They laid there for a time, just breathing slowly, holding onto each other. Trying to warm themselves from the memories of the cold they had endured. Of course, they knew that they weren't actually cold, but the memories brought up a phantom sense of the cold. Similar to phantom pains after a limb had been removed. It took longer than either of them realized for them to stop shivering.

As they laid there, so close together, both were marveling at just how alike they were. Harry wondered if Mal realized this and what it would mean for him once she knew the whole truth.

Mal moved her head; though she was still laying on her side, she was now angled so that she could look up at Harry's face. His emerald green eyes looking down into her own. Surprisingly, all she found in them was kindness and a growing affection that mirrored her own. At least she hoped that's what she saw. It could very well be her imagination at work again.

Laying like this reminded her of how several times his face had been this close, and closer, how she wanted nothing more than to kiss him or have him kiss her.

But somewhere in the back of her mind, she had utterly convinced herself that he wouldn't react well to that. While her mind argued that he did seem attracted to her, she got the sense that now was not the time to explore that.

Needing a distraction from her growing physical desires, she said. "Tell me about your fourth death."

Harry had been staring down into her eyes and kept glancing at her lips. Such a pale rose color, he wanted to run his thumb over it before he met those lips with his own.

Needing a distraction as well, he grabbed at the memories.

"Well, actually, my fourth and fifth deaths were because of the Tournament." He admitted, playing with the tips of her hair as he spoke. He needed something to keep him calm and focused on the here and now as these deaths were both tiresome and infuriating. Playing with her hair allowed him to slow down and at least attempt to keep calm.

He walked into the arena during the first task, armed with only his wand as the instructions said. However, before he could even attempt to summon his broom or cast anything really, the Horntail reacted. The nesting mother had whirled around with such speed it broke her chains. A spike from her tail was driven through Harry's stomach before Bagman could even finish announcing him.

Mal looked at him with a mortified expression. He didn't want to tell her this next bit, but he did promise to hold nothing back.

Harry was still alive as the Horntail threw him into the air. He saw as the mouth got closer; he saw the inside of the dragon's throat as he was swallowed whole. He felt the tight channel as it squeezed around his entire body till he was free-falling into the stomach. It was like a cannonball into a pool; only this stuff was acid instead of water.

He felt as his clothes disintegrated away from his body and as his skin began to melt. He felt his entire being melting. It wasn't a quick death, either. He kept waiting for that miracle luck to save him during that time, but as his fingertips became bone and he no longer had any face or eyes to speak of, he knew that this would be his death.

"According to Gabriel, I was in there for five minutes before I was dead." Harry said as Mal continued to stare in abject horror. "The whole while, people began to panic on the outside. I guess they wanted me to fail the task by getting severely injured and survive to forever live in shame. Not die. The Tournament officials meanwhile rushed to save me."

"Not surprising." Mal eventually said, her throat feeling oddly dry. "From my understanding of the matter, Fudge and Dumbledore arranged the whole thing to make Britain, Hogwarts, and by extension themselves, to look good. They needed the positive press even more so after the World Cup incident.

"Dumbledore was using the whole thing to gain allies for the war he knew was coming. He also wanted to lure Riddle out into the open; he never expected you to die. After all, "Only one can live while the other survives," in his mind, Riddle must kill you before he can die. So Dumbledore firmly believes you can survive anything.

"Meanwhile, Fudge wants to stay in office and in power; the positive press would ensure that. However, his campaign wouldn't be able to handle all of the bad media should "The-Boy-Who-Lived" die under a Ministry-sponsored event. I can see the Rita Skeeter titles now "The-Boy-Who-Lived is now The-Boy-Who-Was-Dragon-Chow!"

"Well, you'd be right. Unfortunately for them, by the time they got the dragon to regurgitate me, it was ten minutes after it had initially swallowed me. By that time, I was nothing by a pile of goo and rubbery bones."

"Gabriel told you that too, huh?" Mal gagged.

"Actually, he let me watch it." Harry corrected her. "Again, I am so glad that we can't throw up here."

"Why in God's name would you want to watch something like that!?" Mal shouted at him.

After the visit to a dragon's stomach, she could picture his form well enough thanks to a show called Supernatural and things called Skinwalkers. But the thought of willingly watching yourself being eaten by a dragon, she couldn't fathom the appeal.

Harry shrugged. "He offered, I was curious, so I said why not."

"UGH!" Mal groaned. Throwing her head back. "My God, spare me from the stupidity of men!"

~==(oIo)==~

In the temple, the bells that were Gaia's voice sounded oddly indignant.

To Gabriel, it seemed as if Gaia was saying, "Too bad, child! If I must suffer, so too shall you!"

Judging by the glare Michael was giving the stairs, Gabriel felt he was safe in assuming that's roughly what the Almighty had just said.

~==(oIo)==~

"It wasn't all bad." Harry promised softly as he hugged her back to him. Chuckling as he spoke. "Dumbledore fainted, and no one caught him before he landed on the mess that was now me."

"What's so funny about Dumbledore fainting into a pile of dragon vomit?" Mal glared at him. "Other than the fact that Dumbledore fainted into a pile of dragon vomit?"

Harry grinned at her. "Do you realize what was happening to him?"

Mal narrowed her eyes at him, unamused.

"Think about it." He urged her as she had him before. "I was melted by dragon stomach acid. The damages are irreversible, I hear. All of his left side was being eaten away till there was almost nothing left but bone. At least with his face. His clothes provided a meager buffer for his body."

"And nobody realized this?"

Harry shook his head, grinning at her. "They were too busy dealing with a now furious dragon, who was almost on a rampage. A champion was now dead. They had more important things to worry about than Dumbledore fainting and why he fainted."

"Why did he faint? That doesn't seem like Dumbledore. Was it due to the shock that you could actually be killed and not by Riddle's hand?"

"Partly." Harry admitted. "Gabriel and Michael attempted to change Dumbledore's nature by writing him to be different in the contract. It backfired and caused damage to his soul. He was put to rights before my next death, and unfortunately, they couldn't change Dumbledore's mindset."

