Beneath Boundless Skies -- Team EWE

Title: Beneath Boundless Skies
Author: blamebrampton
Team: EWE
Prompt: Death
Wordcount: 29,800
Rating: M
Warnings: Character death (not H/D), homosexual activities, rampant Australianisms
Summary: The end of one journey is the start of another. No matter how hard it is, nor how long it takes you to make the first step.
Author's Note Many thanks to my betas, the lovely team EWE and the mods for running the fest. And to everyone who has ever danced in the face of death.

It was, without doubt, the strangest Owl that Harry had ever received.

A firm hand, using a broad quill, had spelt out "Potter, Thank you. Malfoy" A finer, more elegant hand had added a "Dear" at the beginning, and a penultimate "Draco".

He blinked at the owl, a small brown that seemed vaguely familiar. "What time is it?" he asked, still groggy from sleep. The owl hooted at him. Harry did not need a bird to tell him that birds could not tell the time.

Bright sun shone in through the castle's open window beside him. Someone, presumably Kreacher, had been in and left clean clothes at the end of his bed. And there was a meal, the dishcovers were still warm. Harry guessed it might be two o'clock, maybe a little later.

He took the dishcovers off and grinned at the sight of shepherd's pie, roast vegetables and treacle tart. His favourite comfort meal. He sat on his bed and began to eat, grateful to Kreacher. Images of the house-elf at the head of a band of armed warriors played in his mind. That had been a good moment. Merlin he was hungry.

The brown owl hopped over and clicked its beak hopefully. Harry passed it a roast carrot, which was apparently acceptable. He picked up the parchment it had borne again. Such a strange letter. He supposed he had saved Malfoy's life, but was that the sort of thing one sent a note regarding?

Clearly Narcissa Malfoy thought so, if Harry was any judge. Which meant that she might very well be expecting a similar note from him. Harry grinned at the owl. He looked over at the trunk beside him, yes, there was a quill and ink. Eating with his left hand, he penned a reply with his right on a scrap torn from the original parchment.

"Dear Mrs Malfoy, Thank you for your courage and kindness in not betraying me to Voldemort in the final battle. It meant a great deal to me, and, I suspect, to the war effort. I hope your family is well. Sincerely, Harry James Potter."

There was no room for more. "Halfbloods can be polite, too," Harry told the owl, tying the note to its leg. The owl continued to be interested only in the contents of Harry's plate, and was rewarded with scraps before being sent on its way.

Harry finished his meal and contemplated a shower before heading down to face what remained of the day and find Ron and Hermione. Maybe just a quick nap to digest first.

*******************

Harry woke to the sound of his name being called. He sat up, shoving his glasses on, just in time to see Kingsley stepping into his room. The light was longer now, evening rolling in, or was it the next morning?

"Did I wake you?" Kingsley asked.

"No. Well, yes, but I need to get up. Come in," Harry invited, swinging himself out from underneath his blanket. He was still dressed in yesterday's clothes, and suddenly aware that he smelled terrible.

Kingsley came over and patted Harry's shoulder, then sat on the bed opposite his. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had some sleep and food," Harry replied. "Could do with a shower, though."

"Couldn't we all?" Kingsley smiled. Harry noticed that he, too, was wearing yesterday's clothes. "You did well, Harry."

"We all did. It's hard to believe it's over."

Kingsley leaned across and patted Harry's knee. "It's over. You did it. And I've come to tell you that the Prime Minister sends his regards and that the Interim Minister for Magic requests you dine with him tonight."

"Well he can sod off for a start."

Kingsley turned the corners of his mouth down comically. "I thought we were friends."

"It's you?"

Kingsley nodded.

Harry grinned. "That's great! I go to sleep for a few hours and already things have started improving. It was just a few hours, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it's seven. Dinner will be half an hour. Everyone's down in the Room of Requirement, Minerva's created a new hall there ..." Kingsley didn't need to explain, the memory of the Great Hall was unlikely to fade for either of them.

Harry nodded, happy to hear that the Fiendfyre had not destroyed the Room itself. "Okay then, I'll shower and get dressed."

Kingsley didn't get up. "There's two more things ..." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet. He held up the front page, with its banner headline of 'SALVATION' and underneath it an artist's impression of Harry killing Voldemort—which was substantially more dramatic than the real sequence of events.

Harry couldn't help laughing at the absurdity.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Kingsley said with a smile. "And then there's the Malfoy question. Did Narcissa Malfoy really help you in the final battle?"

Harry frowned. "Yes, she did, immensely. But how did you know?"

"We read your letter. Andromeda Tonks insisted on it. She has Narcissa and Draco with her."

"And Lucius?"

"He's with us."

Harry thought for a moment. "Draco helped, too," he added. "When we were imprisoned at the manor, he refused to identify me. And last night—this morning—he stopped Vincent Crabbe from killing me."

"That's good." Kingsley's voice was gentle. "I have no taste for prosecuting children."

Harry remembered something else. "Gregory Goyle," he blurted out. "He's just an idiot. He was in it because he's a bully who thought the robes and masks were cool."

"He participated in Death Eater raids," Kingsley told him. "No murders, at least. A lesser evil, perhaps. Or maybe just a more banal one."

Harry pushed a hand back through his grotty hair. "It was all banal," he whispered. "All those people dead for Tom Riddle's fear. Such a stupid waste."

"Not a waste." Kingsley's voice was surprisingly loud and resonant. "None of us wasted our energies or lives so long as we were able to stand up and say that we wanted a world in which everyone walked free and equal. Courage is never wasted, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Remus said something like that once." At the name, a flood of other memories intruded. "Andromeda Tonks, how is she? How's Teddy? What's she doing with the Malfoys? Is there someone else with her?"

Kingsley raised a calming hand. "They are both well. She has taken her sister and nephew in for the moment. Sybill Trelawney has gone to her house with them to help manage things."

"Professor Trelawney?"

"She was quite keen to help," Kingsley smiled. "And mysticism aside, she's a fine witch with a bit of a temper on her."

"Did you see her with the crystal balls?"

"A memory that will keep me warm in old age."

Harry stood up and gathered his clean clothes. One more thought occurred to him. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Kingsley's grin was mischievous. "I sent them off to bed. I insisted they needed to sleep as much as you did."

Harry grinned back. "I'm glad you're the new Minister."

"Interim Minister," Kingsley corrected him. "Now go and shower, dinner's in twenty-five minutes."

****************

Dinner was not the trial Harry had expected. In a strange way it was comforting, there was a tangible bond among the survivors. Immense relief buoyed them, and made bearable their shared grief.

As he walked in through the doors, there was a chorus of "Harry!", and then another of "Neville!" as Longbottom came in behind him. Harry turned to greet his classmate, but was too late. Hannah Abbott and Luna Lovegood swooped in and took Neville by his arms, escorting him to their table-full of DA members. The three of them flashed smiles at Harry as they passed. He, bemused, was beckoned by Kingsley over to a table full of Order members.

Professor McGonagall insisted that Harry sit between her and Kingsley. Several times through the evening he caught her simply looking at him. "Sorry, Mr Potter," she apologised on the fourth occasion. "I'm just ... very pleased to see you this evening."

Harry knew exactly what she meant, but, like his old teacher, had no idea how to say it. He smiled, and she patted his arm in understanding.

It was a strange meal. The house-elves divided their time between delivering food and sitting at their own table, apparently consuming a great deal of butterbeer. A buzz of particular excitement ran under everything. Several times Harry looked up to see senior students sneaking from the room in pairs.

Hermione and Ron appeared halfway through dinner and sat at the end of Harry's table, with Charlie Weasley and Professor Flitwick. Harry exchanged looks with them and laughed out loud when Ron grinned broadly and Hermione blushed as red as Weasley hair. He was happy for them; after the past year, they deserved it.

Emotions were less intense than they had been that morning. Some of the younger students were being hugged by family and friends, some of the adults and seventh years sat alone, looking for a spot of peace.

"Are there more Death Eaters to be rounded up?" he asked Kingsley suddenly.

Shacklebolt shook his head. "The ones we know of are all accounted for, dead or in custody. There are more supporters out there, and snatchers and the like. I'm sorry to say that no one's seen Dolores Umbridge since yesterday, but the main danger is really over."

Harry smiled crookedly. He wondered if something similar was said sixteen years ago.

Kingsley guessed his thoughts. "It won't be like last time, Harry. They revealed their hand too thoroughly. The Ministry has been gutted and will be rebuilt only with those who can genuinely be trusted. I don't care if I have to make it so ninety per cent of the staff are Muggleborn, it ends here."

Harry nodded soberly. "I believe you."

Neville appeared at Harry's elbow. "Heya," he said, smiling. "I've finally escaped!"

Harry couldn't help smiling back. "From a table full of our friends, and girls who keep touching you."

"It's been like that all day." Neville grinned. "Probably because you were busy sleeping."

Harry poked his shoulder happily. "Idiot. It's the sword thing."

"Yeah, well," Neville muttered. "Would have been more than just crispy eyebrows if not for your protective magic. That was good work."

Aside from thinner eyebrows, Neville actually looked better than he had last night. Healers must have been at work, Neville's bruises and cuts were gone, leaving one rather rakish scar along his jaw.

Neville frowned. "I hate to ask, but were you actually dead? Because that's how they're saying you did it. Like you said this morning—the same way your mum protected you."

"I don't think so," Harry answered, aware that the other conversations around them had stopped and more ears than Neville's were listening.

"I think I was mostly alive and that Voldemort only killed his connection with me. It was all pretty strange."

He looked for a way to phrase the experience "I was somewhere else for a while. Dumbledore was there. He told me he thought I was alive, but that because I was prepared to die if I needed to, that would be enough."

Neville looked at him for a long moment. "Shit, Harry, that's pretty serious," he said at last.

"Says the bloke who stood up to the Dark Lord single-handed."

Neville shrugged. "Eh, somebody had to, you were just lying around."

Harry's guffaw was so loud that conversation at other tables stopped and people turned to look at him. He knew he should have felt guilty for laughing, there were so many dead, but he was alive. And people he had expected to die before dawn were alive, too.

The level of volume in the hall went up at that, and laughter and anecdote began to flow more freely, along with the butterbeer and firewhisky. Harry lifted his first glass to Neville. "To the heir of Gryffindor," he said, only half joking.

"To the saviour of the wizarding world," Neville replied, with considerably more tongue in cheek. They tossed back the drinks. Neville's face was more serious after he had finished. "Someone should say something," he lifted his chin towards the masses on the other side of the table, "to them. A sort of toast. It should probably be you, Harry."

The problem with Neville, Harry realised, was his habit of being right on uncomfortable topics.

"All right. Stand with me?"

Neville nodded. Harry poured more firewhiskey and the two young men stood, glasses in hand. A ripple of silence spread out from them, and all eyes turned towards them.

Harry took a deep breath and held his glass high. "To those who stood, and to those who fell. Every single one of you bought Voldemort's defeat, let us go on from here in ways that honour the sacrifices made. To victory."

Hundreds of voices echoed: "To victory." Hundreds of glasses were raised, and downed.

"Nice one," Neville whispered.

Kingsley was smiling at Harry, and Professor McGonagall reached out and squeezed his arm. There were tears in her eyes, and she was blinking them away crossly. Harry smiled a crooked smile. He rather felt the same. Ron and Hermione raised their glasses slightly to him, and Harry returned the gesture, flooded with memories of the past year. The air felt heavy.

Luna's voice floated out across it. "It's moments like these where we really need a single tune for the school song."

The heaviness receded. Someone transfigured a plate into a drum, someone else made a guitar out of a chair. Fiddles and a bass were formed, a knife became a flute, the scratch band conferred briefly and started in on one of the Weird Sisters' better-known dance tunes. Tables were pushed back and people began to dance. Those who stayed seated turned to their neighbours and shared their stories.

Professor McGonagall surprised Harry by pulling a photograph from one of her pockets. She held it across to him with a small smile. There she was, small between the figures of Fred and George Weasley, who were looking down at her with great affection. "Colin Creevey gave me this last year," she told him. "He thought I needed reminding of jollier times." She tilted her chin up and smiled more determinedly. "I've carried it with me and found it immensely helpful. I suspect several copies might be in order."

Harry looked at the twins waving goofily at the camera. George was making the classic bunny ears behind McGonagall's head, while Fred mouthed that Colin ought to hurry up. The image of the young Muggle-born boy snapping away popped readily into Harry's head. "I'd like one of those copies," he said.

"Charlie Weasley might want to see this, his dining companions have deserted him." McGonagall indicated meaningly with a chin lift.

Charlie seemed self-contained as he watched the dancing, but he smiled as Harry sat beside him. "Heyup, Harry. Was looking for you earlier, but word has it you were dead to the world. Again. It's a habit with you."

Harry snorted. "That's appalling, Charlie."

"I've been waiting hours to use it, thanks for the chance." Charlie grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What's that?"

"Photo. Professor McGonagall thought you might like a copy. It's ... it's Fred." Harry held out the photo and Charlie took it gently.

He smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. "It is indeed," he murmured, as the Fred in the photo left off teasing Colin and waved at his brother. Charlie handed it back. "I'd like a copy very much." They sat in silence for a minute or two, then Charlie went on. "I have some photos of Tonks at home, from when we were at school, and then when she came to visit me over the last few years. I'll find some good ones and make you copies."

Harry paused. "I'd like that. I can share them with her mum and Teddy."

"Good lad."

Charlie stood up. "I should probably go home. Mum's trying to fix up the house at the same time as sorting the funeral. George said that you are not to come tonight, because he wants you to stay here and have a chance at a bit of a party. He says that Fred would return from the dead and kill him if he let you leave your celebration, and then the beauteous Gred visage would be gone from the world altogether. I think that's pretty close to the exact wording. He said come tomorrow, with Ron. And slap Ron if he refuses Hermione's advances."

"Er ..."

Charlie grinned. "Already sorted? Brilliant. I'll let George know, that'll cheer him up." He reached down and drew Harry into a swift, fierce hug, then released him just as quickly. "See you tomorrow. And don't worry, Ginny will come round."

Charlie was several steps away before Harry called after him: "Tell her to stay at the Burrow, I'll see her tomorrow." Charlie's steps paused for a moment, then resumed their path to the door.

********************

The next morning, Harry was woken by Ron and Hermione. Like most of the younger inhabitants of the castle, they had still been dancing when he left for bed, but he was so tired. At least today's waking light was considerably earlier than yesterday's.

"Is he awake?" Hermione whispered, not quietly.

"I'm checking!" Ron replied.

"People are awake in Hufflepuff with the noise you two are making," Harry grumbled, sitting up and fumbling his glasses into place.

Ron and Hermione flopped down on his quilt. "Sorry," she said. "But we wanted to make sure you saw this before you came down to breakfast."

"In case it puts you off your food," Ron interjected.

"What?"

Hermione pulled a hugely thick edition of the Daily Prophet from under her jumper. "This," she said.

Harry looked down at the paper. The front page was him again, with Neville this time, under the banner 'HEROES'. He turned the page to find a long feature: 'The Longbottoms' Legacy of Courage', with many more shots of Neville and a series of proud quotes from his grandmother.

"This is brilliant!" he laughed. And there were Ron and Hermione on page three: 'The Brains and the Heart: Behind Harry's Success'.

"You look great, Hermione!"

She held back a smile. "It's on page five ..."

Harry flicked over. There was a large photograph of Andromeda Tonks with her husband and daughter, and a smaller one of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. The headline beside them read: 'How the Dark Lord's Most Trusted Helped to Defeat Him', it was written by Andromeda. Harry let out a quiet sigh.

He scanned the paragraphs. His letter was there in full, and Kingsley was quoted repeating Harry's words regarding Draco. Neither of the Malfoys commented in the story, just a single mention that Lucius planned to throw himself on the mercy of the Ministry.

"What do you call that?" Ron poked the paper.

Harry looked up at him and smiled faintly. "A family. I can't blame her."

"It's Malfoy!"

"Who didn't give us up at the Manor, who stopped Crabbe killing me. He may not have been any real use to us, but he did help, even if he didn't mean to." Harry looked at his two friends very seriously. "His mother saved my life when Voldemort wanted me dead. I owe her."

"What about Lucius?" Hermione asked.

"Prison," Harry answered immediately.

"Well, that's something," Ron muttered.

A new worry occurred to Harry. "Do you think your mum will mind?"

Ron shook his head. "Things will be a bit crazy at home, I don't think they'll be worried about the paper."

Harry looked at Ron closely. "How're you holding up?"

"Yeah, good and bad," Ron shrugged stoically. "Been the best two days of my life in some ways, and the worst in others. It's still not real that I won't see Fred again. 'Spose it'll hit when I go home. George is probably going to kill me for taking so long."

Harry coughed slightly. "Maybe not," he muttered.

Ron looked at him sharply. Harry continued, "He sent word with Charlie that he wanted you to stay here with Hermione." Harry paused as Hermione's eyebrows soared dangerously. "To make sure that she was fine because her family is still in Australia," he concluded quickly.

Both of his friends' faces expressed extreme doubt at this reasoning. Harry couldn't help laughing, and they followed, though Hermione mixed laughter with blushes.

"Good old George," Ron declared. "He's a prince among brothers."

The rest of the morning passed in breakfast and planning. Ron and Hermione went straight to the Burrow, Harry to follow in a few hours after making a brief statement to the press, a favour for which Kingsley had promised him eternal gratitude.

What Harry had forgotten was that this left an unfilled half-hour. Through habit, he wandered outside the castle—and regretted it immediately.

The lawns were gouged with the violence of battle. Stones from collapsed walls and thrown missiles littered the spaces he had marched across on the way to and from classes and escapades since he was eleven. Dark stains showed where people had fallen—wounded, dead—many of them people he knew, some of them people he loved. In the distance, the remnants of Hagrid's hut still smoked.

Hagrid himself was visible, too, with Grawp, to the left of the castle's entrance. As Harry watched they lifted stones and began to rebuild the drystone wall that held back one of the garden beds. Students and parents who were walking in the grounds came to help, spelling stones into place and replanting uprooted shrubs.

Harry wandered closer. This wall had a small plaque at the still-standing end, which had previously been hidden by a now-crisped fuchsia: 'In loving memory of those students, staff and friends of Hogwarts who laid down their lives that evil might be defeated: 1970-1981.' Harry was astonished that he had noticed dozens of ancient In Memoriams about the grounds, but never this.

It occurred to Harry that he had forgotten something important.

The journey to the Owlery was doubled by collapses and blockages across the grounds, and the Owlery itself had suffered in the battle, but there were still a good number of school birds in residence, and some sensible hand had laid in a supply of parchment, ink and ribbon so the survivors could send messages.

Harry took up an envelope and scrawled Dudley Dursley on the outside, then paused. He added: In hiding, somewhere in the South East, the Order of the Phoenix should know.

"Sorry," he apologised in advance to the owls.

He picked up a sheet of parchment and scrawled a hasty note to let his cousin know the war was over and that he'd survived it.

Harry tied the message to the leg of the largest owl he could find. "Good luck," he told it. "I'll appreciate whatever you can do about getting that to him."

With a Hedwig-like click of its beak, the owl flew away, and Harry trudged back inside to face the press.

*******************

Harry's sudden good mood lasted him all the way through his press interviews, especially when Luna Lovegood sat with him on behalf of The Quibbler and probed him with questions such as: what were his preferred wild herbs to eat while hiding from Dark Wizards? and what did he have to say to those who considered him to be immortal?

She had hugged him fiercely when he apologised that he had to go and be with the Weasleys, and sent all her love to Ron and his family. Then she had thanked him for his defence of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.

"When I was trapped in the Manor with Mr Ollivander, they were not unkind to us. We always ate more when they brought us food, and they made the house-elves protect us from some of the Death Eaters who wanted to harm us. I appreciated that."

Harry sensed the calm voice in which she relayed this hid a story that was much scarier, and felt he'd made the right decision.

But stepping out of the Floo at the Burrow, Harry's cheer evaporated. Molly Weasley sat at her clearly repaired kitchen table forlornly looking at photos of her dead son. Arthur was beside her, holding her hand. They both stood up to greet him.

"Don't get up, it's just me." Harry half-smiled at Molly, aware that a like-a-son was a poor substitute for an actual son.

"No just about it, Harry," said Arthur, enveloping him a hug.

"Oh Harry," Molly hiccoughed. "When I thought they'd killed you, too ..." Her voice trailed off in a soft wail and Harry and her husband hugged her in turn.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"He knew the risks, son," Arthur patted his shoulder. "We all did, and we thought them worth running. We made choices to be there. And if Fred had known what was going to happen, he'd still have gone."

Harry nodded. There were no words to answer that. He knew Fred had possessed more overt courage than he did, and even he had chosen death to defeat Voldemort. Maybe it was easier if he thought of everyone as having made the same decision. Even if the others had been less certain.

"We've sent the children outside to do some more work to the place, and to see if they have any ideas for what they think Fred would have liked at his funeral," Arthur told him. "You go out and join them. See if you can come up with anything that isn't fireworks or a rocket-propelled casket."

Harry smiled. "Fred would have liked both of those."

"Well," Arthur conceded, "Molly and I may allow a few small fireworks. Possibly something a bit more spectacular at the end of the ceremony."

Molly sniffed loudly. "He'll have the whole fandango. Bigger than Bonfire Night. He may no longer be with us, but that's no reason to start pretending he was what he wasn't. Subtlety was never something Fred liked."

Harry smiled affectionately at her.

Molly clicked her tongue. "Go on, out with you. The others are still tidying up. Too many unwanted visitors this last year."

Outside Ron and Charlie were rebuilding one of the fences, but were happy to stop when they saw Harry.

"How goes the darling of the Daily Prophet?" Charlie asked.

Harry raised his middle fingers in a gesture of support. "How goes the building?"

"Not so bad," Ron wiped his hands on his jeans and sat down under a nearby tree. "Time for a quick rest now, though.

"Can't push Ronniekins too hard, he'll rupture something vital," Charlie agreed, sitting beside his brother.

Harry noticed the gentle nudge of shoulders between the brothers that accompanied Charlie's banter. He joined them in the shade. "How are George and Ginny?" he asked.

Ron sighed. Charlie answered, instead. "George is bearing up pretty well. He says that whenever he wants to just throw himself to the ground and wail, he imagines what Fred would say and is too embarrassed. And he says that even though he knows Fred's gone, he still feels him around, still feels comforted by him."

Harry nodded. He had an inkling of that feeling himself.

"Ginny ... She's taking it hard ..." Charlie sighed, too. He looked at Harry intently. "She's not really herself at the moment. Just ... just don't be too hard on her."

Harry frowned, uncertain. "I won't," he promised. "I never would be."

Charlie pulled a flask of something bitter and Romanian from his pocket and passed it round for fortifying sips, then the three young men put themselves to fence rebuilding in earnest. The job was completed in less than an hour, including shoring up the wall of Arthur's shed, and finding some of his collection of Muggle artefacts, which had been scattered by some of those who had come in search of Ron.

"Good job Dad's lineage is so impressive," Charlie muttered as he returned a jar of screws to its rightful shelf. "They could hardly preach pureblood supremacy and go about offing us."

Harry nodded quietly. Until he'd seen the clear signs of repeated searches, he hadn't realised how at risk the Weasleys had been. The irony of prejudice being their salvation wasn't lost on him, but he was grateful nonetheless.

It was dinner before he saw Ginny. She and George had not appeared with Bill, Fleur and Hermione. Percy was even back from the Ministry before six, looking tired, but speaking proudly of the work they had begun. Just before seven, with food about to hit the table, she came in with her brother, gave Harry a small, tight smile, and sat at the other end of the table. George looked at Harry sympathetically and sat beside him.

"Heyup, Harry," he murmured.

"Hey George. How are you holding up?"

"Reasonably crap, but philosophical. He lived a full life, life goes on, it was for the greater good, I've heard them all in the last two days." George smiled wryly. "I am considering a line of platitude-based sweets to be handed out by the bereaved on occasions such as this. They will induce indigestion proportional to the inanity in the commenter. Possibly nausea. I'm working on it."

Harry couldn't help but hope he followed through on this. "So you're keeping Wizarding Wheezes going?"

George's eyes widened. "Harry you godless creature, you may not believe in the sure and certain resurrection, but I am a great proponent of the afterlife, and when my time comes I do not want Fred's words of welcome to begin with 'You fucking prat' and conclude with 'what the fuck were you thinking?' Of course I'm keeping it on. Ron's going to help for a year."

Harry turned to Ron. "You're not coming back to school?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, Kingsley says that it won't make a difference if I want to apply for the Aurors later, he'll just drum whatever I need to know into my thick head. Don't think I could face it, not after what happened there."

Harry bit his lip guiltily. "Sorry mate, I didn't even think."

"That's OK. If I wanted thinking I'd ask my girlfriend." Ron's grin at the word threatened to pull a cheek muscle.

Harry turned back to George. "Is there anything I can ..."

George patted him on the head. "You've already done it, Harry. He didn't die in vain." George's jaw tightened for a moment, and Harry looked away as grief washed across his eyes, looked back as George sighed. "He'd have been proud of all of us. And is, I am guessing, not impressed about the fact that after all that resistance, he missed the chance to pick up at the victory celebrations. Tell me you, at least ..."

Harry shook his head. "I got some sleep."

"Well, I suppose it's for the best." George glanced at Ginny, and Harry, thinking he understood, smiled.

It was the quietest dinner Harry had ever had at the Burrow. Several times he tried to catch Ginny's eye; every time he received a small smile, after which she would look away quickly.

Harry was surprised, then, when she asked him to stay at the table after dinner. Molly shooed everyone else from the room and left them to talk. Harry couldn't help noticing that even she seemed worried.

