Title: Winter Lights

Author: FlippythePenguin

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: AB/lots. HP/JS/A/N

Summary: Anita Blake has encountered several strange police cases over the years, but she has finally come to the strangest case she's ever had. A boy named Harry Potter, devastated from the death of his godfather, has been shoved into her world and in order to solve these murders, it may take the both of them to help save her world- and the magical world as well.

Warning: there will not be HBP in this fanfiction. Later on in the story, there is a possibility bits of the story line will be included, but right now it is only following up until the end of DOM. If you are offended by the pairings, which will be some slash, and also the many pairings that Hamilton has Anita with, please don't read any further. I will not write any lemons. And I also believe in writing characters the way the author has portrayed their POV's, so Anita will be in 1st person, and Harry in third. It's too weird to try changing it, it doesn't feel right once you start writing.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are property of J. K. Rowling and I am not trying to take any of her millions of dollars. The same applies to all of Laurel Hamilton's characters. The only character I own as of this chapter is Heather.

My beta is the lovely XattilaX-theMONKEY. Go love her.

EDIT: 5-29-08

Chapter One: I Think We Have an Emergency

If there was anything that could happen that I would un-happen, it would have been that I was the one who found the girl on the crime scene. She was buried in one of the side alleys under a trash can and from the way the blood had smeared across the sidewalk, she'd dragged herself.

Lt. Rudolph Storr, known better as Dolph, was talking with another officer while I examined the body of a dead man. He was in his thirties, I'd guess. His eyes were shut, but his face was probably attractive if it wasn't covered with blood. The bites along his neck, and down under his torn shirt, proved one thing. He'd been killed by a vampire. Or maybe two.

Zerbrowski was swaggering over to me, mumbling into his cell phone. Probably to his wife, Katie. He was in his pajama pants again. It was, after all, five in the morning already.

"Trains again?" I said, when he flipped his cell phone shut.

He shot me a grin. "Yup." He looked at me, up and down. An eyebrow rose. "Have you even been to bed yet?" he demanded, as I stepped over a large section of dried blood.

"No," I answered, leaning down to stare at a finger that lay carelessly several feet away from the body. "Does he have a finger missing?" I asked.

"Nope," Zerbrowski said, shrugging. "Why?"

I glanced up at him and said, "Somebody somewhere is missing a finger."

"Holy shit," he breathed, crouching besides me. "That's just.."

"Weird," I finished. "Very weird. Get someone over here to bring it to the hospital, I think it might belong to the girl I found."

Zerbrowski gave me a small nod, and ran over to Dolph. I went back over to the body, and measured the bites on his neck and chest. If I was right, which I was pretty sure I was, we'd be on the look out for two vampires. Possibly a Master.

And if it was a Master, you'd think that they'd get the idea by now. Vampires come to St. Louis, and I kill them. Being a Human Servant did have it's advantages, even if I refused to let Jean-Claude give me the fourth mark. I just don't like the idea of signing my life away forever. So he's been giving me the space I've needed.

Someone was gathering the finger off the ground, and something caught my eye. I whirled and stared at the blood trails, totally lost. We were in an alley way, and for some reason, the girl had been crawling not towards the exit of the alley, or even the back, she'd been trying to go against the building. I followed the trail, pulling out my flashlight. I crept forward, and paused.

There was...a stick.

It was lying against the building, and under any other circumstance I would have just shrugged it off and kept going. But as I leaned down and picked it up, I could see the bloody imprints along it, and there was an obvious sign of a struggle. Which meant that one of the vampires had been trying to get her away from it, and probably picked her up and threw her into the middle of the alleyway, where she had crawled to the trash can.

As I flipped the stick over, I felt something...strange from it. It felt like there was magical residue on it.

With a frown I pocketed the stick and returned to the investigation.

The first thing I did when Detective Tammy Reynolds arrived on the scene ten minutes later, was to ask to talk to her privately. She had looked a little puzzled, but had nodded nevertheless.

