Harry_Potter_and_the_Knowledge_of_a

Every parent leaves something behind for their children to remember them by. Lily Evans didn�t know, when she left her diary behind, that it would help her son into knowing her and himself�or did she?

Thanks again every one for the great reviews. See, the reason why I didn�t expect so many is because, previously, whenever I was truly excited about the prospect of writing a story it usually ended up as a big flop (like On the Wings of the Tiger, my Ranma fic, which I had to put on the backburner after the second chapter because it only got 9 reviews total). I didn�t expect anything more than that out of KoaM, but you guys were wonderfully supportive and now the reviews just keep on rolling in. Thank You! I love you all so much. *sniff sniff* I think I�m going to cry. Oh, and Erenriel�what the hell was that about? ME writing a "Snape-is-Harry�s-father" fic? I think you haven�t figured me out yet. EWWW! The thought is just sick. Anyway, this is another sappy, tearjerker, crappy chapter from your truly. And now: on with the fic.

Harry Potter and the Knowledge of a Mother

Chapter 7: Letters, memories, and fears

Draco Malfoy laid sprawled on his oversize green and silver bed in the Slytherin dormitories, his hands behind his head cradling it, his feet crossed at the ankles and a thoughtful look upon his face. He gave a cursory glance to the expensive parchment that lay to his side completely blank, a quill in hand and inkbottle nearby and open, but put safely enough to avoid any possible spills. His dorm mates were all either still in the common room exchanging banter, or in the Great Hall stuffing their faces. In any case, it suited his situation perfectly, for he needed to be alone to figure out what to write and didn�t wish to be interrogated by any stupid bloke that might want to do just that.

When Granger, earlier that day, had said that writing to Ginny might have been able to save him�well, she made it seem a lot easier that what it actually was. First of all, he had absolutely not the faintest idea of what to speak to her about, after all, they were of different houses, different years, different social circles and statuses, different hair colours, different heights�what the bloody was he going on in his mind? True, they did lead very different lives, but it wasn�t as though they had never exchanged an actual conversation.

No, the problem was of a different order.

Now�how was he supposed to put the heading of the blasted thing?

It wasn�t like he could start with "Dear Ginny"! For one, it was totally uncalled for, since they only had a passable acquaintance to one another, which brought him�for the nth time that night�to the question: �Why was he even bothering?� But he soon dispelled the thought. Their�encounters had not been hostile since his fifth year, but �Dear� was just never going to appear on one of his letters, to her or anyone else for that matter! It just wasn�t his style! Not only was he a Malfoy, he was a Slytherin as well! �Dear� was definitely not the term.

So then what else to use?

He tried to wrack his brain, searching through the memories of the different times they spoke to one another, trying to remember if he�d ever�even by chance---called her with any kind of non-offensive nickname, or if she�d ever given him any indication of having one, and, somehow, he ended up having a full blown flashback of the time they had first argued for something that hadn�t been petty and had managed to get him thinking.

It had been the first session in Duel Training, back in his fifth year. Every one from fourth year and up had to participate, and it had been the same way since. Dumbledore, who taught the �class� with the help of the head of Slytherin house, Severus Snape, had tried pairing up students for the first few sessions since the sheer amount of pupils created an unimaginable amount of chaos, and, by some crazy twist of fate, Draco Malfoy had been paired up with Ginny Weasley.

Draco took it as an insult, and gave one to the redhead before him, who retaliated more than happily, thing which he had not been expecting. She always looked so sweet and cheerful around her friends, that hearing such language spewing forth from her mouth like water out of a broken pipe had totally taken him by surprise. Yes, she was a Weasley, and therefore, grew up with six older males to teach her all their knowledge (most of which probably came from Fred and George), but the amount of such knowledge was rather astonishing.