Ginny sat beside him, and hugged him fleetingly. "I'm so glad you're alive," she whispered. Then she pressed her lips together.

Harry breathed in the scent of her hair. "Ginny, I ..." he began.

She raised a hand to stop him. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, quickly. "Every time I look at you I think of Fred."

She swallowed. "I know it wasn't your fault, but you were right there. He was my favourite brother. You didn't help him!"

Harry felt as though his lungs were being squeezed. The back of his throat, too. "Ginny," he managed, "Gin, I ..."

Tears were pouring down her face, but she looked at him fiercely. "I know! I know it's not fair. Percy told me what happened, I know! But it's how I feel and I can't help it!"

Harry felt his own eyes fill, and his breath was hard to draw. He took in a few panting lungfuls, then managed a full one, and blinked back the threatening tears. "OK. All right. I can see that. I'll go away for a bit so you don't have to see me. And when you feel a bit better, we'll try again."

Ginny closed her eyes.

Harry didn't press the point.

"I'll stay at school tonight, and come back in the morning, so I can help put the house back in order before the funeral."

Ginny smiled a sad little smile. "Thank you."

"Can you ask Ron and Hermione if they can come up for breakfast? And tell everyone where I've gone?"

"Yes, of course." Ginny stood beside Harry and put her arms around him. "I'm so sorry. I know you tried to save everyone. I know that you never wanted this."

Harry hugged her back stiffly. "I never wanted any of this, Gin. None of it was fair."

She caught a little more meaning than he had intended to convey. With a last tightening of her arms and a sob, she fled the room.

He gazed after her for a little while, but he knew she wasn't coming back. Quietly he stood up, walked to the fireplace, stoked the fire, took a pinch of powder from the mantel and Flooed back to school. Home.

Neville, Dean, Hannah and Luna were all in the Gryffindor common room when he stepped over the hearth. Harry nodded tiredly at them.

"Thought you were staying at the Burrow, with Ginny," Neville said, somewhat confused.

Harry grinned wryly. "Yeah, so did I."

"Oh. Dear." Neville patted Harry's shoulder clumsily. "Sorry."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Think I might go to bed early."

"Yeah, course. Um, sleep well."

Harry made his way up the stairs, past the figures of other students who had fought and their parents who had stayed with them, to the welcome of his old bed.

There was a tray of still-steaming food on a table beside his four-poster, and an owl waiting in the window. He reached across and took the letter from the school owl.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll go to the Owlery if I need to reply. You get some rest."

It was the same owl he had sent earlier in the day. Dudley's handwriting was neater than Harry remembered.

I am very happy that you are alive and that the bad guy is dead, it read. I hope that you did not have to kill him because that would be really horrible, but if you did I am sure that he deserved it. I am sorry to hear that people you knew died.

Mum sends her regards and hopes you are well. Dad is pretending that he did not see the owl. They are both well.

Dudley closed with the hope that he and Harry would stay in touch. Harry smiled. At least there was some good news to end the day on.

*********************

Ron and Hermione did appear for breakfast. This time Harry was up and dressed before they arrived. He took advantage of his freedom to call for Kreacher.

The house-elf appeared carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea, and two cups. "Cheers," said Harry. "Pour one for yourself."

Kreacher did so and handed Harry's to him. "You called for Kreacher, Master?" he asked calmly.

Harry sipped his tea. "I did. I wanted to ask you something. Do you prefer Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place?"

"Master will not be giving Kreacher his freedom," the house-elf warned, though his voice remained calm. "Kreacher is an old elf and does not want change."

Harry smiled. "Kreacher, you led an army."

"In the service of Kreacher's Master, which is a proper duty for an elf."

Harry nodded. "And I was proud of you, Regulus would have been proud, too. No freedom, I know that's not what you want. But you've done a lot for the house-elves here at Hogwarts and I was wondering if you'd rather stay here than go back to Grimmauld Place for the time being?"

"Grimmauld Place is Kreacher's home," the house-elf began, though without much enthusiasm.

"Yes, but I thought we could spend a year here while we helped the school get back together," Harry suggested. "And then move back to London for work next year."

Kreacher's mouth almost looked as though it was smiling. "Kreacher thinks that Master deserves a holiday at this time and it would be proper for Kreacher to stay by his side and bring tea."

"Why tea?" Harry suddenly realised that he had received more tea from Kreacher in the last two days than he would normally have seen in a month.

"Master has been through an ordeal. Tea is the sovereign cure for ordeals. Everyone knows that."

"Of course. So. Er, Hogwarts is your home for now, but move about as you need to. Will that cover it?"

Kreacher agreed that it would, and promptly disappeared with the dirty cups.

Harry was surprised how easy it was to sort out his life now that he knew it was a continuing proposition. He would ask the Aurors to examine Grimmauld Place, to see if the Death Eaters had left behind any nasty surprises. Then he would ask Professor McGonagall about coming back to school, though so many of his year were repeating or only now taking their seventh year that he expected that to be a matter of course. He would not think about Ginny. He would invest more money into Wizarding Wheezes so that George and Ron could rebuild easily. He would establish scholarships in the names of the fallen, and only give interviews if the press promised to encourage donations.

Next year he would move to London, and Kingsley had promised him a place in Auror training, so that would be easy, too. Perhaps Ron and Hermione would share Grimmauld Place with him. Maybe this wasn't exactly what he'd planned, but it would be good.

Harry's optimism lasted until his two best friends appeared in the common room Floo.

Hermione flung herself into his arms. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!"

Ron patted his shoulder. "I've had a word with her, but she won't budge. Sorry, mate. She'll come round eventually."

Harry felt the tightening in his throat again. "No she won't," he muttered. "Anyway, we're here to eat. Let's head down."

Breakfast was a splendid affair, even better than the previous day's. The porridge was served with cream and three choices of sugar. Lamb cutlets joined the bacon and sausages, two omelettes appeared, one with smoked salmon. Harry ate until his stomach actually hurt, Ron kept going well after that point.

"The thing," said Ron, "that you never fully appreciated, is that I'd never missed a meal in my life until last year." He shovelled in a slice of toast slathered in marmalade. "It wasn't that I was bad tempered, I was hungry."

"You were bad tempered and hungry, Ron," Hermione told him gently. "But we love you anyway."

Ron gave her cheek a sticky kiss, and offered to lick it clean when she complained. Harry's hopeful mood returned. This was how things were meant to be.

He kept that mood up all through the day, working long hours at the Burrow, then returning to Hogwarts for a huge dinner and an evening of excited conversation with his former housemates and friends.

The next day Harry awoke to the headline: 'The Girl Who Broke our Hero's Heart' and two-hundred-and-eighty-seven Owls from witches offering to help put it back together, plus thirty-three from wizards.

He sent a note of apology to the Burrow, then hid inside all day with Professor McGonagall, helping her compose obituaries and speeches for the coming funerals.

By the end of the day, the post had trebled.

The next day was for funerals.

*****************

The families of those who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts had worked together to avoid timing conflicts as far as possible. Most had opted for small, private funerals, family only, and would deal with the press at the memorial service, which had been planned for the weekend.

The Weasleys had selected an evening funeral, Andromeda Tonks had decided on mid-afternoon. Which is why Harry began Wednesday dressed in a dark charcoal Muggle suit and walking with Neville, towards St Peter's London Docks in Wapping Lane.

There they joined the quiet knot of students at one side of the larger group. Dennis Creevey came and stood amongst them, thanking each of them for being there. Just before the group moved into the church, Professor McGonagall joined them, dressed in a plain and sombre suit.

Harry found the ceremony hard to focus on. The rituals of church were vaguely familiar, yet had never been a real part of his life. The Creeveys both spoke of Colin as a warm, kind boy, who lived for his family and friends, and who had been brave and studious. They told of his love for photography, and his good sense of humour.

Then they invited Professor McGonagall to speak.

"Colin came to my school as a young fresh-faced boy who had never travelled more than ten miles from London," she began. "He won a full scholarship, covering all of his tuition and equipment, and when I met him I was impressed to find a boy of immense promise. Over the years Colin boarded with us, he made many friends, both in his own form and those above and below him. He became famous for his photography, his courage and his thoughtfulness.

"Colin died putting himself in the way of danger so that other children would be safe. He had a chance to run and protect himself. He chose not to. For five years I had held Colin's protection of Dennis up to all of my students as an example of brotherly devotion, but I understated his qualities."

Harry bit his lip at this point. He wanted to take back every moment of exasperation, every grumble. He had never told Colin exactly how much he appreciated his commitment to the DA, he had never even told him how impressed he was at Colin's ability to match spellwork from students years older than him. He hoped the priest was right. He hoped Colin knew.

McGonagall's eulogy ended with a statement that everyone who met Colin was deeply moved by how much he loved his family, and the announcement of three Colin Creevey Scholarships to Muggle schools in the area. There was another, unmentioned, scholarship at Hogwarts. It would buy books for Muggleborns, and fund an art room.

It was all Harry could do to stay after the service and meet the family. If Neville had not been there with him, he would have fled, but Dennis was so proud as he introduced Harry to his parents.

"Of course, you're Harry," Mrs Creevey said, with a brave smile. "I've seen so many photographs, you wouldn't believe. You were a wonderful friend to Colin, you really helped him to find his feet at that school."

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered.

"He was very brave," she said, and behind her Mr Creevey nodded agreement, his white face impassive. "Neville told Dennis all about what happened. He said Colin was a hero."

"He was," Harry agreed. "He was crucial to defeating ... you know ..."

"We know." She tilted her chin up. "Dennis showed us the paper this morning." The Prophet had run two pages on the lad who would not leave his friends to die alone and, for probably the only time in his life, Harry was grateful to Rita Skeeter.

"Every word is true," Harry told her in a strong voice. "And he saved more people than they counted. You should be very proud."

"That's what Neville said, too," Mrs Creevey whispered. Her husband's hand tightened on her shoulder, and, with a smile goodbye, they moved on.

A large hand descended on Harry's shoulder. He turned to find Neville beside him. They stood there for a long time.

"Potter, Longbottom, I am taking us to lunch." McGonagall's brogue broke the moment.

She piled them into a taxi and directed it to a club that looked as though it had not changed since the boyhood of Albus Dumbledore.

"Is this a Muggle club, Professor?" Neville asked.

"I had an adventurous girlhood," she replied, signing them in.

The dining room was still, quiet and safe. She ordered steak with mash and steamed vegetables for all of them. "Because I know that we all skipped breakfast and we need to keep our strength up today." Then she ordered doubles of the best single malt on the list, with a splash of spring water. "Because we are keeping our strength up for funerals, and I don't think we should face another one completely sober."

They dined in companionable silence, which lasted almost unbroken through dessert, and the short walk to the Apparition point. A quick change back at Hogwarts, then down to Hogsmeade, where the next funeral was to take place.

It was in another church, and this time Harry was not able to mingle among the guests. Neville and Professor McGonagall stayed with the students at the rear. Professor Trelawney took Harry's arm and led him towards Andromeda Tonks. She was sitting with her sister, who was holding Teddy. On her other side was Draco Malfoy.

Harry paused halfway down the nave. He wasn't ready to face the Malfoys without a moment's preparation. "Thanks for taking care of Mrs Tonks and Teddy."

His former teacher patted his arm. "It's been a pleasure. We were at school together, you know. Reasonably close for all that I was in Ravenclaw."

Harry managed not to show an iota of surprise.

"I am so pleased that the Fates decreed you should survive your encounter with You-Know-Who. I did predict that, you know."

"I remember," Harry agreed. "We should sit down."

Andromeda Tonks greeted Harry with a hug and Charlie Weasley did the same. Narcissa Malfoy proffered a three-fingered handshake from beneath her armful of baby. Draco Malfoy managed a nod. Narcissa kicked him, and a hand was proffered.

"Sorry for your loss," Malfoy said, with no trace of malice.

Harry looked at him for a moment, then shook the extended hand. "Thank you," he replied, too tired for anything else.

The service was similar to Colin's, save with no vague references. Here the courage and sacrifices of the lost were spoken of openly. When Harry stood up to give his eulogy he realised how many students were packed into the church. Even Hermione, who must have slipped away from the Burrow, stood up the back. He forgot every word he spoke as soon as it left his mouth. But he remembered meeting Remus on the train, and the way that Tonks's smile sprang into her eyes, and when he sat back down that now-familiar tightness made it hard to breathe.

Narcissa Malfoy stepped in front of him and passed Teddy to him. Harry held the baby and bent his head to pull faces at him, grateful for the chance to look away as Charlie led the bearers towards the two simple coffins.

Andromeda bent to whisper "Take your time" in his ear as she passed. Her sister walked on one side of her, Sybill Trelawney on the other. The remaining pair of shoes stopped in front of Harry.

"I know you won't believe me," said Draco Malfoy's voice. "But I did think he was an excellent teacher. And I wish I'd known my cousin."

Harry nodded, not looking up. "I believe you," he said. The shoes walked away.