We were standing beyond the yellow caution tapes, and I was watching around as I slipped the stick out of my pocket. I handed it to the puzzled woman.

"Have you ever seen something like this before?" I asked her.

Her reaction made me believe that she had. Her face went pale, and her fingers touched the strange stick with something akin to either horror or wonderment.

"Where did you get this?" she whispered, her voice so low I had to strain to hear her.

"It was hidden," I answered.

She looked up at me, her Adam's apple bobbing as she took a large gulp. "This is a weapon that Europe's witches use," she quietly said, twirling it in her hands. "They call it a wand. They use it as a transport from their magical core to the air outside of their bodies."

I frowned. "So there's a possibility that the girl I found could be a witch?"

Tammy nodded. "I wouldn't doubt it."

I frowned, something striking me. "Can't they use their magic without a wand?"

She shrugged. "It's not known to them. They rely on their wands far too much, but it is possible to use their magic without one. They aren't taught how to, though. When they reach a certain age they can buy a wand and can begin to use their magic."

"That sucks," I said sympathetically. "They should learn to use it without their wands, or they could probably get in some tight spots."

"Yes." She stared down at the wand, and reluctantly pressed it back into my fingers. "Take this to the hospital she's at."

I looked at her a moment. "She's probably dead,"

Tammy shook her head stubbornly. "No. She's alive. Take this to her."

I frowned. "Wouldn't you rather hold onto it?"

She shook her head. "No,"

"Why not?"

She pursed her lips, and we both turned as an officer called out for her. She looked at me, a battle raging in her eyes. "Anita...not all power is a good thing."

And I watched her as she walked away quickly, her back stiff.

I could feel a headache coming on.

My muscles were tense, and I could feel a kink straining on my neck. Reflexively I massaged my temples, taking a deep breath. Zerbrowski was standing a few feet away, looking as impatient as I felt. When Tammy had signed me up for returning the stick- wand- I hadn't realized it would take so long.

"There's no way that kid could have still been alive," he muttered, and when I looked at him, his face was set in a grim mask. "There's no way it's possible."

I scowled, and cracked the bones in my knuckles. "I don't really know," I admitted. "The girl should be dead, but Tammy seems pretty convinced that she's alive."

Dolph lumbered over, his face looking exhausted. "Have you both submitted your reports?" he asked, and I noticed he still wouldn't quite meet my eyes. But at least he wasn't yelling.

"Yeah," I said.

"Mmhm," Zerbrowski seemed relieved. I didn't blame him. Right before I had left to go to the hospital, Zerbrowski had sulked over and told me that we needed to give the police reports on what we had found- meaning the finger, and the girl that it should be attached to.

Zerbrowski and I had planted our asses in a couple of chairs in the large waiting room and there we had remained for the past almost half hour. I was getting rather impatient, and I still didn't know the girl's name.

Zerbrowski kept glancing up at the clock that hung over the desk that seated a secretary, who was trying to look bored, but I had seen her sneak up several looks ranging from curiosity to delight.

Dolph stood still, and it was then that I noticed the report in his hand. "Got her info?" I asked, my impatience shining through.

He nodded, glancing around, before handing it over to me. I flipped through the pages as Dolph drilled, "Her name is Heather Cerise Muldoon."

"Cerise?" I raised an eyebrow.

Dolph shrugged. "It's what her medical records say. She's sixteen years old. Lives in New York City with her mother and her little brother, but goes to a boarding school in England every year. She's allergic to silver, and apparently long haired animals, like dogs and cats."

I sighed, "So nothing at all about why she was wondering the streets?"

"None," Dolph said with a firm voice.

Zerbrowski yawned rather loudly, his jaws popping.

"Ew," I said. "That's disgusting."

Dolph glanced up at the clock that was on the wall over the waiting desk. "Maybe you should head home," He offered to us, eyeing Zerbrowski. "Can't do much tonight. Come back tomorrow around noon."