But of course, in a Battle of Barbs, Draco Malfoy was not one to pull back, and so he spewed in much the same manner she did, and they went so for a good half hour. The only difference between the two had been that she had whispered in a hiss all her taunts and comebacks�which was even more annoying�while he was shouting them to the four winds.

Therefore, Snape and Dumbledore only heard Malfoy�s half of the interview between the two, and it hadn�t sounded good. He had gotten a proper ear washing from the both of them in front of more than half the school, and it had lasted more than anyone would have wished it to.

When he turned away from the mentors (that had finished embarrassing him to death) and to Ginny, he found her with a thoughtful expression that he felt was worse than a Cheshire smirk.

"What now, Weasley?" He spat the question at her.

She was quiet for a moment, looking as though she was pitying him. "You know?" she started. "Your jealousy of Harry and your father�s position with the Death Eaters aren�t good reasons to become one yourself," maybe she�d figured out that half of his barbs had been laced with terms associated with the Dark Lord.

Still, he was dazed. "What?" He spat again.

She shrugged. "If that�s not reason enough for you," she began taking an intimidating step toward him, "my brother Percy did a very thorough research of your family tree," he raised his eyebrows in sceptical questioning, "your maternal grandfather was born from an affair between a Wizard and a Muggleborn. Your blood is not as pure as you always thought it to be. Isn�t it a bit stupid to hate those that are in ways like yourself?"

After that Draco didn�t remember much at all about that training session, only that their arguing had stopped there and they had actually started practising what Dumbledore was teaching. Startlingly enough, he found his hand moving of its own volition (after having skipped the heading), retelling the flashback that he�d just had, and the conversation with Potter and Granger only a few hours prior.

Then in closing, before his name, he wrote: "Do you think I can be saved?" Then went back to the heading and started it as: "Hey, Weasel Jr," which, he knew, she would not�probably�find offensive (at least not after everything else he wrote).

Ginny recieved the letter quite some time later, but when she did, many thoughts ran through her mind, most of which were memories of their encounter since that faithful one he had described in his parchment. She found herself smiling at the closing statement.

In reply she wrote:

"Hey, ferret head,

if you�re asking yourself that, than you�re already half way to salvation.

The rest is up to you.

Ginny

Her, rather brief, message reached him within the same night, and reading it, he smirked. "No," his smirked grew into a full blown grin. "It�s up to you."

�*�

Harry sat in the common room next to Hermione, trying to breach the subject after an unaccountable amount of trials, he gave up and decided to ask her outright.

"What was that thing with Malfoy and Ginny the other day? How did you know that writing to Ginny would �save� him?"

Hermione seemed a bit surprised, as his question just seemed to pop out of the blue, but she answered nonetheless. "She and I are in similar situations, so it�s only natural that we confide in each other," she replied, the sides of her lips quirking up in a failed attempt at a reassuring smile.

Harry didn�t process that right, though. "You�re in love with a Slytherin?" He nearly screeched. Whoever he was he would kill him!

Hermione laughed outright in surprise. She�d expected him to get it after all the time they�d spent skirting around each other. "No," she sobered, "but loving him would ruin everything," and that was true.

Harry stared at her. "Who is he?" He hadn�t realised he�d spoken till he saw her eyebrows knit.

She simply stared at him.

"Sorry," he apologised, realising he was making her uncomfortable, "I shouldn�t pry."

"No!" Hermione nearly shouted. "No," she blushed quietly, catching herself, "you have every right�but I�m�afraid of your reaction," she explained.

He could relate to that. "It�s ok," he told her. "You don�t have to tell me until you�re ready."

She smiled that smile at him. The smile that seemed to grow on her face on its own volition, the one that seemed to light her from the inside out, the smile that made him realise he was in love with her what seemed like an eternity ago. "Thanks," she replied quietly, and, realising the conversation was over, opened Lily�s diary to the point that they had left off at and began to read out loud.

