A/N: Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I hear y'all.. the unanimous sentiment is "Can't wait to see H/Hr give the bitch what she deserves!" I hear ya, and I agree.. but it's not gonna happen immediately, is it? But hey, this is chapter 22 and there will be approx. five more. So not that long, see. Hope y'all will stay with me and please keep reviewing! It means a lot. Thanks.
Muchas gracias to the lovely Lissanne for the beta. Get well soon, luv!
Chapter Twenty-Two - One Step At A Time
She had known this day would arrive and to be honest, she'd been expecting it to come sooner than today.
But the girl had finally cracked, unless she was mistaken; she didn't think she was. After all, she'd been extra careful to magically link her copies with the ones she sent to Emerson Potter, so she would know almost immediately when the girl broke down.
"And she has," Cristella said to herself, feeling strangely calm as she waved her wand around her Notting Hill flat, packing up. "Guess that medical chart was too much for her, eh?"
Even as she smirked with delight, imagining the horror her last letter must have caused her nemesis, she couldn't help but acknowledge that perhaps, just perhaps, the Potter girl was tougher than she'd anticipated. Honestly, she'd expected the girl to have spilled the beans to her parents long before now.
"She must love her siblings more than I thought," Stella muttered, gathering her papers and stuffing them into their box.
But now, the girl had confessed and Cristella knew she couldn't stay where she was. Not anymore. Harry Potter was extremely powerful in the wizarding world and his wife wasn't anything to be sneezed at, either. Not that Cristella was scared of them or anything. But it was just wiser to be prepared, to not be a sitting duck, waiting in the open for them to stumble upon her.
She didn't think they would find her easily, anyway. She had taken care never to include her name in those letters, had taken care to never use the same owl more than once. And since she traveled as part of her job, she got an added bonus in that her owls left from all over the continent. They would have a hard time tracing her, of that she was smugly certain. Needle in a haystack, didn't the saying go?
And, anyway, she was raring to move on. Her boss was getting on her last nerve, and she had decided to discreetly poison him before she left. Really, she would be doing the whole company a favor; the man was such a lecher. How long would it be before he brought the business into disgrace, through one form or another? No, she would be doing them all a massive favor and they would be thanking her for it.
Not that they would know it was her doing.
Besides, it wasn't as if she really needed to work. She was the heir to a large fortune, old Yankee money and, if things progressed the way they seemed to be, it would all be hers. The probate lawyer in charge of the Montgomery estate still hadn't located the only other heir and, happily, Stella didn't foresee that changing any time soon.
She knew where she was going. Her friend has long been urging her to feel free to use their summer home up in a remote corner of Scotland.
"Really, Stella," her friend had said more than once, "You should take a break. Go on up to St. Combs for a weekend, at least. It's gorgeous up there.. sunsets like you wouldn't believe. You could go by yourself sometimes, if you'd rather be alone. Marcus and I don't mind."
Stella smirked to herself at the thought. Of course, Marcus didn't mind. He was getting to shag her, wasn't he? Really, men were all the same. Her friend was a fool to think that just because she was married, she was somehow secure. That was why Stella had never let herself get attached to any one man enough to even contemplate something as silly as matrimony. Because men couldn't help themselves; anything in a skirt was fair game and so what if they were married?
Did Stella feel bad about sleeping with her friend's husband? Goodness, no! Whatever for? It wasn't her fault that her friend couldn't keep the man satisfied. It wasn't her fault that the man couldn't keep his hands off her, so much so than once they'd almost been caught. Actually, the thought of being caught was rather exciting. Sometimes, she had purposefully held off his advances until she knew her friend was about to return home. Then she would let him do what he wanted, and more than once, had exploded with release at the sound of her friend Apparating into the foyer.
"I'm a daredevil, I am," Stella murmured contemptuously, surveying her more or less bare living room. Deciding that she had everything she wanted to take, she clapped her hands. "Okay, let's go."
