***************
Into a Darkened Room
To say Hermione was drunk would be a phenomenal understatement. A more appropriate choice might be 'just this side of functional'. Yet, for the large quantities of alcohol she had consumed, and given that, in fact, it was the most alcohol she had ever consumed, Hermione was still quite coherent. She knew enough not to even attempt apparating, lest she end up with bits of herself strewn about famous Parisian landmarks.
She tucked her wand up the sleeve of her less than modest outfit and strolled from the hotel. Anyone who knew her would know, not just from the outfit, that something was definitely amiss. Her normal demeanor - thoughtful, contemplative, rational - had been completely usurped by this Hermione. Simply the way she walked spoke volumes about her current state of mind.
As her self esteem had ebbed away over the last few weeks she had done her best to hide it, especially now that she was among her friends. However, her body language betrayed her - simply the way she moved had become more timid. She no longer held her head up with her chin pointed outward when she walked, instead opting for a slightly lowered head with her shoulders gently sloped forward. Yet now, emboldened by vast quantities of liquor, she practically strutted down the streets of Paris.
She wasn't so inebriated that she failed to notice the jaw dropping and often predatory looks of the men she passed. It was something she had never experienced before. Certainly she had read before about the power of feminine persuasion, and the closest she had ever been to that had been when she realized that first Viktor, then Ron had liked her. Though she didn't care for Ron as anything more than a friend, just the mere idea that someone had considered her in that way, had made her slightly dizzy.
But this, the openly wanton gazing, the sometimes lewd suggestions and gestures from men as she passed, this wasn't just exciting - it was utterly intoxicating. For the first time in months, or maybe even ever, Hermione felt powerful. Not the same kind of power that came with being a skilled and formidable witch. No, this was power of a carnal nature, and although she had known the all consuming power of being in love, she had never before felt the thrilling power of lust. These men desired her, wanted her, and for her bruised and battered ego, it was exactly what she thought she needed.
She smiled and laughed flirtatiously while strolling to her destination - La Salle Sombre. She wondered briefly if the large and intimidating bouncer, the one who had been so rude and condescending, would recognize her. She imagined actually turning him into a petite chouchou and giggled. How intimidating could a head of cabbage possibly be?
She turned the corner into the narrow alleyway and approached the club. Sure enough, the nasty bouncer was still guarding the entrance from a long line of impatient college aged people. Hermione looked them over, then noticed the bouncer eyeing her appreciatively. That thrill of power went through her in a rush as she she smirked back, then approached him.
"Que c'est que vous voulez ma petite chouchou?" He practically leered as she came closer. She stood within inches of him then answered him in perfectly accented French.
"Why, I want to get in of course," she placed her palm on his chest, then lazily let it drift down his front, almost grazing the top of his waistband. 'Oh, I could get used to this,' she thought, as she noticed the look of shock on his face.
"You'll, um, have to get in line my pretty little one," he said, his voice lacking the belligerence from earlier.
"Oh no, I want to come in now," she pouted, thoroughly enjoying the role she was playing.
"Well," he lightly gripped her chin and pulled her head closer, "why don't you show me why you deserve special treatment?" He flashed that leering grin at her again.
"If you insist," she smiled back at him, then waved her right arm and whispered something he couldn't quite make out.
As the brutish man leaned in towards her, he fell in a great heap, unable to pull his legs apart. She laughed, stepped over him and then opened the rope for everyone else.
At the head of the huge influx of patrons, she headed straight for the bar and ordered another drink, desperate to keep the powerful buzzing in her head. Almost immediately a handsome young man, maybe only a year or two older than her, sat down and offered to buy her one.
"Oh, thanks. I've actually just ordered something." She turned her body towards him, then smiled.
"Well, please, let me get that for you." He smiled back and payed the bartender when he set down her vodka tonic.
"I'm Jeremy by the way." He held out his hand and she shook it.
"I'm Hermione," she said, then smiled again.
"So you're British," he began, having noticed her accent. "I'm actually visiting from Canada myself."
"Really?" She batted her eyelashes and appreciated the effect it had on him. 'Oh yes,' she thought, 'this is real power. What is magic compared to this?'
