly with her wand and watching the skin knit back together. It would likely scar, but that wasn’t something Flick was particularly worried about considered she already had fewer scars than expected simply from not angering Bellatrix Lestrange during the summer.

Her robes fell back over her legs and then she let her head fall into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. She took a few deep breaths and then mumbled, “Pull yourself together, Flick. You’re a Malfoy, now act like it.”

Fingers trailed down her face as she looked up and around the room she had squirreled herself away in for the last week. It was late, and the room was dark other than the soft orange flames she had conjured in jars that sat atop shelves and desks. Textbooks were stacked neatly on one desk, a small pile of homework next to them. Another desk—magically enlarged—held far more interesting books on dark objects, dueling, and defensive magic that were left open or bookmarked with a mess of parchment and muggle notebooks littering the rest of the space.

She was being stupid, she knew it. Draco had reached out on multiple occasions to get back into her good graces, but she just…couldn’t (not just with him, but with anyone). If she couldn’t figure out how to stop this one simple attempt at Dumbledore’s life (and wasn’t she lucky that it hadn’t worked yet again?) then how was she going to be able to do the rest of it? If she couldn’t convince Draco not to go through the arduous process of imperiusing a girl and having her take a cursed object to the headmaster, then how was she going to convince him to leave the Dark Lord with his mother?

Flick knew she couldn’t keep hiding away. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault that she failed. But whenever she saw Draco’s face, she saw visions of his haunted at the end of the war after his few months in Azkaban. They couldn’t do that again, they just couldn’t.

Flick had to be better. Everything had to be perfect for this to work out, for her to save her people. Her breath came quicker as she thought of the consequences of continued failure: her family could die this time.

She gave herself five minutes to sob cry, and then stood, straightened her robes, wiped her eyes, and traipsed back to the Slytherin common room before curfew.

~~

October 21, 1996

Draco didn’t try to speak to Flick at breakfast. When she had come back to the common room the night before, her eyes were puffy and red. He was pretty sure she hadn’t been crying because she was angry at him, because that would have been a strange reaction after a week of near silence. Which meant there was something else going on.

The Slytherin boy wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was at (or near) the top of the class. He enjoyed learning, which was lucky since his father expected perfection from him and, even though his mother never said anything about it, he knew she expected it as well. So it was that he had become clever and perceptive (because it was helpful to be able to read when a professor got excited about a subject in a way that suggested it would be on an exam, or hinted at an answer, or looked away when there was interhouse fighting in class).

Flick, Draco noticed, didn’t cry. She didn’t panic. She didn’t yell or incite aggression from the other houses. She smiled and smirked and danced around serious conversations with a sort of impish nonchalance. She cultivated a charismatic façade and held herself together in a way that would make Narcissa Malfoy proud.

To see a crack in that façade was alarming.

To not know how to fix it was frustrating.

To know he had a hand in causing it was horrifying.

All Flick had asked of him was to not go through with a stupid plan (it was a stupid plan), and he said he would think about it and then he didn’t (because he was stupid). Instead, he went through with it without that promised second thought. It had, of course, all crashed down around him and took his friend with it. She had been furious, and then she had been carefully neutral and avoidant, and now she had been crying.

Draco barely paid attention to classes that day as he pondered what was going through that ridiculously quick-paced mind of hers. So, when she slipped off early after dinner and headed to the library, he followed. Because even if she wasn’t interested in forgiving him, he was going to make sure she was okay (she wasn’t (because he was stupid)).

It took a few minutes to find the witch-who-did-not-want-to-be-found. She was crouched down, running her fingers along the spines of tomes on the bottom of a bookshelf in the history section. He didn’t want to startle her, so Draco made sure to let his steps be heard as he shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other. She didn’t look up, not that he expected her to as she had been ignoring him all week, but her hand did stall momentarily to let him know she noticed him. Draco took a deep breath and cast a silencing bubble around them before taking another step towards his friend (his best friend (who was hurt and it was his fault)).

“Flick,” he said quietly. Her fingers curled around the top of a large black tome as she pulled it from the shelf. “I—I’m not here to beg forgiveness, I just—I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said slowly, like she was a cornered animal.

Tired eyes turned to him, and it was the first time they had held proper eye contact since the incident, and all he could see was pain.

“I’m fine,” she lied. Her voice was even and face neutral, but her eyes seemed to have given up trying to hide. It was such a terrible lie that Draco’s brain short circuited for a moment, since his Flick would never lie so badly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he found himself saying sharply.

Amazingly, that seemed to be the correct reaction, because Flick snorted even as she broke eye contact and looked back down at the book in her hand.

“And don’t lie to me,” Draco added. “You’re clearly not fine and everyone can tell.”

She hummed in what Draco knew was agreement.

“So what’s wrong, then?” He could hear the demand in his voice, but the sharpness seemed to be cutting through whatever funk his friend had found herself in, and he’d use whatever he could at this point.

“It’s stupid,” she said. When the silence dragged on between them, she sighed. “It’s just…hard to protect everyone,” she mumbled down at the book. Her fingers played with one corner of the cover.

