The Growing Darkness & the Fading Light
Chapter 5
Harry let his eyelids droop until only a sliver of emerald cut through the black veil of his eyelashes, causing the hallways to blur indistinctly as he departed the dungeons. In this detached state, he could feel his anger slowly untangle itself from the fabric of his mind as he numbly ascended the staircase to Gryffindor Tower, vaguely noting the scrape of his shoes against the marble underfoot.
He entered the common room and immediately fell onto the couch opposing the fireplace. Leaning back into the ample cushions, he closed his eyes and forced his breathing to become deep and rhythmic; expelling additional bits of anger with each exchange of air.
Many minutes passed before Harry pushed himself out of the protective comfort of the cushions and bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. With a melancholy sigh, he began pushing his fingers along his scalp, furthering the calming effects of his dazed walk from the dungeons. He massaged the final fragments of frustration away, leaving him sitting in disbelieving wonder at the situation in which he found himself.
Within the framework of reason, he could not fathom any justification for Snape's persistent malice towards him. The Potions Master's continual need to punish him for the sins of his father seemed to know no limits. Even in the absence of the prophecy and the shadow of Lord Voldemort hovering over him, Harry's tenure at Hogwart's would have been a tortuous journey, an uneven path strewn with stones Snape had cast his way.
He amused himself for a few moments with thoughts of what he must have done in a previous life to deserve this kind of providence before settling his gaze on the blackened stonework of the empty fireplace before him. At first, he saw only the sizeable stain of soot blasted against the masonry, but soon after, his eyes lost their focus and he began to distinguish random shapes and patterns within the field of darkness.
Harry intuitively recognized the beauty hidden among the subtle swirls and irregular gashes, made heavy by the frequent fires shelter there. At another time or under different conditions, he seriously doubted if he would have had the clarity of mind to notice or appreciate the concealed contours he had discovered. He slid off the couch and edged closer to the fireplace, placing his hand on the tarnished mantle to support himself as he leaned into the opening. His inspection, however, was abruptly cut short by the soft click of footsteps emerging from the portrait hole. He pushed himself upright, giving one final glance at the soot deposits he was examining, but the unusual details seemed to be lost again. Thinking he must have imagined it, he dropped his hand from the mantle and turned to greet Hermione.
"Hey," he said lightly as she rounded the corner.
"Harry?" she said, glancing down at her watch. "What happened to your lessons with Professor Snape?"
He sank back onto the couch, sitting on his hands and staring at her feet.
"I don't right get it myself," he said looking up at her over the rim of his glasses, "but I think I may have pissed him off a bit,"
"Harry!" she exclaimed, stomping over to stand in front of him. "What do you mean, you pissed him off?"
"Well, you know how he gets," Harry said defensively, "he just started pushing my buttons to see how far he could make me go and I kinda blew up at him. Next thing I know, I'm waking up, magically bound and unable to speak. He lectured me, gave me homework, and left."
Hermione sat down on the couch next to him, looking at him sadly.
"Don't start Hermione," he said warningly.
"Don't start what?" she asked nonplussed.
"Don't start lecturing me like I'm some four-year-old. I know-,"
"Harry."
"-I lost my temper and I-,"
"Harry!"
"-shouldn't have, but I don't need-,"
"HARRY!"
"What!" he snapped.
"I'm not going to lecture you," she said in her normal voice again. "I'm sure Snape was being a right prat."
"Oh…" he said dumbly. "Sorry."
"It's all right, Harry. I'm just worried. I want you to be done with these lessons as soon as possible. I don't think Snape is the right person to teach you the Dark Arts."
Harry found himself in the strange position of defending Snape.
"Name one person on our side that has better knowledge of Voldemort and the Dark Arts," he challenged.
"I realize that," she said sedately, "but I'll bet Snape buried himself in the Dark Arts growing up. The fact that he emerged on our side is a miracle in itself. He's going to be walking a razor's edge teaching you." She bit her lip nervously and looked hard into his eyes. "I don't want you to be there when he slips."
Harry was at a loss for words. He stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. He hadn't considered Snape's risk in this. What if the temptation for Snape was too severe? Did Harry really want to be caught alone in the dungeons of an empty castle when Snape fell back into the fold?
Hermione rose and stepped into his space, barring Harry from treading any further.
"Just be careful," she said, taking up his hand. "I like my Harry just the way he is."
His worries about Snape's deficiencies fled from his mind, replaced by the profound simplicity of Hermione's sentiment.