They talked for several minutes as best they could in the loud club. They spoke of nothing in particular, but Hermione was having the most fun with her new found abilities. At different moments she would shift her body ever so slightly towards him, or flash a bit more thigh while crossing her legs. What rational part was left of her was treating this like any other practical experiment. She'd introduce a new variable (a bit more midriff) then gauge the reaction (wider eyes).
But as they talked, the conversation caused a nasty little mood swing, and as she went on a small tirade about 'friends' and what they were good for, she hadn't realized that she was gesticulating to emphasize her points. Unfortunately, she was using her right arm mostly - the one that she'd stuffed her wand into. Whenever she happened to mention some 'unnamed supposed best friend,' an unfortunate bottle or glass within her line of fire would mysteriously exploded. That was enough to scare off Jeremy and put Hermione into a seriously foul, seriously belligerent, mood.
She stalked off towards the dance floor, her caustic thoughts slowly turning into ones of self pity. Her thoughts drifted back to Harry as they often did - how wonderful it had been to be his friend, the warmth and laughter they had shared, and how desperately in love she was... she felt herself sink quickly into despair.
'What did I do,' she thought, as she stood, lost, on the edge of the dance floor, 'I'm... I'm sorry I told you. I didn't realize you'd hate me for it. But I love you! I truly do! And, now,' she felt tears threatening to fall down her cheeks, 'now I've lost you for good.' A powerful wave of sadness hit her, and she swayed under it's immensity.
A tall and imposing fellow behind her mistook her movement as a desire to dance, and gently lured her out onto the floor. She followed, listless, as he took her hands and pulled her forward. He began to move in time to the music, and when Hermione stood still, succumbing to her agonies, he seductively placed his hands at her waist and moved her to the melancholy beat. Despite her sadness, she looked up at him and saw that he had deep green eyes, just like Harry. His hair was different, a sandy brown, but he was terribly handsome. No matter how distraught she was, she noticed this immediately. He gave a small grin and pulled her closer to him, causing a small shiver to go up her spine.
"Dance with me," he said, in the softest hint of a foreign accent, then pressed her tightly against him as he moved. She could feel the bass pulsating through her as she followed his lead. He pulled her towards one of the elevated dance platforms, shrouded in smoke from the fog machines, illuminated by the lights pulsing throughout the club. The music was loud, the faces absolutely anonymous, and this strange man holding her made her feel like a different person.
She pulled back from him slightly as she let the music overtake her. The anonymity gave her a different freedom altogether. She pushed it all away - the pain, the regret, any thoughts of Harry. In this moment, she simply wanted to forget - to be someone else completely. Just some random girl dancing away at a club, getting admired by strange men, feeling no responsibility or regret. The music washed over her, and the song seemed tailor made to her mood as she lost herself in it. She would move closer, then pull away from the stranger, realizing full well the danger she was initiating.
'You can't do this,' that irritating voice cut through the fuzziness in her head.
'Why not?' She countered.
'Because it isn't you. This isn't how you cope with things.'
'I don't want to be me anymore. Whatever I was, it was lost when I left school - when I lost Harry. I don't want to be that person anymore.'
'That doesn't mean you have to be this person.'
She moved closer to him, and he gripped her tightly. He let his hands roam freely over her body, and when he gave her bottom a gentle squeeze, she didn't pull away. In fact, an electric shock ran through her, and she looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes, then closed them as she rhythmically pressed against him.
'You are definitely NOT this person!' Her conscience was screaming at her. 'You need to get the hell out of here and consume an extremely large caffeinated beverage - NOW!'
'Leave me alone! Just look at him. He wants me. Someone actually wants me. And it feels good. I just want to feel good again.'
'You don't even know him! And what about Harry? Did you think of that? What would Harry think of you if he knew what you were doing?'
And that thought gave her sudden pause. What she felt for Harry - she knew it was love. It had to be - the sheer enormity and all consuming nature of it. Just thinking about him made her heart swell and nearly made her burst into tears.
But, and just for a moment she gave into her rationality, his actions, everything he had and hadn't done since her declaration of true love, could only lead to one obvious fact. He didn't love her back. And what was worse, he obviously didn't even want to be her friend anymore.