Draco took a beat to turn over her words in his mind, because they didn’t make any sense. “That’s not your job,” he finally said.

She snorted again. “Is it not a healer’s job to keep as many people as possible alive and well during a war?” she said wryly with a humorless smirk on her lips.

“You’re only a teenager, though,” he pointed out.

“So are you, yet here you are losing sleep and letting your grades slip over an impossible quest.” There was venom in her voice, but Draco was pretty sure it wasn’t for him.

Things started to fall into place, then, and Draco could see clearly the path Flick thought she was on. Of course she fancied herself a bloody savior hell bent on saving him and everyone else. And he could see how she had been doing just that—keeping him and Theo out of harm’s way during the summer, tempering his anger at friend and foe alike as the Dark Lord’s task became too heavy, warning him that someone could get hurt with his most recent fuck up. Flick often felt larger than life and wiser than her years, but as she sat on the floor with a large book in her lap, fidgeting and claiming responsibility for everyone, Draco thought she looked rather small and frail. He knew she could still kick his arse if she wanted, but this was clearly something she cared an awful lot about and believed in if it had kept her away from her friends from one small slip up (and why was she blaming herself for the amulet incident? It was Draco’s fuck up).

Draco sighed and, despite the dust, sat next to Flick with his back against the books. “Do you really think it’s impossible?”

“We live in a world of magic, Draco. Nothing is impossible. But you’re kind, and if you succeed you will regret it for the rest of your life and if you fail you will regret the attempts.”

Kind was not a word used to describe Draco. And yet, Flick said it with a tone that left no room for argument.

He already regretted his first failed attempt and knew that whether or not it had to do with any kindness on his part that he would surely regret success and failure equally just as Flick described. It was uncomfortable, in that moment, to be known. But there was such a care in the way that Flick saw him that the discomfort was easily pushed aside.

“Well I’d like to hear your alternative, then,” he replied dryly, because what other option was there than succeed or fail?

“I’m working on that, still.” (“Wouldn’t it be easier to find a way to get your mother out of harm’s way instead of doing a task the Dark Lord himself likely thinks is impossible for you to do?” she had said. But that also seemed an impossible task. But this was Flick, and as she said they lived in a world of magic).

“Okay,” he said slowly.

And the unguarded look of surprise and hope in his best friend’s eyes when they lifted to his was well-worth his traitorous thoughts.

Chapter Text

Harry grabbed the heavily warded notebook out of the bottom of his trunk. PLANS FOR WORLD DOMINATION indeed. He flipped it open, and could feel the warding on it let him in. Felicity had explained that only Harry was keyed into the object, so even if someone else managed to open it, the words would look like gibberish. Well, after the suspicion that came along with the destruction of the diadem and the complete failure of trying to convince Malfoy not to imperius Katie Bell (Harry saw the blond all but beg Felicity to talk to him for about a week before she finally relented, so he knew he wasn’t the only one who was upset about that one), Harry decided that maybe a plan would be a good idea.

Well, plans rarely worked for Harry, so it was that he spent an entire night locked in his bed curtains writing down a word-vomit of brainstorming for what they could maybe do in the future to save everyone, destroy the horcruxes, and kill Voldemort. He was pretty sure that even if someone could read his words, they would still seem like gibberish the way he managed to fill ten pages with sentences that would sound outlandish to anyone but him and Felicity.

Right. He needed to bring her in on this. She was a Slytherin and thought things through even if she didn’t tell anyone, which meant she probably already had plans. His hand hovered over his two-way notebook, and he bit his lip trying to figure out what to write.

Hey, I’m ready to hear your plans. No, sounded demanding.

Things haven’t been going too well. Maybe we should try something else. Meet? No, that would just remind her that Malfoy cursed Katie Bell which she decidedly was unhappy about.

Wanna meet up? That sounded more like a booty call than a planning meeting. Absolutely not.

Why was he even thinking so hard about what he would say? He huffed at himself and started writing in the two-way journal.

Harry (4:07am): Do you want to meet up to figure out our next move?

It was to the point and didn’t point out their past faults. It would have to do. Harry was glad no one noticed him blush as he realized what time it was, and how ridiculous it was to send this now and not at a normal hour. But he could have forgotten by the time morning (real morning) rolled around. Right? Right.

~~

Felicity (6:53am): Merlin yes let’s do it. Meet me outside the Slytherin common room an hour before curfew with your cloak. I know of an abandoned classroom.

Harry (7:06am): Sounds good.

~~

Harry decided to get to the Slytherin common room a bit early and was glad he did. A door appeared and Felicity exited from it exactly one hour before curfew. She glanced around—whether to see if she could see Harry or to check for others, he wasn’t certain—and then started walking away from the entrance to the common room as it disappeared behind her. Slouching slightly and tucking the cloak closer to his body, Harry followed the witch as she took a sharp right down a hallway he had never noticed before and then stopped in front of a door. At that point, she turned to face approximately where Harry stood and hummed.

