A/N: Yeah, I hate cliffies myself, so I couldn't bear to make you all wait either. Thanks again for the kind (and persistent) words of encouragement. And so begins the next chapter...
And just for grins and giggles, see if you can find the Cure lyric hidden within.
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Discomfiture
When Harry was younger, before he knew anything of magic or wizards, he possessed the instinctive capability to perform magic when dire or emotional situations arose. If he was pushed to the breaking point, he would intuitively lash out. He could never explain what had happened, or why, but when the necessity of the situation forced him into using his unknown abilities, he was capable of doing extremely rare and often potent feats of wandless magic out of pure instinct.
This was one of those situations.
Without realizing it, Harry projected a channel of energy directly from himself towards the direction Hermione had gone. This channel pushed and shoved everyone between the two of them aside. He watched in amazement as the dense throng of people before him parted in a nearly biblical manner. He stood in surprise for just a moment before making his way through the crowd. Oblivious, patrons closed in behind him as he passed, resuming their previous activities.
***
A dim light illuminated the doorway of the alley that Hermione now found herself in with her handsome and quite willful stranger. He was persistent in deepening their snogging session from earlier, and, much to her surprise, this included some serious groping as well.
Her voice of reason seemed to have finally disappeared. For just a moment it saddened her. She recognized that this path was the death of her former self and quite possibly the creation of some new and terrible person. She should have been frightened, but the copious amount of alcohol was doing it's job quite nicely.
In fact, a brief thought flitted through her mind. What if anyone she knew could see her like this? She could feel a small laugh bubble to the surface as she imagined the shocked looks of someone like Lavender or Parvati - any of the girls who had so ruthlessly referred to her as 'the youngest old maid they had ever known'.
She imagined strutting in front of her former classmates with her devastatingly attractive stranger. She could picture the looks of disbelief as she not only flaunted him, but transfigured from her former self, hunched over in school robes with a stack of books, to what she was now, this beautiful girl in revealing clothing. Certainly a girl who was more likely to draw attention from the opposite sex. Oh no, they would never believe it.
Playing out this fantasy in her head, combined with the obvious elicit thrill of her current situation, made her head swim. But then, as her stranger (and she couldn't call him anything else, the thought of 'lover' startled her too much, and 'boyfriend' or 'date' were simply disproportionate to the activity she was currently engaged in) pulled her closer and began to work his hand beneath the back of her blouse, somehow it made her think of Harry. She flashed on that hug they had shared in another alley, which seemed to have been a million years ago. And then she thought of her little fantasy and wondered what if Harry were there? What if he were here? Would he see her differently? Would the picture of her as a girl ('well, quite honestly, if I keep this up, more likely a woman,' she thought) who was desired by someone else - would that be enough to bring him around?
Just as this flicker of hope suddenly sprang forth, it died as quickly.
'It didn't work with Viktor - why should it work now?' Not the same voice as before. This one was much darker.
'You're right,' she thought sadly. Then she broke free from the stranger and looked at him. The sudden loss of her startled him, and he looked at her.
"What...," he was breathless. "What's the matter? Have I done something wrong?"
"No...," she smiled sadly. "No. I just wanted to look at you. To look at your beautiful green eyes." If it was the closest thing she could ever have, then she'd make the most of it.
He was momentarily confused, then smiled back at her while gently cupping her cheek.
"You are beautiful you know. You must know that."
It was as if he knew exactly what to say - what she was going through. A tear slipped freely from her eye and he brushed it away.
"What is your name?"
"Please - I don't... I don't want to remember who I am... who I was..."
"I understand." And as she stared at him, she saw he did understand. She realized that he had probably been in this situation before, perhaps numerous times. He was older, maybe by as much as ten years, but certainly not more than that. She hadn't realized this before, she'd been much too distraught. Perhaps this was what he did - preyed on young women who found themselves alone in a foreign land, away from home and probably their boyfriends for the first time. It was the stuff of trashy romance novels she'd heard about. A seductive older man and the lost young virgin - certainly a cliché she never considered would ever involve her. Yet somehow, she wasn't bothered by any of this.
But for all her sudden revelations, she did notice something significant. He had not persisted when she pulled back. He hadn't been obnoxiously rough or overly insistent. Whatever he may be, so far he had been a gentleman, of sorts. A bit aggressive perhaps, but he took no more than she was willing to give. He recognized her need, her despair, and he knew exactly what she required.
"Do you want to know my name," he asked softly.
She shook her head 'no' and then fell back into that soft and warm buzzing permeating her mind. She could pretend... she could imagine.
"Can I call you Harry?" She asked him, her voice shy in stark contrast with her previous actions.
"For you, I am Harry." He smiled again in complete understanding, then gently cupped both her cheeks and gave her a deep and passionate kiss.
***
Harry moved quickly towards the back of the club in pursuit of Hermione. His momentary triumph of making his way through the crowd quickly disappeared as he reached the area behind the elevated stages. He had expected to find an obvious door or exit. At the very least a nook where he might find them... ugh... he didn't even want to think about how he might find them.