Since it was vacation and there was nobody there, they were moving rather speedily across Lily�s past. They had already read of Lily�s excitement at the idea of the Solar Crowning Ball (to celebrate the eclipse that Hogwarts would see the day of the ball, an important event for Wizards), and of Snape asking her to be his date (which Harry found rather repulsive). He�d asked her as they had stepped out of a Prefects� meeting and right in front of one of the portraits known only for its hunger for gossip. Soon enough the whole school had found out, James included.

Before that, he and Lily had already had a pretty horrible fight about his girlfriend Kiana, who was making life hell for Lily, which had ended up in James telling her that he loved Lily and then running off before awaiting an answer. The following day he�d apologised, saying that he was nervous and taking it all back. She�d been hurt, but hadn�t countered it with any of her feelings for him, because, honestly, they scared her.

Now, they were reading to know how James would react to the news of Severus Snape, his worst enemy, trying to put the moves on Lily Evans, the girl that he did not wish to admit he loved.

I was making my rounds when I ran into James, who had obviously been looking for me because he would never be caught unaware out of bed after hours. I�m sure he was heading to the Whomping Willow.

He was angry because of Snape�s proposal to take me to the Ball, like everyone else, as a matter of fact.

We ended up arguing.

"You can�t go with him!" He shouted after a long yelling session.

I was so angry with him at the time that I found myself screaming at him. "WHY NOT?"

Then his voice dropped to a hissing whisper. "Because I know you." His eyes were so intense in that one singular moment, that I felt like breaking down in tears. I could read everything he felt and thought while he looked at me, and I don�t think I was ready for that yet. And then, there was always the thought of Kiana that screamed at me.

She hated me, and I don�t care at all for her, but she loves James. It was the thought of her that made me deny James�s statement, despite the fact that nothing truer had every been spoken. "NO!" My shout sounded more like a sob, and I found myself against the wall, his arms on either side of me, almost supporting me, and an expression of defiance marking his features.

"Yes," he contradicted me, still with that hissing whisper, although at the moment, it sounded like a wounded sob. "Because you�re like me," he added. Oh, God! How was I supposed to retaliate to that.

As much as I wanted to admit it, I denied it. "No, I�m not," but I found myself staring at a statue off to the side.

He was quiet for a long time, and I wanted to look at him, to read him, to know what he was thinking and feeling, but I refused to. I felt his hand under my chin, turning me to face him. I was terrified. "If you want me to believe that," he started, this time whispering without the hiss, "tell it to my face."

I tried several times. A bunch of choked "I�I�" escaped my mouth but nothing else, and I found myself crying. "I can�t," I told him truthfully.

"Because you love me," Oh, God! He was so sure of it!

"How would you know that?" I should have spat at him, spoken the words in self righteous anger, because I should have felt as though his statement was nothing but arrogant, but it wasn�t, and I didn�t, I spoke softly and with absolutely no malice. It was true, and James wouldn�t ever shove it back into my face just for personal satisfaction.

"Because I know," he stated again. His fingers were tracing my face so gently, as though I was something precious, and more tears came to my eyes. "I know you. You�re like me. You love me." He repeated. "And I love you."

I think that time, I was the one who kissed. I did it because he was so close, and I felt so safe in his arms, and so desired, and so loved. And because I loved him, and I loved the love that he had for me and for my feelings. I love James Potter, and so I kissed him. I had forgotten about Kiana. Staying with James would only hurt her more for his heart was already mine, but I pulled away when I remember where I thought he was heading.

"I do love you," I admitted, and he looked so happy that I just wanted to forget everything wrong in my life and go back to kissing him, but I couldn�t. "But I can�t trust you, James. You�re keeping too many secrets from me," telling him hurt like nothing else, but I had to say or gradually shred my sanity to bits.

He looked stricken. I think he�d wanted to tell me, for a while now maybe, but I don�t think he thought it right. "I�d give them to you," his words were hushed, meaningful, but I already knew what he was going to say, and found myself boiling over with self righteousness. "But they aren�t mine to give out."