Zerbrowski eagerly got up and saluted Dolph with a large grin, all signs of his exhaustion suddenly gone. "I'll see you later, Anita." He nodded at me, and sped down the corridor.

Dolph looked down at me, staring over my shoulder. I mentally sighed. He could at least meet my eyes, but Dolph was such a prude asshole. "You should head home too, Blake," he said gruffly. "I'm leaving myself."

I smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry about it. I can take care of it."

He shot me a dirty look and said, "Fine, whatever Blake. Then you better be into work on time." He left.

I watched him depart, before standing and walking over to the secretary. "Excuse me?" I said, and she looked up at me.

"Yes?" She said brightly.

"Can I have the room number to Heather Muldoon's room?"

While the secretary rattled off the number to me, I gave her a nod and headed off in the direction of the room. I could feel it- she was awake. And I wanted my answers and I wanted them now.

When I pushed open the door to Heather's room, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I paused, and stared at the door in surprise. It smelt almost like...magical residue brushed through the air and out towards me. Just like the wand. I reached into my coat pocket of my leather jacket, and brushed my fingertips across the piece of wood.

The girl was laying on her back, her eyes closed in what looked like a natural sleep. Her hair was a light brown, and fell to her shoulders. Her face was pale, but a large scratch tore across her eyebrow and I knew it was a scar she'd carry for the rest of her life. I glanced down at her hands, and I could see that she was missing her ring finger.

I swallowed. Poor girl. Hopefully she wasn't the romantic type.

I walked closer and said briskly, "Heather. My name is Anita Blake, and I'm a Federal Marsh. And I know you're awake."

She remained still, and after a moment her left eye opened and the oddest eye stared up at me from its surrounding white. One large grey eye was open part way, lazily studying me. Slowly both her eyes opened, revealing a crystal green eye on her right. She stared at me a moment, and smiled.

"Hi," she said in an almost shy manner. "Why are you here?"

I gave a little shrug and said, "I need to know what you remember, Heather."

She made a funny face, and said cheerfully, "Oh, call me Delilah please?"

"Delilah?" I repeated incrudiously. "Why Delilah?"

She smirked at me. "I always hated my name. My Mum always had name issues. My little brother's name is Atreyu. And that's because my Mum always like A Neverending Story." She looked puzzled a moment. "Or perhaps she liked the band?" She shrugged.

I pulled one of the chairs over, and sat down, and said, "But why Delilah?"

She shrugged. "Have you ever heard the song?"

"Song?" I stated, confused.

"Yeah,"she nodded. "You know? 'Hey there Delilah what's it like in New York City, I'm a thousand miles away but girl tonight you look so pretty...'" She trailed off when I continued to look at her, puzzled.

"Never mind that," I said, frustrated.

Heather smiled at me, and said quite cheerfully, "Oh, you must want to know what happened."

I stared at her, taken completely off guard. "You seem perfectly fine with it?" I somehow managed to make my statement sound more like a question.

"Yeah," Heather shrugged. "But I'm not quite sure with how much I'm willing to tell you. You feel like a threat."

I gave the girl an indignant look, before scowling as I leaned forward to peer into her queer eyes. "Listen here, Heather." I stressed her name out, and by the disgruntled look she gave me, she had thought I would use her nickname. "It's almost seven in the morning and I want to go home! So just tell me what I need to know."

I pulled out her wand, twirling it around in my fingers. Heather's eyes went wide as she gaped at me. Her eyes followed my every move, as if she were going to pounce. I stuffed the wand back into my pocket. "We have a deal here?"

"Fine." She sulked, and looked up at me with wide eyes."Just don't break it, okay?" She sounded genuinely worried. She yelped rather suddenly. She went rather green when she looked at the IV sticking out of her body. As if she hadn't just been watching it.

"Ugh,"she said, crinkling her nose.

"Are you okay?" I said wearily, and the girl smiled sheepishly at me. I hoped she wouldn't puke, I don't think I could handle it.

"Yeah. You wanted to know what happened?"