It was off to St. Combs, after a little detour into Muggle London to take care of her arsehole boss, of course. And once settled into the quaint little fishing village on the edge of the Aberdeenshire coast, she would decide how to ultimately punish Emerson Potter for daring to disobey her.
She had warned the girl, hadn't she? She had said there would be consequences if the daughter of Julia Thomas didn't listen and keep her pretty little mouth shut. Wasn't her fault, was it, if the little brat caved under the burden of the truth?
Rules were rules and, contrary to popular belief, this one was not meant to be broken.
"So it's not over, Julia," she whispered, her blue eyes glinting maniacally. "Not by a long shot."
**********
A weak winter sun was already high in the sky when Emerson woke up late the next morning. For a moment, she lay still and wondered why her head was pounding as it was while, yet, her heart felt lighter than it had in months. She had been miserable for so long that the absence of that sense of misery made her uneasy.
Then, like a gust of fresh mountain air, she remembered.
Last night, she had poured out the whole painful sorry story to her parents. It had felt so good to unload that burden! Why had she kept it to herself for so long? Because she'd wanted to solve it herself? Because of the threats?
Well, now that she thought about it, how could she have forgotten who her parents were? Perhaps because they were just that, her parents, and that was the only thing she saw them as. But that didn't change the fact that they were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger Potter, two people whose names were renowned the wizarding world over. Two people who had, as mere teenagers, contributed to the vanquishing of the most evil Dark Wizard in generations. Heck, her father had been the one to deal the final, fatal blow.
With power like that in her corner, how could she have been so afraid? If her parents could get rid of scum like Voldemort, surely they could more than ably protect their family?
Em rolled over and sighed at that thought, a wave of blessed relief washing over her. She snuggled deeper into her pillow, feeling supremely safe and warm for the first time in many weeks as she wrapped her comforter tighter around herself. For once she hadn't kicked it off the bed during the night, apparently.
Something uneasy still nagged at her but she couldn't figure out what it was. Yawning, she let her eyes roam about her room, taking in its familiar features - the twirling ballerina music box that Grandpa Granger had given her, the framed Cherokee headdress from her Maman, Enigi Thomas. Her gaze landed on a picture of herself and her brothers, carousing at the Burrow. Davina hadn't been born yet, so it had been just her, Ben and Budget. Em smiled as she watched Ben leap frog over her younger self, only to get jumped on by Budget and they all tumbled over laughing, Budget's hair tousled and-
Budget.
The nagging in the back of her head burst into full-on realization that had Emerson bounding out of bed in horror.
She had made Budget cry last night, her sweet, rambunctious little brother. She had to find him and apologize! Em hurried out of her room and down the hallway to the one her brothers shared, her heart hammering within her chest. Nobody answered her knock and the room was empty when she opened the door.
Frowning, she stared at the unmade twin beds for a full minute before she remembered. 'Of course,' she thought, screwing up her face. 'It's Friday, so he and Ben are at school.'
Realizing that she would have to wait until later, Em sighed heavily, closed the door and headed back to her room. She'd almost reached it when her Mum and Davina came up the stairs.
Mum was levitating a tray ahead of her. "Oh, good morning! You're up."
Em nodded. "Yeah. Is that for me?"
"Yes," Davina answered, holding out her arms to her sister, who picked her up and buried her face in the toddler's soft, russet curls.
"Oh, Vina, I'm so sorry," Em whispered, hugging her tight. "I love you so much."
"Love you so much," Davina echoed, her little arms clasped around her big sister's neck.
Mum opened the door and the three of them settled on Em's bed, the tray between them. On the tray was a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon and buttered toast. A bowl of plump, juicy-looking strawberries sat beside it, as well as a large mug of hot cocoa. Em suddenly realized that she was starving. She hadn't eaten very much at dinner last night and she blushed as she recalled what a bitch she had been.
