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Harry Potter and the Wanderer by The Shadows
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Harry Potter and the Wanderer

The Shadows

As promised to several people, here is the end of Chapter 23. Originally, this was going to be included in the chapter, but I was simply fed up with my computer at the time.

Monday, the parts should be arriving.

Anyway, this also marks the beginning of the change from the posting here and the posting at fanfiction.net. Not to mention the higher rating going up here. The rating is for violence, sexual situations, and a touch of a few other elements.

Enjoy!

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Interlude following Chapter 23

Black ichor dripping steadily to the ground at his feet. Although the word seemed highly inappropriate, it was a gentle drip, almost melodic. Each new drop of the sticky liquid splashed a little more each time, until finally he could pull his eyes away from the slime to what was causing the dripping.

In his hands was a familiar sight. The dagger that he had once cradled to his chest like an infant, the dagger that could protect his mind against mental intrusion was dripping the black goo. Sniffing slightly at the air, the scent of blood was overpowering, and made him gag and wish he didn't have to take another breath.

The black ichor could no longer be considered gentle by any sense of the word.

Turning the dagger in his hands to hold the hilt firmly, energy suddenly erupted from it and the black blood splattered everywhere and everything. His face was covered in it, and looking up and around, his room was coated from ceiling to floor. He swallowed the bile that was building in his throat and dropped the blade before he could even think of anything else.

Despite himself, he followed the path of the falling weapon until it splashed in the pool that was slowly congealing at his feet.

Harry forced his eyes away from the sight and turned completely around to face the other wall. With a start, he noticed that his bed was gone, as was the wall on that side of the room. Turning back to the blade, he jumped in surprise and fumbled in his pocket for his wand before the red eyes noticed how close he was.

"You're dead, Potter."

"Wake up, Harry!"

"Dead."

"Wake up!"

"And you won't be alone."

"Come on, please!" Through the haze that was suddenly surrounding him, it became clear that it was Hermione shouting at him to wake up. "Harry, you're starting to scare me. Please wake up!"

I never want to scare `Mione.

Everything around him vanished in an instant as he forced his eyes open. Hermione must have been right over top of him, because her rich deep eyes were clearly in focus, even though he didn't have his glasses on.

"'Mione?"

Instantly, he was engulfed in a wonderfully full, vibrant embrace, and was left with no choice but to return the contact by wrapping his arms around the witch who was leaning over him still.

When she finally pulled away, things started coming back clearly again. He had fallen asleep earlier that night with Hermione in his arms. Ron and Ginny had apologised earlier. He had completely forgotten to make sure they weren't hurting because of the Burrow being destroyed.

He had just had a nightmare.

"It wasn't Voldemort, was it?"

Harry smiled ruefully and shrugged the best he could with her lying right next to him, staring into his ocean eyes. "I think a nightmare about anything else would be strange, really," he replied in a whisper. "But that's all it was. A bad dream."

"No visions he sent you?"

"I guess my imagination is more powerful than I give it credit for," Harry replied.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked. "When I was younger..."

"What?" Harry pressed when she trailed off. "What happened when you were younger?"

Hermione smiled to him softly and sighed. "Whenever I had a nightmare, my parents would come rushing into my room to make sure I was alright. Then my daddy would go downstairs and make me a glass of warm milk while I told my mommy all about it."

"I'm not really the warm milk kind of guy, `Mione," Harry said with a grin.

"I know that!" Hermione said, slapping him on the shoulder gently. "Honestly, you say that like I haven't spent the last five and a half years near you! You'd rather have a glass of pumpkin juice or warm butterbeer, right?"

"I'm not really thirsty."

"Do you want to talk about it anyway? I think the only reason my daddy got me a drink was because he wasn't as good at calming me down as mommy was. He tried once when mommy was sick..."

"What happened?" Harry asked when her eyes glazed over as she started to remember.

"Well... I was about six, I guess," Hermione said. "I had just had a dream about... you'll think I'm silly," she broke off.

"Never."

She bit her lower lip in response, as though trying to consider his words carefully, and then finally nodded. "I dreamed there was a monster under my bed. I think my daddy was trying to make me laugh, because after I told him, he left the room and came back with a baseball bat and a kitchen pot. He put the pot on my head to `keep me safe' and then dove under my bed making the most awful racket."

"Did he get the monster?" Harry couldn't resist smiling broadly at the image of the man who he knew as her father diving under a bed with a bat.

"He said he did. But the noises scared me more..."

"He never tried after that?"

"Mommy took over then, and my nightmares went away faster. I know he tried, but sometimes a mother's touch is what's really needed..." She trailed off then, a horrified expression crossing her face. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry!" She said it with such passion in her voice that he could barely stand it.

"For what?"

"For what?" Hermione asked incredulously. "For mentioning my parents like that. You never had anyone to take away your nightmares before, did you?"

"Not until you came along," Harry replied truthfully. "Ron was good about it and all, but it's different among guys, you know? Can't always let it all out like you kept encouraging me to do." The tears in her eyes caught him by surprise, and he leaned back and cringed slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say something that would upset you like that..."

"You didn't," she managed to squeak out in a tiny voice. "You just seem to know just what to say to make me feel better, that's all."

"And so you're crying?"

"Tears of joy, Harry," she replied, leaning in and kissing his nose. "So, are you going to tell me about it?"

Harry stayed silent for a minute before replying. "It was really strange," he explained. "My dagger was dripping this weird black blood, and when I dropped it and turned around, I came face to face with Voldemort, who told me to die. It was right about then that you woke me." Once he finished the rather short explanation, he felt rather foolish about it. It really didn't seem like that much to get upset over.

