Part 3
~~~~~
Narcissa set aside the report that S.U.C.K.R. had prepared for her with a small smile of satisfaction. She hadn't been too sure when she forged the ransom note that she wasn't laying it on a bit thick, but apparently such sophomoric behavior was so in keeping with her son's reputation that the recipients hadn't even questioned the source. It was more than a bit depressing to think that her contribution to the Wizarding gene pool currently resided in such a shallow puddle, but she was still young enough to correct that little problem…
However, that was a worry for another day. Until such time as she could take care of that concern, she had to protect the offspring she currently possessed, which meant continuing with what Big Bad had taken to calling Operation Cupid.
She picked up another piece of parchment, chuckling at the comments made by her Sister, Luna. Apparently the young woman was well pleased with Ronald Weasley, both for his malleability and his stamina. She foresaw no difficulties in maintaining her hold on his attentions, and actually thanked her older Sister for her help in making 'her dreams come true'.
Narcissa's right eyebrow crept up at that; she hadn't realized that in plotting one love match, she'd be furthering another, but apparently Luna Lovegood really was in love with the youngest of the Weasley brothers. Well, it took all kinds, and she would probably be far better for him than Granger ever would have been, anyway. The Hermione Granger Narcissa knew from the Sisterhood's intelligence reports was far too impatient with stupidity to make many allowances for the shortcomings of a partner, and given the thick stack of documentation of some of their very public quarrels, she had passed her threshold with Weasley long ago.
Interestingly, there seemed to be no similar reports of rows between Hermione and Harry Potter. Of course, up to now they had not been romantically involved, and it might be that once sexual tension was added to the mix such fights might surface, but somehow she had a hunch that if they did, they would be both rare in occurrence and spectacular in their intensity.
She sighed and set the reports aside; time enough for idle speculations after her plans had come to fruition. Phase One, breaking up Ron and Hermione, was clearly a complete success. Phase Two, getting Harry and Hermione to admit their feelings for one another, was going to take a bit more finesse. She idly tapped her quill against her teeth, and then nodded. Time to see about introducing a couple more variables…
~~~~~
Hermione wandered though her favorite store in Diagon Alley, a smile on her face as the smells of paper and parchment, ink and binding glue, made the stress drain from her shoulders. There might be a larger selection of books in a Wizarding library, but anything she found at Flourish and Blott's she could purchase and keep, a definite plus for a chronic bibliophile like herself (Hi, I'm Hermione Granger, and I have a three-book-a-day habit). Nor did the fact that the store now had a catalog set up to access Muggle books as well help either her addiction or her Gringotts account.
Still, as vices went, there certainly were worse ones to have, she thought as she gently ran her hand across a row of books, the leather bindings sending a shiver up her spine… "Addictive, aren't they?" a soft tenor voice asked her.
Hermione turned around and found herself staring up into a pair of the blackest eyes she had ever seen, set within heavy eyelids, beneath heavy black eyebrows and wavy black hair, and framed by an olive-toned, Mediterranean complexion. "Eep," she said intelligently.
"I could not help noticing the pleasure you took in the feel of a fine book beneath your hands," he continued, his gaze boring into hers, his voice carrying a faint accent she couldn't quite place. "It is rare indeed to see such a love of knowledge combined with great beauty, and I told myself I would always regret it if I did not introduce myself." He reached out and took her hand in his, raising the back of it to his lips. "Forgive my forwardness; I am Feyd bin Yusef, a traveler from a far land, and you, fair lady, have enslaved me…"
~~~~~
Harry raised his wand and checked the passages in front of him for signs of use. One of the Unspeakables' more reliable informants had passed on the word that a cabal of Dark wizards was trying to raise enough power to threaten the peace of Wizarding society. They apparently had somehow managed to get their hands on something called 'The Necronomicon', and were planning on using it to contact some sort of elemental beings called 'The Old Ones'. Whether or not they could pull it off was irrelevant, as the attempt called for some poor souls to suffer unending torment, a prospect Harry was sworn to prevent.
'Someday,' he thought grumpily as he pushed past another collection of torn and tattered cobwebs, 'I'm going to confront a Dark wizard who's trying to raise power by playing with puppies and eating Danish pastries, and I'm going to pass out in shock.'
His reverie was interrupted as the faint sound of chanting reached his ears. "Oogga Chaka, Oogga Chaka, Oogga Oogga Oogga Chaka…" the voices repeated over and over again. Harry spotted torchlight flickering in the direction the chants were echoing from, and increased his pace.