What he did find was a series of doors and hallways. Some led to other portions of the building, some must be utility or storage rooms of some type. Harry couldn't be certain which was which and he felt his situation grow more desperate. For just a moment he considered using the ring again - but the thought of experiencing what Hermione was experiencing - it was too much. He couldn't bring himself to do it again.
So he worked the hallway as quickly as he could. He'd try doors, those that were locked he'd assume they hadn't used. The two other hallways led to both a kitchen and a set of offices and the DJ booth. He was certain they had come this way - where had they gone?
'I'll have to - I just need to not push so hard,' he thought. It was difficult to hold his own emotions in check. The urgency he felt, and the unexpected manifestation of wandless magic, he didn't know if he could control his own power. The need to get to Hermione was too great.
He forced himself to calm down. He leaned against the wall of the corridor and took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. If he couldn't do that first, he'd see and feel much more than he wanted. He gave it just a moment, and then...
"Show me."
Flashes of brick walls, some rubbish bins - it was an alley. Not the one he'd first appeared in - it must be out back, but where? There was a doorway dimly lit.. is that where she was? He tried to focus more. A small set a steps led up from a door... rubbed off lettering... La Salle Sombre... it was the exit to the club. How had he missed it?
He couldn't apparate. There was no way of knowing whether or not this mystery man was a muggle or not, and the last thing Harry needed to do was exacerbate the situation. He looked up and down the corridor. Where was it? He'd tried all the doors and the hallways dead ended into rooms. He forced himself to calm down again and looked over the corridor - five doors, all locked. He took slow and deliberate steps in trying each door again. He came to the fifth door, still locked, then released an exasperated sigh. He considered running outside through the front and finding a way around the building, but when he turned to leave, he realized that he hadn't walked the entire length of the corridor. He had stopped at the fifth door, but the dark hallway extended another 10 feet at least. He walked to the end, and almost had to hex himself for not realizing it before. The hallway bent in an 'L', and around the corner the exit door was clearly marked.
***
He nearly launched himself out the door and into the alley. He looked around, frantic, and recognized the images from before - the brick walls, the rubbish bins - and then, slightly angled from where he stood, was a dimly lit doorway, and...
"HERMIONE!"
"How did you know my name?" Hermione asked her stranger, as he suddenly broke their kiss.
"It seems, Hermione, that we have company." He gave a knowing smile, then nodded his head toward Harry.
She saw Harry running toward them from across the alley. Then she looked back at the man she had convinced herself was Harry at the moment. And then she was quite certain the alcohol had made her delusional, and she laughed.
"Why are there two you?" She looked at them both and her head began to hurt. She raised a hand to her temple and swayed. The stranger made a quick move to steady her and this infuriated Harry.
"You.. You STEP AWAY FROM HER!" He was shaking with anger, his face turning red as he yelled. It took all of his self control not to immediately grab his wand.
"I don't think that would be wise. It seems she is quite dizzy." The stranger maintained a civilized tone, as if Harry had merely asked him the time of day.
Hermione looked at the both of them again, and tears came back to her eyes.
"I.. I don't understand? Harry?" But she was looking at the stranger again. "What's happening?"
"What have you DONE TO HER!" Harry reached into his cloak. His hand tightly gripped his wand.
"I assure you, I've done nothing." Again, that calm and rational tone. "Perhaps it is you who has done, or maybe, hasn't done something?"
The color in Harry's face quickly drained away.
"What would you know about it?!" His voice was dangerously low.
"I know more than you might think. It is not the first time I've encountered a beautiful and obviously unappreciated young woman." He softly brushed the hair back from Hermione's forehead and Harry, despite what else he had witnessed this evening, felt an uncontrollable rage surface at this gentle and intimate gesture.
"Such women are meant to be cherished." He looked at Harry again. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Harry could only stare at him, utterly confused. In all the possible scenarios he could imagine - a duel with some new dark wizard or a fist fight with a smarmy drunk - this was utterly unexpected. He felt his anger slowly dissipate.
"Hermione, my dear," he kissed her gently on the forehead. "You are an amazing young woman. Never forget that you are beautiful, no matter what others may make you perceive to the contrary." He stepped back from her, steadying her shoulders. "If you should need me, ever again," he gave a quick glance at Harry, as if threatening him, "then I'll be here, waiting." He gave her another quick kiss, then returned to the club.
Hermione stood there, tears slipping freely down her cheeks.
"No.. no wait!" She turned, but he was already gone.
Harry slowly came up behind her, then took hold of her arm. The awkwardness of the situation weighed heavily on him, but for now, she was safe, and that was the most important thing.
"We, um, we should get back. Ginny's out of her mind with worry..."
"GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM ME!" Hermione pulled free from his grasp, her face blotted purple with anger.
"Hermione..." Harry was at a loss for words.
"NO! YOU GET AWAY! I'LL NOT LET YOU HURT ME EVER AGAIN!!" She turned and ran back towards the club.