"So he's determined to be your enemy, and nothing will change that?" At Harry's nod, she muttered. "Serves the mutilated bastard right. I no longer feel bad about the scars."

"Quite." Harry agreed.

The school and the visitors who watched the task were also in a state of shock. Even Rita Skeeter was too shocked for her quill to work, and it had fallen to the ground. It also landed in the dragon's stomach contents.

Draco was grinning and laughing like a loon, as was his father, as one would expect.

The Slytherins were mostly stony-faced, but it was clear from their eyes; some were fearful of what his death would mean for the public.

The Drumstrang contingent was reacting similarly, though a few did look positively horrified and a little green.

The Hufflepuffs were all screaming in horror. The Beauxbatons contingent joined them.

The Ravenclaws all looked positively horrified. They knew what being swallowed by a dragon would mean. They also knew what was happening to Dumbledore as he lay there. What Slytherins weren't stony-faced or laughing mirrored the Ravenclaw's expressions.

The Gryffindor's were silent for several long minutes before the reality of the situation hit home. Several began calling for the dragon's death in their fury. Others were positively inconsolable.

Ron was wailing the loudest. Which people then took the wrong way entirely. Everyone was now of the belief that Ron was devastated because he romantically fancied Harry.

To those who would have cared enough to listen in on Ron's mumbling, and let it be known, that no one ever did, nor ever would, they would have heard him saying they, more specifically he, would never get anywhere near the Potter fortune now. It was now lost forever! The stupid Goblins would claim it all since Harry had no living will or any heirs. Ron had initially been very proud of that; he managed thus far to keep away all of the birds continually chasing after Harry.

It didn't matter the power that Dumbledore had in the Wizengamot or the ICW, the Goblin laws were absolute, and the governing authorities agreed with them to keep the peace. Dumbledore made sure that Harry never worried or even thought about leaving a will. And Ginny had yet to bag Harry, so she wasn't pregnant by him yet, allowing the Weasleys to claim the Potter fortune on behalf of the unborn Potter heir.

The plan was that half of it would go to Dumbledore, the rest split between Molly, Ginny, and Ron.

Ron had big plans for his allotment of the Potter Fortune. New clothes, new broom – which would automatically guarantee him a spot on the house team the following year. His future in quidditch all but assured. With his newfound wealth, he would have beauties crawling all over him.

He was completely unaware that as of that moment, no woman would go near him now. But a lot of Wizards would want to be his friend now.

All of his plans, now in ruins, Ron was positively shattered.

"And this didn't clue you in about the Potter's standing in Wizarding Society or Gringotts?"

Harry shrugged. "I figured I had more money somewhere else because my vault refilled, but that was it."

Mal rolled her eyes.

In contrast, Hermione and Ginny were the ones who were absolutely devastated by the fact that Harry was now dead. At first, they were clinging to each other, sobbing and whimpering over the loss of what they deemed was "their Harry."

Then, the two realized what the other was saying and did not react well to the fact that the other was their adversary in the competition for Harry's affections. Despite the place and time, they began fighting. They eventually remembered that they were witches and began viciously dueling.

At that moment, it didn't matter that there were innocent children around them.

At that moment, it didn't matter that they were mere children themselves.

At that moment, it didn't matter what Harry would have to say about the conflict.

At that moment, it didn't even matter that Harry was dead.

At that moment, what did matter was who was going to be the next Lady Potter, and whichever of them proved the victor would claim the title.

"And yes, even then, it didn't click." Harry said before Mal could ask how he missed the hints again. "I honestly tried not to overthink about the fight. The whole thing sickened me. They weren't tossing harmless jinxed at each other; they were deadly with their casting. Two kids had broken noses, and an innocent first year lost her arm. The twins lost fingers trying to stop them. Colin lost his eyes, and Neville got his leg blown off. So I'm sure you can understand why I like to forget the aftermath of that death."

Harry paused then, seeing the look of outrage on Mal's face. "What's wrong?"

"Wasn't there anyone, just one person, who was going to miss you for who you are rather than what they could gain!?"

Harry, feeling his insides melt at the depth of her caring for him, found he could answer this easily and actually with a calm demeanor. "No. I would say Sirius, but we weren't all that close at the time. In his mind, I was still the baby he abandoned. Speaking of his mental state, he'd been in Azkaban for several years and was now forced into complacency brought on by compulsion charms and whatever potions Dumbledore shoved down his throat. Knowing Snape also helped make those potions, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a slow-acting poison in them and made his mental state deteriorate over time. He did see me as my father there at the end."

Tears filled Mal's eyes, and he found himself rambling in an attempt to calm her down. He immediately realized he should have chosen another topic, but he couldn't stop once he started.

"Due to the potions I was dosed with, and Ron and Hermione effectively chasing everyone away from me, I had no real friends. No one knew the real me and didn't care to because of them. Hell, I barely knew myself. I wasn't allowed to be my own person or make friends that wouldn't agree with whatever Ron and Hermione said. And those two often fought about their points of view. So no, there was no one to miss me because no one knew me. And I certainly didn't know anyone there to miss them after coming here."

Mal was beyond outraged at this point.

Rather than lay there and cry some more. Mal got up and started pacing. No, she didn't feel like crying. She needed to move, needed to work off this bitterness, this resentment, this fury.

After pacing for several minutes, not even bothering to stop or look at him, Mal spoke to Harry.

"What about your fifth death? The other one that happened during the tournament?"

"Isn't it your turn?" He chuckled a bit, not realizing that humor right now would be a mistake.

He expected her to smile and oblige him as she had leading up this point, but he had seriously underestimated her anger at that moment. Instead of the reactions, he was used to, she whirled and faced him with so much anger he jumped as she glared and slightly raised her voice at him.

"I know that! But I can't think about my deaths at the moment! So tell me your next one! Hopefully, it will calm me down enough so I can think straight. But considering the things we've said and reacted to thus far, I don't hold much hope for that! I'm so fucking pissed off right now that I'm pretty sure the next angel who looks at me wrong is going to get it! As I'm fairly certain that's a one-way ticket to Hell, I'd rather avoid that! Now talk!"