I'm hers.
He brought his free hand up to her jaw, guiding it along the edge of her face, acutely aware of his quickening pulse and the crumbling walls surrounding his heart.
I'm hers. She's mine.
The now familiar warring in his heart and mind resumed their ongoing battle. The mental anguish that he had so carefully coaxed away before returned tenfold. Yet, despite the torture he placed upon himself, he could not restrain his finger from working its way down her face, coming to rest softly underneath her chin, urging it upwards with the slightest bit of pressure to bring her face in line with his. He saw her gaze dance back and forth between his eyes and mouth, waiting for him to confirm her hopes. Fixing his gaze with hers, he brought his finger up over the curve of her chin and across her parted lips, pausing momentarily to allow her to press a firm kiss into the swirls on his fingertip.
He broke the tie binding their eyes together and looked to her mouth, silencing all arguments and bringing the moment to a crashing halt. A long black line of soot marred her smooth skin from just beneath her ear to the softness under her chin and up to finish where his finger still rested against her lips.
Harry hid his soot stained hand behind his back and stepped back from her fighting to keep a smile off of his face.
"I'm really sorry, Hermione," he said as neutrally as he could manage.
Hermione was crestfallen and walked somberly to gaze out of the window, not realizing Harry had unintentionally transferred soot from the mantle to her cheek, chin, and lips.
"It's alright, Harry," she said, poorly masking her disappointment. "I know things are hard for you right now."
"It's not that, Hermione," he said, biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from laughing.
With a frustrated groan, she spun sharply to look at him. "Then what is it? I can't keep doing this, Harry. This `almost' relationship we keep playing with is killing me. If you can't be with me now, fine! But don't make me think you're going to kiss me every time were together."
Harry knew this should be a serious conversation, but he couldn't hold back the smile any longer. That was a big mistake.
"Is this some game to you, Harry?" she yelled as she advanced on him. His grin evaporated instantly.
"Of course not," he said emphatically, backpedaling and putting his hands up in front of him, gesturing for her to stop. "It was an accident… I-, I-, I didn't' realize."
Hermione suddenly stopped her progress, her eyes darting from Harry to his outstretched hands and back again. This happened several times before she brought her own hand up to her cheek, dragging it roughly through the grime marring her skin. Harry saw that much of the soot had been wiped away. She looked into her hand, before turning her penetrating gaze on him.
"An accident?" she said, marching over to the couch. Harry continued to back up to the bottom of the stairs leading to the dormitories.
"Er-, well-, yeah," he stuttered. His eyes flicked over to the mantle and the telltale smudge where he had placed his hand. "You see, I didn't realize I had put my hand in the soot… when I was at the fireplace. And then you came in and, er-, well I was kinda distracted."
Harry believed he might be getting somewhere with her when he thought he saw her restraining a grin, but he couldn't be sure if he'd really seen it. She paused momentarily from undoing the fastenings on her bag to glance over at the fireplace eyeing the smeared soot suspiciously. With a trademark huff, she resumed searching her bag feverishly.
"Er-, Hermione…what are you looking for?"
"My wand," she answered coldly.
"Shit," Harry muttered, stepping backward onto the first step. "Accio," he said loudly, holding his hand out to collect his wand as it flew to him from the couch. Hermione didn't look up, but smiled momentarily at the display of wandless magic before returning to her bag.
"Aha!" Hermione exclaimed, clearly a bad sign.
That did it for Harry. He turned and sprinted up the stairs to his dorm room. The slam of the bedroom door behind him echoed up and down the staircase, but Harry thought he could still hear Hermione's methodical footsteps on each stone step. Grinning ear to ear, he looked around frantically for an escape before seizing on an idea. He faced the door and held his wand in front of him.
"Colloportus," he muttered. He knew it wouldn't stop her, but it might buy him the few moments he needed. He quickly ran around the room drawing the shades over each of the windows. The jiggle of the lock announced Hermione's arrival.
"Oh please, Harry," she said, muffled by the thick oak door. "Surely, you can do better than this."
Harry dove beneath Neville's bed, hoping his suspicions about the spells would be correct. Hermione's muffled voiced sound again and the door to the dorm room creaked open. Some light still filtered in around the edges of the shades and from the stairs. He just needed Hermione to start searching by his or Ron's bed.
"Isn't this something more befitting a Slytherin, Harry?" she asked the room in an amused tone. "Running and hiding like this is so very un-Gryffindor."