'Well of course not - I'm of no service to him anymore.' Her thoughts were cold and hard.
'But acting like some sort of slag is not going to make you feel better! And what if there's some sort of explanation? What if all's not as you think with Harry?'
'NO! Don't you even dare to give me hope - not now! I don't want to think about this anymore! Just let me alone!'
'But you don't even know this man!'
'Precisely,' she realized. And then she had the courage to do something she had never done before. She started kissing him - this stranger, this terribly handsome stranger! A part of her realized she was trying to kill whatever feelings she had for Harry - and this was the most effective way to do it. There was no shyness, no hesitancy, just desire - the desire to forget and be able to give in to her baser needs. The alcohol had completely stripped her of, or rather, allowed her to divest, inhibition and reason.
He kissed her back, roughly. She bit his lower lip and he gripped her bottom, hard, to pull her up closer. With a growl he muzzled her neck, then asked in a husky voice, "do you want to get out of here?"
'Don't you DARE!'
And when that thrill of desire, that spark of lust, went through her, she squashed down the last of her reason. The defiance of her former self, the thought that she could kill the pain and the hurt - finally - made her willingly follow this stranger out through the back exit of the club without pausing to think of the consequences.
***
Harry rushed from the coffee shop to find a secluded spot from which to apparate. He only hoped when he got back to the hotel that Hermione would still be awake. 'I'll just have to wake her up if she isn't,' he thought. He had waited for much too long to talk with her, and, he remembered that Luna had mentioned she'd been upset about something. 'And I haven't been there at all for her,' he chastised himself, then found a darkened corner near the back of the alley.
With a loud 'pop' he appeared in the lobby of the hotel at the apparation spot designated for guests. The resort frowned on direct room apparation, fearful of litigation should any guests find themselves splinched within the furniture, or worse yet, each other. The rooms were warded to prevent any guests from disobeying this policy. A large area of the lobby was charmed to protect both those coming and going by magic to prevent just such an accident.
Harry walked rather briskly to the lifts, his rapid footsteps echoing throughout the mostly empty lobby. He punched at the button and waited impatiently for a car to arrive. After seemingly long moments the doors gave a soft chime and slid open. He practically leapt in and stabbed at the button for their floor.
As he considered what he should say, he nervously rocked back and forth on his heels. Certainly Hermione would understand why it had taken him so long to talk to her. If not, he'd simply explain himself until she did. With that positive attitude he exited the lift and went to their suite.
When he entered, the first thing he noticed was the furniture. It had been transfigured to closely resemble the couches and armchairs to which they were all accustomed. He smiled and shut the door firmly behind him.
"Mmmm....."
"Hello?" He responded to the murmur. There was another groan and Harry cautiously began moving about the living area, wand drawn.
"Is someone there?" Another groan, and then a familiar voice.
"Who's that? Oh, who cares, just come and help me!" Her voice was slightly muffled.
"Ginny, is that you?" Harry looked around quickly. "Where are you?"
"I'm by the couch. Help me already!" She screamed at him.
Harry walked around the furniture arrangement until he found her, nearly face down on the floor, her head half smushed into a pillow. He grabbed her shoulder and gently rolled her over.
"Ginny? What on earth?"
"Bloody body bind Harry!" She squinted up at him.
Harry's nerves were immediately on alert. Who would do this? Who had attacked his friend? What about...
"Hermione?" Ginny asked.
"Oh gods!" Harry jumped up and ran to Hermione's room, bursting through the double doors in search of her. Someone had attacked Ginny. Did they get Hermione too? He looked quickly around the room and then ran around the suite, shoving doors open in search of her. But she was nowhere to be found, and then that all too familiar whine of panic began to buzz in his head.
"HARRY!" Ginny had been yelling the entire time it took him to search the suite. "GET ME OUT OF THIS ALREADY!"
Harry ran back to her. "Ginny, I'm sorry!" He quickly unjinxed her, then started rubbing her arms to help get the circulation flowing again.
"Who did this? What happened to Hermione? Did they get her too? Or did she manage to escape?" Harry let off a rapid fire string of questions.