A few moments later Harry found himself standing in the mouth of a passageway that opened on the wall of a large, torch lit chamber. Below him the circular room was occupied by a graphically phallic statue of enormous proportions, a circle of figures cloaked and hooded in scarlet robes, and a central altar with a scantily clad sacrifice bound and gagged in its center. Between the altar and the statue's most outstanding 'attributes' stood the person who had to be the high priest of the ceremony, an evil, wavy-bladed dagger raised over his head as he chanted:
Jeg stanser ikke dette følelseen,
Dyp inne i meg,
Pike som De akkurat forstår ikke,
Hva De gjør til meg!
Harry didn't understand the words, but whatever it was, it didn't sound good. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, disarming the leader, followed by "Stupefy!", the stunning curse sweeping across the entire chamber and dropping the Dark wizards in their tracks.
With the immediate threat removed, Harry looked for a way down into the chamber and found a narrow staircase, little more than a ledge, which spiraled down to the bottom. He fired a summoning charm back up the passageway to call the rest of his team, and then made his way to the altar and the prisoner chained there.
That she was both young and female did not surprise him; Dark wizards were a horny lot, and always seemed to require the presence of at least one nubile victim to make their plots complete. What did surprise him was her extreme beauty, far beyond what he was used to seeing in intended sacrificial victims. She had long, straight, blue-black hair and pale, milk-white skin. Through the thin piece of gauze that was her only covering he could see round, firm breasts with small, pink nipples, a narrow waist and flat stomach, and flaring hips that led to long, shapely legs and dainty feet. A thatch of blue-black curls concealed her sex, and all in all, she was probably the most perfectly formed female Harry had ever seen.
'And probably doesn't have a brain in her head,' Harry cynically thought. In his experience, extreme beauty and intelligence were a rare combination (Hermione, he felt, was the exception that proved the rule). Not that beautiful women didn't have minds, they just rarely seemed to bother using them. He looked around for something to cover her, and found the robe she had probably worn to the chamber pooled at the foot of the altar. He draped it over her, and as he tucked it around her neck, Harry suddenly found himself staring into a pair of incredible, violet eyes that sparkled with gratitude.
~~~~~
Her name was Monica MacDermott. She was the only daughter of an old Wizarding family from northern Scotland, one with ties to families in France. She'd been educated at Beauxbatons, which was why Harry had never met her during his school days. She was six years younger than he was, and had been vacationing in Edinburgh when agents of the cabal of wizards Harry had captured kidnapped her off the street. She was charming, vivacious and intelligent, and Harry was quite sure that she could probably have her choice of young wizards. In point of fact, if he were not already madly in love with his best friend, he probably would have been one of them, which made his current situation all that much more awkward.
Monica, it seemed, was terrified that the remaining members of the cabal, part of whom Harry had already captured, would kidnap her again and complete their ritual. They had apparently already performed some sort of ceremony that marked her as an intended 'bride' for the Old Ones, and had informed her that once so marked they could not select another lest they offend the very beings they were trying to invoke. Nor would she consider being placed in protective custody; two of the wizards captured in the chamber had bragged about being lower level Ministry employees, and Monica was certain that given the chance, other moles within the government would snatch her away.
The only person she felt safe with was Harry; he was the one who had rescued her, he was the wizard who had defeated Voldemort, and she was sure he was the only person powerful enough to give the Dark wizards who wanted her pause.
Which was why she was currently asleep in his guest room, while he completed his reports in his den and tried very hard not to think about the nubile young woman resting less than thirty feet from where he sat. It didn't help his peace of mind that he'd been living like a monk for years; ever since he finally admitted to himself how he felt about Hermione, the idea of having sex with anyone else seemed too much like cheating on her.
Nor did it help his peace of mind that the Unspeakables' research department was actually familiar with the 'betrothal' ritual that had been performed on Monica, and knew how to break it. All someone had to do was relieve her of the 'burden' of her virginity, and she'd be perfectly safe. Somehow Harry had neglected to inform her of this, probably because he suspected just who she would want to perform that service for her.