I knew that was coming, but still� "Oh, right! The Marauders," I�d said the last words like it was something vile and disgusting even though I knew it was wrong. They were his friends, his links to sanity since the loss of his family, but I felt that my love should have meant enough for him to tell me, even if, now, I know it couldn�t be any other way.

He was hurt by my tone, but he understood my point of view, so he pushed himself away from me, disentangling his limbs from mine, and spoke the words as though the were atrocious. "Yes," he confirmed, "I have to go now."

"Fine," I spat, still boiling in anger, "go to your date with the Whomping Willow." He looked back at me in shock and surprise, and I could see the gears in his head working to figure out if he�d done anything to give it away. Maybe I shouldn�t have, but the anger was clouding my mind, so I told him about the dreams I�d been having, all of the dreams that had to do with the Marauders and the Wolf and the full moon and the Whomping Willow and the Shrieking Shack. I shouldn�t have told him, because now I have no secret, and I should have feared his reaction, but he wasn�t scared of me, and didn�t shun me.

"You already know all my secrets," then my dreams were truly visions that represented a truth that, I�m afraid, I�m beginning to come to.

Still, I lost some of my anger, and spoke a little more softly. "I want you to tell me, though," it was true, if he thought I already knew, I�d rather hear the words out of his mouth, not only to get everything straight, but to know that he trusts me as much as I trust him.

I think he knew what I was feeling, because this time, he was the one who started a kiss, and it was such a kiss that when he sat me back down to my feet (he�d lifted me up and held me around the waist so that our faces were level) I fell to my knees in a pile of mush that couldn�t put two sentences together.

And then, I still can�t believe it, Severus just appeared out of Merlin knows where and took off points from both of us for snogging in the halls and being out after hours. "Ah, and thank you kindly for that Whomping Willow tip, Evans," oh, Merlin, he was making me sound like an accomplice. James didn�t take it that way, thankfully.

His expression hardened though. "Look all you want, you won�t see anything."

I hoped he was right, either way, I told Severus that I wouldn�t be his date for the ball, and James and I walked away from him and back toward the Common Room. When we turned a corner, however, he was gone, and I felt myself smiling like a beaten dog.

Since he still has a girlfriend, he couldn�t ask me to the Ball, even if I sensed he wanted to.

When Hermione finished reading the entry from the diary Harry spoke, sounding as though it was a personal comment, and not an observation that he was sharing with her. "Must be wonderful."

She was confused. "What?" She asked baffled.

He looked at her as though speaking from somewhere outside of himself. "Having the certainty that the one you love feels the same way about you," he replied sadly.

Hermione stared at him for a long while, battling within and against herself on whether or not to speak. "Harry," she whispered, getting his attention.

"Hmm?"

"It�s you," she supplied enigmatically.

For a second, he seemed confused, than his look changed to one of pure shock, and then to one of hope. "What?" he tried to instigate from her.

But Hermione found herself backing out. "Never mind," she answered, asking herself why the bloody hell the sorting hat ever thought of putting her in Gryffindor.

"Sure," he reassured her, but he was definitely deflated.

"But he was certain of her feelings only because they were so much alike," she tried to cheer him up with a sharp observation.

"What?" He asked again intelligently.

"Well," she began again, "he knew how she felt because he knew how he felt," she explained.

"I don�t know how she feels," he told her truthfully.

"You�re not like each other?" She asked with knit eyebrows.

He seemed thoughtful for a second. "I thought so," he started, changing position on the couch so that he was facing her better, "but I think we�re actually more alike than we both know," he supplied. "She cares for me," he continued, "this much is obvious, but I don�t know if she loves me."

"Harry," Hermione spoke his name with the sweetest of smiles painting her features, "any girl who cares about you can�t help but love you," she told him. "I see it in the way they look at you," she explained. "There�s a lot more than adoration behind it."