She was positively terrifying, and Gaia help him; she was downright sexy too.

But he understood exactly where she was coming from, and he didn't mind that her anger seemed to have targeted him for a moment. He knew she wasn't angry with him. Just the circumstances of their lives, and more importantly, their deaths. Though, he'd be lying if he said that her anger over his death didn't make him feel like he was a puddle of goo again. But this time, in a good way.

As before, Harry was sent back to right before he entered the arena, only this time, adrenaline kicked in before he stepped in. So he was able to dodge the dragon's tail this time around, summoned his broom, and attempted the most stupid idea ever in his life; to outfly a dragon on his beloved Firebolt.

"I'm still not sure how or why I thought that was a good idea." Harry grumbled.

"More to the point," Mal said as she paced, "why did Hermione think it was a good idea?"

"Ha!" Harry guffawed, "Yeah, you have a point there."

After he completed the first task, Gryffindor no longer hated him. Ron even gave his version of a heartfelt apology, basically saying the lead-up to an actual apology without actually apologizing. And potioned drowned, charmed encumbered, Harry forgave the bastard.

Flashing forward to the second task, because everything that could have been considered canon was spot-on for what happened during the time between, Harry was standing at the edge of the Black Lake. Hermione and Ron were both missing, Cedric was frantic, Krum was furious, and Fleur was downright hysterical.

They dived in, each with their own methods to swim down. Cedric and Fleur thinking alike and using the bubblehead charm, Krum with his transfiguration, and Harry with his Gillyweed.

Yes, Harry was the first to reach the village. Yes, the rat bastard of a prat Ron was his hostage. Cho was Cedric's, and Hermione was Krum's. Both arrived within a short time of each other and rescued their hostages. However, Fleur was a no-show, and the little girl he later found out was Gabrielle, Fleur's baby sister, was still tethered to her spot.

It was clear that as the time for the task to finish got closer, the status spell was wearing off, and Gabrielle was waking up. To make matters worse, there was already evidence of some torture done to her body. Thankfully, it was nothing more than some cuts and bruises, but it was still apparent that the merpeople wanted to kill her.

He hadn't known at the time there was still conflict between the Veela and merpeople, even after their war had ended.

So, he quickly fought off the merpeople and began to take the two hostages back to the surface.

Upon hearing how Gabrielle was treated, he watched as Mal stopped and stared at him in grief and horror. He knew she would make a good mother from her stories about Christie, but seeing that look on her face, he knew immediately what it was. The look a mother got when any child suffered greatly and unnecessarily. He'd seen that look many times, that he saw it on a woman who never had biological children warmed his heart even more.

However tragic the tale was thus far, it did the job she had hoped it would; Mal's anger had mostly abated. Though Harry did not doubt in the future, it would return in full force.

"Come here." He pleaded softly, holding out his hand and beckoning her forward. "Let me hold you, and I'll finish this death tale of mine."

He watched, feeling euphoric as her shoulders slumped, and she walked back towards him, curling up in his embrace. Her head tucked under his chin; he kept his promise.

On his way back to the surface, after successfully killing a couple of merpeople, the rest swam away, and the gillyweed began to wear off. Now, something to know about Gillyweed, it took a moment or two to kick in, but it wore off in a matter of seconds. Dragging two hostages, one of whom was waking up, took a lot more time than Harry realized it would.

Harry cast floating charms on them, then Ascendio to shoot them to the surface faster. Knowing that Ron wouldn't let a pretty girl drown despite his many character flaws. Leaving Harry to follow a slower but now more manageable pace. He would be cutting it quick, but he would just barely make the surface by his calculations.

However, his focus on them left him unaware of his surroundings, and as soon as they reached the surface, a Grindylow smashed into his hand, wrapping itself around the appendage.

This served two purposes; one, Harry lost his grip on his wand, and it quickly fell deep into the depths of the Black Lake where Harry couldn't see, much less follow to get it back. Two, it allowed the Grindylow to clamp its jaws around Harry's fist.

Now drowning, unable to fight back, the pack of Grindylow's attacked as if they were starving.

There were too many. Several had secured themselves against his body and clamped their jaws on him. Their teeth digging into his flesh to their gum line, and they weren't showing any signs of letting go of him. Several more laid on his body from all angles and began pushing and dragging him back down into the depths of the Black Lake.

While it was painful, to be sure, Grindylow's thankfully liked fresh kills, so they didn't start tearing apart his flesh until he had drowned.

"I felt the usual burn in my lungs for air, and then it was like falling asleep." Harry mused.

For Mal, there was no waiting, which surprised Harry; she just immediately began talking.

"My next two deaths fell around Arnold's molestation."

Harry's first reaction was to growl and pull her closer as his hands balled into fists. "Go on."

It was after the molestation, and Mal, like before, had run to Lauren. This time, surprisingly, Lauren did emerge from the room and helped Mal. She surprised Mal by scooping her up. Mal was too sick, too scared, and too hurt to question what Lauren was doing and how this woman who had claimed she couldn't lift a plate with a sandwich on it was carrying Mal. She was just grateful that her mom was helping her. Lauren packed Mal into the car, and again, Mal didn't question why. She passed out almost as soon as the vehicle left the driveway.

When Mal came to, it was because she was cold and wet. Not an unfamiliar feeling, but it was new to wake up to it. She was lying on the ground, with the forest surrounding her from all angles. It was clear from her clothes she had been dragged here, but with the fog covering her and her vision blurred from the rain, tears, and being ill, Mal couldn't discern from which direction she came from.

She got up, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm, however pitiful the attempt was, and began walking in a random direction. Cold, blurred vision, and disoriented, when she started to fall, Mal wasn't even aware it was happening for the first seconds. By the time she realized what had happened, it was too late. She felt her back hit the ground and opened her eyes here in the afterlife.