“It’s safe to come out now,” she said quietly, her eyes not focusing on any point in space as they seemed to search for him.

Harry threw off the cloak and grinned at the slight jump it elicited from Felicity.

She recovered quickly, though, and shot him a wry smile. “I’m glad I was right, and you were there, otherwise I would have felt silly standing here alone talking to air.”

He chuckled. “How long has this hallway been here, anyway?” he asked as he looked around. It was bare and dusty, a few cobwebs in the corner, and there were two closed doors other than the one that Felicity stood in front of.

“Forever, probably. But it’s warded to hell now and no one’s set off my alarms so...” she shrugged, like she hadn’t just confessed to achieving an incredibly difficult bit of magic on a particularly stubborn magical castle. It wouldn’t have surprised Harry to find out that the girl didn’t know that what she had done was impressive. She reminded him of Hermione, in that the two witches managed to do the seemingly impossible simply because they found that they needed to.

“How long have you been sneaking off here, then?”

“A week or two,” she said noncommittally, but Harry could see the slight tension in her shoulders and came to the conclusion that it must have been where she fled after the amulet incident. Well. Best not to touch on that, then. “Anyway, figured we could co-opt the space into a sort of planning room.”

When Felicity touched the doorknob, it glowed slightly before Harry heard a click and the door opened. He assumed it was another bit of tricky warding magic, but decided not to ask about it so he didn’t have to pretend to understand the explanation. She gestured for him to go in, and he suddenly found himself in what had clearly once been a classroom but had since been transformed into a sort of cozy hideaway. There were books and papers scattered over tables and desks, clearly-transfigured squashy chairs that retained the wood grain of the original desk chair as a fabric pattern, and little orange flames in jars all around the room providing a warmth that was generally missing from the dungeons. It reminded him a bit of how Fred and George used to talk about the treehouse behind the Burrow where they used to come up with all their ideas. It felt like a place to plot. It was a good thing that was exactly what he was here to do.

Felicity was watching him when he looked back at her sporting a grin. “Brilliant,” he said. She blinked, and her stare softened minutely like maybe she had been hoping for that positive response. Harry very graciously pretended not to notice yet another one of her tells because he was pretty sure she was used to holding all the cards.

“Been trying to plan for a little while now, but honestly it’s mostly just been me trying to figure out how to get Draco and Narcissa to leave the death eaters.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking at a particularly messy stack of parchment like it had personally offended her.

“Better than I’ve been doing. But planning isn’t really my forte.”

“You’re the one that asked to meet and plan,” she replied with a raised brow.  

“I mean, not planning didn’t work great so I figured I’d try, you know, planning,” he said sheepishly, running his hand along the back of his neck.

Felicity rolled her eyes but smiled. “I suppose trying something new could be good for you,” she teased.

They took up residence in the weird squashy chairs (“I’m pants at transfiguration, but at least they’re comfortable,” Felicity had said, and Harry was 90% sure he saw her blush in embarrassment for the first time ever) and started by going over what they already knew. That was, mainly, that they needed to take out Voldemort and that to do that they needed to destroy his horcruxes. Felicity took notes as Harry recounted the different objects and where they were (or might be, since he didn’t know when the cup was moved into the Lestrange vault) and if they had been destroyed already. In the end they ended up with an annotated list.

Items of Interest:
-Diary (Destroyed 1992 with basilisk fang)
-Hufflepuff’s Cup (Lestrange vault or manor?)
-Ravenclaw’s Diadem (Destroyed 1996 with basilisk fang)
-Slytherin’s Necklace (Talk to Kreacher)
-Gaunt Family Ring (Dumbledore destroyed it summer 1996)
-Nagini (Always next to the Dark Lord)

“Okay, so we know what we need to do. But right now we’re just two students.” Felicity’s brows were furrowed together in concentration and she was biting the end of a muggle pen as she frowned down at their list.

“Right. But we have a lot of information since we’ve done it before, yeah? Plus, the goal is to do it better, which means using the resources available to us to their fullest rather than trying to go it alone.” He tried to keep the auror voice to a minimum, but flushed when he realized he had definitely used it in that moment and Felicity had definitely noticed if her smirk was any indication.

“Right, next list is our resources, then,” she said, very politely not pointing out how red his ears probably were even if her face said it all without having to say anything. Annoying, that was, but also a bit impressive.

“Well we have people, even if we can’t tell them anything. Like the Order of the Phoenix, obviously, and Dumbledore’s Army—”

“I’m sorry, Dumbledore’s Army?” Felicity interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. “What kind of a name is that?”

“In fifth year we had a student group to learn defense and, er, that was the name we came up with.” He had never had to defend the name before, and it came out sounding less-than-convincing.

“Right. Sure. So we have Dumbledore’s Army.” The sarcasm was almost a physical entity the way the witch managed to use it. “Go on.”

Harry huffed, but went through the people in the DA, and talked about the coins they used and the other students who ended up taking on a lot in the final year and battle while Harry was on the run. Then they went through what weapons they had available to them and how they could find information. Again, Felicity dutifully wrote it all down until they had a new list.