"I don�t care about them," he spat quickly, "I just want her."

"Then what do you see in her eyes when you look at her?" She asked, the words barely able to get through the huge lump that she felt at her throat.

He looked at her, looked so long and hard that she was absolutely sure he could read ever thought, every emotion, every bad thought, and every dream she�d had of him. "She does have feeling for me," he concluded finally, albeit not taking his unwavering gaze away from her.

This time she had to swallow several times before being able to reply. "Then she�d yours."

"But she�s scared," he burst suddenly, propelling his face close to hers. "And I am, too," he admitted.

"Of what?" she questioned, utterly surprised by what he�d just said.

"Of my scar," he shot back quietly, as though the matter was obvious but painful, "and what I represent. Everybody expects something of me and it scares us both. It�s either kill or die against Voldemort, and loving me means fighting him and risking becoming bate," he spat the last word and she gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. "Yeah, because he�s not above using those I love to get to me," he went on in explanation after hearing her gasp. "And despite how much I want her to know," Harry whispered, "I can�t put her through that.

Hermione found herself taking deep even breaths in the attempt of keeping herself from crying albeit unsuccessfully. How can he be so sure? She asked herself. How can he know all that? How? But she answered herself. Because it�s true. I really am scared of all that. Then a thought struck her and she managed to speak past the sobs that wanted to escape. "But when it comes down to it, are you ready to face possible death knowing you never told her?" She asked, her voice so broken and shaky that even she could barely figure out the words.

He shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "No," he answered. "I�d be happier knowing I never told her. If I die," Hermione gasped again at this, although she knew perfectly well it was a strong possibility, "she could move on without regret," he finished.

The tears couldn�t be held anymore, and she threw herself in his arms, wishing to feel his presence comforting her, letting her know that he would be there always, no matter what. She didn�t care if it was nothing but an illusion created by his warmth. She needed it.

He started to help her to her feet. "Come on, lets go to bed," he said, moving her in the direction of the dormitories.

"No," she denied, planting her feet in the spot where they were standing, hiccups escaping her at regular intervals. "No," she repeated, "I want to stay with you and read a little longer," she expressed, sniffling and hiccuping all the more, her eyes pleading him to stay and grant her that wish.

He agreed, and, after they�d sat back down and she�d regained her composure, she began to read. And reading she kept doing until they lost track of time and just lost themselves in the lives of two people in love who, at the time, couldn�t be together. Snape was hot on the Marauders� tails yet wasn�t getting anywhere, James had broken up with Kiana though she was still not giving up her torture of Lily and they had come to the night before the ball for which neither of the two had a companion.

This morning at breakfast, before I sat next to Jenna, James stopped in the spot where he regularly sits with the rest of the Marauders, always a little far off from the rest when they are planning something. He told me that tonight he would tell me their secret, and, when I looked at the rest of them, they all nodded in agreement, though they did look like they were all apprehensive of the matter.

Tonight was a full moon.

When I went back to my room, earlier than the rest of the students, I left my door open like James had instructed, and waited. The more time passed, the more anxious I got, and, when, uddenly, I felt something drop over my head I nearly screamed, but a gentle hand on my mouth prevented me from it.

It was James, and Peter was with me. It turned out that what he�d thrown over my head was in invisibility cloak. That�s how he always managed to sneak around so much without getting caught. Rather quickly, we managed to make out way outside and to the Whomping Willow. There, right before my eyes, I saw Peter shrink and turn into the mouse from my visions. He�s an animagus.

While Peter was busy hitting a knot on the base of the Whomping Willow, and opening a passage for us, James told me that he and Sirius were animagi as well, and that the passage led to the Shrieking Shack. He also told me that he, along with his friends, had made a map, a very particular one, that showed every passage that the boys had discovered in their time here and the names of the important people (of the situation) and their movements.