"Harry, what are you on about?" Ginny looked at him as if he were clearly insane.
"Who attacked you Ginny? What did they do to Hermione?" His voice was stern and laced with a hint of panic.
"Hermione did this." Ginny explained.
"What?"
"Hermione did this to me. Put the bloody bind on me when I tried to stop her. Oooh, just wait 'til I get my hands on her!" Ginny's face was slowly turning red. "Then she tried to prop me up on that pillow. Couldn't hold myself up, just kept flopping over. Finally just fell asleep." Her face had pillow marks creasing her cheek.
Harry looked at her, thoroughly confused. "Ginny, have you been Confunded?"
"What?" She looked at him, realizing he clearly wasn't getting it. "Harry, Hermione did this to me!" She spoke slowly, trying to emphasize her point.
"Ginny," he looked her over and just noticed the outfit, "what on earth are you wearing?" Then he made a small face as he caught a whiff of the amber liquor.
"Ginny? Are... are you drunk?"
"What? No! I mean, maybe a little, but Harry, I've not had nearly as much as Hermione has. She's right and truly pissed!"
"Ginny, Hermione doesn't drink," Harry began to explain.
"Well she certainly does now! Oh, and that suddenly reminds me," she threw a hard punch straight into his upper arm.
"HEY! OW! What'd you do that for?!"
"Because you're an ABSOLUTE PRAT, YOU WANKER!"
Harry was utterly shocked at the sharp turn in Ginny's behavior.
"What are you talking about! I've not done anything!"
"Exactly, you've not done a bloody thing in TWO WHOLE MONTHS! Do you realize what it's been like for Hermione?" Ginny stood up, trying to shake feeling back into her limbs, then began pacing while she proceeded to lay into Harry.
"Do you have any idea what she's been going through? You don't visit her in hospital! You don't write anything more than a note to her, and then, to top it all off, you completely ignore her once she gets here to go off with that dolled up TROLLOP!!" She was shaking her finger at him now. "And now, because of you, one of my best friends is out there, completely blotted and feeling totally unwanted and unloved. She thinks you just used her to fight off Riddle and pass your NEWTs. You left her all alone and now she's out there," Ginny looked close to tears, "she's out there all alone Harry, and it's because of you! How could you just ignore...?" She swiped at her face with the back of her hand, releasing a large sniffle. "Even if you didn't... if you don't... you should have said something Harry! I thought you were better than that!"
Harry sat there, dumbfounded. He couldn't even begin to process what Ginny was saying, it hurt too much. To think that that's what Hermione thought of him. That he had made her feel that way.
"She... she thinks I just used her?" Harry looked up at Ginny with quite possibly the saddest and most hurt expression she had ever seen.
Her tone softened just a bit. She knelt down in front of him. "Harry. Look at it from her perspective. You've not said but two words to her since that night, and after what she said," she sighed, "Harry, you should have at least spoken to her."
"But that's what I came here to do. I ran into Luna and she made me realize how stupid I've been and I came rushing back here to talk to Hermione. Ginny, does she really feel like that?"
"Honestly Harry, she doesn't even think you like her anymore. How would you feel?" She looked at him as he took a moment to think about it. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
"Exactly. But that's not the worst of it, because I'll tell you, right now she's feeling completely unwanted, and she's gone off and I'm afraid she's going to do something completely stupid."
Harry looked up, "what do you mean?"
Ginny motioned for him to get up and follow her. They walked over to the ornate mirror near the bathrooms. Harry looked at her in confusion, and then she took his wand and tapped the mirror while speaking an incantation. Harry watched in rapt attention as a fine mist fogged it over, and then he thought he'd quite truly die from shock.
The recorded reflection of Hermione, dressed in the tightest, jaw dropping outfit Harry had ever seen, pranced in front of the mirror, clearly laughing and twirling about. He couldn't tell what was more shocking, the outfit itself, or the fact that she was wearing it. And, despite his guilt at having put her in such a state, his physiological reaction held a healthy appreciation for her attire.
He shook those thoughts from his mind as he began to realize the danger of the situation.
"Ginny, where is she?" If she was out there, dressed like that, completely inebriated... well, it didn't take much imagination to conjure all the horrible scenarios that could lead to.