Harry watched her feet track towards his bed in the feeble light. When she finally reached the foot of his bed, he seized the opportunity and gave his wand a subtle flick. The bedroom door slowly crept shut, dimming the room further. It let one small creak escape as it finally closed fully, the lock sliding into place with a resounding click. Harry choked down a mischievous laugh as he saw Hermione's feet start creeping back towards the door.
He composed himself quickly in order to attempt the spell he had in mind. He was about to whisper the incantation when Hermione spoke.
"You know, Harry," she purred, "if you wanted to get me into your bedroom, you need only have asked."
Harry's head rose sharply, banging solidly into the wood frame of Neville's bed. Hermione spun quickly, chuckling and approached his hiding spot.
She levitated Neville's bed to rise off the ground. Harry's astonishment at her brazenness wore off quickly and he rattled off the spells in rapid succession, much as Snape had done earlier.
"Nox Aerturnus. Nigrum Aspectus. Umbrae Passus."
He felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins as the room fell into a deep blackness, obliterating any and all light sources. The darkness only existed for a fraction of a second before the walls and furniture took on a bluish hue. He caught a brief glimpse of Hermione's form before the bed came crashing down above him. The exposed portions of her skin glowed in a fierce red, while the parts hidden by clothing were a muted orange.
"Harry?" Hermione called warily. "What did you just do?"
Harry scurried quickly across the floor, cringing initially when he felt the vibration of his belt buckle scraping across the floor, but relaxed when no sound emerged from it. Hermione seemed to have given up trying to coax Harry into speaking and was now attempting to light her wand.
"Lumos. Lumos. LUMOS!" Hermione gave up, groaning loudly in frustration. "What did you do!"
Confident with the success of his spells, Harry popped to his feet and trod a wide circle around her, approaching her kneeling form from the rear. Apparently, she was still under the impression that he was hiding under Neville's bed.
"Fine, Harry," she exasperated, turning to sit on the stone floor with her back to Neville's footboard. "You win. Now turn the lights back on!"
Forcing his amusement under control, Harry held his breath as he crept over to her and knelt down next to her, placing his mouth inches from her ear. His proximity to her brought the welcome scent of her perfume, mixing in with her own unique scent. "I don't," he began, but Hermione started violently, clearly not realizing that Harry was so close.
"Bloody hell, Harry!" she yelled, pushing him roughly onto his backside. "You scared the shit out of me!"
Harry was laughing hard now and had to spend a few moments gathering himself before he could speak again. "Such language, Miss Granger," he teased, sliding up next to her on the floor. "I expect your parents would be very disappointed to here you speak like that."
"Well, fortunately they are not here, but having Ron as a friend for so many years can't help but wear off on you," she retorted. "Now really, Harry, turn on the lights."
"I tried to tell you before freaked out. I don't exactly know the counters just yet. That's my homework for tomorrow."
Crossing her legs, Hermione brandished her wand again. "Finite," she said softly, grinning slightly at Harry once the light reentered the room again.
Harry nudged his shoulder into hers. "I got the best of Hermione Granger," he said smugly.
She nudged him back. "It won't happen again, I can assure you of that."
She climbed to her feet and stood in front of Harry, offering him her hand. "Come on."
Allowing her to help him to his feet, he asked, "Where to?"
"First, we both have to clean up and then were off to the library. You've homework to do and there is no way I am going to be outdone by The-Boy-Who-Has-The-World's-Worst-Study-Habits," she said tartly.
"Now that is totally unfair!" he answered in mock indignation, grabbing up his schoolbag and his copy of Delving Into the Dark Arts. He paused to enjoy the familiar feel of the midnight-blue leather beneath his fingers before continuing. "I am certainly no worse than Ron. And, for that matter, Seamus, Dean, and Neville have nothing to be proud of either." Hermione smirked and led the way out of the dorm room.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. By the time Harry had to leave for Occlumency, he had completed his homework and needed only to practice the spells and their counters that evening to be prepared for Snape's next lesson.
"You know, Harry," Hermione said as they gathered their belongings. "We keep this up and you'll run the risk of becoming a quality student."
"Surprising," Harry said thoughtfully, "you'd think spending hours completely alone with a pretty girl would be an obstacle to good grades." Hermione's lips pursed modestly at his words causing Harry to mentally pat himself on the back.