Harry was startled out of his reverie by the sound of someone knocking on his front door. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the den's fireplace and frowned; it was close to ten o'clock at night, far later than he normally expected anyone to come calling on him, especially unannounced. It couldn't be an enemy; none of the wards had twinged, but still…
When he opened the front door he was surprised to find Hermione standing there, her expression a bit nervous. He was a bit more surprised to see that she was wearing a very nice, very tight, very short, black cocktail dress, and that her hair and makeup were both fixed with great care. And he was even more surprised to see that she was standing there with a complete stranger, a very handsome stranger, who had his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and was smiling with entirely too many teeth.
Harry hated him already.
"Hi, Harry; I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Feyd bin Yusef. He's in town on business for the Egyptian branch of Gringotts, and asked me to introduce you…" her voice trailed off as she noticed Harry's expression.
Harry mentally shook himself and smiled tightly. "Certainly, any friend of Hermione's…won't you come in?" he asked, stepping aside.
"Ah, you are too kind," Feyd replied, urging Hermione through the door. "I met the delightful Miss Granger today at Flourish and Blotts', and she agreed to take pity on a poor stranger in your beautiful city, and provide me with companionship at dinner." He turned his toothy, megawatt smile towards her and Harry seethed as she blushed. They just met today, and she was getting dressed up like this to see him?
Harry surreptitiously studied Hermione's date as they all moved into the living room. There was something about the guy that twigged the instincts honed by years of battling dark wizards. It went beyond the way the stranger had glommed onto his best friend (Harry was constantly amazed that so few wizards actually hit on Hermione, given how attractive she was); if anything, it was the feeling that Feyd's attentions towards her seemed somewhat…forced. He decided a little judicial snooping was in order.
"So, Feyd" Harry said after they were all comfortably seated, "if you work for the Egyptian branch of Gringotts, you must know Bill Weasley, right?" Was that a flicker of nervousness in his eyes?
"Yes, Bill, a very fine fellow," Feyd agreed. "A true gentleman, and a pleasure to work with."
"Still, it's a shame to see him losing all his hair when he's so young," Harry replied, baiting his trap; unlike his father, Bill still had a full head of hair, including the ubiquitous pony tail that drove his mum crazy.
"True, we can all not be so blessed by fortune," Feyd acknowledged, running one hand through his own thick hair. Aha!
Before Harry could pounce on the obvious falsehood, a sleepy voice spoke from the hallway. "Harry, do we have company?"
Hermione's head whipped about at the sound of the unfamiliar female voice, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the slender, disheveled, gorgeous girl standing in the doorway of the living room, her long, bare legs sticking out from under one of Harry's shirts. "Who are you?" she asked abruptly, not noticing the harsh tone in her voice.
Harry noticed it though, and mentally shifted gears; given that Hermione had shown up on his doorstep with a strange man in tow, he wasn't feeling too charitable. "This is Monica," he replied coolly. "She had a little trouble with some Dark wizards, and is staying here for a few days while we sort it out."
Monica strolled over and leaned on the back of the chair where Harry sat, her hands resting on Harry's shoulders in a manner that Hermione thought was entirely too familiar. "Harry, you didn't introduce our guests, that's very rude." Hermione gritted her teeth. Our guests?
"Sorry, Monica," Harry replied, unconsciously covering one of Monica's hands with his own. What the devil was the matter with Hermione's eyes? For a second there, they looked…green? "This is Hermione Granger, and a friend of hers, Fred ben Useless."
"Feyd bin Yusef," Hermione growled back at him.
Harry waved unconcernedly. "Whatever."
"So, Harmony, have you known Harry long?" Monica asked huskily, leaning a bit further forward, her breasts brushing the top of Harry's head through the fabric of her shirt.
Hermione gaped at her. No one who lived in the Wizarding world for any length of time could not know just who Hermione was in relationship to Harry Potter, which meant the bitch was deliberately yanking her chain. Still, she wasn't going to give the little strumpet the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. "That's Her-my-own-e, and I've known Harry since we were 11 years old and we met on the Hogwarts Express."
"Oh you're that Hermione!" Monica said brightly. "I'm so sorry, it's just that I expected someone who looked much…younger, you know, more like Harry."
That tears it!
With a screech Hermione launched herself off the couch, going directly over Harry's head in her need to reach the hussy who'd been pawing her Harry.
Harry yelped as his chair tipped over and the two clawing, spitting wildcats yowled and fought on the floor behind him, tufts of hair and pieces of fabric flying in every direction. By the time he righted himself and assessed the situation both women were in tattered rags, making it abundantly clear that while Hermione favored red lace, French cut panties and peek-a-boo bras, Monica preferred to sleep au naturel. The part of his mind not mesmerized by writhing attractive female bodies also noted that bin Yusef was making no efforts to intervene in the struggle, and was strangely detached for a heterosexual male who supposedly found at least one of the figures on the floor attractive.