"Yeah, that would work out fine."

She scooted up into a sitting position, and began her tale with a great flourish. "I was on my way to my Daddy's house," she said. "And I thought I heard a cat, and I've always loved cats even though I'm really allergic to them. So I'd thought to myself, why don't I go help the cat? So I walked into the little alley between the brick house and that grocer store there. And there wasn't a cat there."

It almost seemed wrong, but she pouted when she said this. I watched her, observing her movements. She was obviously nervous. I wondered if she realized that she should be dead.

"There was a woman in the corner, and she was crying," she softly said, her eyes on her lap. "I was sad, watching her like that. I offered her help, I told her I'd get her to a hospital."

"Did you see any vampires?" I asked.

She frowned, concentrating one something that I couldn't see as she softly whispered, "There was a man there, and he was laying on the ground bleeding. Another man jumped from off the grocer, and he knelt over him."

For some odd reason, I was fascinated with the story. From the look on her face, Heather obviously was as well.

"He bit him, and I screamed. I backed up, towards the entrance." Her voice lost her dreamy quality as she hissed, "That little bastard turned around and knocked me off my feet. My wand was sent flying. I tried to get it back, and he picked me up and threw me away from him." She paused, and frowned rather suddenly.

" I think I passed out." she mumbled, scowling. "I remember waking up, and trying to crawl away from him."

"And the woman?" I asked, "Was she there still?

"No," the girl said. "Another man was with him, and they we're both feeding off the man from before."

"What happened afterwards?"

"I don't know. They both ran off or something, because the next thing I remember was waking up here."

"I'm the one who found you," I admitted. "Nobody had seen you."

"I know that," Heather said calmly, "I was under protection spells so nobody could locate me. But obviously it didn't extend onto vampires."

I frowned, and we both went silent. The beeping of the heart monitor was almost comforting in the silence of the washed out room. "And the woman?" I finally said, "Was she hurt?"

Heather looked at me, bewildered.

"You said she was hurt before?" I said, confused.

"Oh," Heather said. "She wasn't hurt. She was trying to kill me, on purpose."

"How do you know?" I demanded.

The girl looked over my shoulder as she said, "She works for a known murderer in Europe. I was targeted because of my bloodlines."

"Bloodlines?" I repeated, confused.

Heather looked at me, and I found myself caught in the eyes of the strange witch. "Can I have my wand back now?" she whispered, and I gave her a curt nod as I fished it out from my jacket.

With the stick firmly in her hands, she looked much more peaceful. Even so, she looked at me grimly and said, "Don't you worry about it, Anita. She is un-doubtfully dead by now."

"How do you know though?"

Her eyes bore into mine and she whispered, "Because all things dark must die."

6 months later.

December.

Harry was absently plucking at the sleeves of his Hogwarts robe, watching as Ron and Hermione yet again began to banter at each other. His eyes returned to skim the page of his Potions book he had been absently reading before his two best friends had been to argue.

"Harry," Hermione said briskly, plopping next to him on the bench. He looked up at his best friend, and smiled softly. Hermione truly was someone he could trust with everything, he decided as he watched the bushy haired girl pool over her own work as she worked off her anger on correcting his Potions essay that he had left carelessly beside his open book.

"Hermione," he greeted the girl quietly.

She paused, and stared at him with a frown. "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" All of her previous anger had vanished from her voice, leaving only her worry. Harry controlled the urge to roll his eyes. Half of him wanted to start screaming and yelling about how nothing was right anymore- that nothing would ever be right again. Ever. But he knew if he did, Hermione would probably rush him straight to Dumbledore. Or worse- to Madam Pomfrey.

Harry almost shuddered at the mere thought.

Then again, he considered. It wouldn't be so bad. She'd say something like, "How do you feel, Mr.Potter?"

And he'd reply, "Just dandy. But you know, I've been thinking lately about killing the woman that killed my godfather. I'd enjoy watching her writhe under the Cruciatus curse while I stand over her body and laugh."