Hermione left him at the entrance to Dumbledore's office and Harry couldn't help but be disappointed that she didn't give him another kiss. He watched her walk away down the hall, tilting his head appraisingly as he couldn't quite stifle the nigh sixteen year-old in him. Feeling a touch guilty, but happy with his evaluation he muttered the password to the headmaster's office and began thinking about Occlumency again.
Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk waiting, when Harry finally reached the office.
"Good afternoon, Harry."
"Sir," Harry answered, slipping into the chair across from the headmaster.
"I understand that you've already learned quite a bit about Occlumency from Professor Snape," Harry's face clouded, recalling the very unpleasant lessons with the Potions Master, "but I want us to start with a clean slate, as if you are just being introduced to the subject for the first time."
Harry's watched Professor Dumbledore as he stood up and began pacing back and forth behind his long desk, keeping the corner of one of his eyes on Harry while he did so.
"Occlumency, Harry, and its counterpart, Legilimency, are implemented in a variety of ways. For example, external penetration of the mind can be forced upon the subject in a most brutal fashion. This method is very dangerous for the recipient and can be nearly as dangerous for the Legilimens as well. Professor Snape used this method with you previously to a much lesser degree, enabling both of you to come out of the lessons relatively unscathed."
Harry suppressed a snort. Dumbledore seemed not to have noticed or chose, at least, to ignore Harry's reaction.
"He was able to force your mind to relive whatever memories he found there," he continued. "On the other hand, there are more subtle ways of manipulating the mind, as Lord Voldemort used with you in the past."
Harry's jaw clenched intuitively, remembering the bitter price of his foolishness. The headmaster paused in his strides to look seriously at Harry.
"Do not be angry at yourself, Harry. You could not have known the vision Lord Voldemort was placing in your mind was not of your own creation, just as you do not know that I have been monitoring your thoughts and emotions since you arrive here moments ago."
Harry felt himself wanting to get angry with Dumbledore for invading his mind without permission, but was curiously unable to do so. He was still upset at the indiscretion, but instead of railing at the headmaster, his thoughts drifted to his Firebolt and he was overcome with the need to go flying to ease his temper.
Professor Dumbledore turned from Harry and walked over to gaze out the window overlooking the Hogwart's grounds.
"A beautiful day for flying, don't you think?" he said wistfully. "I imagine, with a decent broom, one could easily find peace of mind amongst the clouds."
The headmaster's eyes displayed their customary twinkle when Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry's comprehending face again.
"You see, Harry. When the mind is not prepared for a mental assault, a wizard can easily be caught unawares. Last year was a difficult year for all of Hogwart's, but most especially for you as you, in particular, seemed to have drawn Professor Umbridge's most vehement ire. In addition to this, the lack of information provided to you regarding the activities of Lord Voldemort understandably added to your frustration, making it much easier for Voldemort's to plant visions in your head."
Harry noted that the twinkle had faded from Dumbledore's eyes, replaced by a flicker of sadness.
"So how do I prepare my mind?" Harry asked. "The best advice I got from Snape was to empty it of emotion, but he never told me how."
The headmaster resumed his seat, before answering.
"Close your eyes. Close them slowly." Harry took out his wand before complying, preparing himself as he had done previously with Snape.
"You won't need your wand, Harry. This is merely a mental exercise that will help you balance your emotions in order to prepare your mind."
Harry set his wand down on Dumbledore's desk and closed his eyes.
"Now, I want you to start with the muscles in your face and begin relaxing them," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Work your way down your body to your toes until you feel your whole body is fully at ease. Be certain to not skip any parts of your body, this will free your mind from the tension locked up in your muscles, allowing it to focus on any external intrusions. Once you feel your body fully relax, begin ignoring all input from your senses one by one until your mind is completely focused only on your thoughts."
Harry felt his body sink into his chair as his body began to relax. Gradually, his focus began to shift from the customary tenseness in his body to concentrate only on the sounds filling his ears. The sounds drifted away and Harry's mind began to wander, ignoring all input from the environment, until Dumbledore's voice brought him back to reality.
"Keep your eyes closed, Harry," the headmaster said from somewhere behind him, "but focus on your breathing; keep it deep and rhythmic. We are going to try and sensitize your mind to the moment another enters it."
"All right," Harry said softly, shifting his attention to his breathing. He felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling in regular intervals. This continued for several minutes before his mind began to wander. Dumbledore was taking a long time attempt to break into his mind. He hadn't even heard him speak the incantation yet.