"Where's Dad?" she asked, trying to take her mind off the disgust she felt at herself.
Mum reached for a strawberry. "He had to go into work. Then he'll be having a meeting with Uncle Draco about- you know."
Em nodded, feeling a rush of hope. Uncle Draco was an Auror and if he was going to be on the case with her parents, whomever had been writing to her didn't stand a chance. "Did Budget go to school?"
"Yeah. We'll go pick him up in about two hours. He only goes half days, remember? Which gives me some time to gather the shreds of my sanity before he gets back to rip it up again," Mum said, but she was smiling. Her soft brown eyes gazed into Em's. "He knows you didn't mean to snap at him."
Emerson found herself suddenly on the verge of tears. "I didn't mean to," she whispered, her voice tight with remorse.
"He knows you didn't," Hermione repeated gently, rubbing her hand. "And he'll be here in a little bit and you can tell him yourself. Okay?"
Nodding again, Em took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "Thanks, Mum."
"Thank me too," piped up Davina.
Em smiled through her tears at her baby sister. "Thank you, Vina."
"You're welcome," replied Vina primly, causing Em to grab her and shower her little face with kisses, while she wiggled and squealed.
Mum was watching them with a smile on her face, but there were tears in her eyes too, and Em knew her mother was still thinking about last night. The knowledge that she was the cause of Mum's tears sent a wave of guilt washing over Em that had her blinking rapidly so as not to burst out bawling. Once she decided that she could swallow without choking on the lump in her throat, she set to eating her breakfast, smiling and chattering with her little sister, who seemed to have a lot to say.
"Do you want a hug from Ol' Bob?" Vina asked suddenly, gazing seriously up at Em with her big, hazel eyes.
Em smiled at her. "I would like that, yes."
"I'll go get him," Vina said, scrambling off the bed. She toddled away, then paused at the door and looked back. "You wait right there, okay?"
"Yes, Vina," Em answered with a little chuckle. Davina was just so cute.
As soon as her sister left the room though, her Mum spoke. "How are you feeling?"
Emerson looked up at her. Mum's face bore a worried frown, and her brown eyes were anxious. "I'm all right."
Mum looked skeptical. "Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, I-I feel kind of stupid, but other than that- I just can't believe I kept it to myself for so long."
"It's not your fault, Em," her mother said gently. "In fact-"
"You don't understand," Em interrupted, shaking her head, feeling the still painful remnants of her misery welling up within her. "Lyna kept urging me to tell you, to tell someone. But I couldn't. I was so s-scared, Mum! In the last letter, they said something like 'Budget is very cute, isn't he? It would be a shame if that had to change.' How did they find out his nickname? Only our family and our friends know it. I couldn't do it- I even made Lyna lie to you about that letter you sent! I'm so stupid!" All her emotions came rushing back and she began sobbing, even as her Mum's arms wrapped around her.
"You're not stupid, don't ever think that," Mum whispered, stroking Em's hair. "You did what you thought you needed to do, which was to keep your siblings safe, even if it meant you had to carry the burden alone. And that was very brave, Emerson, though I wish with all my heart that you had told us the instant you received that first letter. But what I was about to say is that I understand why you couldn't, because there was something else too."
Em raised her head. "What?"
"Whomever had been writing to you had put Suppression and Compulsion Hexes on the letters," Mum said, and for a moment such fury flashed in her eyes that she looked almost frightening.
"What?" Em repeated numbly.
"Compulsion, so that even if you tried not to, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from reading them. And Suppression, so that as much as you wanted to, you couldn't tell someone. I'm guessing that the emotional strain on you last night was so strong that it broke the Suppression Hex."
Tears streamed unchecked down Emerson's cheeks as she realized that Smiley hated her that much, hated her enough to force her to endure the horror for as long as she had. "Why? What d-did I ever do to m-m-make somebody-"
"You didn't do anything," Mum said fiercely. "Do you understand me? This was not your fault. This is a seriously imbalanced person who has done this, and it was in no way your fault."