When Harry finally left the church, the mourners were already assembling around the graves. He stood quietly behind Andromeda and her family as the gentle rites of departure were spoken.

After wiping the soil from her hand, she came and took Teddy back. "Harry Potter, godfather," she said. "Do you believe in God, Harry?"

"Not particularly," Harry confessed. "I was raised Church of England."

"You'll do," she told him. "Dora always knew what she wanted, and she always ended up being right."

Harry wanted to shake his head, but Neville was there, with Hermione, and Charlie, and McGonagall and Andromeda asked them to pass on her love to the rest of the Weasleys.

Nobody remembered more than two things about Fred Weasley's funeral. The first of those things was George Weasley's eulogy. For half an hour he told story after story of escapades he and Fred had ventured over the past two decades. From childhood broom thefts to the Great Swamp of Hogwarts. From experimenting on their younger brother to actually supplying the Order of the Phoenix with Extendable Ears. Harry was amazed to hear the laughter that filled the Town Hall of Ottery St Catchpole—the church had been nowhere near big enough.

As George spoke, he drew a likeness of a life complete, one lived for every moment, and so unable to be cut off. "The people who speak in cliches tell me that no one is dead until the last of their influence is felt on the world," George concluded. "If that is true, then Fred is as alive today as he was a week ago. Each and every one of us has been touched by his sense of fun and adventure, his willingness to try, his courage and daring. Yes he clowned his way through much of his life, but it was only because he was aware of life's basic absurdity, a position he would see this funeral as reinforcing.

"I will miss my brother every day of my life, but I will also live each of those days secure in the knowledge that what he has given me cannot be lost: his love, his laughter, and the ability to turn each member of this congregation into a Weasley for the next two hours."

As George spoke, every head of hair ripened to the richest of reds. He grinned though a sudden wash of tears, and Mr and Mrs Weasley laughed out loud. Harry couldn't help but join them.

The other thing people remembered was the fireworks. They were, indeed, bigger than Bonfire Night.

In the milling about before the internment, Ginny hugged Harry, and made fun of his hair, but was gone as quickly as she had appeared. Mrs Weasley invited him to stay again, but Charlie stepped in to point out that Harry had offered to help Professor McGonagall back at Hogwarts. The acting Headmistress herself made the same excuse for him after the funeral supper. Harry was strangely relieved. Upsetting Ginny further wouldn't help at all.

It felt strange to be leaving Ron and Hermione behind and departing with McGonagall and Neville. Stranger still when his former teacher asked them to pause for a moment before they Apparated.

"You boys should not have to do this," she said. "This should never have been your war, and those people we buried today should still be alive. Sadly, should has never meant much to madmen.

"I want you both to know that I am proud to have taught you, and proud to know you. Now enough sentiment, people will be wondering where we are."

When Harry and Neville returned to the Gryffindor common room, the floor was covered with pillows, cushions and duvets. Hannah, Luna and Seamus were sitting in one corner of the room, arranging cups beside steaming pots of hot chocolate. Some of the other students were curled up in groups around the room, quietly chatting. Near the fire, a handful of parents remained.

"What's this?" Neville asked.

Luna passed him a cup of chocolate. "We thought about it through the day, and decided that no one should be alone tonight."

Harry's hands closed around the cup of chocolate she pressed into them. That terrible tightness that had gripped his ribs for days finally began to ease. He took a long sip of the drink, then put it down.

"We're missing something," he said. He stepped out through the portrait, and reappeared a few minutes later with Professor McGonagall.

Harry helped her to step through the hole and then transformed one of the overstuffed chairs along the wall into an overstuffed chaise with tartan blankets. "While we were away, they decided no one should be alone tonight," he told her.

She looked at the chaise approvingly. "It's nice to see you pay attention, Harry."

Dean brought a cup of fresh hot chocolate to his head of house, and was rewarded with a smile.

It was a quiet night, but it was not a lonely one.

*******************

Harry woke up to the sight of Neville Longbottom looking gravely down at him. He pushed his glasses into place, to see if it improved with focus. "What's wrong?"

Neville held up a copy of The Prophet. It was Harry again, and today's headline was 'Resurrected!'

"Balls," Harry muttered.

"If you think this is bad, you should see the pile of Owls waiting for you. It's going to be worse than all of those proposals the other day." Neville accepted Harry's assertion that a full hundred had been from Romilda Vane, but was still enjoying the teasing opportunity.

Harry groaned, and took the paper. As he had feared, a series of unnamed sources all declared that he had been killed by Voldemort, and had returned from the dead to save them. He realised that even though the common room was still half-full of bunking students and some parents, they were all silent.

He looked over the top of the paper. They were all looking at him.

"I wasn't dead," he told them.

They looked at him, uncertain.

Harry tried to explain. "He did try to kill me, but the thing he didn't know was that when he attacked me as a baby, he made a connection between us. That's why I was always able to survive in the past. All he killed was that connection, and it had to go or he couldn't be killed. Afterwards, I had to play dead so that he would think he had won, and give us a chance to defeat him, you see?"

One of the parents spoke: "You said the other morning ... you said that you meant to die, and that's why none of us died after that."

Harry looked at her gratefully. "I was prepared to, I thought he would kill me. But as it turned out, he couldn't. Only the connection."

Her eyes grew sad. "You went out to meet him thinking he'd kill you?"

Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "Didn't seem to be any choice on that. Besides," he added hastily as he looked at her expression, "everyone else chose to fight, too, and he could have killed all of you just as easily."

"That's correct, Mr Potter, and well said." Professor McGonagall was behind him with a cup of tea. She cast an appraising glance across him. "You don't look particularly holy to me, Harry. Have you felt the presence of the divine recently?"

"Er, a few ghosts?"

She shook her head. "Quite normal, I'm sorry to report."

"That's a relief," said Oliver Wood, who Harry hadn't noticed until then. "My mother would be appalled if she had to look on you as saintly. She always thought you looked a bit disreputable."

McGonagall tutted. "Scruffy, perhaps, but not disreputable." She nodded at the expression of deep relief on Harry's face. "Come on, Mr Potter, let us go and sort out your latest adventure in the Press. Mr Longbottom, Mr Wood, the two of you might turn your minds to a suitable reply to Mr Potter's sundry correspondents."

Harry followed Professor McGonagall to her offices. She had ceased to be formal once she had left and was using a number of novel Scottish curses to describe the Prophet's journalists.

"I am so sorry, Harry, this latest nonsense is just going to make your life more difficult than it needs to be. I had hoped you'd be able to spend a quiet year working on your NEWTs." She smiled indulgently. "You should have seen yourself asleep, like a baby. Neville made everyone leave the room if they wanted to talk. It was quite endearing. Sorry, I've made you blush."

She had, but Harry didn't particularly mind. "Maybe I should go abroad for a bit?" he suggested. "Travel until school starts?"

McGonagall looked serious. "I'm not sure four months will be long enough at the rate the press is going. I don't want to alarm you, but I have had to post wards against journalists this morning, and may need to start banning cameras from the school altogether. A number of unauthorised pictures of you have appeared in the last few days, but this morning Hagrid told me that there were people in Hogsmeade offering students ten Galleons for candid shots of you."

Harry looked confused. "People at school are sending photos to the papers?"

"Let me just say that if I read a story about how well you slept last night, I would be disappointed but not surprised."

Harry sat down in the chair she offered him. "But that's just here, right? It's just the Prophet having another go."

She shook her head. "The American Wizarding papers are very excited about the story, there are offers of substantial sums of money for an interview. I assumed you would not be interested. The continental papers are depicting you as a modest boy hero, I believe that a large number of those scented letters you received the other day came from Beauxbatons."

"Oh," said Harry, deflated. "Well, I can go to Africa, then. Kenya, or Botswana."

McGonagall shook her head. "The Minister would not like you travelling to a politically unstable region."

"New Zealand, Australia?"

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Australia? You know that Hannah Abbott has spent the last year at Wollongong Wizarding University, don't you? They have a technical college attached that runs a very good NEWTs programme, which she is part-way through. You could begin in their winter term and come back ahead of things when the hullabaloo dies down here."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"I've never seen them hold their focus for more than six months. Say Christmas at the outside."

"Where is Wollongong?" Harry asked, suddenly aware that he only knew the name.

"Quite near Sydney."

"That sounds all right. And it's only for six months, that's nothing really ..."

McGonagall gave him a long look. "Are you sure? We can hide you in the school if you'd rather stay home. It won't be impossible."

Harry remembered the chaos of fourth year, and then the persecution of fifth year ... "You'll have enough problems without me adding to them," he said seriously.

McGonagall sighed. "I'll contact the Vice Chancellor and organise your enrolment. They have a college for boarders, would you like me to arrange for you to stay there?"

Harry nodded. "It'll be like a holiday." That reminded him. "Kreacher—can he stay here until I get back?"

"Yes, of course. Even the elves who are terrified of him seem to regard him with esteem."

"It might even be fun."

McGonagall agreed. "They have an excellent Quidditch programme. I wouldn't be surprised if more students decided to join you and Hannah."

********************

"You have got to be joking."

"Hold on, Ron," Hermione held up a hand. "It's not such a bad idea. The Australian Wizarding community really only cares about Quidditch. Harry won't be such a target for the media there, even if he makes the school team, they're only interested in the Leagues."

"But Australia!"

"We can come over and see you in a few weeks. I've just got to finish Dad's tax return and sort the house out and then I'll be off to pick them up. Of course, they're in Queensland, but they won't know if we spend a day with you first."

"He'll come back sounding like he's had his nose broken."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald. Anyway, you'll be home for Christmas, so it's not as though you'll have to suffer through one of their summers."

"Though those girls on the Warriors are pretty tasty."

"Girls are the last thing Harry's concerned with. I hear that they have an excellent Defence against the Dark Arts programme, with a very good balance of theory and practice. Some of the best spell research has been coming out of Wollongong over the last few years, they're really investigating the basics and how they can be modified."

Harry interrupted: "Actually, I don't mind there being tasty girls."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you're going to take advantage of this opportunity, Harry, then it will be a term of knuckling down and studying hard. And I want you to send me details of all the next term's coursework, you'll be starting two months before me!"

"So you don't mind?"

Ron patted Harry's arm. "Mate, we just want you to be happy."

Hermione hugged him from the other side. "You've had enough trouble to last you a lifetime. You should just do things for yourself for a little while, and damn what other people expect."

"So you don't think I should accept Witch Weekly's thousand-Galleon offer to pose with my shirt off?"

"Have they ever seen you with your shirt off?" Ron asked, sceptically.

"Go to Australia." Hermione told him. "We'll visit in a few weeks. If you hate it, you can come home."

****************

It took several days to organise the international Portkeys. Harry attended one more funeral in that time, but the scrum of photographers forced him to leave before the burial. Furious, he spent the rest of his time back inside the castle, helping to rebuild walls that had been breached during the battle. The house-elves had removed all the marks that could be blood, but the blasts of hexes remained in some places. Harry felt physical satisfaction in scrubbing them away with a brush.

At the Memorial Service on Saturday, Harry was protected on all sides by Aurors. He stood up and gave a speech. He laid a wreath. He nodded as Professor McGonagall announced a string of anonymous scholarships. He thought very hard about the fact that Luna had been right, that we do see them again, that he had seen his parents, Remus, Sirius ...

Dinner that night saw many of the same faces as had been there a week before. Parents had left their children at school while they rebuilt homes, and many of the younger ones had returned. Parents and friend chose to stay after the service, as they had after the battle. There was less joy, though. The costs of the war were all too visible now. The fifty-five names on a white marble plinth—Snape listed above Nymphadora Tonks—were too fresh in their minds.

Harry sat at the DA table this time. Charlie had come up to Hogwarts again, and sat between Harry and Ron. He brought a full bottle of the dark Romanian liquor, and when it was finished, Neville supplied something herbal and devastating. They were well into their cups when Ron groaned "Australia!" again.

Hermione shushed him, but too late.

"What about it?" asked Dean.

"Infested with Bunyips," pronounced Luna.

"We're going there to pick up my Mum and Dad," Hermione attempted to cover.

Harry shrugged. "I'm moving there for the next six months. It's supposed to be a secret, but I trust all of you. Anyway, I'm leaving in the morning, before the paper gets here."

Everyone at the table, save Hermione, looked at him with bemusement.

Charlie broke the silence. "Bloody hell, Harry, what's wrong with Majorca? Or Romania for that matter?"

"Oh keep quiet, it's meant to be a secret," Hermione snapped.

"They have a good school," Harry shrugged. "Believe me, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm now painfully aware of how little I know about healing, packing spells, Apparition and warding, I'd be up on the dragon reserve with you until all this blew over. Anyway ..." Harry smiled weakly at his friends. "It's not the end of the world. You can come and visit, they have great beaches. And I'll be back for Christmas."

"That's not so long," Neville smiled supportively.

"It's not so long." Harry agreed.

