Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who's taken the time to leave a review for chapters 1-3. It really does mean a lot to me, even if it's just a single sentence. Thanks again to my wonderful betas, MPotter77, MollyMoon and Abigail, for their highly constructive criticism. I'm sorry this is a little bit behind schedule; my computer was down for almost a week and we've had some illness in my family. But that's all done now so I hope to get back to the schedule I'd initially posted. Anyway, the plot really begins to thicken in this chapter, which is rated hard-R (don't worry, we will get to the NC-17 stuff eventually). - Anne U
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Chapter 4
August 14, 2004
Still no response from Potter and the Mudblood. I sent the second note to them on Tuesday night, but Salazar came back with empty talons once again. What is wrong with those two? Aren't they listening to me? Wasn't my message clear enough? What in Merlin's name do I have to do to get their attention-stand in front of them naked and wank Potter? Actually that might be over the top. I wouldn't want to do anything that Granger would enjoy, or Potter either for that matter. Well, he might enjoy it but I wonder how she would feel watching someone else's hand milking his bone. Would it make her knickers wet or would she want to vomit? What if I dropped to my knees in front of him? Would he push me away, or would he let me do it? Does he really want her filthy lips and tongue on him or is he just using her? He's not a Mudblood like her. Some people even think he's the heir of Godric Gryffindor. I always wondered, after reading Hogwarts, A History, whether old Godric was poking Rowena in the kitchens behind Salazar's back. Wouldn't surprise me at all if the big row that broke up the Founders was about who was going to shag Rowena. I've read that Rowena Ravenclaw was the cleverest witch of her age, but if she picked a goody two-shoes like Gryffindor over someone with ambition, like Slytherin, she couldn't have been all that clever. I don't actually want to take Potter's…thing…in my mouth. To be honest, that would be disgusting. I mean, why would I want any dick that's been inside a Mudblood? I can do so much better than St. Potter the Great. He's been moping around town the past few days, looking like a lost puppy dog. That must mean Granger is out of town and he has no one to bone. I will keep a close eye on him the next day or two. I believe I now have the means necessary to convince them to listen to my words. I just need to make sure the timing is right. But when it is…they will be very sorry they've ignored me.
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Hermione Granger stood in the foyer of the Hotel Diane in Carnac, on the coast of Brittany in southwestern France, waiting to settle her account. The hotel was in the wizarding section of Carnac, a town made famous by the hundreds of megaliths, most of them at least five thousand years old, that dotted the neighboring countryside. Hermione had spent the past three days studying a specific group of megaliths, hoping to find some clues to the ancient and as-yet undeciphered carvings on them. The megaliths at Carnac had interested the Department of Mysteries for several centuries, and Hermione was the latest in a long string of Unspeakables who'd spent untold hours trying to figure out the meaning of the carvings. After three days of staring at the same six stones for ten hours a day, Hermione didn't know any more than she did Monday afternoon, when she first arrived. The experience left her feeling intellectually frustrated. But that was nothing compared to the frustration her body felt after three days away from Harry. She missed him down to her bones, in their marrow, in the fibers of her muscles, in the corpuscles in her blood. She loved her career, she enjoyed traveling, but she hated every moment spent away from Harry. Now all she could think of was that she would be leaving Carnac soon and going back to the man she'd loved since she was seventeen years old.
The concierge, a middle-aged Frenchmen, walked up to Hermione and addressed her in heavily accented English. "Mademoiselle, are you leaving zoon?"
"Yes, very soon," Hermione replied absently. "I'd like to settle my bill now, please."
"Certainement. If you weesh to pay in British wizard money, zhat will be one hundred feefty Galleons."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "One hundred fifty seems rather expensive for a bed and breakfast like this. How about one hundred Galleons for the three nights?"
The concierge's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Very well, mademoiselle. You drive a 'ard bargain. Are you zhure you don't work for Gringotts Bank?"
Hermione smiled softly. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm just a researcher for the Ministry of Magic." She pulled a velvet moneybag out of her satchel and carefully counted out one hundred Galleons under the concierge's watchful eye. "There, we're squared away now. Thank you for your wonderful hospitality. This is a lovely hotel and I'll be happy to recommend it to my friends in Britain."
"Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle Granger. 'Ave a safe trip," the concierge said, tipping his hat as she left the building.