Resources:
-The Order of the Phoenix
-Dumbledore’s Army (dumb name but whatever)
-Basilisk corpse
-Sword of Gryffindor (if it decides to show up)
-Hogwarts Castle
-Grimmauld Library
-Room of Hidden Things (books? Weapons?)

She turned over the piece of paper and started jotting something down on it before frowning. “I’m making a list of people we need to get either into neutrality or on our side. So far I’ve got Narcissa and the sixth year Slytherins. I’m putting Snape down because it sounds like he’d be better as an earlier ally for you.”

“Slughorn could have been more help earlier on, too, I think. And, uh, I’m gonna work on Kreacher over the winter break. He’d be a good ally to have since he can, you know, get into pretty much anywhere with his house elf magic.”

Felicity nodded. “He also is a Black elf, which means he would want to work for Narcissa and Draco. Maybe we can use him to convince them as well.”

“Didn’t think about that, but makes sense. How’s it going with the Slytherins, anyway?”

She fidgeted with the pen in her hand as she spoke. “I’m working on them, but they’re tricky of course. Draco and Theo are the two I’m closest to, but their families are entrenched in the war. Blaise and Daphne’s families are more neutral-leaning, so a good in if I can convince them. Tracy’s a half blood but no one talks about it. She certainly doesn’t believe in the Dark Lord’s cause. Honestly I’m not certain any of them really believe it at this point. There’s a lot of big talk but it’s usually accompanied by fear in their features.” She was staring down at the sheet of paper in her hands, at their new list, with a sort of grim determination. Because this was her list, wasn’t it? Of the people she wanted to save or keep safe. Harry’s list was all already on his side, but she had a lot more work to do simply because her friends were the children of death eaters. Harry certainly didn’t envy her.

People To Work On:
-Narcissa Malfoy (get her to leave)
-6^th year Slytherins
-Severus Snape (earlier)
-Horace Slughorn (earlier)
-Kreacher (Christmas break)

The list felt small, but Harry knew they’d end up adding to it, and that the people on the list (if they could actually get them) would be a huge help in the short and long run. He leaned back and lifted his glasses off his nose so he could rub his eyes. A small clock on one of the wall shelves told him it was just about curfew, which meant they had managed to use an entire hour just figuring out where they were starting from.

Felicity was also looking at the clock when his eyes flitted over to her.

“Guess it’s time to call it a night.” She stood and smoothed out the front of her robes. “When’s the next plotting session, then?”

“Thursday night work? Same time?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “Yeah that’ll work.”

~~

Thursday night found Harry standing near the Slytherin common room 65 minutes before curfew. He had tried to find the hallway again, but couldn’t, which meant he needed Felicity to key him into those wards if he wanted to meet her there instead of awkwardly waiting around the dungeons for her. What if he had some time to kill and wanted to plan? Or if they had planned to meet up but something kept her?

He said as much as soon as they were inside the unnoticed hallway.

“Oh! Right! Yeah we should do that. Come on, then.” She held her hand out as if Harry knew what that meant. “Your hand?” she clarified.

Baffled, because normally keying people into wards had to do with their magical cord and didn’t require anything other than them being present, Harry gave her his hand. Because at this point, why not. She took it and pressed it gently, palm-first, into the stone wall near the opening of the hallway. The space where he touched the stone pulsed with light briefly before Harry suddenly felt a sort of connection to the space that he hadn’t felt since they got to the past. Grimmauld, after Sirius died, became Harry’s and seemed to form a sort of bond with him (as much as a place can form a bond with a person). This felt a bit like that; like this particular hallway of the castle was telling him that it would take care of him.

He must have looked the way he felt, because Felicity muffled a giggle into her sleeve. “Never felt the castle like that before, I take it?”

He shook his head. “What—” he wasn’t certain what he wanted to ask, but Felicity seemed to know.

“The building is sentient, right? Hence the moving stairs and the room of requirement and the way it sustains all those house elves and portraits. So if you want to ward within her, you need her permission. A contract of sorts. Saving the world was an easy deal to make, so here we are.” The witch looked pleased with herself, and all Harry could think was that she absolutely should look pleased because what did she mean she made a deal with a castle?

“I’m sorry you made a contract with Hogwarts Castle?”

“Yup, and now so have you, technically. I already keyed you into the door’s wards, though, since they’re more general use.”

As soon as Harry got used to the ridiculousness of the wizarding world, something newly-baffling would happen like making a contract with a bloody building to save the world. “I didn’t even know you could do that,” he said dumbly.

“It’s not a widely practiced skill. Comes in handy if you’re an unspeakable and you work with so many places, though. Theo used to call them my haunted houses.” She gave a wistful smile, and Harry could see it now: Felicity, ten years older, walking casually through wards and talking to manors and dealing with cursed objects with the same soft way she dealt with prickly Slytherins. He’d seen it, a little, the way she had knocked on the Potter Manor door, stepped lightly through the hallways, and observed objects without touching. It’s a shame he had to fuck it all up for her, then. Harry watched her but didn’t see any resentment there. He really did hope they were going to do it all right this time and she could get back to her haunted houses.