For her part, Hermione simply smiled to him and pulled in a little closer to him. "Feel better now?" she whispered.

"Actually, yes."

"Good," she replied with a nod. "Then you don't object to holding me for a while, then?" Before he could respond at all, she rolled over so she was on her side and scooted a little closer to him. Almost instinctively, he rolled so he was pressed up against her, wrapping his arms about her as he did so. Once both his hands were pressed against her soft stomach, he gave her a gentle squeeze, marvelling in both the feel of holding her and the feel of the feather light fabric separating him from her skin. *Much better,* she purred.

Despite how comfortable he knew she was, he could still hear her breathing becoming a little more unsteady and rapid. He was just about to ask her what was wrong when she shifted down a little, pressing fully into him with her rear as his hands moved up. The reaction was so fast that he thought she must have just moved by mistake, but when he made to move his hand away from where it had ended up, she pressed into him again, thrusting her breast more fully into his hand.

After a moment of just holding her, all of his mind spilt between her pressing into him lower down and his hand on her chest, he started to move in response. Gently and carefully, he started to move his hand, squeezing her lightly before swirling around on the top of her breast with the lightest of touches. Although there was the blue cloth separating him from actually touching her, it was rather obvious how thin it really was as he continued.

Her breath started getting even shorter as he pressed his other hand onto her stomach, skimming under her top to press against her skin. It felt like she was on fire... or perhaps everywhere he touched seemed to burn a feeling up his arm straight to his brain.

She pressed into him a little more forcefully then, causing a gasp of air to escape passed his lips. Immediately, he cupped her breast fully in his hand, pulling her closer to him as he continued in his caressing. He then started squeezing her lightly in time with her pressing into him.

He pulled away when he felt her hand on the back of his, and was startled to hear her start to purr softly. It wasn't as though she was actually saying anything, but rather than moan as she had earlier when they had been together, she was purring. The sound was coming from the base of her throat, and it caused his mouth to go dry as he pressed more fully into her, fully aware than she knew exactly what was pressing into her in response.

Her purring got a little louder, and then she pressed his hand back onto her breast. He froze instantly when he realised that this time, there was no camisole in the way... he was holding her bare breast. All his thoughts went out the window when she pressed into him again and let out a soft hiss.

Knowing what her purring was doing to him, he leaned a little closer to her ear and started - to his surprise - to purr in response as he started caressing her again, marvelling in the silky smooth feel of the skin that had never been kissed by the wind. He squeezed her hardened nipple between his fingers and thumb, pulling at it gently before cupping her completely again to pull her closer to him.

As her purring started to become more and more ragged - just like her breathing had earlier - he started to slow down a little. As good as what she was doing to him felt, he knew they shouldn't go for much longer. She started to slow down in response, and when he finally released her completely, pulling her top back up to cover her and removing his hand from her stomach in the process, he heard her sigh and mold into him fully. Never had he even felt quite as close to her as he did right then.

He kissed her skin just behind her ear and blew lightly against the moisture that he had left behind. He felt her shiver and pull a little closer to him then, and she pulled herself up a little to cuddle in to him without causing either of them any discomfort.

"How do you know?" Harry whispered into her. He knew that she would know exactly what he was talking about. It was one of the things he loved about her - she could read him better than he could read himself, and she didn't even have to look at him to understand him.

*That question's almost as fair as when you asked me when I started falling for you,* Hermione purred back, closing her eyes lazily. It seemed that when she was really happy or tired, she was start talking in kneazle rather than English. From the purring that she had done earlier, he had no complaints on the matter. *And I doubt I can give a better answer, either.*

*But you do know?*

Hermione didn't answer right away, but did clasp his hand fully in one of her own. After giving him a short squeeze, she brought her hand to her lips to kiss it gently. *Without a doubt in my mind...* Her breath was cool where she had just kissed him, making him pull her a little closer instinctively. *I just... knew. And now I always will.*

Harry remained silent for a few minutes, listening to the steady in and out breathing of the witch in his arms. He knew she wasn't asleep yet - just as he knew that she knew he was thinking about something very carefully. Without a doubt...

*You know how I told you that I would move the stars if that was what you wanted of me?* Harry purred into her ear. He didn't give her a chance to respond before leaning a little closer. *I don't know if that was strong enough... just know that I would do anything for you. My Hermione... my `Mione... my Willow.*

Hermione lifted her head from their pillow slowly and turned to face him, tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks at any moment. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his carefully, slowly, gently. She poured everything she could into such a simple kiss, leaving herself breathless as she pulled away, her heart beating even faster than it had been earlier in the night. *Yours forever.* She then grinned to him before turning back onto her side and cuddling into his arms again. *You know... since you got to give me a nickname, I think it only fitting that I come up with one for your animagus form, too.*

*Any ideas?* Harry mewed softly, tickling her ear again with both his breath and his tongue.

*I'll let you know.*

Nothing else was said between the two as they lay in bed together. Although it may have seemed like an eternity to anyone paying attention to them, it didn't seem like nearly long enough to either of them before they lost themselves to their dreams again. Being able to enjoy the feeling on being so close to each other was not ever something to be taken lightly, and they both knew it.

For the rest of the night, Harry's dreams were focussed solely on the creature in his arms... the one who he called his, the one who he would kill for to protect. She was the one who gave him his purpose for killing Voldemort.

The one that he loved with all of his heart.

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I will be watching from within...

The Shadows

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