Walking slowly away from the hotel, Hermione continued until she reached the first ring of megaliths beyond the hotel. Then she pulled a small stone from her pocket and checked her watch. Only two minutes until the Portkey activates and takes me home, she thought longingly. Clutching her bags tightly in the early afternoon sunshine, she breathed the humid Breton air for what she hoped would be the last time for several months. She'd never liked traveling by Portkey, but for long distances it was easier on the body than Apparating. Moments later, a familiar tug pulled her from behind her navel, she fell into a swirl of darkness, and next thing she knew, she landed - amazingly, on her feet - on the cobblestone sidewalk of Diagon Alley.
Not stopping for even a moment, Hermione Apparated into the apartment block near the Barbican Centre where she shared a twelfth-storey flat with Harry…who was still at work, if his day had gone the way it should have. Noting that the usual wards were in place, she performed the counterspell to keep from setting the wards off and summoning Hit Wizards from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Finally, she put her key in the thoroughly Muggle lock, opened the door and stepped inside.
The scene inside surprised her. Instead of an empty living room, she found Harry lying on his back on the sofa, his glasses thrown haphazardly on the coffee table, left forearm over his eyes. Crookshanks nestled between Harry's legs while Hedwig hooted softly in her cage near the window. Harry was sound asleep, snoring slightly but not loud enough to mask the freight-train sound of Crookshanks' purring. Hermione had no idea why he was home in the middle of an August afternoon, but he looked so tired she decided not to wake him. Instead she carried her bags quietly into their bedroom and slipped out of the long, loose shift she'd worn for traveling. Then she pulled on a sleep-shirt and lay down on their bed to take a brief nap.
At least she'd planned to take a brief nap. She dozed fitfully for about an hour, then fell into a deep sleep during which she dreamed she was in a cabana-style room on a tropical island, wearing only a diaphanous baby-doll nightgown and lying on a king-sized bed with Harry at her side. As a warm summer breeze wafted in through the open window, she looked up at him longingly and tried to speak, but couldn't. Harry didn't seem to care; he put one finger to his lips as if to shush her then began planting feathery kisses along her jaw line, down one side of her neck then along her collarbone. He continued kissing further down her chest until he came to her right breast, which he licked through the flimsy nightgown. With a wicked smirk, he took her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue across it. A shock of pleasure coiled southward, making Hermione roll her hips against him. His lips slid slowly across her skin until she thought she would scream with anticipation. Just as he was honing in on his favorite target, Hermione awoke and discovered the cause of her dream.
Harry's legs were entwined with her own and his lips were kissing their way down her torso, one excruciating inch at a time…
Hermione knew what she was awakening to would be even better than her dream. Twining her fingers in his messy black hair, she gently pulled his head upwards so she could see his face.
"Miss me?" she smirked.
Harry pushed her sleep shirt up to her waist and began licking a lazy circle ever so slowly around her navel. "Just a little," he mumbled into her belly while his hands roamed up and down the sides of her torso. Hermione spread her arms limply to each side and basked in the attentions of Harry's expert tongue for a few moments before her brain engaged again.
"I got home about half past one and found you asleep on the sofa. You looked so tired I didn't have the heart to wake you up," she explained. By this time her sleep shirt was bunched up under her arms and Harry was cuddled up to her right side, his mouth firmly attached to her right breast while his right hand slid under her knickers. "So I… ohhhh…ummm…just let you…ohhhh…sleep and I…ohhhhh, yesssss…came in here and laid down for a nap. Yesssss…oh… that's what I did…and I dreamed you were doing…ohhhh… something very much like this…ahhhhh…" - his hand and tongue began moving faster as she talked - "and that's when I woke up and you'd better not stop…ohhhh…. Though I'd really like a kiss hello…yessssss…ohhhh… Harry…"
Keeping his hand firmly in place, Harry dragged his lips off her breast, planting squelching kisses up her throat to her lips. "Like this?" he sighed into her lips as he began exploring every inch of her mouth with his tongue.
"That's good," she smiled as he finished the kiss and his dear face hovered but an inch above hers. "All of it. Just…ohhh…yes…keep doing that…nice welcome home, oh my…what are you…oh yessss…doing home at this time of day…ohhhh…don't stop, just tell me… yesssss…" They were merely in the preliminary round but already Harry had made her slick with desire. As he knelt on the bed and fumbled with his flies it was obvious he felt the same urgent need she did. Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows and watched him shove down first his trousers then his pants.