“I’ve been cursed to be surrounded by brilliant witches. I don’t know why I’m ever surprised anymore, actually,” he deadpanned.

Felicity laughed.

~~

They met on Thursdays, usually for an hour but sometimes the time got away from them. Tonight was one of those nights. They weren’t planning anything to do with the war, actually. Instead, they were working on a particularly horrendous defense essay that was due the next day. The squashy wood-patterned chairs were pushed up next to each other and both students’ books were balanced between the two on different pages.

“Snape’s managed to almost put me off of Defense even though it’s always been my favorite,” Harry grumbled when he noted it was already twenty minutes past curfew.

Felicity hummed. “Severus is certainly a terrible professor.”

Whether it was the matter-of-fact way she said it or his brain turning to mush, Harry burst out laughing at that.

“What?” Felicity asked, watching Harry try to catch his breath. It was clear she was holding back her own smile, though.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Must just be getting tired.”

She hummed then rummaged around in her bag for a moment before thrusting something into Harry’s face. “Here. Bit of sugar usually helps me get through the rest of it.”

The sugar quill was strawberry-flavored, and did, in fact, keep him awake while he finished his essay. It was written at least, even if it wouldn’t get him high marks.

~~

“Harry,” Felicity started, her head tilted to the side. Harry gave a noncommittal hum to show he was listening as he worked on his transfiguration wandwork. “Why did you do all of this on your own the first time?”

He looked up at that, because it felt like a serious conversation. Hazel eyes bore into his as her book (it looked old enough he was sure it was being held together by nothing but magic) lay forgotten in her lap. “I guess I was young and dumb and Dumbledore made it sound like I needed to do it on my own because if more people were involved more people would get hurt. Which I don’t really agree with now, but I was, you know, a kid.”

“Makes sense.” She nodded slowly, then turned back to her barely-held-together group of pages she called a book.

“Why did you go with the Malfoys if you’re a muggleborn?” he asked back after a beat.

She didn’t look up, but she did answer slowly, as though weighing each word. “I was…frustrated with the way the Order didn’t seem to pay as much mind to collateral damage, and seemed to generally assume the worst of people associated with death eaters whether or not they themselves believed it all. Which, fair, to see evil and say nothing is its own sort of violence. But it always felt wrong to not show them an ounce of compassion. I mean, it seemed like many of those people could be convinced into doing good, you know? So when Severus approached me with the idea of making sure his Slytherins didn’t become collateral—” she shrugged, “—it felt right to give them a chance. Never regretted it.”

His first reaction was to call her a Hufflepuff, but it hardly seemed the time.

“You…got hurt a lot the first time around, right?” he asked slowly. Because Felicity was in a sharing mood, and Harry was worried that if he spoke too quickly or moved at all he might break whatever spell she was under. Though, that wasn’t really fair to her, was it? The only reason she didn’t let much be known to Hermione and Ron was because everything was tangled with the future—er, past—that Harry was already privy to.

Felicity sighed, not put upon but like she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on what she was doing after all, and turned to Harry with pursed lips. “Bellatrix and the Dark Lord are not fun to live around,” was all she said on that.

He wanted to know more, of course he did, but her tone and her expression told him enough already to assume he probably didn’t actually want to know. “Right,” he said instead.

“I’ve been very good about not getting hurt this time,” she added with a smug smirk. And really, who was Harry to deny her smugness at not being hurt (and tortured, probably) by Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort himself?

“D’you think Bellatrix or Voldemort is worse to be around?” Harry asked casually, trying to backtrack away from the seriousness of the conversation.

From the way Felicity’s mouth quirked up, he was sure she caught on, but she played along anyway. “Bellatrix, for sure. At least with the Dark Lord you know what’s coming. I mean, really, he should learn more than two curses.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Right? He’s predictable!” Harry added. The two laughed for a moment before going back to the comfort of their books (when had books become a comfort to Harry?).

~~

“Is Hermione okay?” Felicity asked in lieu of greeting. Harry was already sitting in one of the squashy chairs with a book on dark magic in the hopes of finding something that could help them locate Hufflepuff’s cup without running into strange manors and robbing banks.

At Felicity’s words, though, he blinked, trying to think about his best friend’s mood the last few days. She had been a little cagey, but Harry assumed it was the anxiety associated with school that was getting to her. It certainly hadn’t been that outside the norm of her behavior.

“Er, I think so, why?”

“I just get the feeling maybe she’s upset about something,” she replied cryptically.

“I’m going to need you to be more specific than that, Malfoy.” Felicity smirked. “What?”

“I haven’t been called Malfoy in ages. I missed it.”

“Going to dance around the topic all day, then?” he shot back.

“Could, couldn’t I?”

“But you want to know if Hermione is okay, and I can’t answer if I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry pointed out.