Emerson clung to her mother and cried in her embrace, her heart heavy with pain. She couldn't bear to tell her Mum what was really bothering her, about how unclean she felt, how unworthy. She didn't deserve them, any of them.
But, somehow, as if hearing the excruciating thought, her Mum pulled away and gazed into her eyes. "That's not all, though, is it?"
"W-What d'you mean?" Em asked shakily, wiping her eyes with a trembling hand.
Hermione's cheeks were wet with tears. "The things that person said about you in those letters, all those lies. You didn't believe them, did you?"
Oh Merlin help her, but she had! She did believe them. But Em couldn't bear to voice that, couldn't bear to make her mother look any more anguished than she already did. "I don't want to talk about it," she whispered. "I-I mean, not with you."
A second later, she glanced up, horrified to see Hermione looking slightly hurt. "I didn't mean it like that, Mum! I do want to talk about it... it's just- it- it's kind of embarrassing and..." Her voice trailed off miserably.
"I understand. I do," Mum said softly, squeezing her hand. "You want to talk about it, but with someone outside of it all. Right?"
Em nodded, feeling relief washing over her. "Exactly. And then, maybe later... I mean, that might help me share it with you... and Dad..."
"Yeah," Mum said, nodding as well. "I'm sure we can find someone. A professional, someone we can trust, who has the experience and knows how best to help with these matters." She seemed to be lost in thought for a few seconds before gazing seriously at Em, her eyes earnest. "But you do know that no matter what, no matter what, you can talk to me, to Dad? We love you so much, Emerson."
"I love you, too, Mum," Em choked, throwing her arms around her mother again, hope swelling within her that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to rise up from the dark abyss of despair that Smiley's brutal words had shoved her into. "I love you, too."
The two Potter women clung to each other for a long moment, until the voice of the third little Potter female reached their ears, happily proclaiming the arrival of a battered, stuffed bunny. Em pulled away from her Mum and hastily wiped her eyes, before turning to her baby sister and sweeping her back onto the bed. She obligingly gave Ol' Bob a big hug and a kiss on his faded pink nose, while Davina laughed with delight and Mum beamed tearily over at them.
One step at a time. That was how she would do it, that was how she would recover. With the love of her family, the laughter of her sister, the desperately anticipated forgiveness of her precious little brother who would be home in an hour's time... she would get there.
She would make it.
*********
Dropping a stack of Quidditch plays on his desk, Harry sank wearily into the chair in his office at Ballynore. His head ached from forcing himself to remain composed all day, to keep a hold of himself, and he closed his eyes as he remembered why that was so.
Last night, his daughter had finally confessed what had been burdening her and it had been greater and more terrible than anything he had imagined. The farthest his mind had speculated was that perhaps Emerson had been assaulted somehow and her drastic personality shift was a result of shame and guilt. It was a terrible thing to think about his twelve year old daughter, but the changes lately had made them not quite so far fetched.
Although he couldn't bear to voice them to anyone, not even Hermione.
Thank God he was wrong about that angle, but wasn't what had actually happened worse, in a way? Emerson had been psychologically abused, in a manner of speaking. The very essence of who she was had been attacked, to the extent that she had tried so hard to alienate them, to push them away.
What kind of sick fuck had done this? What was their motivation? Why had they been so dedicated to hurting his daughter? Why?
He had opened the shoebox and the sheer number and variety of clippings shocked him. Emerson had arranged them by the date of their receipt and the letters were in their own compartment, similarly arranged.
Harry blinked back tears as he imagined his daughter huddled on her bed, categorizing those foul items that were poisoning her mind against herself and her family. His blood began to boil as he recalled some of the letters. How dare- when he found them, him, her, whomever, when he got his hands on them- those fu-
CRASH!