It was a very uncomfortable walk, cramped, damp, dark, and dirty, but at least at that point we didn�t need the cape anymore. Finally after a very long time, we reached a door at the end of the stony tunnel. There we stopped.

He turned to face me, and I knew that what he�d tell me would not be pleasant. It turned out that my visions were actually rather clear.

Remus is a werewolf. He was bitten when he was only a small child, and has had to hide from others every time it was close to full moon. James and the others had found out about it in second year, and had decided to become animagi to be able to keep Remus under check in his beastly form. In fifth year, they finally managed to make it.

He explained how Remus had recieved permission to use the tunnel from Dumbledore so that he wouldn�t hurt others, but when alone, his need for blood drove him to hurt himself. All the scary sound that the Shack is famous for were actually his howls of pain.

James also said that when he and the others were animals, Remus didn�t feel like that at all. He was actually rather happy and carefree. He gave me thousands more details that I can�t possible list now, that my mind is so jumbled, but I finally felt that he trusted me, and that nothing could stand between us.

All my question were answered, and, on the other side of the door, the wolf had smelled us and was becoming restless, we could hear him. I watched as James changed while in front of me. He became the most beautiful deer that I had ever seen in my life. I couldn�t help it. I touched him, even if I knew that we didn�t have time. I wanted to stay that way forever, but I couldn�t, so, with the cape, I ran all the way back while I heard James holding back the door until I was clear and far away.

Now I don�t know what�s going on, but I do know one thing. He still didn�t ask me to the dance.

Anyway, I charmed this diary so that only people who know about this secret can read it, so I feel safe that my writing it out won�t endanger them.

Hermione went on to read the next day.

I hadn�t slept all night from worry of what might have happened to James and the rest. They weren�t at breakfast, either, and, by the time I was heading for my first class, I was so jumpy that if anyone crossed my past I might have had a stroke. Still, I couldn�t tell anybody, and that�s what made it worse.

I was so absorbed in thought that when I passed the statue of the one eyed witch I didn�t even notice who was standing behind it. I did notice though, when I felt myself being pulled into shadows from behind and tried to scream, only to find the same gentle hand over my mouth that I�d felt the night before.

James.

I hugged him so hard I think I broke his ribs.

He explained that the statue was actually the entrance to another passage that ended in the storeroom of Honeydukes. He gave even more details than he did last night, and when he was finished, he looked beaten. "If you don�t want anything else to do with me I understand," he told me. He thought that what he was doing for Remus might have scared me away. Well, it did scare me, but it made me love him even more.

Not knowing how to reply to that, I kissed him. I think I kissed him pretty senseless, too. The look of happy confusion on his face when we pulled away was too adorable for words. He was also rather speechless.

I decided that this was a perfect opportunity. "Since you seem set in your decision to drive me mad," I started, watching as he knit his eyebrows in confusion, "I�ll be the one to ask: James Potter�do you want to go to the ball with me?" I still can�t believe I actually asked him that! Talk about Gryffindor bravery.

He nodded, probably still speechless. "Great!" I exclaimed and walked off to class.

The look on his face was the most priceless of my life.

So now Lily and James had finally stopped beating the bush and got their act straight, but how was this going to affect Harry and Hermione�s reading? Staring into the fire the two pondered the situation, without even noticing that sleep was slowly claiming them. A short time later, the two were sitting, entwined, on the couch, fast asleep, and dreaming of each other.

To be continued.

Coming up next chapter: Ron comes back from vacation, D&G exchange...unusual X-mas presents, Harry, Ron, and Hermione receive an order from Dumbledore, and Lily has a vision of Snape at the Solar Crowning Ball.

Author�s note: Well, I can�t seem too help it. These kind of chapter just sort of write themselves out. Anyway, there you have it, the real reason why H&Hr aren�t getting together. They�re scared. Anyway, I�m trying to get these chapters out as fast as I can, but I�m busy, and also a slow writer. I promise to do the best that I can.

Thank you

Pearl