“Fair enough.” Even though he knew she would tell him anyway, it was nice of her to make him think he had won it with whatever wit he managed to dredge up. “She’s been casting pouting faces at Ron during meals.”

“Pouting faces?” his own face screwed up in contemplation. But he couldn’t remember seeing that. “I must have missed it.”

“Didn’t she and Ron date for a bit?”

“It was an absolute nightmare, honestly. Would love to not see that train wreck again, but not sure how easy it would to be to change. They’ve been sweet on each other since, like, third year I think?” He thought back and nodded. “Maybe fourth. He was definitely jealous of her date at the Yule Ball.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

Harry snorted. “What list?”

“New list. No title yet. So far the only thing on it is ‘Get Hermione and Ron to date other people instead of each other.’ Can’t be that hard, right?” She grinned, and it was contagious.

“Sounds like one of our more important lists,” he replied with a faux seriousness in his tone despite his smile.

Felicity’s eyes went big and innocent, and she pursed her lips dramatically as she nodded. “Perhaps the most important list of all.”

Chapter Text

“How have so many people applied for quidditch tryouts?” Harry lamented at breakfast. He was looking at a list of more than twenty, and were there really this many the first time around? He couldn’t remember. “It can’t be that popular.”

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Hermione said impatiently. “It’s not quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

Right. Harry forgot that suddenly it was shown that he hadn’t been lying all along and this was the year he had to deal with girls tripping over themselves for him. How had he gotten through that the first time? He couldn’t remember. What he did know was that he was definitely not going to leave any love potion laced chocolates around his dorm room for his dormmates to accidentally eat.

Ron gagged on his breakfast, and Hermione gave him a look of disdain before she continued. “Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’—well, come on, can’t you see why people are fascinated by you?”

Well, when she put it like that, Harry could see it. That didn’t mean he wasn’t supremely uncomfortable at the thought and wasn’t giving the shine of his fork all his attention.

“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out that you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway.”

Harry unconsciously rubbed his hand. He wasn’t sure that women really liked the scars. They liked the concept of them, but in his experience, they were more likely to give him pity or disgust than fall head over heels because of them.

“You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, shaking back his sleeves. Harry was very proud of himself for not rolling his eyes at the dick-measuring contest that Ron was trying to compete in by himself.

“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

“I’m tall,” Ron said defensively. Harry really did roll his eyes at that point and gave a smile.

Later, after they finished quidditch trials (which turned out the same, because Harry decided he made the right decisions the first time anyway) and chatted with Hagrid and Harry came back from his detention with Snape, he cornered Hermione in the common room. It was late, and she was one of the only ones still there.

“Muffliato,” he mumbled, sitting down next to her (she pursed her lips at his use of the unknown charm, but didn’t say anything). “Did you confund McLaggen?” he asked evenly, letting a bit of his auror training out to play.

Hermione looked up with a panicked look in her eye and then narrowed them. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Been hanging around Felicity much? You’re starting to sound like her.”

Hermione closed her book with a resounding thud and then promptly hit Harry in the arm with it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“So?”

Her eyes flitted around the room and, seeing that no one looked to be listening, turned back to Harry with pursed lips. “Only, he was so nervous,” she said quietly, now fiddling with the cover of the book with her fingers. “And you can’t tell me you want someone like McLaggen on your team.”

Harry held up his hands and grinned. “I’d never say something like that.” McLaggen was a pompous asshole, and wouldn’t take criticism well, and he never really grew out of it. Whenever Harry saw him at the Ministry, he found a way to change directions.

Hermione gave Harry a grin and opened her book again. “Well then. Good.”

“Yeah. Good,” he grinned back.

~~

“Do you know what Harry is hiding?”

Flick looked up from her library book with a frown. “What?”

Hermione gave her a pointed look as she stood on the other side of the study table. “Harry. He’s clearly keeping something, and it started happening when you showed up. I’m not saying that you have to tell me. I just want to know that I’m right.”

“Well then. You’re right.” She looked back down at her book, knowing it wouldn’t be nearly enough information for Hermione. Flick could, in fact, see the girl roll her eyes as she sat down at the table with her own books. She could practically hear the girl’s thoughts without even trying.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she huffed.

“That’s all you said that you wanted to know.” Flick sent Hermione a brief smirk, not bothering to look back up from her book.

“You’re such an arse.”

“Yup.” She turned the page.

~~

The first Gryffindor quidditch match was that morning, and Harry wasn’t nearly as nervous this time around as he was last time. He loved quidditch, he really did, and he thought his team was overall pretty good despite everything happening, but it just didn’t carry as much weight as it used to. That being said, Ron looked positively green with nerves. Harry had hoped that twelve years would have given him the ability to wrangle his quidditch team, but it turned out that a bunch of teenagers playing sports was a lot more difficult to deal with than multiple teams of aurors.

So it was that he had pretended to lace Ron’s pumpkin juice with Felix Felicis again, pissed of Hermione, and won the match. He hadn’t thought much about what happened after the match until he was watching his best friends fight in the changing rooms.