He was jerked back to himself by the sound of the small paperweight on his desk suddenly imploding on itself. Only then did he become aware of the fact that his fists were clenched so hard his fingernails had literally cut into his palms and his breathing was ragged.
"Calm down," he told himself, taking deep gulps of air. "Calm down. You'll be of no use to anyone if you give yourself a coronary."
Ignoring the stinging in his palms, Harry grabbed his wand and Reparoed the paperweight. From slightly behind him and to his right, he heard what was unmistakably the glass doors to the back porch sliding shut with a slam. Merlin, if he'd told those kids once, he'd told them a couple hundred times not to slam those doors. And no, it didn't matter that the doors had built-in Unbreakable Charms!
Sighing, he got up to gaze out the large window of his office. A timid winter sun was poking its head out of iron-gray clouds that resolutely promised snow. The storm was rolling in from the east but probably wouldn't be here for at least another hour.
Looking to his left, Harry saw Luke sitting cross-legged on the floor of the porch, scribbling onto a piece of parchment with his magic markers. If there was one thing he was particularly proud of about his estate, it was that the huge back porch was a safe and comfortable place to laze about in any sort of weather, be it rain, snow or sun. He and Hermione had had Professor Flitwick himself come down and install the charms, and it couldn't get any better than that.
A flicker of movement from the doorway caught his eye and he saw Emerson watching Luke, as if hesitating about whether or not to approach him. Harry knew why Em looked so apprehensive; she was obviously about to apologize for snapping at her brother so venomously the night before.
After a few seconds, Em walked over to Luke and squatted beside him. She appeared to say something, probably asking for permission to sit because Luke nodded and she sat.
Curious, Harry tapped the glass with his wand. "Sonorus."
Instantly, he could hear his children as clearly as if they were actually in the room with him.
"Budget, I'm really sorry about last night," Emerson was saying, and she did sound grievously contrite. "I know I hurt your feelings and I'm so very sorry. Can you forgive me?"
The little boy seemed to think hard for a full minute before he looked up at his sister. "Yes. I forgive you."
Em threw her arms around him and repeatedly kissed his rich chocolate head. "Thank you. I love you so much, Lukas."
"I love you, too," Luke answered before wiggling out of her embrace. "Mummy said you were just upset about something."
Em nodded. "Yeah. But I feel better now cause I told Mum and Dad about it."
"You told Daddy?"
"Yeah, I did."
Luke looked up at her. "Well, that's good then," he said seriously. "Everything will be all right now cause Daddy is a badass and he'll make it all better."
Harry stepped back so fast that he whacked his head on the side of the window. What did Luke just say?!
Emerson's eyes were huge. "Budget! Where did you hear that word?"
"From Tristan," Luke replied matter-of-factly. "Is it true, Em? Is Daddy a badass?"
Harry's daughter burst out laughing, but he was still too shocked to have the same reaction as he gaped out the window at his children.
"Oh, Budget," Em giggled. "Don't say that word anymore, okay? It's not a good word."
Luke nodded and Em put her arms around him again, dropping another kiss on his small forehead that was exactly like Hermione's. "But to answer your question: yes, he is. He's the best, most powerful one and it was stupid of me to keep my problems to myself for so long. I know we'll be fine now."
"Quietus."
Harry stepped numbly away from the window and sat back down behind his desk. Rubbing his head where he'd bumped it, he felt myriad emotions. Happiness at the faith his son and daughter had just shown in him, anger that she'd even had to worry at all, fear that he might let her down, that he might never find who had been terrorizing her.
How did he even begin to search for someone like that? Someone who had not only sent those foul writings, but had used Dark magic on the letters so that Emerson could neither resist reading them nor tell someone, even if she wanted to? He'd made copies of everything in the shoebox and given it to Malfoy this afternoon. Malfoy, Ron and Remus had been almost as shocked and outraged as Harry had been upon hearing about what had been happening to Emerson.