He'd probably be sent to Azkaban, but still the thought had merit.

He came back to himself though, when someone pressed a cool hand against his forehead. He blinked owlishly at Hermione, who was frowning with concentration.

He remembered she'd asked him a question.

"I'm fine," he snapped, swatting away her hand.

The girl scowled at him, and turned away from him to glare down at his potions essay once again. "I'm just worried, Harry." she said shortly. "You've been acting weird ever since this summer."

He went rigid.

Hermione's eyes were on him again. "You've changed ever since he died, Harry. Sirius wouldn't want you to-"

"How do you know?" Harry hissed, eyes flashing as he stared down his friend. The girl shrank away under his hot glare, softly saying something that he didn't catch.

"How?" Harry continued to rant, his lips curled back in a snarl. "You don't know, and you never will. He's dead. He's never going to come back! And if I hadn't been so stupid, he wouldn't have risked his life for me!" Harry got to his feet, gathering his things as he shoved them angrily into his bag.

Hermione rose from next to him. "Harry," she whispered, reaching out to touch the sleeve of his robe. He froze. "You can always talk to Ron and I, or maybe you could go talk to Dumbledore? He might be able to help..." she trailed off when Harry wrenched his sleeve out of her grasp.

"Harry?" She said in a quiet, lost voice.

Harry looked back at her, and snarled, "No. I don't need to talk to Dumbledore. If he wants to talk then he can come and find me himself!" He whirled and stomped out of the Hall, seething with anger.

How dare she bring up Sirius? His mind shouted accusations at the bushy haired girl as he stormed down the corridor. A small Hufflepuff squeaked when she saw his face, and took off in the opposite direction. Harry froze, and let out a large sigh as he watched the small girl flee from him.

He leant against one of the stone walls, and let his eyes close. He could still see the accusations in Sirius' voice as he'd told him last year, "Your father would-" Abruptly he shook the thought away almost desperately.

A soft giggle reached his ears, and he snapped into attention to blink at a girl that was standing before him. He noticed her eyes first- a queer blue color. And then he took note of her small nose, and her full lips, and her brown hair, he saw the mud across her face.

And then he noticed she was in Slytherin, and he quickly stood straight and drew his wand in one swift movement.

The girl didn't appear to notice the wand he had pointing at her chest. She continued to smile on, appearing very pleased.

"You're Harry Potter?" She asked, looking excited. She had an American accent.

Harry paused before giving her a small nod.

She beamed, and held out a hand to him, "My name is Delilah," she grinned. "I'm in your year, only you probably haven't seen me before because I actually started a year after you because I live in America and I didn't get my letter until I was 12, but that's okay! I'm here now!"

Hesitantly, still keeping his wand focused on her, he took her hand. She pumped his hand firmly, and Harry quickly let go. Her hand had felt funny.

"Hello," Harry said, feeling awkward.

The girl, Delilah, was brushing the streak of mud from her face. "Jesus," she scowled, scrubbing furiously at it with the sleeve of her black robes. "You would think that wizards had more dignity then this!"

"Who did that to you?" he asked, curious.

She shrugged. "Some of my house mates. They don't like me much."

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "I'm muggleborn. And apparently that is a big 'no-no' for the 'noble house of Slytherin.'"

He could hear the quotations in her voice.

His mind was tied around what she had said though. "You're muggleborn?" he said, startled. "No wonder they hate you! All of Slytherin are prejudiced against muggles! Are you okay there?"

She smiled brightly, her face lighting up. Harry realized then she was actually pretty. "I'm fine," she said. "I have a couple friends in the younger years, who don't agree with Malfoy and his gang."

Harry noticed right away that she spoke withher hands as well as with her mouth. Her small hands traced figures in the air as she shrugged them around. His eyes found themselves drawn to her left hand, and he froze. There, on that hand, she was missing a finger. Harry quickly adverted his eyes, not wanting to seem rude.