*******************

Harry was still yawning when he arrived at the door of Professor McGonagall's office. He was happy she hadn't moved to the Headmaster's rooms, he didn't feel quite up to facing any of those portraits. Hermione had shrunk his trunk for him, and taught him the charm for unshrinking it before she left last night. Where she had managed to find enough of his belongings to fill a trunk, Harry did not know, but he was grateful to her, again.

He knocked. Hannah Abbott opened the door. Harry had thought she'd already left when she hadn't appeared at the service the day before.

"Oh it's you!" Hannah declared. "They told me there was another student joining us. I'm so pleased!"

"Another?" Harry smiled as he walked into the office with her.

"Marvellous."

Harry would know that slow drawl anywhere. He supposed he should say something back, but he was so surprised that he simply stared.

Draco Malfoy was looking at him with a pained expression.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked. "They told me someone else was coming, too. I should have known it would be you."

Harry kept staring, but came up with some words, too. "Malfoy, what on Earth are you doing?"

Malfoy had the grace to be embarrassed. "I'm being terribly nineteenth century, Potter, and taking my disgrace to the colonies, where they tolerate that sort of thing."

"Mr Malfoy ..." Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice rumbled from further inside McGonagall's room.

Harry looked up to see the Minister looking at Malfoy with what he thought was pity. "You are entitled to finish your education, it is not safe for you here. We will endeavour to make it safe so that you can return, in the meantime, we can offer you this option."

"With the boy hero. Thank you so much, Minister."

"Mr Malfoy!" McGonagall started to snap, but was arrested by Hannah Abbott's gentle throat clearing.

"Can I say something?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, Hannah," McGonagall replied.

Hannah looked between Harry and Malfoy. "I know that the two of you hate each other. We used to talk about it all the time when I was in Hufflepuff, and we prefects actually made a rule that Draco wasn't allowed to give you detentions, Harry, before Umbridge overturned it. I don't expect you to get on. But I do expect you to act like reasonable people."

She pursed her lips, and went on determinedly. "Harry, I supported you in Dumbledore's Army. I helped you on the train the other year. I reminded people of your integrity when others were trying to tear you down. So I think I deserve a favour.

"Draco, my Mum was killed by Death Eaters at a time when your dad was a leading member of the gang, so you bloody well owe me a favour.

"I have spent the last year and a bit away from my home, away from my Dad and away from most of my friends, trying to build a new life and do well at it. It hasn't been easy, and I have worked bloody hard to make everything as normal as it can be. I'm not having you two act like prize twonks and having all my school friends think that Hogwarts is a loony bin when I've just convinced them that we are all nice, normal people."

Harry waited a moment to see if she had really finished. "So ..." he ventured, "you want us to be nice and normal?"

Hannah nodded her head.

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was looking at Hannah with disbelief. He turned his gaze to Harry. "Nice and normal ..." he repeated.

"Do we know how to do that?" Harry could not help asking. He was startled when Malfoy spontaneously smiled, though the expression was hastily replaced by a scowl.

"I just want to do my exams and finish school. I'll be quiet and unobtrusive," he said, curtly.

"That will do," Hannah accepted.

"Sure, I'd love to be normal," Harry agreed.

"Good." Hannah smiled brightly at him.

McGonagall pushed her spectacles up her nose. "Well. Since we are all sorted, then, I wish you all a good journey and the best of luck with your studies. You will always remain a part of our school community and I hope that you stay in touch. Now the Minister will escort you on the first part of your journey."

Harry looked at Kingsley with surprise. This was a very basic job for him. Kingsley winked at him. "Breakfast in Paris, Harry. There have to be some perks to my job."

"Do you all have everything?" McGonagall sounded anxious.

"Yes, Professor," the three travellers chorused, falling into the cadences of students.

"Good. Mr Potter, may I borrow you for a word outside before you go?"

"Sure ..." Harry followed her and closed the door behind them.

McGonagall looked up at him. "Write," she instructed. "I'll let you know how things progress here. I am confident that you will enjoy yourself in Wollongong, or I wouldn't let you go."

Harry chose his words carefully. "They've just had a normal school year," he said. "And they don't really know who I am. I think it will be good."

She nodded, and held out a hand. "Good luck, Harry."

Harry took it, then pulled his professor into a firm hug. "Thank you," he whispered.

She seemed flustered, but pleased. "Thank you," she replied. "Back we go."

They walked back into the room. "Mr Potter is ready now," McGonagall announced.

"Then if you will just place your hands on this mug," said Kingsley. "One, two, thr—"

*****************

They travelled the Oskar Speck route to the Antipodes, handed on from Kingsley to an Ambassador, from him to a High Commissioner, to consulate staff, ambassadorial assistants, a translator, in one case a work-experience girl who was the only one left in the office.

The journey was smooth across the Channel, faultless on the Danube stops, a little chaotic in the Mediterranean, delayed in Syria, where the three young people ate pastries and drank thick coffee, then on to skirting the coast of the Subcontinent. In Jakarta they ate a hot curry with a translator wearing a khaki safari suit, and in Port Moresby they were fed roast pork and taro by a huge man named Eddie, who was wearing a length of printed fabric wrapped around him as a skirt. The windows of the High Commission were pitch black by then.

Then one last hop.

The air was sweet and fresh. Instead of landing inside another building they were in a field. The night was cool around them, but not cold. There was a small campfire nearby, and the smell of strong tea.

"Here we are," said Eddie. "Jon, is that you?"

A figure detached itself from the campfire and came towards them. In the dark, Harry could see only a tall shape, with a bright smile and eyes. "It's me," said the figure. "'Bout time you mob showed up."

Hannah let go of the Portkey and hugged the figure. "Hello, Jon, it's so good to see you!"

He hugged her back. "Hannah! I'm so glad you're back. We've been reading the papers, that was all a bit rough. You all right?"

"I'm fine. I brought friends."

Eddie bid them farewell and Portkeyed home. Hannah walked towards the fire, beckoning the others to follow. In the light, Harry could see that Jon was even taller than he'd thought, with deep brown skin and weathered eyes in a young face.

"Draco Malfoy, this is Jon Walker. He's one of our tutors at school. Jon, Draco was in my year at Hogwarts, and he had a truly awful time of the last year, so he's come over here to catch up on his study and just get away from things."

Jon held out a hand. "Draco," he said in greeting.

Harry watched as Malfoy looked, surprised, from Jon to Hannah, then back. He took the offered hand. "Jon, pleased to meet you," he said, and shook.

"Yeah, good to meet you, too, mate." John grinned at him. "We might end up calling you Snowy, though, don't be offended, it's a culture thing."

Draco blinked slowly. "I've never actually had a nickname," he admitted. " It won't kill me."

Jon laughed. "You're all right, Snowy!"

Hannah spoke again. "And Jon, this is Harry Potter, Harry, Jon."

Jon looked at him appraisingly. "They told me you were coming. Is all that stuff in the paper true?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what they've said here."

"That you disarmed the leader of the Death Eaters and he was killed when his own spell rebounded on him."

Harry nodded. "Yup. That's pretty accurate, actually."

Jon held out his hand. "Good to meet you. Bet you're glad to get away for a bit."

Harry smiled. "I think I am. Is that tea?"

"Should be just ready, sit down you lot."

Jon grabbed a tea towel to pull the tall pot with a looped wire handle off the fire. Harry watched in surprise as he swung it around in great fast circles beside his body without spilling a drop.

"Settles the leaves," Jon told him. "Right, milk? Sugar?"

"Black," said Harry and Malfoy together.

"White and two," said Hannah.

They sat around the fire and sipped on tea from tin mugs, using the ends of their sleeves to keep their hands warm without burning fingers.

"Potter," Malfoy whispered, as Jon and Hannah began to chat about mutual friends. "Are you really glad to 'get away'?"

Harry chose honesty. "Right now? Yeah. It was too much at home."

Malfoy nodded. "Aunt Andromeda said the funeral took a lot out of you."

"Funerals," Harry corrected. "I was asked to attend twelve."

Malfoy frowned. "How many did you go to?"

"Five, before it was just too stupid with all the cameras."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

Harry sipped more tea, aware that this was the longest civil conversation he had had with Malfoy since they began school. They could hear Hannah talking with Jon: "But my friend Ernie is all right, and I had a chance to catch up with my friend Neville, yes, that's right, the snake ..."

"So why Australia?" Harry asked.

"It's the end of the Earth," Malfoy replied. "Besides, it's huge. You can get away from things here. It's wide open."

Harry snorted, but felt some sympathy. He turned back to his tea.

Jon looked across the fire at Malfoy. "Seriously, Hannah, that's the whitest whitefella I've ever seen," he said, voice carrying.

Harry waited for Malfoy to sneer, but when he turned his head, Malfoy wasn't even listening, he was looking at the sky. "Look up," he whispered, then glanced down to see them all looking at him. "Look up!" he repeated.

Harry did. There were more stars than he had ever seen. From horizon to horizon the sky was filled with brightness, a few constellations he recognised, many he did not, and there, high in the sky, clouds made of stars. "It's so big ..." Harry murmured.

"It's beautiful," said Malfoy. "Look, there's Orion, and Scorpio, that band of cloud is the Milky Way, the dark spots are interstellar dust, and there in the distance, the Clouds of Magellan."

"You know your stuff," said Jon, approvingly.

"I've never seen the night like this," Draco replied without looking down. "Where are we? This can't be Wollongong, it's too empty."

"Nah," said Jon. "We're up north, near my country. Out back of Dorrigo. Not many folk up here, so you get a good view. Thought it would be a nice welcome for you two, given it's a good night."

"Thanks," said Harry.

"Thank you," Malfoy agreed. "What time is it?"

"'Bout quarter to six, sun'll be up in less than an hour. You lot want to wait here to see it or go straight to school and organise some sleeping?"

"I'm all right to stay up," said Hannah. "What about you, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Can manage a few more hours. Malfoy?"

"If you can do it, Potter, I can, too."

Jon snorted with laughter. "You cannot seriously do the last names thing. It's the end of the twentieth century, mate. Next thing you'll be swanning about in robes!"

Harry had just been considering putting his back on, given the chill edge to the air. "It is traditional where we come from," Draco said lightly. "Lacking regular sun, we choose to keep up standards."

Jon laughed. "You can relax here. It's all a bit informal. Too hot most of the time to worry with a lot of the old stuff. More tea?"

Three cups were held out, and Jon poured from the billy.

A dark shape scuttled by.

"What the hell is that?" Malfoy asked, horrified.

"Scorpion."

"Are they poisonous?"

"Only if they bite you."

"Should we kill it?"

"If you want," Jon grinned at him, "there's good eating on one of those."

Draco stared at him aghast.

After a moment Jon laughed. "I'm joking. They taste like crap. But if you can get a python or a goanna, there's a meal!"

"I am not eating snake," Malfoy declared. "Po—Harry would never stop going on about the cannibalistic overtones."

"Are they always like this?" Jon asked Hannah.

"Usually," she shrugged. "And then they try to kill each other. They've promised me they've given that up, though."

Jon made another attempt at conversation. "So, you're going to sit in with Hannah for the rest of his term then start on your own after the June hols, yeah?"

"That's the plan," Harry agreed. "See how we go and then take some extra classes if we need to catch up."

"Sounds good. I might teach some of those if you're lucky. Mostly I get the college kids for Charms, Transfiguration and Environment."

"We don't do Environment," Malfoy muttered.

"No worries," said Jon. "See how you go, you might like it."

Hannah apparently did, and proceeded to ask a complex question on the topic.

Harry and Malfoy returned to their tea, and the night sky.

"So McGonagall didn't warn you about me coming, either?" Malfoy asked after a while.

"Not a word. When did you decide?"

"Yesterday."

Malfoy appeared to think for a few minutes. "Potter," he said tentatively, "why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry was tired, and there had been quite a bit of late.

"Defend me and Mum."

Harry shrugged. "Seemed the right thing to do."

Draco's shoulders dropped a notch. "I tried to hand you over to the Dark Lord."

"You stopped Crabbe from killing me," Harry countered quietly.

"Which you promptly repaid by saving Goyle and me from fiery death." Malfoy frowned at Harry. "I really was there to try and capture you, Potter."

"Why?"

Malfoy looked away.

Harry let go of caution. "I think you were there because you wanted to save your parents, the same way your mother protected me because she wanted me to save you. I've never really liked you, Malfoy, but I do understand that."

"You think you know everything ..." Malfoy's whisper was sullen.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, I do, because I was seeing Riddle's thoughts for all the last year. I saw exactly what was going on at your house. I saw exactly what was going on with you. So you'll forgive me if I decided to stop thinking you were a would-be big-name Death Eater and started thinking of you as just another victim, same as the rest of us."

Malfoy's frown deepened at the word 'victim'. "God you're a prat, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Piss off, Potter."

Jon's voice rang out across the campfire. "Seriously, you can't do that here. I realise that you don't distinguish between being British and being wankers where you come from, but here we do."

Hannah was glaring at them fiercely.