Needless to say, Rida put her right back, and once again, she was met with the molestation. Only this time, Mal fought back. She wasn't sure what sparked it. Maybe her soul was tired of being victimized by this man; perhaps a part of her knew what was coming. Either way, at that moment, Mal didn't want that man touching her. She fought, kicked, punched, screamed, and pushed with all of her might. It was only when she bit him that she had done some real damage to him.

Due to her reaction, her rejection of his "adorations," but mainly because she bit him hard enough to draw his blood, Arnold strangled her.

"When I asked Rida why this kept happening, she said the drowning, suffocation, and the like were simply tragic mortal choices; everything else she blamed on me. In her own words, if I hadn't been such a wicked soul, Arnold never would have fallen into the depravity of lust. The fact that it kept happening was just proof of what she claimed."

Harry laid a kiss on her brow before resting his head against hers. "Tarnok said Rida was responsible for all of your deaths. It wasn't mortal choices."

"Doesn't surprise me." Mal sighed. "Personally, I think it was her vendetta against me that she called teaching me my place."

"Are all of your deaths so horrible?" He asked softly.

"Are yours?" She counted.

Harry flinched. "Point taken."

"The quick ones weren't so bad." Mal mused. "My sixth and last deaths were car accidents. I didn't feel a thing. You saw my last death, but my sixth death was being hit head-on by a semi while the way to the Prom."

Harry met her eyes and stared at her, confused. "Prom?"

"Oh, right, being magical, you wouldn't know. I don't even know if the British celebrate Proms or not." Mal shrugged. "Think of it as kind of like the Yule Ball during your fourth year. The young men wear suits; the girls wear gowns. It's supposed to be a magical night." She then met his eyes again, morosely. "But I wouldn't know; I never got my chance to enjoy it."

Harry nuzzled her nose before leaning back and hugging her tightly. He just barely caught himself in time. He almost said he'd make it up to her and asked her to the Yule Ball then and there. But how in the world would that even work? He didn't know when Gabriel would be sending him back, and he very much doubted that if he got to go back with his memories, Michael would allow Mal to come back with him.

Still, as he hugged her close, he knew, without a trace of doubt in his mind, if Mal were in his world with him, he'd ask her to the ball in a heartbeat. Provided she said yes, he might enjoy the damn thing. He could easily see it being the magical night that Mal was denied for both of them.

"This is a two-parter." Harry eventually said in a grave voice. "Connected by one event, much like yours were. But I've never talked about this before. I've never even really stopped to think about it, so please, I beg you, let me get it out before you say anything."

Knowing what it took to talk about the molestation and how it repeatedly caused several of her deaths, Mal merely kissed his jawline closest to her and stayed silent.

During the summer after his fifth year, Sirius hadn't even been dead a month, and he was once again at the prison known as the Dursley household. Cut off from the Wizarding World again, and no one was checking on him. Sure, there was a constant guard outside, but they did not come in to check on his wellbeing. Not even Remus

He was being starved again, and he barely even registered it when Dudley and Vernon gave him their regular dose of beatings. He was so apathetic about the whole thing that Vernon and Dudley stopped because they had lost interest for the first time. Attacking and beating Harry when there was no resistance, no reaction was very dull for them. So they merely ignored Harry's existence, and in turn, he ignored theirs.

His days went by unnoticed, uncared for, and he barely registered them.

Harry had called for Kreacher once, and rather than try to kill the little blighter, Harry merely ordered him to buy him as much Firewhiskey as he could from what gold Sirius had laying around the house and what galleons Harry had left. Which was surprisingly a lot actually, sixteen bottles delivered later, Kreacher vanished again and didn't come when called. Like everyone else, he ignored Harry and pretended that Harry didn't exist.

Harry had sipped Firewhiskey while at Hogwarts when the boys managed to sneak some in from somewhere. So he knew what to expect, and he also knew what would happen if he kept drinking it. But Harry didn't care.

He didn't want to feel anymore. He didn't want to care about anything anymore. He didn't even want to be awake anymore. He had completely lost his desire to live, and he certainly didn't give a shit that he was supposed to fight some monster to save magical Britain. How was he, a barely sixteen-year-old boy, suppose to fight one of the most powerful Dark Lords Britain had ever seen?

Dumbledore may have wanted his precious weapon safe. He may have thought that Harry handled the situation rather well, but he was wrong. Harry spent most of his time blackout drunk or asleep.

Then, one day, he was surprisingly alert enough to remember some details of his day. There was a hot cup of tea, a big bowl of porridge, and a side of bacon, waiting by the cat flap. Hedwig was thankfully able to fly around and hunt for herself. Still, he offered the bacon while he downed the porridge and the tea before going back to his drinking.

He was so hungover and starving that he devoured it greedily. He never questioned that something was wrong, never thought to ask why it tasted a little off. He chucked it up to being his taste buds altered by the Firewhiskey and just welcomed it when the blackout came sooner than it ever did before.

It was while in that black void that he realized he wasn't completely unconscious. In that state, he thought that Riddle and the Death Eaters had found him. That they'd come to kidnap him to slowly kill him elsewhere, then parade his corpse down Diagon Alley to break the faith of the masses.

The way he said that last part had Mal thinking that's not what happened to him. Even though it could have been done quite easily if Riddle had tried. The way Harry's face darkened, Mal recognized that look immediately and prayed that for his sake, she was wrong.

As Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, a few things became apparent to him. He was tied to a bed that wasn't his, he was painfully erect, and a naked woman was bouncing on him. Even in that state, he could feel the woman's channel envelop him. It wasn't the tightness that his schoolmates had described when it came to virgins. The way she moved with ease and worked him with her body, this wasn't a first-timer or even a shy girl; this was a woman who was used to sex and knew how to get what she wanted.

Mal felt like she was gulping down bile. Her mind immediately ran through the likely candidates of who could have drugged and taken advantage of him. Ginny? Hermione? No, he said it wasn't a shy girl. Not that either could be described that way, but she didn't picture either girl the type to do that to Harry. No, they would want his attention on them, giving back to them as they gave him what they considered their everything. They would love potion him, not drug him.

So it wasn't those two.