She had noticed, though. "I was almost murdered half a year ago," She said quietly. Harry watched her, eyes wide. "Back in America." She paused suddenly, and looked at Harry full in the face.

"I heard about your godfather," she said quietly. "I just wanted to say that if you ever need someone to talk to-"

The rage that had disappeared talking to the girl came roaring back with a furious energy. His anger over pooled out into his voice as he said, "I'm fine, thanks."

The girl looked hurt, and Harry almost flinched. She had just been trying to help him, he realized as the girl shied away from him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean too-"

"No," she interrupted smoothly. "It's okay, I shouldn't have pried." She shot him a wavering smile. "I'll see you later Harry?" The Slytherin girl looked so hopeful that Harry found himself nodding.

The girl broke out into one of her large smiles, her face lighting up. "Bye!" She called, as she skipped down the halls, humming to herself. Watching her go, Harry was struck by how much she reminded him of Luna.

But she was almost murdered...

How could she go on, smiling? She was hated because of her blood, and she had just talked to one of the people that would, in the end, get her killed either way.

He shook it off, as he turned and continued his way through the corridors. Talking to the girl had suddenly got him into the mood to talk to his former teacher and friend of his parents- Remus Lupin.

Remus, Harry decided, needed to get more sleep.

The werewolf had opened the door to his private rooms, looking startled as Harry had looked up at him and said, "Professor, we need to talk."

He had stared down at Harry, before moving over to allow him room to come in, "I thought I'd said you could call me Remus," He had chided, closing the door behind him. The werewolf had been allowed to live in Hogwarts after he had been kicked out of his home by the

Now Harry sat on a small sofa, watching as Remus brought a cup of tea over to set on the coffee table before them. Harry gratefully took the cup and took a small sip, savoring the warmth.

"How have you been, Harry?" Remus asked, his amber eyes full of worry.

Harry mentally wondered to himself if that was all that anybody asked him anymore. It seemed every time that he would be around someone, they wanted to know "how he was." Dean and Seamus gave him looks like he was about to break at any moment, Neville was even more clumsy around him, Ron would give him awkward pats on his back, and Hermione hovered like a mother hen.

His mother was dead. He didn't need a replacement.

Harry scolded himself again for thinking such harsh things against his friends. They didn't deserve it, and he knew it, it was just that he hates to be pitied. He hated that they were constantly worrying about him. They should be worried more about themselves, he thought. They were far too close to him. They would be easy targets for Voldemort.

He quickly banished his line of thoughts, instead he focused on Remus, who was bringing his own cup of tea over, sitting across from Harry. He was carefully watching Harry, his amber eyes patient as Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm," he struggled to find a way to end the sentence- he had been saying 'fine' for so many months that it was almost an involuntary action. "doing better." he said.

Remus blew gently onto his cup of tea, and said quietly, "Would you like to talk about him?"

Harry knew he meant Sirius.

"Not really," Harry admitted quietly.

Remus' lips quirked into a rueful smile. "It's still to fresh a wound, even though it's been six months." He was speaking from experience, and Harry could hear old sorrows crawling form beneath his calm exterior.

Harry gave a curt nod, watching Remus the way a man lost in a desert would look at water.

Remus was watching the fireplace now, that crackled behind Harry. It was the only source of light illuminating the room. Remus' face looked older somehow in the glow, and Harry was painfully reminded of Sirius' face as he-

No. Not thinking about that.

Remus softly murmured, "The pain never goes away, Harry. It will live with you until the day you die, but it is possible to live with the pain." He paused, taking a sip of tea. Harry found himself mimicking him.

Remus cleared his throat. "When your parents died, I was still young, though not as young as you are. After I heard about Sirius, I wanted custody of you. Of course, that was impossible." he gave a spiteful smile.

Harry understood. Werewolves couldn't have custody of children.

Remus continued, "I learned to live with the fact that my best friends were dead, and that all three had been a result of one joining with Voldemort." He gave another ironic smile. "Of course, now we know it was Peter, not Sirius."