"If you're gunna have a fight, you do it using first names and with fists, so there's no hard feelings afterwards," Jon instructed. "There should be beer involved. Don't you two know anything?"

Harry smiled wryly.

"We've had a very sheltered education," Draco announced. "But you'll find we're brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Hannah relaxed a little, Harry did, too.

"How are you at flying?" Jon asked. They looked at him, unsure. "Sun's coming up," he said, gesturing to the faint glow in the east. "Thought you might like to fly some of the way down to school."

Harry felt a broad grin spread out over his face. One of the only indulgences he had allowed himself in the last week was a new Firebolt.

"Don't have a broom," Malfoy muttered.

"Nah, it's OK, mate, I packed spares," Jon pulled four twigs from his pocket and prepared to charm them back to their original forms.

"I've got mine with me," Harry said quickly.

Jon put a twig away. "Good-oh. So, you up to it?"

*****************

They were between the mountains and the sea when the sun blazed over the horizon, an altogether more vigorous proposition than the mellow autumn sunrises Harry was used to. He looked down. Behind them, the low mountain range the plateau stretched on for miles. Their tiny shadows below darted across grasslands and shrublands, in the distance there was forest, and a network of roads.

"It's so empty!" he yelled across at Jon.

Jon grinned back at him. "You think this is empty, you ought to see the Outback! Anyway, there's people, they just live on the edges mostly."

Jon pointed towards the coast and, sure enough, there were towns scattered down it. Harry bent down into his broom and dipped towards the earth for a better view.

His peripheral vision flagged movement, and there was Malfoy, speeding down on the same trajectory. It was like Quidditch, except the usual glare on the other boy was missing. Harry flew back up, until he was close to Jon again. "Which way are we headed?"

Jon pointed to the south-east. "We'll fly to that bay, then I'll Apparate us closer."

Malfoy had drawn level again. Harry checked he had been listening. "Race?" he suggested.

There was a split-second of grin on Malfoy's face before he kicked forward through the air without waiting for a start call.

Harry sped after him. After the first mile or two of pure speed, the warmth of the early light proved irresistible and Malfoy began to add the odd barrel roll to his flight. Not to be outdone, Harry looped him, at which point Malfoy sped forwards again while Harry was upside down.

Harry could hear a strange sound, and was surprised to realise it was Malfoy laughing. The trees were far below them now, the sea stretching out ahead, the sky empty save for a lone eagle on a lazy hunt. Although it was a little off their path, Harry tilted his broom in its direction and, after a moment, Draco followed. The eagle ignored them, spiralling down in search of rabbits or late bandicoots.

As they flew closer they realised the bird was some three times the size it had appeared, with a wingspan of at least eight feet. They passed above it, leaving some distance between them, a strange dance of respect for their fellow traveller.

The rest of the flight was, technically, still a race, but it was a race where each urged the other to go a little faster and was not dispirited when they did. They arrived at the bay fifteen minutes before Jon and Hannah, sweaty and a little out of breath, but both wearing smiles.

"That was ... good," admitted Malfoy. "I haven't flown in a year."

"Me neither," Harry confessed. "Well, one dragon."

Malfoy snorted. "Merlin's balls, Potter, you don't even do it intentionally, do you?" He shook his head at Harry and went on in what sounded like an accent. "Sorry to hear you've been living in terror, Malfoy, actually, I defeated the chap who was planning to kill all your family, so you can stop worrying. So good to get back on a broom again—bit different to the old wild dragon."

Harry looked at him. "Malfoy, is that supposed to be me?"

"Uncanny, isn't it?"

"That's unbelievably bad."

"Oh shut up Potter."

"Don't let Jon hear you say that," Harry laughed.

"Do you think he was serious about the alcohol and personal violence, or do you think it was an ironic post-colonial comment?"

Harry looked at him blankly.

Malfoy sighed. "You always did make it too easy, Potter."

"That was a joke," Harry said, astonished.

"Well done."

"You made a joke to, and not about, me."

Malfoy looked out to sea. "I came here to get away," he muttered. "Maybe one of the things I came here to get away from was the way I used to be."

It was some time before Harry spoke. "You weren't wholly bad, Draco. You were loyal to your friends and family, and that's something."

"Piss off, Harry," said Draco, but it lacked its usual venom.

***********************

Jon Apparated the three students most of the remaining distance, arriving in a clifftop park, where one small dog was patrolling the swings.

"Right," he said. "We're nearly there. If you look down the coast, see that town, that's Muggle Wollongong, there's good beaches and good shops there if you want Muggle stuff. See behind, all that bush, that's the National Park, you don't go there without a local till you know your way about—too much stuff that'll kill ya round here, and I don't want to have to tell the Poms one of you trod on a snake." His grin grew wider at the glance Harry and Malfoy exchanged. Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Now you can Apparate onto school grounds here, and we've got Floo and there's a train to and from the Muggle line, morning and night, but if you want to see the uni at its best, you've gotta fly in. Smack a Disillusionment on if it's after about 10am or you might scare some of the bushwalkers. Right, you ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Malfoy replied, and Harry nodded agreement.

"You follow me, or you won't be able to make it through the first time," Jon instructed.

"I'll come and find you if you get lost," Hannah assured them. "They like to believe that it's all so tough and frontier here. But they have three-ply toilet paper, we made do with two."

They kicked off from the ground and Jon led them out over the water again. Harry looked back at the grey-green bush behind them; it stretched for miles. The ocean in front of him fairly dazzled now, and Harry could feel his cheeks starting to grow red in the intense light. He felt a moment of sympathy for Malfoy and his inappropriate colouring.

Malfoy chose that moment to swoop past, whooping.

They stayed close to the cliffs of the coast, dropping below their level when they passed a hamlet of beach shacks, then swung in westwards, back over the coastal hills and towards what seemed, from the air, to be a deeply forested valley.

Jon took a sudden turn to the left and down, and Hannah followed him at the precise point. Harry and Malfoy did likewise, and the valley below them resolved into an extensive complex of low buildings, parks, and no less then four full-sized Quidditch pitches.

Jon led them straight to one of the outermost buildings, a four-sided timber structure with a central courtyard. "Here's your digs," he announced. I'll leave you with Hannah to get yourselves sorted, then I'll be back later on today to walk you through the last of your paperwork and show you round. Try and get a nap in after you've unpacked, it helps with the time shift."

"Thank you," Draco said politely, returning his broom.

"Cheers, Jon." Hannah did likewise. "I'll sort these two out."

"We'll see you later, then," Harry said, shaking their guide's hand.

"Yeah, OK, seeyasarvo," Jon shook back, then walked away with a wave.

Hannah recognised the expression on her countrymen's faces. "I will see you this afternoon, in Australian," she explained. "I spent several months thinking it was an indigenous word, or possibly Japanese. Come on, let's settle you two in."

The building they walked into had wide verandahs and eaves, with windows looking out in every direction. To Harry, it looked like a pleasant Muggle holiday home. Hannah did nothing to dispel that impression.

"These two rooms at the front are magic-free, that's where we have the computers and the telly, so no going in there if you're under any sort of spell, that includes Invisibility Cloaks."

"Telly?" Malfoy pronounced the word like a virus.

"Television, moving pictures for Muggles. Do not get between an Australian and their sport, Draco, it is more than your life is worth." She led them down a long hallway.

"Right, this is my room here, twenty-four, I share with Sharon, we have the peonies on our door if you need to find me and forget the number. More rooms, more rooms, down this hall we have the library on the left, then the common room, courtyard access on the right, more rooms, more rooms."

They were onto the second side of the building now, and Harry could see the courtyard through the large internal windows. "Is that a pool?"

"Oh yes," Hannah replied. "And there's a spa, too. The waterfall has a slide. Only quiet swimming after eleven, it heats automatically when it gets cold."

Even Malfoy seemed impressed at this. "Where are our dorms?" he asked. "And do you have school houses here?"

Hannah chose the safe question. "Not here. They do at Murray Downs, that's the big school down in Victoria, sort of a would-be Hogwarts, but they don't have a university attached, which is why I chose to come here. I thought I could see about doing research outside the Ministry after school."

"And four Quidditch pitches!" Malfoy's voice held a note of excitement.

"Should have known you'd notice them first. Right," Hannah turned in that direction. "This side looks out onto the forest, your room is down here." She was opening a door marked thirteen by the time the missing plurals were noticed.

"Room?" Harry squeaked.

Hannah walked straight inside, the two boys followed her, protests already forming. She shushed them. "It's the only spare one. And it's not that bad, you have to share common areas, but there are two bedrooms, you even have the nicest bathroom. Sharon and I were going to swap to here, but she said I should let Draco have it when I rang her yesterday."

It was, indeed, not that bad. A large sitting room with a wood fire looked out onto the forest through sliding glass doors, with a small kitchen off to one side. Harry walked in and opened doors, two bedrooms, each with a sofa, a desk, a basin and a private loo, and beside the kitchen a decent-sized shared bathroom.

"We could swap with someone else, one of us go to their room," he suggested.

Hannah frowned slightly. "Yeah, you could, but it's a pretty big favour. You might want to tough it out for a few weeks until somebody owes you something."

"I could pay," Malfoy offered.

Hannah shook her head. "Won't work here. They'll drink your money in beer without question, but offer to pay for a favour and they'll never forgive you."

"That's absurd."

"It's cultural."

Harry pushed his hair back from his face. "OK, look, we can cope without killing each other for a few days. We have separate rooms, there are house common rooms, we can go outside. We do not need to spend more than a few minutes in each other's company. It will be fine. Let's just unpack for now and get some sleep."

Malfoy held Harry's gaze for a long minute. "All right," he said. He looked quickly at the two bedrooms, then went to the slightly larger. "I'll have this one."

"Fine. Good. Thanks, Hannah, I'm going to unpack and get some sleep."

She gave him a brief hug. "I'm glad you're here, it's going to be fun! Have a good nap."

As Harry went in through his door, he could hear her offering to help Draco settle in. He didn't stay to see whether the offer was taken up.

Harry rested his broom against the corner of his bed and pulled his tiny trunk from his mokeskin pouch. He Enlarged it, and reached in for his toothbrush and toothpaste. A quick cleaning later he felt at least half-human, and pulled off his travel-worn clothes. There was a pile of towels and flannels on the end of his bed, he popped one towel on the floor in front of his basin and proceeded to wash himself down.

Harry had just dried himself off and tucked the towel around his hips when Malfoy burst into his room without knocking. With a monumental effort at civility, Harry did not lunge for his wand.

Malfoy stared at him.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"Can you still speak Parseltongue?" Malfoy blurted out.

"No, why?"

"Snake."

Harry followed him out into the kitchen, and there, curled up in a patch of sun on the benchtop was a huge dappled snake. It ignored them.

"Go and get Hannah," Harry suggested.

"You go! I don't want to come back and find the snake is hiding somewhere else!"

"I'm not dressed. You go, I'll keep an eye on the snake."

Malfoy accepted the logic of this suggestion. He set off at a trot.

He was back quickly, with Hannah in tow and a tall, slim girl with thick brown hair. "Betty!" the girl exclaimed, pushing past Harry to pick up the snake. "You naughty girl, I've been looking for you for days!"

Harry and Malfoy stared at her.

"Hello," she addressed herself to Harry. "Going for a swim?"

"Er ..." Harry found himself tongue-tied when addressed by a girl with a seven-foot python draped across her shoulders.

"Sorry about the Betster, she's usually quite good, but it's been a hot autumn. I'm Sharon, Hannah's friend." She put out a hand, alas, with a python head wrapped around the arm above it.

"Harry," he said, shaking her fingers quickly. "And you've met Ma—Draco."

"Hi Draco, sorry for the fright. She's just a carpet python, harmless unless you tread on her, and even then it's just like a dog bite. But you should look before you sit down. And Hannah's told you to shake out your shoes before you put them on, yeah? Some of the spiders are a bit nasty."

Malfoy ignored Sharon's second comment and reached past Harry to tentatively pat the snake's head. "Her name's Betty?"

Sharon grinned. "Betty Windsor, she's a queen among snakes."

Malfoy smiled at her. "I'll keep an eye out for her."

"She gets out at least once a month," Hannah intoned ruefully. "Someone who shall remain Sharon forgets to put the lid on her tank."

"She likes to make new friends." Sharon grinned at the two boys.

"They need to get some sleep, and so do I. Come on." Hannah led her friend away, and Malfoy closed the door behind them.

"A pet snake?" Harry was astonished.

"They do things differently here," Malfoy reminded him.

"I thought all the snakes were deadly."

"Maybe they have varying degrees of deadly?"

"Maybe. OK, see you later."

"P—Harry," Malfoy stopped him.

"What?"

"You'll wear clothes out here normally, yeah?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, Draco, unless I'm saving you from another snake." Even though he was too tired to turn his head, Harry knew Draco was making rude hand gestures at him.