She thought next that it might have been Cho. But that name was tossed out as she realized Cho was still strung out over Cedric's death and really only dated Harry to remember Cedric. Plus, the two had broken up after Valentine's Day, or near to it anyway. So Cho was out of the question.

Bellatrix!? Her mind shrieked in horror at the possibility, but then it calmed as she remembered that he said it hadn't been Death Eaters, and that included Bellatrix among their ranks. Plus, now that she'd settled down a bit, she realized he had been drugged the muggle way.

That only left one other woman that she knew of. One who had been there in his life since he was a babe. One who shrieked James during one of his deaths and was later sullen about the fact that he was leaving her sight. Petunia.

Realizing that she had come to the right conclusion, Harry nodded.

Petunia was indeed the woman who had drugged him. First, to be unconscious, and the next with whatever substance she used to keep him erect despite his feelings on the matter. She was positively gleeful when he woke up and saw her. She kept calling James, telling him how much she missed him and how he just needed to relax; she would take care of everything.

"She kept talking to me as if I was father," Harry said in a deadly calm voice, "I didn't exist anymore. If I ever existed at all in her mind."

Vernon and Dudley were gone, where to and what they were doing, Harry had no clue. The guards outside the house didn't seem to know what was going on inside, and even if they did, no real help had ever come from them before, so Harry doubted that any help would come from them then.

So Harry was stuck there, weak from his malnourishment, weak from spending several weeks drunk, no way to escape. He screamed, he cried, he begged, but it all fell on deaf ears.

He had to listen to Petunia as she rambled on with an insane look in her eyes, her face flushed with glee. She had missed him; she was so glad that he was here now, here to save her from this loveless marriage to a buffoon. She promised to leave Vernon immediately for him. They would run away, back to his castle, have children worthy of them.

Harry blacked out again from his struggles. When he woke, they were in the shower, and she was washing him off, singing softly to herself. Petunia couldn't carry a tune to save her life, but the sweetness in her voice soured his stomach even more.

He crawled out of the shower and retched into the toilet nearby. He barely managed to make it there on time. Petunia didn't seem to notice Harry's breakdown. She was humming sweetly to herself, then dancing around once she got out of the shower.

Alone in the bathroom, feeling like he'd sicked up all of his internal organs, Harry rose to his unsteady feet and began to make his way downstairs. Still in the buff, Harry grabbed the largest, sharpest knife from the chopping block and headed back upstairs to the second bathroom. Laying down in the tub, knife still in hand.

Maybe it was the fact he'd been cleaning for the Dursley's all his life, but a part of him didn't want to make a mess with this.

It was with surprising ease that he raised the knife and slit his wrists up to his elbows. As he bled out in the tub, he didn't feel any pain. Just stared out the window at the sky. It was a clear blue day. It was probably a hot day too, but Harry only felt cold, even before his blood began to drain from his body rapidly.

He heard Vernon and Dudley come home. He heard Vernon and Petunia yelling about something; he didn't know what. Dudley banged on the bathroom door eventually, but Harry couldn't move.

Of course, Harry was dead by this point, but his spirit still lingered briefly for some reason.

When Dudley couldn't get him out, Vernon was in place to succeed where Dudley had not. It led to them eventually breaking down the door when Harry had not answered. Upon seeing his corpse, Dudley vomited, and Vernon began cheering. He was now free of "the Freak," and it was all because Harry had committed suicide, meaning no blame whatsoever would fall back on the Dursleys.

Petunia came to see what all of the fuss was about, and the last thing that Harry heard before passing onto the afterlife was her screams in utter horror.

Everyone was pretty much speechless after that life. Gabriel was unsure how to react or even where to go from here. Michael wasn't much better. They hadn't anticipated that Petunia, of all people, would be capable of doing such a thing.

Satan, however, knew exactly what to do once he recovered from the shock. He immediately tried to seize control of Harry's soul. There had been a big custody battle as Satan contested and fought to get Harry. Eventually, Satan had lost, but he was told the contract's circumstances that Harry was thus far and still ignorant of. All Harry knew was he had to defeat Riddle, Dumbledore was added in there somewhere he was sure, and make Magical Britain a better place for all; that last part was speculation; the first part was a certainty.

"Satan backed off a little after that." Harry assured Mal. "He told me after the failed trial that he didn't want my soul to punish me; he wanted to recruit me. After I succeed in fulfilling my contract, I would qualify to become an angel. With my temper issues, as you are well aware of by now, I would make a perfect Black Wing angel and help watch over the darker worlds."

One death down. Mal thought to herself, keeping silent as Harry had asked of her. One to go.

As all the times before, time was rewound, this time right before Harry cut into himself. He was holding the knife and staring at it; after a while, he gave it up. Thinking that his parents, and his godfather, didn't die for him to give up now. So Harry went down, put the knife away, pulled on some underwear, and collapsed into bed. He decided to put off thinking about what had happened and deal with it another day.

He woke to the sound of a shotgun being readied to fire; he saw Vernon holding said gun before firing it at Harry. A look of pure loathing was in Vernon's eyes, and as Harry watched Vernon, he knew that Vernon knew what happened with Petunia.

"In an odd way," Harry mused. "Part of me was grateful that the bastard was killing me. Now I could die in peace and say that it wasn't my fault at all."

Mal wasn't aware she had been shaking in abject horror until Harry ran his hands up and down her arms. She wrapped hers tightly around him then and clung to him for dear life.

She knew that it wasn't the assault that he was worried about her reaction to; it was his suicide.

"I thought about it." She muttered. "So many times. There were many chances, many things at my disposal so I could. I just couldn't convince myself that death was the best option. I couldn't, wouldn't believe that this was all there was in life. Part of me knew that something better was waiting out there; I just had to survive long enough to find it."

Harry broke down, crying, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She moved, so she was sitting in his lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist. He laid his head against her breasts and allowed himself to fall apart in a way that he hadn't in so long. If ever.

So many emotions swarmed through him.

Shame at what he had allowed to happen with Petunia because nothing and no one could convince him that he wasn't partly to blame. He allowed himself to be further weakened, thus how she got the upper hand. He'd just been told that he was destined to face off with Riddle or die trying, and yet he got drunk instead of finding ways to train.