Harry found himself reviewing the events of the day: Snape's lesson, Hermione's near kiss, his ambush of her in the dorm, the study session in the library. He began to feel the hairs along the nape of his neck stand on end, though no breeze disturbed the air within the headmaster's office. The sensation was followed by a distant, steady beating, almost imperceptible to his mind. At first, he thought it might simply be his heightened awareness monitoring the blood flow coursing through his veins, but as he focused on it more, he discovered that it was out of time with his own pulse. Realization dawned on him and he pushed himself to concentrate harder on the headmaster's slow, steady heartbeat.
As he applied his mind to the task of scrutinizing the foreign palpitations, each subsequent thump of Dumbledore's heartbeat rang louder as the seconds slipped by, quickly matching the volume of his own increasingly erratic pulse. With his diligent breathing long since evaporated, Harry found himself incapable of isolating his own heartbeat from the din of noise cluttering his thoughts. He dug his fingernails into the fabric of the chair arms as he sought a distinction between the irregular staccato of his heartbeat and the steady drumming of Professor Dumbledore's when, suddenly, the irregular beating of his own heart was all that echoed through his mind.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, now sitting comfortably in his chair again. "Tell me what you experienced?" he continued, ignoring Harry's apparent failure.
Harry opened his eyes and restored his breathing to normal before answering.
"It seemed to be going well at first. I was able to focus on my breathing, but it seemed to be taking forever and my mind began to wander; I never even heard you speak the incantation. After a while, I could hear your heartbeat in my head and I started focusing on it. It grew louder and louder as time went on and pretty soon, I couldn't tell your heartbeat from my own. After that, you broke the connection."
Dumbledore contemplated Harry's words for several moments over his folded hands.
"At what point do you think I entered your mind?" he asked appraisingly.
"I think it was when I first felt your heartbeat."
"Good, Harry. You are absolutely correct. The various involuntary thoughts that are required to maintain the functions of our bodies cannot be wholly masked when performing Leglimency. The most talented Legilimens are the ones capable of keeping this signal hidden, thus avoiding detection by the subject's mind they are attempting to break into."
Harry nodded while the headmaster explained this. "So does Occlumency work the same?"
"Yes it does. As you become more proficient with Occlumency, you will be better able to hide your own biological indicator, as it where, and discern the presence of an outsider's much more readily. Additionally, once a connection has been established, diligent effort will allow you to be able to push back into the Legilimens mind."
Harry leaned forward in his seat. "That happened last year with Snape!"
"Yes, Professor Snape, told me about that success." Dumbledore replied casually. "I anticipate, given the proper environment, you will be quite the talented Occlumens. Now, let's resume your practice, I was actually present in your mind when it first began to wander. I would like to see you able to sense the exact moment that someone enters your mind."
Harry walked back to Gryffindor tower, gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his skull. Despite being much less aggressive in his effort to teach Harry Occlumency, Professor Dumbledore's repeated assaults still left his mind vulnerable and aching.
The headmaster continued penetrating his mind in the same manner for the remainder of the hour. Harry's focus on his breathing was so acute that he remained ignorant of the headmaster speaking, but always his mind began to wander and he soon became aware of the foreign heartbeat shortly thereafter. By the time they concluded the lesson, he was capable of maintaining his focus on his breathing for longer and once his mind did start to wander, it was for subsequently smaller periods of time before the onset of the steady cadence of Dumbledore's biorhythms.
Collapsing onto the couch in the common room, Harry closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples to massage away the painful pounding in his temples. He began to focus once again on his breathing, urging his mind to shut out the outside world until he could master the pain in his head.
The sudden, unanticipated contact against his face jarred him from his solitude. His eyes snapped open and he saw Hermione's face lit by the sun filtering through the window. The soft smile she offered did little to hide the concern behind her eyes.
"Let me, Harry," she said softly, sliding her fingers beneath his and dutifully taking over massaging away his pain.
Harry watched her in rapt admiration. Their eyes met occasionally as she eased the hurt from his weary mind. She was beautiful, he knew. Though, not many of the boys in Hogwart's seemed to recognize it since she didn't put the effort into flaunting it like Parvati and Lavender did. He suspected most guys would think she was cute enough and move along to the young women that paraded themselves around for the guys to gawk at. Hermione had more self respect than that and that kind of grace served only to enhance her allure in his eyes, he realized. Keeping her head above the fray and on more important things was her greatest attraction and Harry found himself extremely glad that most other guys didn't notice her in anything more than a fleeting moment. She deserved to be treated as more than a trophy. Her beauty warranted appreciation that went well beyond her features; it delved to the heart of love itself. If you weren't ready to fall in love for real, you weren't ready to be with Hermione.