"I don't know." Ginny looked and sounded quite upset. "I tried to stop her. I never thought she'd use the bind on me. But I tell you, as brassed off as I am, I'm more worried than anything else." She looked away, trying to compose herself.
"Harry," she faced him, tears in her eyes, "you have to find her."
"You've no idea where she's gone?"
"What if she's gone and splinched herself!" Ginny was nearing hysteria.
"Ginny, calm down." He tried to comfort her and keep himself from full blown panic at the same time. 'Where would Hermione go? What is she doing?' Harry tried desperately to think. 'I need to think like Hermione.' No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he grabbed his wand back from Ginny and tapped the mirror again.
"Encore!"
He bent down a bit and looked closely at the reflection. 'Please, let it be there. I know you're mad Hermione, but you're not careless.' She twirled around, and it was notoriously difficult to make out the sharp details, but... YES! It was there! A sparkle of blue on her left hand.
Harry stood and reached under his collar, pulling off his chain. He unclasped it and put his ring on, the one Hermione had made for them. The one thing he needed to find her.
"Show me," he commanded. The swirling miasma of images that flashed through his brain made him instantly nauseous. He staggered and nearly fell over before Ginny grabbed him. His head was swimming, and it took a second to regain his composure. He looked over at Ginny.
"Merlin! How much did she have to drink?"
Ginny nodded towards the table with the two nearly empty bottles sitting there. Harry looked at her wide eyed. He took a deep breath, then tried again.
He fought through the nausea and focused all his concentration on sharpening the swirled images he was getting from Hermione. There were banks of multicolored lights, but it was dark and smoky and lots upon lots of people. Then he caught a familiar sight... an open doorway into a horribly green bathroom with a flickering light.
"Ugh, she's gone to that club!"
"She got in?" Ginny was momentarily impressed. "I mean, you have to fetch her Harry."
"Hang on," he worked the ring again and concentrated. Too many people in the club. He'd have to pop back into that alley. "Be right back Gin, not to worry." He gave a halfhearted smile.
"Don't call me Gin." She smiled back, and then he grabbed his cloak and ran out the door.
He couldn't bear to wait for the lifts, and proceeded to run down the twelve flights of stairs back to the lobby and the apparation point. He concentrated on the same darkened corner of the alley that he'd just come from and CRACK, he was gone.
***
He stepped out of the darkness and immediately headed for the club. The first thing that struck him was that there was no line of people like before. Then he noticed the bouncer sitting on the ground in front of the entrance. He was talking to himself, loudly, and pulling at his legs.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked before entering the club.
"I don't know what happened," the formerly imposing man looked quite embarrassed. "There was this girl, and I tried to, um," he looked away for a second, "I tried to talk to her, but then she said something funny, and then I fell down. I had to squirm for the last half an hour just to make it this far!"
'Hermione!' Harry thought. He glanced around, making certain that he'd be unseen, then drew his wand and performed the countercurse to the Leg Locker jinx. The man looked up appreciatively at Harry.
"Merci!" He wiggled his legs, then vigorously rubbed them to rid the numbness. "What did you do?"
"Obliviate!' Harry leaned towards the man, who had a blank expression on his face, then spoke softly to him.
"You made a lewd comment to one of the girls in line. Her boyfriend flattened you, and that's how you got on the ground."
The bouncer blinked a couple of times, then looked at Harry.
"Where did he go?!"
"Um, who?"
"That bâtard who hit me?" He began rubbing at the imaginary bruise on his jaw.
"I saw someone run off down the alley," Harry pointed back towards the coffee shop. The bouncer got up, then went stalking off in that direction.
Harry ran into the club, and began desperately searching for Hermione. There were definitely a greater number of people in here than earlier, and Harry had an idea that was because Hermione had given them all free reign to enter. He had to push and shove his way from point to point to find her. After five minutes he began to get extremely impatient, and then worried that maybe he had missed her. He made his way toward a wall, then turned away from everyone, and used his ring again.
"Show me," and then he braced himself for the dizziness. It was stronger now, but he held his concentration. He could still see the same images from earlier, which meant she had to be here. But where?