"I was up all night last night working on a case," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed as she slipped down onto the floor close to him. "We got a lead… ummmm yeah…on that robbery case so Tonks and I went…ohhhh mmmm… went to Bury St. Edmunds and …mmmm yeah yeah do that…and we did a stakeout and it didn't…mmmm ohhhh ahhhh…we didn't catch them till about eight this morning… oh God, OH GOD… Hermione…oh…and then by the time we got the paperwork…oh oh oh sweet mother of Merlin…got the paperwork done at the Ministry…ohhhhh please please yesss ohhh…it was almost noon…yesss oohhhhh please baby… yeah…and Remus said to go home and sleep. So I did…I was too tired to get past the sofa…" -- he pushed her head down with both hands -- "and…OHHHHHHHHHHH…"
She looked up at him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "And?"
"Oh …right…well, that's where I collapsed," he panted, a dreamy expression on his face as he leaned back wearily.
Hermione grinned and winked at him while she pushed her knickers off. "Don't you dare collapse now. I'm not done with you, Mr. Potter." With that she pulled his tee-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. Harry lay back on the bed, his eyes glazed with pleasure and the dreamy expression still plastered on his face.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked huskily. As Hermione leaned over him, he pulled the sleep shirt over her head and tossed it down near his own tee-shirt. Then she slid down on top of his body, past his firm chest, down his abdomen with its trail of fine black hair and soft hint of a belly, stopping just short of what she really wanted. Harry's hands slid up and down her bum then up her back until he pulled her into a searing kiss. She would be happy to just lie there and kiss him forever, but she wanted much more and she knew that he did too. Just as she was about to show him exactly what else she wanted, Hermione heard a loud THUD against the bedroom window, loud enough to make her and Harry sit up and almost forget what they'd been doing.
"What in the bloody blue blazes is it this time?" Harry swore, jumping up from the bed stark naked and opening the window. On the window ledge was a tawny owl with a red envelope lashed to its leg. Harry jerked the envelope from the owl's leg, shooed the owl grumpily off the ledge (rather more gruffly than was necessary, Hermione thought) then followed the owl with his eyes as it flew away.
"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious about his reaction.
Harry sat on the bed next to her, put the envelope down and sighed. "We've just received a lot of owls recently. It's been kind of weird. Remember the owl that arrived last Saturday during breakfast? The one with the bizarre note?" Hermione nodded. "Tuesday night I invited Ron over to play chess. While he was here, another tawny owl arrived. And it was carrying a message just like the one from Saturday, except-"
"Except what?"
"Except that it had one extra line at the end - 'Why are you ignoring me?'"
Hermione pondered this for a moment. "You think the same person sent both messages?"
Harry looked glum. "I would bet twenty Galleons on it. Tawny owls are very common. I guess it's not impossible that I could get owls from two or three different people who all live near St. Paul's Cathedral, but I don't think it's very likely. The real giveaway was the message, though. Exact same wording on the first three lines. I suppose there could be more than one person involved, but that doesn't seem likely either."
Now that Harry's body was no longer pressed against hers, Hermione felt chilled and pulled the duvet over her lap. "So…are you going to open this envelope or not?"
"Let's examine it before we do," Harry said, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on. Much to Hermione's chagrin, he had abandoned their foreplay in an instant and gone into his investigative Auror mode.
"Okay," she sighed in frustration, getting up and pulling on her dressing gown. She picked the envelope up off the bed and turned it over and over. "Very ordinary-looking parchment, probably bought at Flourish & Blotts or Scribbulus Inks in Diagon Alley." She sniffed the writing on the front. "I believe this is a normal Wizarding ink, probably from Scribbulus. It doesn't smell unusual so it's probably not homemade."
Harry grinned. "Very good, Miss Granger. Do continue."
Hermione stared at the writing on the front of the envelope, which said only Harry Potter. "The script is very poorly written, as though it was done by a small child just learning cursive writing. So I would guess the writer used the hand she doesn't usually write with."
"Interesting theory. So you think this came from a woman?"
She paused to gather her thoughts. "Yes, I think so. There's something about the handwriting, even though it's obviously written with the wrong hand. It just seems feminine."
Harry's eyebrows went up as he considered this information. "Hmmm. Could be. So you think some woman I don't actually know is keen on me and she's upset that I don't know who she is?" He sighed heavily and picked up Hermione's hand in his own. "What the hell am I supposed to do about that?"