He was about to slide into bed when it occurred to him that things were not quite right. He put his glasses back on and picked up his wand. A few moments later the bed linens were scarlet and gold. He took his glasses off again, dropped his towel, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

***********************

Jon gave them until two to sleep, and bought hot chocolate for everyone before he took them on their orientation tour of the University.

He began by supplying brochures and pointing out that everyone got lost. "But you can always get back to where you're meant to be by the colour coding on the signposts. The college areas have red, the residential areas green, so if you want to come back here, look for a red and green arrow."

He walked them around their school buildings, each discipline separated from the others and close to the university faculties. "It can be a bit of a hike, so it's OK to Apparate around the place, just be careful, splinching means piss-taking."

"Um ..." Malfoy looked embarrassed.

"We haven't got our licenses," Harry explained. "We were at war all last year."

Jon was apologetic. "Should have thought of that, I'll sort something out for the two of you this week. We can practice after class this week, too."

He explained about the tutoring system, how each of the residential buildings—co-ops—had several third- and fourth-year university students to help the younger students academically, and with any basic mentoring they might need. He showed them the shops, where everything from Thai food to Quidditch supplies could be obtained, and then on to the Quidditch pitches themselves.

They were huge, beautiful, with student dressing rooms and lockers and scratch teams and development classes. Leaflets on the noticeboards even offered classes from senior players and coaches. Harry and Malfoy stood, transfixed, watching the teams overhead, running drills and throwing Quaffles.

Harry and Malfoy both sighed.

"You two can probably sign on to the development team, you know," Hannah suggested. "It's too late this term for you to join any of the proper teams, but they often have scratch games against the uni teams, so it's actually a harder level of play."

"Can we ..." Malfoy looked embarrassed. "Can we look in the broom shop?" he managed in a rush.

"Yeah, get in there," Jon conceded.

Harry followed Malfoy in, and was impressed at the range on offer. In addition to the traditional Cleansweeps and Firebolts, they offered a series of customised brooms, and an Australian marque, the Min Min.

Malfoy was asking the shop assistant about one of these. "It doesn't look as fast as the Firebolt, so why does it have so many extra bracing points?"

"We call it the Drop Bear," the assistant told him. "It's a bit ambling in a straight line, but it's death from above when you need to win in a dive, and pulls out on a pin. Lovely stuff—best for Catchers. Whadda you play?"

"Seeker."

"Firebolt for you, really, it's the best on the market and the designers know it. Got your optimum combination of speed and movement, plus it's a reliable and strong build. We've got some nice paint and fitting customisations if you're looking for something beyond the standard."

Harry watched as the assistant showed Malfoy a broom with silver fittings and green stripes down its shaft. He couldn't help smiling a little at the tender way in which Malfoy held it.

"You may as well buy it," he said, even though he hadn't intended to speak.

Malfoy looked up at him sharply. "Forgot you were about. No, thanks, I'll hold off for now."

Harry frowned. He paused for a moment to make sure he used the right name. "Draco, are you having problems with money?"

"What? No, don't be absurd."

"Then you should buy it," Harry insisted. "It'll cheer you up."

Malfoy hesitated. "You have a Firebolt," he admitted. "Don't want to be copying."

Harry snorted. "That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"Oh go fuck yourself, Harry." Somehow, Malfoy managed to make Harry's Christian name sound more impersonal than his surname.

"Just buy the bloody broom. It's green, mine's not. You're not copying, you're just scared I'll wipe the pitch with you on the same broom."

Malfoy bought the broom. Jon and Hannah walked between the two boys through the rest of the orientation, which consisted of the student centre, the administration buildings, and an introduction to their Year Supervisor.

Bruce Widdington was the sort of man who would have been an Auror back in England, Harry decided. Square and bluff and with about four minutes to make their acquaintance. "If you have any small problems, you see Jon or Amanda, she's in your co-op, too. For big problems, come to me and we'll see what we can do. We expect at least a ninety per cent attendance rate unless you have a note from the Healers, or there's a big game on."

Harry waited for the traditions of the school to be explained to him, but there was nothing forthcoming. Widdington seemed to sense they wanted more. He reached into his desk. "And all our students have free passes to home games for the Warriors, here you go, lads, next one is Sunday arvo."

"That," said Malfoy as they walked back to the co-op, "was different."

"Finest traditions of modern educational administration," Jon said, grinning. "Anyway, that's pretty much it. Any questions?"

"Where are the house-elves?" Malfoy asked.

Jon laughed. "Hannah asked the same thing when she came here, we don't have any. You can either cook in your kitchen or eat out. There's a laundry in the back of the co-op, or you can drop things off at the big laundry on Mawson Street. Cleaner comes round once a week to dust and hoover, and that's it."

Malfoy looked at him in horror. "Can we import our own?"

Harry's ears pricked up. He had had a very uncomfortable conversation with Kreacher before leaving, and was starting to feel he had made the wrong decision leaving the elf behind.

"You could, but from November through to March it's just too hot for them here. That's why we make do without, it's too cruel to the little buggers."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but held his tongue.

"Anything else?" Jon asked.

"Where can we find our classes timetable?" Harry asked.

Hannah pulled two sheets from her pocket. "You'll be with me for the next month until the end of this term, then you'll choose your own electives for next term."

"Sorry for making you miss classes on your first day back," Harry apologised.

Hannah giggled. "Silly, it's Monday. No classes on Monday, what's the point of going to school in Australia if not for the long weekends?"

Harry glanced down at the timetable, to find she was right. He grinned. "In that case, thanks for giving up the afternoon, and you, Jon."

"Good-oh. Leave you two to fart-arse about and might see you at the ARQ game tonight."

"ARQ?" Harry had never heard the term.

"Aussie Rules Quidditch, do not ask," Hannah told him. "Yes, they'll be there," she assured Jon. "And I'll explain the rules to you two while we watch. It's moderately stupid, but they love it here."

"Witches in tight shorts," laughed Jon. "What's not to love?"

Harry and Malfoy made their way through the co-op back to their room. "Potter," Malfoy whispered, making sure no one could overhear them. "Do you know how to cook?"

"Yes, Malfoy."

"Thank Merlin."

*****************************

The first few days did not go too badly. Classes were shorter and more focussed than their Hogwarts equivalents. Harry was seated with Malfoy for Potions, Charms, Defence and Transfiguration, and with Hannah for Herbology.

Their classmates were pleasant, but somewhat aloof. Harry suspected this had a lot to do with their introduction at the ARQ game, Jon had gathered as many of the NEWTs students together as he could, and brought them to meet the two new students.

"Be nice," he'd instructed. "They're Hannah's old mates, so she'll thump you if you give them too much shit. Snowy here is Draco Malfoy, he's going to be after your top spot in Potions, Narelle, so start poisoning his breakfast with something innocuous if you don't want to pick up your study. Other bloke's Harry Potter, comes highly recommended in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a bit of a mean Seeker."

There was a long pause among the students. "The Harry Potter?" one of them asked at last.

"S'pose." Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, OK, good to meet you," the student had said.

Since then it had been smiles, and polite chatting, and sudden quietnesses when he entered rooms. There was no malice, just distance. Maybe it had been because he and Malfoy both found the fast-paced Snitch-less game dull compared to Quidditch, though they did appreciate the tight uniforms.

It was hardly surprising he ended up spending more time with Malfoy. At dinner on the first night they had formed their arrangement.

"You are naturally rubbish at Potions," Malfoy had declared. "I have no idea how you fluked things last year, but I do know that you need Potions to be an Auror. And some Healing Charms wouldn't hurt. So, I have a theory. I help you with Potions and Charms, you do the cooking."

Harry shrugged. "I can always just go to Jon and Amanda for tutoring."

"But," Malfoy argued, "they will be teaching you the courses they know, whereas I know what you know, so you'll learn faster from me."

Harry looked at him appraisingly. "I'll swap you help in Charms and Potions for help in Defence and Transfiguration, and I'll swap you cooking for laundry."

"I am not doing your laundry, Potter."

"I was going to suggest that you should take it down to the laundromat on Mawson."

Malfoy considered the offer. "Deal," he agreed.

It was day five before their first spat. Naturally, it was Malfoy's fault.

"How was I to know?" Malfoy shouted at him.

"You could have asked!" Harry yelled back, chasing as Malfoy ran out into the courtyard. "It would have taken you all of three seconds!"

"No one in their right mind would still be wearing those rags, it never occurred to me they might be clothes!"

Harry gave up on argument and resorted to tackling. Which could have ended badly had it not been for the pool.

Malfoy was laughing by the time he broke the water's surface, Harry spluttering beside him. "You are such a ..."

Harry never heard the insult, as he was under water again by the time it was delivered. A large hand reached down and grabbed his collar, hauling him over to the water's edge and depositing him draped over the pool's lip. Malfoy panted at him. "I cannot believe that you can't swim."

Harry screwed up his nose. "I can, a bit," he protested. "Just not very well with all my clothes on."

"What were you planning on doing? Walking to the pool ladder?"

"Well, yeah."

Malfoy laughed. "How did you beat the Dark Lord, Harry? In fact, how did you live past twelve?"

Harry smiled. "Half the time I have no idea," he confessed.

"Come on." Malfoy boosted Harry out of the water. "Inside, get changed. I am genuinely sorry about your shirts, I thought they were just for rags and I needed to clean my broom."

"That's OK, I can wear something dirty tomorrow, or I've still got my formal shirts."

"You can borrow one of mine, I'll replace the ones I tore up."

"Yours are all black," Harry complained.

"You can borrow a green one, it'll suit you. Now stop whining, people are watching."

It was true, the windows around the courtyard were filled with student's faces. Harry spotted Sharon, who waved cheerfully.

"I'm taking first shower," Draco told him as they walked inside. "You tackled me, it's only fair."

"Be quick, I'm getting cold."

They were both quick, and five minutes later Malfoy was already washed and dressed when there was a knock at their door. Hannah stormed in, with Sharon in tow, just as Harry came out of the bathroom, towel-clad again.

"What did I ask you two before we came here?" she seethed.

"Act like adults," Malfoy intoned. "But you're misjudging us, Hannah, it was all a mistake and we've made up now."

"We have," Harry agreed.

The three of them stared at him in surprise.

"It was actually my fault, I didn't even give Draco time to explain something. But we've sorted it out."

"So ..." Hannah looked at Draco, then Harry, then back. "You two weren't trying to drown each other just now?"

"Not at all. Youthful hijinks," Malfoy asserted.

"I told you," Sharon said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh." Hannah blushed. "Sorry, then. Um, I'll leave you to get dressed, Harry. Oh, and by the way, there are Owls in your letterboxes, haven't either of you cleared them out?"

"Letterboxes?"

Hannah blushed more deeply. "I may have forgotten to mention them. Sorry."

Draco grabbed his jacket. "Show me now, I'll bring yours back, too"

"Thanks." Harry began to wish he was wearing a jacket.

"See ya, Harry," Sharon grinned.

Harry waved as they departed, keeping one hand firmly on his towel.

He was dressed by the time Malfoy returned, bearing a handful of envelopes.

"Five for you, two for me," Malfoy said, distributing them.

Harry dropped into one of the living room chairs and began to read. There was an Owl each from Andromeda Tonks, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Professor McGonagall. He read Andromeda's first, saving Ron and Hermione's for last.

It was a short letter, she updated him on Teddy—burping, rolling, waving—told him that his leaving had caused a minor scandal but was now being treated in the press as an act of humility, and asked that he keep an eye out for her nephew.

Neville's letter was more informative. The school was being rebuilt and most of the younger students had returned for the last week of term. Some of the parents were staying on, too, mostly those whose houses had been destroyed by Death Eaters, or who needed a little more time with their children after the last battle. McGonagall had enlisted several of them as scratch teachers and made Muggle Studies a compulsory subject for every year. Neville's grandmother had come with him for the Order of Merlin ceremony, where Minister Shacklebolt had made a nice speech about Harry, and may have mentioned Neville slightly. His grandmother had then left of her own accord when a young woman from the Ministry had come to sit with Neville and see if he approved of the press release she was sending out. Neville suspected his grandmother may have been less altruistic than she had seemed, as he had spotted three or four elderly wizards offering to Apparate her home.

Professor McGonagall wrote that she hoped Harry was enjoying his holiday and settling into his studies. She apologised for not warning him about Malfoy, hoped that they were managing not to kill each other, and quoted at length from Kingsley's speech about Neville.

Ron and Hermione wrote to say that they were travelling to Australia by aeroplane and would Floo down to see him between eleven and two on Sunday.

"Bugger," said Malfoy.

"You too?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"They're holding my Father in Azkaban until his trial," Malfoy muttered, glaring at a long, closely written letter.

"The Dementors have gone ..." Harry looked for the upside.

"The other Death Eaters are back," Malfoy reminded him. "I don't imagine they'll be model prisoners."

Harry looked at him with sympathy. "Ron and Hermione are stopping by for a few hours on Sunday," he admitted.

"I'll absent myself."

"You don't have to."

Malfoy looked at him calmly. "I think they'd prefer it if I did."