Harry had told them the whole story, beginning with Emerson's not trying out for the Quidditch team, all the way to her breakdown last night. He hadn't been able to sit still at all, had needed to pace, to dart all over the room as he talked, as if afraid that his rage would overtake and incinerate him if he stayed still for too long.
And the almost frightened glances that the other men exchanged hadn't escaped his notice.
There was a knock on his door and the next second, Hermione poked her head in. "Everything all right?"
Harry blinked at her. "Er, sure. Why?"
"Thought I heard a crash in here," she said, coming into the room and closing the door. "Though, come to think of it, that was probably Luke."
"No, it was me. I accidentally broke this," he said, holding up the paperweight. "It's good as new again. Speaking of Luke, though, he's learned a new word."
Hermione's eyes lit up as she sat down across from him. Luke had a rather extensive vocabulary for a five-year-old and Harry knew that that was a not-so-secret source of pride for his wife. "Really? What word?"
He fought to keep a straight face, his initial shock having given way to amusement. "Badass."
"What? Harry, don't make jokes like that!" Hermione exclaimed, looking chagrined.
Harry laughed. "I'm not joking. Your son just now said that word to Emerson."
Hermione gaped for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. "What was the context of the sentence that your son used the word in?"
"If I recall correctly, it was 'Daddy is a badass and he'll make it all better.' He then went on to ask Em if I really am one," Harry recited, chuckling now at the conflicted look on Hermione's face. He knew she found it as funny as he did but that she largely disapproved of such language - even though, when she was hopping mad (or in the throes of ecstasy), she had quite the repertoire herself. Of course Harry enjoyed being alive too much to ever take the mickey out of her about that.
"Hmph," Hermione said with her brow furrowed and her eyes downcast.
Harry grinned. "Come on, admit it. It's funny." He adopted a little boy voice. "Is it true, Em? Is Daddy a badass?"
Hermione broke into a fit of silent giggles before she started laughing outright. He joined her and for a moment, it seemed that the atmosphere in the Potter household was completely normal and not tinged with any sort of anger and unease.
After a few moments, his wife wiped her eyes as she shook her head. "Where do they learn that stuff?"
Harry arched his eyebrows. "You're asking me?" He dodged the quill she threw at him. "In this particular case, though, it was from Tristan Malfoy."
"Ah, I should have known." She was quiet for a moment, staring at him, and Harry knew she was reading him like a book. The times were rare when he felt like this, but sometimes Harry wished she didn't know him quite so well. She always respected his privacy when he needed it, letting him pretend that she didn't know what he was thinking but the fact remained that she knew.
Her voice was gentle when next she spoke. "What was Em's answer?"
And to his horror, Harry found himself blinking back tears. He kept his eyes trained on the paperweight that had shattered earlier, trying to regroup his anger, to beat back the fear, the guilt that was threatening to overwhelm him. What right did he have to dwell on those emotions when someone out there was walking around unpunished, having hurt his child? And not only that, but someone out there was threatening the very source and sustenance of his existence - his family.
His voice was hard when he finally responded. "She answered in the affirmative. And I'm going to have to be, Hermione." He looked up into her eyes, which were shining with tears. "Things had been going too well. I should have known something would happen, that we'd be attacked sooner or later. But I kept telling myself that I'm the one they would go after. I'm Harry Potter. Am I arrogant or what?"
She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but he hurried on before she could. He didn't want to be diverted from this liberating line of thought. "But they went after my daughter. My daughter who can't help how or with whom she was created any more than she can reduce how much we love her."
The rage was rampaging freely through his veins once more, effectively obliterating any other emotion. Which was exactly what Harry wanted right now because he feared that if he fell victim to his own fear and guilt, he would never get up again.
Besides, the madder he got, the better because somebody had hurt his baby and somebody would pay. And the madder he got, the harder that somebody would hurt when he got to them, him, her, whomever.
"They can say whatever they want about me. They can do whatever they want to me. But nobody fucks with my family. Nobody."