Harry ran ahead of her, blocking her path.
"You're not going back in there?!"
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
"No! You're completely pissed and I'll not let you..."
"YOU won't LET ME!? WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"
"I'M YOUR BEST FRIEND!" He grabbed her shoulders, his anger rising again.
She pulled back from him.
"Don't you dare! You stopped being my friend the day I stopped being of use to you!" Her voice was low and threatening.
"That's not true! You know that's not true!" He grabbed her again, then shook her as he emphasized the point. He didn't know if he was more angry that she believed it, or that he had caused her to believe it.
"DON'T... DON'T LIE TO ME!" Her expression quickly changed from terribly angry to terribly hurt and her voice dropped. "I know what I am, what I was!" Tears were pouring down her face. "I don't want to be that person anymore! She let herself get used and lied to! She risked her life for you and would have died for you time and again, and when all was said and done you left her ALL ALONE! RUBBISH TO BE COLLECTED AFTER THE PARTY!!"
"That's not... I mean.. I never meant.."
"I HATE YOU!"
She felt a sick twinge of happiness at the hurt look on his face. He didn't know how much it hurt. He would never understand how thoroughly she'd been crushed. And whether it was her darker nature or just the effects of the alcohol, she wanted nothing more than to hurt him.
"I BLED for you!" She held up her scarred left hand to emphasize the accusatory statement. "I almost DIED because of you!" And she pulled her keyhole blouse to the side, revealing a nasty black starburst mark from Dolohov's curse she'd never shown anyone. "And when I thought you were gone - when I thought you had been completely incapacitated by Voldemort - I opened my SOUL up to you! And you crushed it! You completely destroyed it! Do you know what Harry! I wish I'd DIED that night! Because at least then I wouldn't have to live like this! I wouldn't have known what a LIAR you are, and what an IDIOT I've been!" She took a moment to revel in her sick glory, then took slow and deliberate steps past him and towards the door.
Harry stood there in complete and stunned silence. He knew that she was drunk, and from what had just happened a rather mean drunk at that. He knew what she had felt - he'd gotten that much from the connection he'd forged earlier when looking for her. It was intense and painful, and he had empathized. But this - everything she'd just blasted him with - he thought his heart might break from the agony of it. It left him completely devastated.
Throughout his life, everything he had ever had cause to blame himself for, always came back to the same thing. Everyone always told him 'it's not your fault Harry', 'you're being too hard on yourself Harry', 'don't be daft Harry.' And slowly, over the years, he'd finally come to accept this - but now... it truly was his fault.
After the shock wore off, he looked around, and found Hermione inches away from re-entering the club. He forced down his hurt, something he'd had years of practice mastering, and concentrated solely on her. On the imminent danger she was in.
"Don't!" He warned her.
"Why not?" She didn't bother to look at him.
"Because I know you, Hermione."
She gave a derisive snort.
"I know the real you. And you would never be able to forgive yourself for something as foolish as this."
She took a moment, then sighed, a long and slow sigh of contemplation. The venom seemed to have left her system, and she turned to face him, another tear falling down her cheek.
"Honestly Harry, why do you even care?" Her voice was whisper soft.
"Because, despite whatever you may think, despite whatever I've led you to believe, I am still your friend. I always have been."
"Don't," she was slowly dissolving into sobs, "just leave me be."
"I won't. I won't let you go in there. I won't let you go on believing that you're unwanted, Hermione. I know what you're feeling..."
"You don't You couldn't!!"
"I do. I can't explain now, but I do, and I promise, we'll work this through." He walked over and grabbed her tightly, and she began sobbing.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I did this to you." He held her and tried to smooth her pink tinted hair.
She cried for awhile, trying to take solace in his arms.
"Let me go Harry." Her muffled sobs came up from his chest.
"I won't Hermione. I promise. I'll not let you go again." He pressed his own damp cheek against her head.
"No Harry... let me go."
He wiped at his face, then loosened his arms and looked at her.
"Hermione, I promise. Never again will I let you go." He looked at her in earnest.
She looked up, the strangest expression on her face. Then she threw up.
He let her go.
"Oh Merlin! Hermione, are you alright?!" He kneeled down beside her, and she fell to her knees and continued to retch.
Harry had no experience whatsoever in dealing with someone as sick as Hermione was at the moment. He pulled her hair back and used a vanishing charm to do away with.. with whatever it was they had had at dinner. He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose, but he was steadfast. He helped her throughout the worst of it, and when she was done, he helped her to stand.
She looked at him, her face puffy and swollen, her head aching like the end of the world. Her voice was a raspy groan.
"Harry, I'm so sorry..."
"It's alright, it'll come out."
"I'm not feeling too good."
"I know. Don't worry, I'll get you back."
"No... Harry. I can't... I can't let them see me like this..." she almost started crying again.
"I'll not let them see you like this. I promise."
The last thing Hermione remembered before passing out was a familiar soft blue light emanating from Harry's wand. It soothed her face, and then she was being carried, and then... then nothing.
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