"I don't know, Harry." She hated the way people seemed to concentrate their neuroses and psychoses on him. He never asked for any of this. Why couldn't he just have a few years of peace? A prickle behind her eyes made her turn away from Harry for a moment. She wished they could live a normal life like any other couple, Wizard or Muggle, instead of having to watch their backs every minute of every day. Perhaps she was being paranoid. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with the envelope. Maybe it was worth taking a chance on this mysterious delivery.
"Listen," she said hesitantly. "Maybe this isn't related to the other messages. I'm no handwriting expert and I'm certainly not an Auror. I could be completely wrong about this. Maybe it's an invitation to someone's birthday party and their child wrote the invitations." She smiled and kissed his cheek. That seemed to convince him to take a chance.
Harry picked up the envelope and tapped it with his finger, apparently expecting it to glow or emit dangerous fumes or provide some other reason not to open it. Then he took his wand and passed it over the front and back of the envelope as well as along all four edges. Nothing out of the ordinary happened then either. He couldn't seem to find any more reasons not to open the envelope, so he did. Harry slowly peeled up the flap on the back, then just as slowly pulled out a sheet of equally ordinary parchment that was folded inside. As he opened the parchment, a smattering of pale yellow dust the consistency of pollen floated out into the room. Visions of the recent anthrax scare in the United States filled Hermione's mind, and she immediately wished she hadn't convinced Harry to open the envelope. He stared at the parchment for a moment then closed his eyes and shook his head. Anxiety overtook Hermione and she grabbed the parchment from Harry's hand and read it aloud. The letter contained the same poorly written script as the envelope.
You ignored my last two letters, Potter. You should not have ignored them. I know what you and Granger do. I've seen you nuzzling in public places. I'm surprised I haven't come across you shagging in public. You should stop engaging in public displays of lust. And why are you with that Mudblood when you could be involved with a proper witch?
You should stop these disgusting displays immediately. This is your last warning. And for Merlin's sake break off with Hermione Granger. She doesn't belong in the Wizarding world and you should find a real witch to service your physical needs.
A Friend
Tears leaked down Hermione's face while the parchment shook in her hand. Harry leaned toward her, wiped the tears off with his thumbs and pulled her close to him. He stroked her hair with one hand while his other arm circled her shoulders.
"Fucking son of a bitch," he muttered. "Who the hell is this anyway?"
The yellow dust continued to float around the room. A small amount of the dust landed on Hermione's forearm, but most of it landed on Harry's bare chest and back. Suddenly Hermione's arm felt like it was on fire where the pollen had touched it and she started scratching her arm as hard as she could. The scratching only made her arm feel worse, though, and just as suddenly several large boils broke out on her forearm. She looked over to Harry and her eyes went wide in shock. His back and chest were covered with fierce red pustules and the more he scratched, the more they spread.
"Don't scratch, Harry! You'll just make it worse!" she cautioned, running into the bathroom and throwing open the medicine cabinet. "Oh bugger!" she called out, "we don't have any boil-cure potion. I guess we'll need to get to St. Mungo's to get fixed up." She stopped only long enough to put on some knickers and the shift she'd removed earlier.
Harry stood in the bedroom clenching his fists to keep from scratching the outbreak on his skin. After helping him into his jeans, Hermione led him out to the living room, where she stuck her wand out one of the windows. Moments later a large yellow vehicle with a white cross on the roof appeared out of nowhere, pulling up to the kerb outside the building. Harry and Hermione Apparated down to the lobby, where they were met by two mediwizards. Less than a minute later, they found themselves in the lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Still holding Harry's hand, Hermione looked around the reception area on the ground floor. Healers in lime green robes strode through the corridors carrying clipboards or pushing carts full of magical medicines. About five metres ahead Hermione noticed a tall, slender older witch staffing the reception desk and pulled Harry in that direction. She was surprised no one had said anything about either of them so far, because Harry was now covered with huge ugly boils from his neck to his waist.
The clerk began addressing them without taking her eyes off the parchments on the counter. "Welcome to St. Mungo's. How may I help you? What is the nature of your--" She stopped cold when she realized whom she was addressing and tried not to look too closely at them.
"Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. We've both broken out in boils -- Harry's are much worse than mine - and we're not entirely sure why," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
The clerk looked skeptical. "You're not sure why you have boils, or you're not sure why his are worse than yours?"
Harry shot a murderous look at the clerk. "We're not sure why we have them at all, you silly bint!" He took a breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to be rude, but my skin feels like it's being flayed, and I'm sure Hermione isn't very comfortable either. Any chance we can see a healer before tomorrow?"