Harry nodded.

Remus sighed. "It's wrong, Harry, that you have had to face so much death in your short years, but what has happened, has happened." he took another gulp. "Sirius loves you, Harry. Never forget that. As long as you remember how much he loves you, it makes the pain not so hard to handle."

Harry stared into Remus' eyes, and he could almost swear that he could see battle scars torn into the werewolf's very soul, carving out eternity. It frightened him.

Remus gave a little sigh, and said in a much more cheerful voice, "Have you plans for the winter holidays?"

Harry shook his head, knowing Remus was changing the subject but not really minding. He didn't enjoy seeing Remus in pain. "No," Harry admitted. "The Weasley's offered, but I didn't want to bother them."

Remus tilted his head. "And Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. "I think she's going to her grandmothers house," he said. "Hermione says she's really old fashioned. She told me that her grandmother would think we were dating or something." he crinkled his nose at the thought.

Remus smiled. "You harbor no feelings for her?" He sounded genuinely curious, which cause Harry to jerk his head up to gape at the werewolf.

"No, no!" Harry snorted. "That'd be gross. 'Mione is like an annoying sister, or a mother hen or something! Not a girlfriend!"

Remus chuckled. "And Ron?"

"Is madly in love with her." Harry said, feeling proud of himself.

Of course, he really shouldn't. He wasn't the one who had noticed. It had been Ginny who told him.

He and Ginny had been sitting together in dinner, a comfortable silence between the two, and Ron and Hermione had both gotten into another one of their arguments, which had resulted in Hermione storming from the room, with Ron close on her heels.

The fifth year redhead had turned to Harry and said quite promptly, "You know right?"

He had said, "Know what?"

And she'd stared at him incrudiously, "That those two are madly in love!"

He had spit his pumpkin juice across the table, onto Colin Creevy who had looked far too happy for someone that was soaking wet.

Harry had stuttered, "How do you figure?" To which Ginny gave him a pointed look and went back to eating.

He had spent the weeks afterwards studying his two best friend and he had come to the conclusion that Ginny was, indeed, right. The two acted like an old married couple. Harry had known he was sort of oblivious when it came to love, but he hadn't realized that someone as smart as Hermione could be ever more oblivious then himself.

Remus was smiling as Harry drifted back from his thoughts.

"Do you plan on staying in Hogwarts?" Remus questioned.

Harry nodded. "I figured it was the only place to go," he admitted.

Remus pursed his lips and said slowly, "There is someplace you could go. To get away for the break, to get away from everyone for the break."

"Some place?" Harry asked, curious.

Remus nodded. He nodded towards Harry's tea cup. "You finished?" he asked.

Harry looked down, startled, and said "Oh, yeah," and handed the cup up to Remus. He murmured a spell, and the cups were cleaned, and they rose into a cupboard in the far corner of the room. Harry watched the cups, and realized once again how much he loved magic.

Remus leant back onto his seat, closing his eyes momentarily, before opening them again. "It's pretty far away," he said. "So you wouldn't be interrupted by any of us wizards. It was a house that Lily bought for Petunia, but she refused to move there."

Of course, Harry almost snorted. The idea of Aunt Petunia accepting anything from her sister was crazy- Petunia hates everything that had to do with magic. Harry, and no doubt his mother as well as his father.

The idea was enlightening though. He could have a place to get away form everything and just rest a bit. Everything would be good, and he could just have time. Time to think, time to puzzle over the prophesy, time to plan how to kill a certain Death Eater with long wild black hair..

Remus continued, "It's in America though."

Harry looked up, startled. "America?" he repeated. All hope vanished. There was no way Dumbledore would allow him free passage to America by himself.

Harry's disappointment must have been clear because Remus quickly said, "I already talked to Albus about it, and he was all for the idea. He agrees with your friends- he thinks you need to get a way for a bit."

Harry stared at the werewolf, searching for lies in amber eyes.

He slowly smiled.