After a moment of indecision, during which the struggling pair wreaked even more havoc on their wardrobes and the bric-a-brac, Harry pulled his wand and muttered, "Fantasio!" Instantly a half-dozen anthropomorphized brooms materialized around the women, each holding buckets of ice water, buckets that were promptly upended. Hermione and Monica screamed in outrage and separated, the brooms and their buckets vanished, and Harry was left with two very angry, and very wet, witches.
Hermione looked more than ready to pick up right where she'd been before their dousing, but before she could get going Harry pounced, lifting her from the floor and bundling her up in his cloak, a move that served to eliminate the distraction of an entirely-too-close-to-naked-Hermione from his thoughts, while at the same time restraining her from turning her fury on him. It didn't keep her from landing several elbows in his midsection, and her wet hair lashed him across the face, knocking his glasses askew, but at least the hampering material deflected her heel just enough to avoid any damage to his family jewels. "Hermione, calm down, I'm sorry, all right?" he pleaded to little effect.
While Harry's arms were busy with a wet and struggling Hermione, Feyd slipped forward and provided a similar service for Monica, throwing his cloak around her and sweeping her up in his arms before quickly depositing her in one of the chairs. She thrashed about for a second, adjusting the folds of cloth around her, and then glared at her host and the hissing and spitting wildcat he was restraining with difficulty. "So that's the way it is," she snarled when she heard Harry's apology to Hermione. "She attacks me for no good reason, I get battered and bruised and half drowned, and she gets the apology?"
Monica jumped to her feet, her hands holding Feyd's cloak tightly around herself. "I know when I've been insulted, Mister Hero-of-the-Wizarding-World! I'd rather be kidnapped by Dark wizards and offered up to their icky gods than spend one more second under this roof!" She turned to Hermione's escort and asked in a more pleasant tone of voice, "Mr. bin Yusef, you seem to be a gentlewizard; may a witch in distress impose on your good character for succor in her time of need?"
Feyd, being no fool, flashed his best smile, which was very good indeed. "Of course, dear lady, I would be honored to serve in such a capacity." He looked over at Harry holding onto his friend and sniffed. "All the more so because I was deceived earlier into believing the woman I was escorting was a lady."
Harry and Hermione stared in dumfounded amazement as the door to his house swung shut behind Feyd and Monica. Harry finally set her down, and they slowly made their way to the couch, neither of them noticing the small squelching noises the soaked carpeting made. As they sat, Hermione unconsciously leaned against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. They stared into the flickering embers of the fireplace, their thoughts, unbeknownst to each other, following similar paths.
Finally it was Hermione who spoke. "Harry, what the bloody hell just happened?
~~~~~
Feyd and Monica made it far enough past Harry's wards to safely Apparate, and once they arrived at their destination, both promptly collapsed in laughter.
"Oh, my, that was fun!" Monica gasped, hanging onto Feyd's arm until her giggles subsided.
"Too, right, Julie!" Feyd replied, his megawatt charmer smile replaced by a much more natural grin. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed an assignment so much. Shame it was such a quick job, though. I hardly had time to get warmed up…"
"Don't talk to me about 'warmed up', David!" Julie, formerly known as Monica, mock-growled. "You weren't the one chained to a cold stone slab in an even colder dungeon, wearing nothing more than a scarf while a bunch of guys you hardly knew, dressed in wardrobe department castoffs, got to stare at your 'bits'!" She snorted. "Thank Merlin Narcissa has a sense of humor, though it was a bitch trying to keep a straight face during the 'ritual'." She related just what the 'Dark wizards' had been chanting and David, formerly known as Feyd, guffawed.
"Muggle music for a dark ritual? I'm surprised she didn't use Ozzy or Alice Cooper!"
Julie frowned. "Narcissa is far too subtle a person to be that obvious; just because this isn't one of her regular operations doesn't mean she's going to lower her standards."
David sighed. "I know, I know; I just feel a bit odd, being so obvious. We normally don't even let the marks know they are marks, let alone leave enough clues around to paint them a picture…"
"Narcissa knows what she's doing," Julie temporized, though secretly she agreed with David. Neither of them had been terribly happy to be selected for the parts they'd just played, but their mentor and patron had been adamant. The overall success of the operation hinged on either Harry or Hermione, or preferably both of them, not only figuring out they were being played, but why they were being played. If anything went wrong, the two of them were going to have to disappear or lay low for a very long time, and only the promise of an extremely large financial reward had convinced the pair to participate.