Before the startled clerk could answer, a plump blonde witch appeared next to the counter. Hermione recognized her as the Welcome Witch who had been so solicitous to her while Harry was hospitalized after the final battle with Voldemort. "Hello Miss Granger," the blond witch said kindly. "And Mr. Potter! I'd say it's wonderful to see you looking so well, but you don't look very well, do you?"
Harry rolled his eyes and gnashed his teeth in pain.
"We seem to have come in contact with something that causes boils," Hermione said. "Where should we go to be examined?"
The Welcome Witch frowned. "Oh dear, you'll need to go to the third floor, where we handle poisonings due to plants and potions. Did you bring a sample of the offending material with you?"
Hermione opened the hand that clutched the envelope and the note. Her other hand squeezed Harry's, trying to comfort him. Harry leaned his head on top of hers briefly, then sighed loudly. The Welcome Witch nodded for them to proceed upstairs to the third floor, where a healer-in-training would be waiting for them. The magical lift was similar to the lifts at the Ministry but much larger and less ornate. Inside the lift, a young healer with brown hair and a round, pleasant face passed an elaborate wand back and forth over the torso of an unconscious patient whose cot floated in mid-air. Suddenly the young healer's eyes left his patient. When he looked at Harry and Hermione, recognition dawned on his face.
"Harry…Hermione…it's me, Neville Longbottom."
"Neville!" Harry grinned.
Hermione considered hugging her old friend but decided against it. "It's wonderful to see you again, Neville. I'd hug you but, well, I don't think you'd want to touch either of us right now," she apologized, waving her pustular arm in his direction.
Neville looked from Hermione to Harry with outright shock on his face. "What happened to you two?" When the lift doors opened at the third floor Neville muttered "Mobilicorpus!" and the unconscious patient floated out into the corridor. Neville then reiterated the Hover Charm to keep the patient stationary while he spoke with his old classmates. Harry and Hermione followed him out into the third-floor reception area.
"We opened a letter that turned out to have some kind of strange yellow powder in it," Hermione said. She began to hand the envelope to Neville but he backed away, putting his hands up as if to protect himself.
"No offense, Hermione, but I'd rather not touch that. Just tell me what it looked and smelled like; that should be enough for me to make a diagnosis." He guided them into a small room that contained two examination tables as well as a sideboard bearing a variety of scales, vials and silver instruments. Harry's face was beginning to contort with pain, so Hermione helped him get seated on one of the examining tables, then shimmied up onto the other table while Neville fished under the sideboard. There he found a large pouch marked "Laboratory" and opened it up. Stiff-armed, he stuck it out in front of Hermione, who dropped the letter and envelope inside. After Neville muttered a sealing charm, he wrote something on the pouch then watched it float out the room.
"Well, the powder was pale yellow, like buttercups, and very fine. It looked like pollen," she explained while Neville took notes on a parchpad.
"The stuff kind of floated or hung in the air for a minute or so before it settled on our skin," Harry added through gritted teeth.
By this time Neville had put on a pair of dragon-hide gloves and was examining the boils on Harry's back. Using a thin silver instrument, he popped one of the boils; a stream of slimy, bright-orange pus oozed out of it. "Well, now I know what caused this. It was Bulbadox Powder."
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Bulbadox Powder? But…that's..."
"Something you can buy at a joke shop," Hermione cut in. She had a vague memory of some kerfuffle in Gryffindor that was caused by Bulbadox Powder. Harry apparently had not forgotten it.
"Do you remember Kenneth Towler? He was in Fred and George's year." Hermione nodded. "When you and Ron and I were in third year, the twins pranked him with Bulbadox Powder. They put it in his pyjamas-"
"--And he broke out in boils," Hermione muttered, shaking her head. Fred and George had thought they were terribly clever, but she'd thought it was one of their meaner pranks. "So what's the treatment?"
Neville looked at her over Harry's shoulder and smiled weakly. "Actually, it's ridiculously simple. If you don't have any boil-cure potion, you just wash the affected area with soap and water."
At this Harry slumped in his perch on the examining table. "Are you taking the mickey on me, Neville? Because that's really not funny."
