Chapter 58

The killing curse was soul magic. That was why it was unsurvivable, supposedly. It did not effect the body, but the bond between the body and the soul, literally severing that bond, much like the Fates of ancient Greek Mythology did when cutting someone's string of fate.

Harry had made sure to learn what he could of the Curse that had taken his parents from him and almost cost him his own life.

"It would probably be more impressive if I actually knew how I survived," Harry tried to keep from shuddering at her touch. The lingering warmth on his hand from her thumb was very distracting. "I was only one when it happened. Not exactly a genius capable of coming up with magical theories about how such a powerful spell could rebound like it did and leave me with nothing more than a scar."

It was one of those things that bothered Harry, the one thing that had always bothered him. He didn't know how he survived. Even after going through his memories a hundred times (and suffering from terrible nightmares each time), he was no closer to understanding how he managed to survive the killing curse, or why it rebounded off his forehead and hit Voldemort.

Of course, it might have been easier to come up with a theory if he actually had that part of his memories. All he remembered after Voldemort cast the curse at him was unfathomable pain in his forehead, then waking up at the Dursley's. The time in between those two moments were blank.

Not exactly a good observation for creating complex magical theories.

"Yes, I suppose it would be," Selene mused to herself. "Still, you cannot deny surviving something like getting hit with a killing curse square in the face by the Darkest wizard of the century is impressive on it's own."

"No, I suppose I can't," Harry agreed, though that was mainly out of reflex, seeing how most of his attention was focused on their still conjoined hands. "Uh... Selene?" he asked, his face feeling very red right now. It got worse when she looked at him with that smile. "Do you think you could... let go of my hand?"

"Why?" Her smile grew as she held his with both hands now. "Do you not like this?"

"No, I do –" his eyes widened, then he shook his head. "I mean I don't." He tried to glare at her, but failed the moment their eyes met because his face began to feel quite hot. "Look, could you just let go of my hand. I," he looked around, as if seeking an excuse for why she should let go of him. "I can't eat with you holding my hand like that. Neither can you."

Selene grinned a fang filled grin at him. For a second, he thought she wasn't going to do as asked. Which was why he was glad she did, allowing him to breathe easier.

"You are just too cute."

Then he went right back to being an uneasy wreck. Really, he didn't know whether to scowl at someone calling him cute, or blush at her words as well as the look she was giving him.

XoX

Harry Potter just barely managed to stifle a yawn as he sat on a seat next to Misses Crawft while both he and her watched Lisa's dance lessons. The effects of the potion had worn off, and while he did not suffer from any kind of crash, without the energy from the pepper up potion keeping him going, he was close to running on empty.

It was just a little over eight hours since he'd had breakfast with Selene. Nicolas and Perennelle had found them a few minutes after they had finished eating and whisked them away, him to the alchemy lab where he began working on his next transmutation circle, and Selene to Paris after Perennelle had mentioned something about the girl needing more clothes.

Which was understandable, seeing as the only pair she had were the ones Harry found her in. Even though he had fixed them and washed the blood off (magic was dead useful for that), one pair of clothes were not enough for someone to wear while staying on an undetermined extended visit.

Still, did they really have to buy so much? The last Harry saw of them before using the time turner was both women carrying what looked like an entire department stores worth of clothes.

Well, he guessed with the Philosopher's Stone they could afford it. It wasn't like money was an issue with them.

"Are you alright?"

Startled, Harry blinked several times as he realized he had been nodding off again. He turned his head to look over at Misses Crawft, who was staring at him with worry.

"I'm fine," Harry replied almost reflexively.

"You look tired," she countered. Harry grimaced.

"I didn't sleep that well last night."

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