He used the ring again, but this time he pushed harder, remembering the odd side effect it had caused before. At first he could see the same thing - flashes of the club. But as he focused, the images changed. His perspective changed - he was dancing, and then there were hands on him, and when he turned he was looking at some guy with green eyes and a predatory grin...
'WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT!?'
He lost the connection at his momentary surprise. Then turned back towards the room and tried to figure out where they were. But the place was too crowded. He'd have to try again.
This time he could see the room bobbing in front of him through a multicolored haze, then it hit him - hard. First he was dizzy and lightheaded, completely discombobulated from the alcohol, and just when he was learning how to cope with her physical state, that's when her emotions hit, and Harry thought his head and heart would burst from the devastation of it. She was so sad - so completely lost, and even though some part of him knew that the alcohol had amplified these feelings - just the thought of her being in that much pain made him hurt deeply. And then he was looking from her point of view again - she had moved closer to this man - then extremely close, as if he had grabbed her. Then Harry got the second greatest shock of the evening. A feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before - a potent stab of erotic thrill went through her - went through him - and he felt a flush of heat wash over him. It completely eradicated everything she had been feeling before - all the pain and sadness she felt had been smothered.
From her point of view he saw her move painfully close to that man again, then she must have closed her eyes, because everything went black with faint bursts of color. With those bursts Harry felt his pulse race in time with hers. Was she kissing him? Oh Merlin, she was KISSING HIM! And then her vision came back, the ceiling of the club coming into view as another excited rush went through her, causing Harry's skin to tingle everywhere. Parts of his anatomy went berserk, and then this guy... this BASTARD... came swimming into focus again.
Harry forcibly threw himself out of the connection. He was horrified and in complete and utter shock. As his mind became his own again, he realized the true urgency of the situation. He scanned the room in a near panic, until, finally, he spotted them on one of the many elevated platforms in the club. Then he immediately regretted finding them, because at the moment they were snogging each other like mad. Harry felt a pounding in his head and his hands squeezed into tight fists, nearly causing him to snap his wand. He began to shove and push his way through the throbbing crowd, but he didn't seem to be gaining ground nearly fast enough. He never took his eyes from them, and then, to his horror...
'DID HE JUST SQUEEZE HER ARSE?!'
But Harry realized that he was more horrified when Hermione not only didn't object, but turned and left with him out the back exit.
Harry went into full blown panic mode! Hermione - his Hermione! (and when on earth had he begun to think of her that way?) - was leaving with some strange man! Some strange man who obviously had some seriously deviant activities in mind and SHE DIDN'T CARE!! But worst of all, Harry realized, was that this was all his fault - he had driven her to this! And he couldn't push through this crowd! They wouldn't budge and Harry was watching Hermione walk out of his life and couldn't do anything to stop her!
***************
A/N: Well - it's time to 'fess up. You, dear reader, have been drawn into, what is quite possibly, the longest song fic ever. This whole story was inspired by one song, and the side of a plumbing van (more on that when I finish this beast). So, knowing how some people either love or loathe song fics, I decided to leave the song portion of it out. If you're interested, the lyrics appear below - if not, skip them completely and forget I ever said anything.
:^)
P.S. - I won't take nearly as long for the next update (I hope.) Sorry for the delay.
Into a Darkened Room
(it's credited as Depeche Mode, but I don't think
that's accurate)
Daylight bleeds to darkness
Desire comes over you
You enter to the fire
You know what you have to do
You've got your perfect face on
Your body is dressed to kill
Breathe in one last breath now
Push out all that's real
You feel it
You feel a need
You feel it
I need to feel you
If temptation is too much
You're excited by the fear
You're hungry for a stranger's touch
True love disappears
Into a darkened room
And somewhere there's a warm heart
To whom which you are bound
But it's hard to feel the warmth here
When that heart is not around
So the body's an icy tomb
And dying to be fulfulled
With one thrust of sweet passion
True love's coffin will be sealed
You feel it
You feel a need
You feel it
I need to feel you
And temptation gets too much
You're excited by the fear
You're hungry for a stranger's touch
True love disappears
Into a darkened room