That was it. That was the moment Harry fell in love with her. He had taken the mental leap that superseded simple teenage attraction and dove headlong into something that could grow into his greatest strength and most profound weakness.
Their eyes met a final time and they held one another's gaze as Harry pondered these revelations. His gaze was intense as he urged himself to say what his heart felt. Finding himself unable to speak, he smiled softly at her as a curtain of her hair fell out of place, framing her face in waves of her chocolate locks. Tenderly, he lifted his hand to tuck the stray tendrils behind her ear. He slid his hand slowly down to the nape of her neck; resting it there he drew circles on her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Sliding over to make room for her, he tugged her gently down beside himself. Harry's heart began racing as her breath drifted across his neck and his eyes lost focus despite the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He allowed his head to loll back further into the cushions beneath it, closed his eyes and wearily conceded himself to the internal battle of wills emerging from the recesses of his psyche.
The mental volleys seemed to have reached a maddening impasse. Their relationship held such vivid texture; he knew that each step he took forward with her was inescapable and irreversible. The question became: would the next step with her begin the downward spiral or would it be his saving grace and at what cost?
In defiance, his heart screamed out brutally to damn it all, to forget about consequences, to forget about the pain of loss, and love her with every ounce of his soul. The sheer severity of passion he felt seemed to feed on itself as his love for her fueled his instinctual need to protect her and isolate her from the horrors he was facing, preventing him from pursuing that love in the first place.
Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder and he saw her eyes lined with expectation, hoping that this would be the moment of intimacy that would bring the long awaited kiss, the simple expression of love that would be the harbinger of his accepting her into his heart.
He brought his hand up to touch the smoothness of her cheek, disgusted at his own inability to restrain himself. He dragged his thumb back and forth along her lower lip, edging her mouth open further with each pass of his thumb. Her eyes burned with passion, locking with his; her breath washed over the back of his hand rushing through the upright hairs along the exposed flesh. She licked her lips in anticipation, brushing her tongue momentarily against his thumb, chasing any remaining rationale for resisting her from his mind. All opposition was cast aside as a foolish attempt to avoid the inevitable. His heart held all the power at the moment. It screamed out to him…
Damn it all...
His thumb slid effortlessly across her mouth, denying any feeling from the rest of his body.
Damn it all…
Blood pounded in his ears, obscuring all sound from his mind.
Damn it all…
He leaned towards her, the depths of her eyes the only thing he saw.
Fuck it all…
She was his only sensory input. She was his everything.
I'm hers. She's mine.
His chest heaved, struggling to maintain air in his lungs.
Fuck it all…
He blinked and his lips were crushed against hers. Visions of tenderness were forgotten as the cascade of pent up emotions issued forth from their bodies unchecked. He pressed his body into hers trying to force their separate hearts into a single body. She pushed back in kind, drinking in every drop of passion flowing from him.
Macabre laughter rang through the vastness of Harry's consciousness, cold and malicious.
He knows. He's been watching… waiting…
In the shock of comprehension, he tore himself violently from her, screaming as he fell off the edge of the couch and onto the floor. The back of his skull cracked loudly off the stone floor and his glasses flew from his face, but the pain in his scar bore the brunt of his attention. He gritted his teeth against the pain and got to his feet backing towards the fireplace. Hermione was watching him fearfully, her face still flush with passion and her fingers resting against her swollen lips where he had kissed her.
Where I kissed her.
My kiss.
My kiss of death.
The cold stone of the empty fireplace pressed into his back and he could retreat no further. He sank to the floor. The laughter and pain subsided only to be replaced with shame and guilt. He pulled his hand away from his forehead and saw stars amidst his vision of Hermione rushing to him.
"Harry," she breathed, grasping his face in both her hands. "What happened, what did you see?"
Harry couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "He knows, Hermione. He knows."
A/N: Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I had to carefully word things here so I hope you forgive the tardiness. On top of that, I'm back to work, so the time available for writing has dried up considerable. Hope you enjoyed the piece.
Also, you can blame carondelet as well. Frequent e-mail exchanges with her interfered with my writing times as well. (MLS - I think this make us even, no? And I beat you in getting my Chapter 5 up first, hah!) Seriously, you should go read her fic in progress: HP and the Black Society. It's a brilliantly written piece. Cheers to one and all!
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