“You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything!” Ron said in a high-pitched facsimile of Hermione’s voice, making it sound whiny. “See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

“I never said you couldn’t—Ron, you thought you’d been given it too!”

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over the shoulder.

“Er,” said Harry into the sudden silence. He really should have remembered this part. “Shall…shall we go up to the party, then?”

“You go!” cried Hermione, blinking back tears. And oh no, Harry was absolutely not prepared for this in this moment. “I’m sick of Ron at the moment, I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done.”

She started to storm out of the changing room, but Harry grabbed her sleeve. “Wait,” he said. “I—you don’t have to be alone right now.” He sounded like an idiot in his own head, but it was all he could do in the moment.

“Stop it, Harry. You should be up there celebrating.” Tears were gathering at the sides of her eyes. Harry knew how to deal with a crying Hermione, at least. Years of practice made him tug at her sleeve and step into her, pulling her into a big hug.

It wasn’t something he would have done as a student, he realized belatedly, because it had taken years of therapy for him to become more comfortable with initiating hugs, but he didn’t rightly care at that moment when his friend needed him. Ron would be busy sucking face with Lavender Brown anyway, as he recalled with sudden distaste, and Hermione didn’t need to see that.

If Hermione found it strange, however, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she curled into Harry’s shoulder and let heavy sobs wrack her body. “I just—I just don’t get it. What did I do?”

“Ron is being stupid, Hermione. You know how he is.”

“Why does he have to be like that, though? He’s so mean!”

Harry sighed and pushed Hermione away to be able to look her in the eye (they were red and puffy and wet). He may as well just tell the truth. This was Hermione, and that was something she needed. “Ginny was making fun of Ron for not kissing anyone, and Ron got mad when she pointed out that you had kissed Krum.”

“What?” she asked flatly.

“I told you it was stupid,” he said, but with a small grin. Because he loved Ron, he really did, but the boy wasn’t going to be a good partner for any women for about five years. Hermione deserved to be happy now.

She let out a choked laugh. “That’s daft.”

“That’s Ron.” He shrugged, but knew he had done the right thing because she smiled again. At the same time, he could see her smile was more one of relief, and it was clear that she had feelings for the redhead. “Have you considered falling for someone a little less daft?” he asked lightly.

Her eyes went wide for a moment before she choked out another, much more awkward, chuckle. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“Come on, then, Hermione. You can’t think I’m that oblivious about the people around me, can you?” he grinned. Obviously he was that oblivious considering how surprised he had been about the two of them the first time around, but he had future knowledge to help him seem smart and he was going to use it.

Even with the tear tracks down her face, Hermione was able to look almost menacing as she pursed her lips and gave her friend a calculating look, eyes slightly narrowed. “You’ve changed, Harry.” He widened his eyes and opened his mouth to deny it, but she held up one of her hands. “Don’t lie. Ever since the Department of Mysteries, you’ve been different. It’s not bad. Just. Different. Flick refuses to tell me anything, of course, but I’m certainly not oblivious.”

“I—” he wanted to tell her everything, he really did. He had tried a few times, even, but every time he opened his mouth to say something, his tongue stuck to the top of his mouth like a langlok jinx. “Can’t say,” he finally breathed out, annoyed.

She huffed, but a wry grin made its way to her features. “Fine. This is what I get for letting you canoodle with Slytherins, I suppose.”

Harry laughed, “Canoodle? Really?”

Hermione smirked. “Yes. Canoodle. That’s what you and Flick do, and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

Harry scoffed, because really, canoodling? “Who even uses that term?” He slung an arm around her shoulders and started leading her back to the castle.

They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Hermione broke it. “Let’s say for the sake of our hypothetical that I did…fancy Ron. Just a little.”

“For the sake of the hypothetical,” he repeated diplomatically with a nod.

“What should I do?” Her voice was small, and it made Harry sigh.

“Honestly? Have you considered literally anyone else? I mean, you argue less with Malfoy than you do with Ron at this point.” She snorted, so he kept going. “And you know, Neville’s become quite fit. Have you considered Dean?”

“Isn’t Dean dating Ginny?”

“Right. Fair. Er—You know there are other Weasley men, even. George, maybe? Fred?”

“Ah yes, I’m certain with their penchant for chaos they’d love a stuck-up bookworm like me.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my best friend like that,” Harry chided lightly. “And anyway, they’re decent, aren’t they? Make you laugh. Far smarter than they let on. Ooh what about Theodore Nott? He’s a swot.”

At this point, Hermione was holding onto Harry’s arm to keep her from falling over laughing as he continued naming men all the way into the castle and up the stairs. They stalled outside the Gryffindor common room, though, and the laughter stopped.

“You know, we don’t have to go in there,” Harry said quietly.

Hermione took a deep breath. “No. You should go celebrate.”

“What about you?”

“I—maybe I’ll go to the library.”

“Really?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with the library, Harry. I happen to like it there. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise I’ll only read something for fun. No homework.”

Harry held out his hand. “Deal.”

She laughed once more and took it, giving it one big shake. “Right. Good luck in there, then.” She nodded towards the portrait before turning on her feet and heading out.