Narcissa had explained it all to them patiently when she laid out her plans. "It's quite simple; anyone with half a brain knows that Potter is in love with Granger, and has been for years. The evidence about Granger's feelings about Potter is less obvious, at least to T.I.C.K.L.E.'s analysts, but I've seen enough to believe she returns his affections.
"Now, as to the reasons neither of them have acted on their feelings, well, there are several possibilities, but they all pretty much boil down to the two of them being too thick about how they feel to admit it, either to themselves or each other. That being the case, subtle isn't going to work. We're going to have to metaphorically bash them in the head with a bludger, which is where you two come in…"
~~~~~
Narcissa smiled as her two best agents entered her office. "None the worse for wear, I see," she remarked, as they settled into the chairs opposite her desk.
"Speak for yourself," Julie grumbled, wincing a bit. "Getting into a full-out catfight with Granger wasn't part of the original plan, and she's stronger than she looks. On top of that, what she lacks in training she makes up for with enthusiasm."
Their host's eyes sparkled with merriment. "Oh, my, I suppose it's too much to hope for that Potter got to see your little dispute?"
"Ringside seat," David interjected, amused. "He was the one who broke it up, which is why Julie is looking a bit…damp." He described Harry's method for ending the fight, and Narcissa found herself fighting back the giggles at the flustered look on Julie's face.
"Just like a man to get a kick out of watching a catfight," Julie muttered, making her companion chuckle.
"You misunderstand us, Julie," he scolded. "We don't enjoy watching the fight itself, just the…side effects," he drawled, gesturing in a general way towards her robe and the tattered shirt it concealed.
Narcissa cleared her throat before they could take their bantering any further. "I take it, then, that you feel the plan achieved its objectives?"
David rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, it's not our usual sort of caper, but given the parameters you outlined, I'd have to say yes," and Julie nodded as he continued. "I thought Potter was going to blow my head clean off when I walked in with Granger, and he was already verbally going for the jugular when Julie strolled in."
"Granger wasn't too happy to see me, either." She smirked a bit. "It didn't hurt that I'd disposed of that flannel nightdress Harry gave me and put on one of his shirts instead…"
"I'd wondered about that," David remarked. "Nice move, that…"
Julie smiled an acknowledgement of his compliment and continued, "She took one look at me and I could see the claws come out; it didn't take much prodding to push her over the edge, though I admit I didn't expect her to actually attack me."
"Hell hath no fury…" David murmured, but subsided when Julie shot him a glare.
"If I can finish…Potter broke the fight up, but it was Granger he grabbed, not me, and I heard him apologizing to her. I'd say they've both been nudged, and if nothing interferes with the process, they should draw the right conclusions."
Narcissa nodded, though inwardly she still had her reservations. Potter and Granger had been in denial for years, that much was clear, and it might take more than one good push for them to wake up and smell the roses. She'd have to arrange for some of her operatives to keep an eye on them and watch for signs one way or the other. In the meantime, she needed to let these two know their efforts on this very unusual assignment were appreciated.
She smiled her second-best smile, the one she saved for subordinates whose efforts had especially pleased her, and said, "You've both done an outstanding piece of work. Your payments have been deposited in your Gringotts accounts, and I'd recommend taking a vacation out of the country for at least a month or so, somewhere on the Continent perhaps, or the Americas. Preferably someplace Potter can't find you if he decides to go looking. It would be a shame if, after your superior efforts, some chance encounter caused everything to unravel." She made sure the tone of voice she used reflected genuine concern, not a threat, and was rewarded by the relaxed expressions on her operatives' faces.
"Actually, I have just the place," David interjected. "Julie, would you care to join me for some skiing and hot chocolate in the Swiss Alps? I own a small chalet, and there's more than enough room for two…"
"A charming suggestion, David," Julie agreed with a smile. "Narcissa, you'll let us know if you need us for anything else?" she asked as a formality.
"You two go enjoy yourselves, you've earned it," their employer replied, waving expansively. "Between the success of Phase One and Phase Two, I believe we're well on the way to a successful conclusion. If those two are as smart as I think they are, the wheels are already starting to turn…"
~~~~~