Cowardice, because rather than face the reality of what happened, he took his own life. Because he later just laid there rather than dodge and fight against Vernon when he arrived with the shotgun. Harry had magic versus Vernon's gun. Harry was both faster and more powerful. He might have been injured, but Harry could still have survived Vernon's attack.

But mostly, he felt relieved. Mal didn't hate him, didn't pity him. She felt sorry for what he was forced to endure, but that was the extent of the pity. She understood. She understood the feelings that went with being assaulted. She knew what he went through because she had been through something similar.

But what broke him was the fact that she understood what it felt like to give up. To give in to the void that was swallowing a person's mind, body, and soul. She understood the need to give in just to get some relief. While Mal hadn't given in, she knew why Harry had. He firmly believed she was a seer now, at least in some fashion, because that would probably be the only reason she managed to hold on because a part of her mind saw a better future.

But the fact that the nicest, smartest, and most beautiful woman he'd ever met, knew what it was to be suicidal broke him.

He knew it could be argued that this was the purge he needed to have, but he couldn't stand the fact that Mal might have, would have, hurt herself, taking her own life, to get away from it all.

Mal held him tightly, not letting go. Not caring that her dress had ridden up as her legs were wrapped around his waist. This wasn't about being sexual; this was about offering comfort, body, and soul to a person who had precious little of that in life.

She didn't move except to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with her fingertips as she liked to have done to her, softly pressing kisses to his brow. There was so much that she wanted to say, but she knew, in the end, she said all she needed to. Harry, who admittedly denied himself this, only required to be held by someone who loved him.

Even as she thought those words, she didn't realize that she admitted to herself that she was in love with him.

When Harry had finally finished crying himself out, he leaned back against the couch, pulling her with him as he did.

"Stupid angels always being right." He muttered. "There will be no living with them now."

"And it was easy to live with them before?"

Harry just laughed.

~==(oIo)==~

Gabriel glared at Michael, who looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

Gabriel just continued to glare.

The only sound in the temple was from the viewing screen where Harry was currently laughing. In the second story, even Gaia was suspiciously silent, and it felt as if she too was glaring at Michael.

"What!?" Michael demanded again.

"I have an addition to make to the deal, should Gaia prove right and they utterly destroy your plan for them."

Of all the things he thought Gabriel might say, this was not it. "And what would that be?"

Gabriel wasted no time launching into a detailed explanation of what he wanted to see happen, should Michael's test and plan for the couple fail.

Michael had understandably paled a great deal as Gabriel talked.

First, he was asked to break millennia of practices with rebirth and world transfers; now, he was being asked to throw the rule book out of the window and trust Gabriel and a couple of souls with everything?

Michael felt like he was going to be sick. But the look of adamancy in Gabriel's eyes was a far cry from his former determination, and Michael had to question what did Gabriel know that Michael was ignorant to.

He wasn't going to answer, but the thundering gong of a deep base bell rang throughout the temple, and Michael knew he had to answer. Not giving one was not an option.

"If," Michael finally managed to say without his voice breaking, "if they managed to break apart the highest divine plan I can make, and if they still manage to complete the overall task for that world, then, and only then, will I approve all that you have said."

Both looked back at the viewing screen then, but Michael missed Gabriel's expression, while brief, was very smug.

~==(oIo)==~

"I suppose," Mal said softly after Harry was calmer, "that given the horrifying nature of your last two deaths, I will give the last of mine in one go."

"If that's what you want." Harry said, looking up at her with a fond smile. "I won't argue."

Perhaps it had been because her last two deaths were relatively quick and painless; her next two were not so easy.

Her seventh death saw her at her aunt's lakeside house in the middle of the winter. She was with her cousin, Jessica, so that they could get away for the weekend. They had midterms coming up at school, and there was a flu epidemic in the community; thankfully, neither had caught it. So they were sent off to the lake house to study and not get sick before their exams. They knew how to cook and care for themselves, so the adults weren't worried about them.

Mal used to go there all the time when she was younger. She loved the property, loved the house, and loved being by the lake. It was a gorgeous picture, no matter what time of the year it was. She hadn't been in a few years, so she was grateful for the chance to be there again. And to have a room to herself and a quiet place to study undisturbed.

They hadn't been there an hour when Jessica came into her room and pointed a gun at her.

Mal had laughed a little at first; she was scared but hoped this was just Jessica's idea of some sick joke. However, Jessica fired a warning shot at the ceiling; she became very aware that her cousin was not kidding around. So she did as Jessica told her to do.

Down to the dock she went, with Jessica behind her and walking oddly the whole way. Sometimes backward, sometimes side steps, trying to keep her eyes on Jessica for signs of imminent danger. Or at least more danger than she was currently in.

Once they were at the edge, hovering over a deep part of the lake, its waters iced over, Mal finally asked the question that was burning in her mind, why was Jessica doing this? What was going on?

Despite already being barefoot, with no coat, and in some relatively thin pajamas for the season, Jessica ordered her to strip. At first, Mal refused, but a bullet to her leg stopped her from arguing any further. Jessica was very serious and clearly insane.

Standing in nothing but a pair of panties, Jessica kept the gun pointed at her, giving Mal further orders. Lock the anchor around her ankle with the shackles Jessica brought. Realizing what was about to happen but unable to deny Jessica, Mal obeyed. She was in shock from being shot and panicking as she went over some hard facts in her mind. This was the winter season, no one but them was even at the lake houses. So there was no one to call for help.

Jessica was favored among the family. She was smarter, completely devoted, and never had a horrible thing said about her. So when people would ask what happened to Mal, no one would ever doubt Jessica's word.

Harry shook his head. That seemed to be the pattern of her deaths, no one was there to help her, and if there were, no one was willing to lift a hand. It was a similar case with his.

Eventually, Jessica did explain why Mal was in this situation.