~~

“Not celebrating?” Flick asked casually as she approached Hermione in the library. She hadn’t been expecting a text (so it wasn’t a phone text, sue her she was still going to call it that) from Harry, but didn’t mind the request to keep his friend—their friend?—company while everyone else was partying it up. It wasn’t like she herself was celebrating, since Slytherin lost. Draco hadn’t even played in the game. He was sick. Like, actually sick. She wondered if it was some sort of psychosomatic issue considering how pale he had been looking since the amulet incident.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Did Harry send you?”

“And how would he have done that?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. But I know something is going on between you two.”

“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean. I was simply sick of my sulking snakes and decided to come read. I mean, really, Hermione, do I seem like the type to come running to a Gryffindor’s aid?”

“Yes. You do, actually.”

Huh. She hadn’t actually expected that. It wasn’t a bad feeling, per se, just unexpected. She scoffed nonetheless. “Ridiculous. Anyway. What are you reading?” She pulled out her own book, another untitled, tattered tome from the Malfoy library, this one promising dark blood rituals for protection.

Hermione eyed the book with interest. “Shakespeare. You?”

“Blood magic,” she said truthfully, with a grin. It was fun to tell the truth when she knew it would shock people.

Hermione, however, did not seem shocked (rude). Instead, she gave an exasperated sigh, as though put-upon by Flick’s mere existence. It was a good enough reaction for her. She’d take it. “Well you’re welcome to read here, if you like. I won’t be offended though if you can’t be seen with me.”

“Nonsense.” She settled in and was rewarded with a small smile from the witch across from her.

~~

Harry still remembered how to get around the castle to avoid the mistletoe, thankfully. Large groups of girls tended to converge beneath the mistletoe whenever he went past, which caused blockages in the corridor and made him supremely uncomfortable. Ron thought it was hilarious, and roared with laughter when he wasn’t snogging his new girlfriend. Hermione had started quiet and reserved, but Harry was delighted to note that she had begun to quickly laugh as well. If it hadn’t been him, he supposed he would also find it funny. Rarely were Ron and Hermione seen together at this time, but it was less tension and more awkwardness, Harry felt.

Ron seemed to think Hermione was angry (she was) but didn’t deserve to be (she absolutely did). “She can’t complain,” he said. “She snogged Krum. So, she’s found out someone wants to snog me too. Well, it’s a free country. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Harry didn’t answer. Technically Ron was right. But really, he was wrong, because Ron actually liked Hermione and was being a bit of an arse about the whole thing. On the other hand, Hermione had been getting less and less annoyed by it all which suggested she was coming to terms with the idea of letting Ron go. At least, that’s what Harry hoped.

“He’s at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes,” said Hermione quietly in the library later in the day. “I really couldn’t care less.” She definitely could care less, Harry thought, but he kept that thought to himself.

“He could have chosen someone a bit less…octopus-like, though, don’t you think?” Harry replied instead.

Hermione snorted, then looked guiltily back at where Madame Pince sat. “You know, you ought to be careful.”

“Oh?”

“I went into the girls’ bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They’re all hoping they’re going to get you to take them to Slughorn’s party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George’s love potions, which I’m afraid to say probably work—”

“Because they’re geniuses, which you like as I recall,” Harry interrupted, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh hush, I am not going after one of the twins, Harry,” she hissed. “And anyway, who are you going to take? The party is tomorrow night and they’re getting desperate is all. You need to be careful.”

“Oh. Er, I think I’ll invite Luna, actually. She’s loads of fun, you know?”

“That’s a brilliant idea. Luna is…” she pursed her lips. “…certainly different.”

“But she’s kind.”

“She is,” Hermione agreed slowly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take a certain Slytherin?”

“I don’t think Malfoy would say yes even if I asked,” Harry joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Obviously I meant Flick. Canoodling, remember?”

 “We absolutely do not canoodle, Hermione. Who’re you taking, then? Maybe Malfoy would say yes to you.”

She rolled her eyes again, then looked a bit nervous.

“Oh, er, I haven’t really decided. If I’m being honest,” she dropped into an even lower whisper, “I was thinking about asking Cormac McLaggan, but only because I knew he would make Ron mad. That’s silly though, right?”

“I think you should ask someone you would actually have a good time with,” Harry said honestly, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He didn’t really want to deal with McLaggan if he could help it, and he knew she would hate it if she ended up bringing him.

Hermione blew out a breath. “You’re right, of course.” She laid her forehead on the desk and groaned (quietly, because they were still in the library and Pince really would have their heads for noise). “I don’t know what to do.”

“What if you invited Ginny or Parvati, like as a friend? If you brought Neville, we could just hole up in a corner the four of us. And, hell, if Luna says no we can just go as friends, yeah?”

She tilted her head to look up at Harry and smiled, her cheek still pressed into the table. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Can you say that one more time?”

Hermione placed her palms down on the table and straightened up. “Oh my god, Harry, you’re right. Happy?”

“Yes.”