There was another knock at the door. Harry opened it this time, expecting Hannah, or Sharon. It was a tall young woman with red-streaked hair. "You Harry or Draco?" she asked.

"Harry, this is Draco," he motioned her inside.

She grabbed his hand and shook it heartily. "I'm Leanne. You two both wanted to sign up for my development team, yeah?"

Harry caught on. "You're the Quidditch coach?"

"Junior, but yeah. Anyway, Bruce sent me a note that I had to take the two of you because apparently you're not bad and he's trying to make inroads with your old headmistress. So, practice is tomorrow, ten sharp, make sure you breakfast first, we go straight through to one, no stopping. BYO brooms and kit if you have it, if not I can organise some loaner stuff for the first week or two."

"I have mine!" Malfoy was smiling.

"Me, too," Harry said, pleased he'd listened to Hermione and thrown his leathers into his chest.

"Good-oh. And listen, I've heard about you two. Any mucking up and I won't be hexing you, I'll be twisting your ears and casting loud aspersions on your respective manhoods. And I have four older brothers, so I can be creative, right?"

"Right!" both of the boys agreed.

"Good-oh." She stopped and looked at them more closely. "Did you two really just go through a war?"

Harry frowned. "Yeah, we did. Why?"

"You're too pretty. S'pose you're both a bit skinny. Anyway, see you tomorrow, don't be late."

Harry stared at the closed door for a good long minute, before turning around to find Malfoy staring at him.

"Pretty?" Malfoy asked.

"Hannah says they have really hot summers," Harry offered.

"Must fry the brain," Malfoy mused.

**********************

They were at Quidditch Pitch 3 at nine-thirty the next morning, shin and elbow pads on, brooms and body armour in hand. It felt good to have his own Gryffindor colours on, Harry realised, though he noticed that Malfoy was wearing plain black.

Leanne was there early, too, and waved them out onto the field. "Early, eh? Good to see! And nicely kitted up. I like the Woollongong colours." She winked at Harry, who realised his school jersey was in the same shades as the Warriors' strip.

"OK, strap yourselves in and get up there, I want to see what you can do."

They were in the air and flying passes with Quaffles well before any of the other players straggled onto the pitch. Leanne left them for a few minutes and went to sort the others into drill teams, which Harry and Malfoy took as an excuse to race each other to opposing hoops, switching between Chasing and Keeping roles depending on who had the Quaffle when they got there.

Harry had just attempted to score a goal from an upside-down position in mid-spin—and been thwarted by a particularly good block from Malfoy—when Leanne blew her whistle loudly behind him.

"OK, great, you two can clearly both fly. What did you play at your old school?"

"Seeker," they answered in unison.

A look of mild pain crossed her face. "This is going to be one of those boy things, isn't it?" she asked. "Let me lay it out for you. You look like nice boys. I'm sure you're both very butch and very well hung. We do not need the Seeker to be a star on this team. It is not a measure of our manliness and it is not a measure of our skill as a player. In fact, it has the most limited set of skills of all the players, and I can say that with authority, because it's the position I play on my team. SO. One of you might end up in the spot, the other one won't. That doesn't mean one wins, that means that I'll play you where I think you're best, right?"

"Right," they answered.

"Good. OK, then, let's see how you go with a Snitch." She reached into her pocket and tossed the small golden ball found there high into the air.

It was not like Quidditch at school. There he and Malfoy had been doing everything short of killing each other to win. Here they were simply flying against each other, and Harry could see that Malfoy was good. He had a commitment to the chase that Harry had never needed to acquire. The unfair thing, thought Harry, as he pitched a new trajectory that brought his hand close around the Snitch seconds before Malfoy's, was that Harry had never needed to learn any of this, he could just do it.

"Crap," muttered Malfoy, pulling away to avoid a crash.

Leanne flew up to them, grinning from ear to ear. "That was great! You two are really good! Come on down and we'll have a chat."

Her enthusiasm drew a smile from even Malfoy. She reminded Harry of someone. He realised it was Tonks. Leanne had that same cheer and energy about her, though she was no more uncoordinated than Harry was Veela.

"OK," she began once they were on the ground. "I thought I was going to be doing a favour for Bruce, but it turns out he's done me one. You, Snowy, are bloody wasted as a Seeker, you've got the agility and eye to make one of the best Keepers I've seen. Harry, mate, you're doomed to Seekerdom as I can't bear to waste that straight line speed anywhere else, but I swear, if you start catching that Snitch early and finishing games at low scores, I will stuff those glasses up your nose. Clear?"

"Clear," they both replied, though Malfoy's tone was a little grudging.

Leanne grinned at him. "I've hurt your feelings, haven't I? It's because you've got that whole European Seeker-worship thing going. Bet you had a bit of a crush on Krum when you were young, yeah? Let me tell you, I like Krum a lot, but the real hero on the Bulgarian team is Parvanov, their Keeper. He held out over a thousand points in their last World Cup tilt, no amount of Snitch catching can compare to that. Also—big hands, if you know what I mean."

Malfoy laughed despite himself.

"So give it a go. If you hate it, I promise I'll try swapping you about. OK? Yeah? Good. Keep this up and I'll organise for you to fly a few practices with my team."

"Your team?'

"The Warriors, of course," she laughed. "I'm on injury leave at the moment, but I'm their Seeker."

Malfoy couldn't hide the light that leapt into his eyes at that, and Harry didn't even try. "Ginny will be furious!" he exclaimed.

"Ginny?" Leanne raised an eyebrow.

Harry blushed. "Ginny Weasley, my ex-girlfriend. Huge Warriors fan."

Leanne raised the other eyebrow. "Weasley? No relation to Charlie?"

"Sister," Harry confirmed. "How do you know Charlie?"

"Victor Krum introduced us when I was playing for Iceland three seasons ago." Leanne's smile became a little personal and wistful for a moment, before she replaced it with one of broad cheer. "Lovely man. If you're writing to the family, say hello for me." She picked up her broom determinedly. "Come on, let's get back up there and I'll introduce you to the others."

Harry waited until she was airborne. "I can't believe she knows Charlie," he muttered, startled again at the interconnectedness of his world.

"I can't believe Charlie Weasley shags girls," Malfoy said more loudly.

Harry looked at him.

"Oh please," Malfoy scoffed. "Dedicated dragon keeper is practically code."

Harry felt slightly treacherous as the laugh escaped his lips. Malfoy looked more surprised to hear it than Harry was to make it. "Charlie's all right," Harry said.

"Yeah, he is," Malfoy agreed amiably, and followed Leanne into the air.

**********************

Saturday afternoon saw Harry sitting in the spa, attempting to regain feeling in his thighs. Sharon and Hannah kept him company, along with Meredith, Greg and Wayne from the development team. Leanne and Malfoy were doing laps of the adjacent pool, with Malfoy desperately searching for a stroke he could swim faster than their coach.

"Give it up, Snowy," she said, laughing. "You're good for a Pom, but I grew up in the water. Say goodbye to the dream. Goodbye, dream, goodbye!"

He glared at her. "Butterfly," he announced, daring.

She nodded, with a trace of admiration. "Hard core, I like it. From the far end to the spa, diving start?"

"You're on. Harry, you call the start and you and Hannah watch for the finish, yeah?'

Harry agreed. Leanne and Malfoy lined up on either side of the waterfall—she was right, Harry realised, Malfoy was skinny. "On your marks, get set, GO!"

Leanne's dive was technically better, but Malfoy's took him further. It was close, but he won by a half-yard.

"Gah! Bugger! OK, you win, one stroke out of four." Leanne splashed Malfoy graciously.

Malfoy held onto the end of the pool, panting happily. He grinned at Leanne, and at Harry, as though one out of four was more than enough.

*******************

Malfoy had already left when Harry woke up for breakfast on Sunday. There was a note in the fridge, where the chocolate had been the night before: Try not to let them burn any of my stuff.

The school's nearest Floo was down beside the letterboxes. Harry was waiting there at ten-fifty. Eight minutes later, Ron and Hermione bundled out, giggling and covered in soot.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, and threw herself into his arms.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, laughing. "Good to see you. G'day, Ron."

"G'day? Look out, he's gone native."

Harry hugged Ron, laughing. "I can't believe you flew out, why the Muggle route?"

"We need to fly back with Mum and Dad, so we had to come in through Customs in order to go back out the same way," Hermione explained.

"Fair enough."

"So how're you going? Is it relaxing? Things are settling down at home, you might be able to come back before Christmas at this rate."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, it's good. I'm playing with a Quidditch team, going to play my first game as Seeker in a fortnight. Hannah's been great about helping, people are pretty nice. The accommodation's good, here we are." Harry opened the door to the co-op, and showed them in.

Ron and Hermione were suitably impressed. "Ooh, computers, and that's an enormous television! What are they doing with that?"

Harry laughed. "Hannah's friend Sharon says it's because there are a lot of Muggle-born here, and so they're really interested in mixing magic and Muggle-tech. Hannah says it's because they're all obsessed with watching sport. I think she might be right." He shepherded them back out into the corridors and around to the other side of the Quadrangle.

"Loads of Muggle-born, eh? What do the old families think about that?"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't seem to be that much of a thing. Sharon says the ones who are really fussed go to Murray Downs and then study in Europe if they want to do post-graduate work. There are some places in Germany and Finland that Ron would have a hard time getting into, they go there." Harry opened the door to his rooms.

Ron snorted. "S'pose Malfoy went to Murray Downs, then."

Harry stopped halfway through the doorway.

"Didn't you hear?" Hermione patted his shoulder and walked past him. "He's in Australia, too. Oh, Harry, this is lovely, look at those plants out there, it's like a little rainforest. Have you seen any animals?"

"Not yet, I've sort of been crashing out of an evening and sleeping as late as I can in the mornings, they're all nocturnal, Hannah says."

"How's the Quidditch?"

"Yeah, good. Leanne, our coach, flies for the Woollongong Warriors."

"Leanne Mainwarring?" Ron was impressed. "She's hot stuff! Oof!"

Hermione put her bag down now she had finished using it as a weapon. "It's really lovely, Harry. Where's your room?"

"In here." He opened the door and showed off his space, they laughed at the colour scheme, and at the fact that he kept his broom beside his bed.

"Are those bathers?" Hermione laughed, pointing at the bundle of clothes on the floor. "And since when have you owned a cashmere jumper? Who are you trying to impress?"

"Borrowed it from my roommate," Harry mumbled. "Have you seen the pool?"

He led them out to the courtyard, where they were greeted with waves and hellos from several of the co-op dwellers.

"We swim here most nights, or use the spa. There's a barbecue on every Friday night, or whenever anyone can be bothered on other nights. No house-elves, so we do our own food, or eat out at the uni. There's a good selection of food, and some markets, too. It's nice."

"What have you done with Snowy, Harry?" Wayne called from the pool.

"Tragic murder," Harry called back.

"Ya dag!" Wayne swam off, laughing.

"Dag?" Hermione looked at him blankly.

"Anorak, dork," Harry explained. "Hannah assures me it's an affectionate term of abuse."

"How can you tell?" Ron asked.

"They're smiling when they say it. Do you want something to eat?"

"Ooh, yes please," Hermione said. "The food on the plane was hours ago."

"Come on."

Harry led them back inside and put together a large omelette and toast, with tea and butterbeer all round. "It's not as bad as it looks having to make do," he explained. "The dishwasher's charmed, so it's really just the cooking and making sure there's food in. I just need to make sure we give the list to the co-op in time for the weekly shop. I quite like being in charge of what I eat, it's new."

"It's good," Ron agreed, hoovering down his brunch.

"So you two are good?"

They nodded, and exchanged one of what Harry had come to think of as their couple looks.

"I'm meeting her parents properly," Ron said proudly. "We've met before, but they apparently think of me as that tall ginger who trips over things. I'm going to show my charming side this time."

"And you're not worried they'll be upset?" Harry asked Hermione, who had been chewing her lip a little.

"I brought clippings from the paper. I think they'll know I did it because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to them. I just hope they're not angry at me for not coming with them. But they've met you, Harry, they'll know you needed ..."

"Someone smart?"

She grinned. "Yeah, sorry."

"That's OK. I did. Without the two of you, there's no way I'd have been able to get through. We did a good job."

"We did," she agreed.

Harry had been just about caught up on all the gossip concerning Neville Longbottom's latest string of crushed feminine hearts when there was a knock at the door. It was Sharon. "Hey Harry, is Draco about?" she asked loudly before Harry could make an adequate shushing noise.

"Probably with Leanne or Meredith running drills," Harry suggested.

"Cool, he wanted to see Betty beginning her moult, and she's just started. Send him over if you see him."

Harry closed the door and turned slowly back to see his two friends staring at him, as he knew they would be.

"Draco?" Hermione asked archly.

"You're sharing with Malfoy? I hope you have good wards on that door!" Ron spluttered.

"It's not like that, he's been OK," Harry began.

Ron cut him off with a harsh laugh.