She had recently been dumped by the very guy that had asked Mal to go to the Prom with him in her previous life. Like most parents in the community, he was expected to marry straight out of high school, but he wasn't attracted to Jessica, whom he had dated a few times. There was a long list that her cousin rattled off that this guy had said was wrong with her and where Mal was better.

With her explanation given, saying that Mal was nothing and Jessica was superior in every way and that the guy would soon know it, she kicked the anchor off the dock, and Mal fell through the ice into the freezing lake water. It felt like she was being stabbed all over, and she quickly went numb to it. The hole Mal made as she fell through began to seal up quickly. Soon, she blacked out and drowned.

Mal's eighth death was on her wedding day. To the very guy who had dumped Jessica in favor of her twice before. At the last minute, the two had decided not to go to the Prom as Jessica was insanely jealous and had become hostile. They had their first official date instead, and the week after, he announced to all that he was courting her. The church officials and both families immediately approved.

When he eventually asked, Mal said yes.

On her wedding day, she was finishing up prepping to walk down the aisle when her sister Agatha came in, then under the pretense of helping with the veil, chocked Mal with it.

"And that leads to my final death." Mal sighed. "Another car accident. Though I have no idea what caused it."

"Your ex." Harry said as he ran his finger through her hair. "He cut the brake lines."

Mal didn't even need to think about what his motives were. "Because he didn't want to be humiliated, and he was under the impression that he would get access to my accounts as I was still legally his wife."

"According to Tarnok." Harry nodded.

Mal sighed and shook her head. "Wouldn't have worked; it was contractually the club's and, by extension, Ethan's. Despite his feelings for me, I abided by the same rules the others did." She chuckled a bit. "I almost feel sorry for my ex now; he has no idea the hornet's nest he just kicked."

"Why were things so controlled?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He knew by now that Mal wasn't the type to stick around willingly when people were being mistreated.

"It's for protection." Mal explained. "For the club and the women."

She couldn't speak for most nightclubs or even other gentlemen clubs, but she knew Ethan had worked long and hard to get Red Lights on the right side of the law. The contracts the women signed gave them housing, vehicles, and a salary plus whatever tips they made on the dance floor. Granted, the apartments weren't the best, and the cars weren't the newest and brightest out there, but they had a roof over their heads, vehicles to get around in, and money to buy food. Most of the utilities were paid with the apartment. It was just whatever tv and phone service they wanted that they had to pay out of pocket for.

Yes, the women's money was controlled by the bank their salary was deposited in and Ethan. But as long as you obeyed the apartments and clubs' rules, you didn't have to worry about being kicked out without any money.

Ethan was nothing if not fair.

The women could date; they could even have boyfriends over. They could even get married and have the husband live with them until they could afford to get a different place if the women didn't stop working at the club.

They had full medical insurance, plus dental. And for those like Trina, who had a child, but no partner, Ethan paid for the daycare services.

So long as the women stayed legal and did right, they were protected. They were cared for.

"That's unbelievable!" Harry said, astonished. "No wonder you loved working there!"

Mal grinned at him. "Ethan was a very caring soul."

"Did you love him?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking. His heart shaking with dread if there was even a chance that she had.

It was with great relief that he let out the breath he was holding when she shook her head.

"Ethan was a good friend. More like an overprotective brother than a lover. He wanted to be more, very much so, and made no secret of that fact, but I," Mal sighed. "I couldn't bring myself to be in a relationship again, not so soon after what my ex did to me, and especially not after losing Christie. Even if I could, Ethan just wasn't the one for me."

Harry felt his heart soar. Even as it did, he didn't completely realize the reason why. Having been denied so many chances at real romantic love, he wasn't aware that he was in love with her.

"So," Mal grinned at him, "two more deaths for you, then it would seem that we are finished."

Harry grinned, finding himself ready to be finished with this as well. "My eighth and ninth deaths, I guess you could say it was from old age."

Mal settled in against him, making herself comfortable as Harry began.

Unlike his previous lives up to that point, his eighth and ninth deaths started from the beginning both times. Perhaps in an attempt to mellow things down, especially with Petunia.

His eighth life was the one detailed in the books, the worldwide accepted canon verse. However, what wasn't mentioned in the epilogue, was his love for Ginny wasn't real; instead, it was potion manufactured.

What wasn't known then were these potions degraded a person's mind over long-term dosing. This is why Arthur was so simple, quiet, and often let his wife run roughshod all over the place. And it also explained his one-track mind when it came to the muggle items he collected.

Harry had been love-potioned to Ginny from his sixth year on. There was a pause in the potioning during the Horcrux Hunt, but it started back up again shortly after Ron's return.

Hermione, in this life, was also heavily potioned. First by Dumbledore, then by Molly. Like with Harry and Arthur, Hermione's personality and mental state mellowed significantly. Since she later worked as an accountant at the Ministry and spent a lot of time around Goblins, no one questioned this. No one even thought to ask if something was wrong with her.

While Hermione lived a reasonably normal life, Harry's fell apart. His mind and body began to break down far earlier than it should have.

Things only got worse after Molly and Arthur were killed years later during another Pureblood Supremacy rise. Ginny was forced to take over the dosing, knowing that Harry would leave her when he was detoxed of the potions. However, she was no potions mistress, and the meager slow-acting side effects immediately got worse.

Ron at least had the presence of mind to hire someone else to brew the potions he needed, which Ginny paid for from Harry's money. However, Harry suffered through higher dosages of improperly made potions, wrecking even worse havoc on his systems.

The first thing to go was Harry could no longer perform sexually. At all. His manhood laying there limp and useless no matter what.

Then, Harry had to retire from his work as an Auror because he couldn't think straight. He was causing harm to himself, and worse, others.

The last thing to go was his emotions. He no longer felt anything for anyone or anything.

Eventually, his son Albus, who had been exiled from the family for being in love with Scorpius Malfoy, who returned Albus's feelings, figured out the truth. He exposed his mother's crimes and the fact that she had been having affairs throughout her adult life.

"Though I will give her this, all of our children were mine." Harry said ruefully.

By this time, they were almost sixty, and while it was too late to save Harry or Hermione from the damage done to them, it wasn't too late to exact revenge and justice against the youngest Weasley's. But because Hermione was a muggleborn, Ron was only punished for his crimes against Harry.

All Albus could do for his father after that was make him comfortable until nature just took its course. Hermione at least functioned normally, thanks to having properly made and correct dosages of the potions.

Harry's last life, the one he had just returned from before finding Mal, featured a Dark Lady that no one saw coming.

"Who?" Mal asked in shock.

"Hermione."

Mal narrowed her eyes; that really wasn't all that surprising. She had mentioned earlier about some stories where Hermione was very much a villain. But what did he mean by no saw it coming?

"Explain."

So Harry did. He told her all about how this life was similar to the canon, only in this life, he was very much aware that the Weasleys, minus the twins, Bill, and perhaps Charlie, were very much his enemy. Even with the potions of loyalty, he was suspicious of Molly, Ron, and Ginny.

During the Horcrux Hunt, after Ron had left them, Harry and Hermione had an epiphany, and his life changed drastically from there. Hermione said she'd take care of everything to protect them, and Harry trusted Hermione entirely as she was like a sister to him.

But it turned out that Hermione also had a plot of her own.

One that involved marrying Harry, then using the Potter name and fortune in the political arena to push her own agenda through. That she was not the woman he loved wasn't an essential factor in her mind. She researched the potions used on them, brewed them, and then invented an even more powerful version of them to administer to Harry. However, this had the unforeseen side effect of rendering him sterile.

He told Mal about how she slaughtered most of the Weasley family except Arthur. She used Arthur's broken shell to sire three sons, whom she made Harry blood adopt then obliviated him after each time.

After that, she needed Harry out of sight and out of the minds of the Wizarding public. With him out of the way, the world would look to her. That and she couldn't risk anyone discovering the truth about her marriage and relationship with Harry. She loved him and needed his inheritance, so she did what she needed to do to secure him in her mind. This is why she hated their friends dropping by to visit Harry unannounced when she wasn't home.

Harry went from the conqueror of Voldemort to a model house husband. He kept the home and raised their sons as Hermione birthed them, then disregarded them the rest of the time. Harry did all of the work in raising them, to the point that he might as well have been a single parent. As small children, the boys loved him, but they began to resent him as they grew. They eventually lost all love and respect for him.

Meanwhile, Hermione plotted and planned. She was working her way up in the political arena until she reached the top. Then she pushed her changes throughout Magical Britain.

And her goals were met for a time.

However, she cast the Unforgivables just as easily and viciously as any Death Eater during all of that time. After becoming Minister of Magic, any who disagreed with her vanished. Among them were many of their friends. As they asked too many questions, tried to slow her down, or attempted to get Harry out of the house or involved with the world more.

Eventually, she had been caught; however, it was after killing off all of the house-elves in her misguided attempt to get them freedom. She was executed, still believing that he'd save her, even though she had potioned him to love her for seventy years.

Old age and exhaustion claimed Harry that life.

His adopted son, Teddy Lupin, was his only saving grace. Teddy loved Harry as a father, as Harry loved him as a son. Teddy stood by him through thick and thin.

Mal was positively seething in rage. He wasn't given a chance to be himself. To figure out who he was in life. He wasn't even allowed to find real love either.

Mal stood; Harry didn't bother to stop her, knowing she needed to vent.

She walked to the spot where Harry had punched a hole earlier. She cupped her hands in front of her stomach, focusing intently until a large ball of pure light filled them. When it was the size of a beach ball, with all of her might, she launched it at the wall with a shriek of pure and utter fury.

Four offices and six viewing rooms later, the ball finally dissolved. Many scared and concerned faces peered through the holes back at her till they closed up.

None of them said anything or went in pursuit of her for the interruption. One look at her face and they wisely decided it was best to stay away from her. Plus, she was in Gabriel's office; if there was a problem, he'd deal with her.

Meanwhile, Mal smiled sheepishly as her face flushed with embarrassment as she looked back at Harry. "Oops, I didn't know it would go that far."

Seeing Harry wide-eyed and gaping, Mal turned fully to face him. "What's wrong?"

"Bloody Hell!" Harry yelled hysterically. Jumping up and staring at her shock, amazement, then excitement. "How long have you been able to do that!? Do you realize what you just did!?"

"I was always able to create the balls of light." Mal admitted, embarrassed, "Rida called it the Divine Light and said it was proof that I was meant to be like her. I started being able to manipulate it after my sixth life."

"Mal, that was no Divine Light." He grilled at her. "That was magic!"

"Wait; what?"

Harry nodded, his grin getting bigger and bigger. "Yes! That was magic! A person's soul is what contains their magical core, not the fleshy vessel. If you were alive in a world with no magic, that would explain why you had no idea what you were capable of! Mal! You're a witch! A magical just like me!"

During his rapid talking, he had taken her hands into his own and let his magic flow into his hands. As they began to glow, Mal realized what he was doing and copied his actions. Soon, their hands were encased in light. Each had a different color. His was mint green, and her's periwinkle. But soon, their colors merged into one and became a pastel turquoise.

As they pulled back, they expected their colors to change back, but they didn't. They stayed the color that it had merged into.

"What does this mean?" Mal asked softly

"I don't know." Harry admitted staring at her in awe.

Mal heaved a sigh, the exhaustion she felt before coming back with a vengeance. She looked towards the couch, only to find that there wasn't one anymore.

"Did you do that?" She asked, gesturing towards where the couch had been.

Harry looked in the direction and found a bed. "Not ruddy likely. Only Gabriel can make permanent changes here."

"Do you think he's telling us to shut up and go to bed?"

Harry bobbed his head, "Knowing Gabriel."

As Mal yawned, Harry realized how tired he was now himself. "Do you want to take the bed?" He offered politely.

"We're mature adults." Mal said as she headed towards the bed. "We can share a bed."

Harry's face flushed, but he followed Mal's example.

"May I hold you?" He found himself asking as he laid down.

"Please." Came Mal's yawned reply.

Before either of them knew it, she was wrapped in his arms, and they were both asleep.