Neville sighed and looked sheepish. "No, Harry, I'm not. Bulbadox boils really are easy to cure. They're just a short-lived annoyance, but it's hard to recognize them without having a healer look at them - well, unless you want to lance them yourself, which I don't recommend. If you don't wash them with soap and water, they start suppurating - popping and oozing - all on their own within about two hours, which leaves you with a disgusting orange mess on your body. So…if it's been less than two hours since the boils came out, I'd better start washing both of you up. Hermione, come here by the sink and I'll take care of you first."
Hermione did as she was told and allowed Neville to clean her arm. When he'd finished washing and gently patting it dry, Neville filled a small basin with soap and water and began sponging the warm soapy water over Harry's back, neck and chest. Hermione was happy to help by patting Harry dry; it also gave her a chance to sneak a kiss on his cheek and offer a few words of comfort.
"Not as bad as we'd thought, is it?" she whispered.
"Maybe not," he whispered back but his lack of conviction was written on his face. Hermione knew this look well. It was his "Why must I go through all this shite?" look, which she's seen innumerable times over the past eleven years. Wanting to reassure him, she cradled his cheek in her hand; Harry caught her wrist and placed a kiss on her palm. Neville puttered around the examining room, apparently looking for something, but Hermione suspected he was just trying to give them a few moments to themselves.
"So how are you both feeling now?" Neville asked, getting back to business.
Hermione shrugged. "Okay, I guess. My arm is a bit sore but that doesn't surprise me much. What about you, Harry?"
Wincing at the effort, Harry rolled his shoulders. "Not so well. I feel like I fell off my broom from fifty feet up."
Neville scowled and wrote something else on Harry's chart. "I was afraid of that. Sometimes a widespread outbreak of Bulbadox boils can make a person feel like they have a bad case of the flu, or worse. I'm also concerned because your boils seemed to be deeper and more pustulent than Hermione's. I'm going to have the lab analyze the pus I drained from one boil to find out if this is garden-variety Bulbadox, the kind you can get at Gambol & Japes or Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, or something more exotic. While we wait for the results, Harry, I'd like to admit you to hospital for observation."
Harry sighed heavily then shrugged as if to admit defeat.
"And while we're waiting," Neville continued, "I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible." Waving his wand he conjured a loose-fitting pale-blue medical coat with the initials HJP embroidered on it. "Don't want you catching a chill sitting here for hours with no shirt on."
Harry smiled weakly as he put the shirt on and buttoned it up. "Fits pretty well. Thanks, Neville. Once again you come to the rescue."
Blushing, Neville poured a pink liquid into two tiny cups, then handed them to Harry and Hermione. "Here you go. It's an analgesic potion. I've given Harry three times as much as you, Hermione, because he's bigger and he appears to be in a lot more pain. Now let's get Harry set up in a room where we can keep an eye on him." He led them out of the examining room then down a long corridor. Seated along the walls were several witches and wizards, both young and old, who were waiting to be treated. Hermione furrowed her brow, trying not to think about the fact that she and Harry had seen a healer much sooner than these poor folks simply because of who Harry was. Once they'd reached the room and Harry was settled on the bed, he spoke up again.
"Neville, can you do us a favor?"
"Sure, Harry, what do you need?"
Harry looked at Hermione knowingly. "We need to contact Remus Lupin at the Ministry of Magic. I believe this…incident…was the result of foul play and I want to get an investigation started."
Neville seemed puzzled. "You're going to investigate a Bulbadox prank?"
If only Neville knew what we do, Hermione mused, realizing immediately that for his own safety, it was best to tell him as little as possible.
"Trust us, Neville," Harry insisted. "We're pretty certain it's not just a prank. Please show Hermione to a fireplace so she can call Lupin as soon as possible."
Neville crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Hermione nodded to Harry as Neville led her out of the room to a nearby waiting area, where she poked her head into an empty fireplace and initiated a Floo call.
"The office of Remus Lupin at the Ministry of Magic!" she stated clearly. Green flames shot up in the fireplace and soon Hermione found herself looking into Lupin's office.
"Hermione! You're back from France!" Lupin said, smiling. "I'm sure Harry is thrilled about that."
Hermione sighed. "Oh, he would be if we hadn't ended up at St. Mungo's…"
"Merlin's beard! What happened?" Lupin scowled.
"We both broke out in Bulbadox boils," she frowned. "Please just come here as quickly as you can. We'll explain when you get here."
A few moments after Hermione pulled her head out of the fireplace, Lupin stepped into the waiting area, accompanied by Nymphadora Tonks. Her short blue hair, tattered jeans and tight-fitting Rolling Stones shirt contrasted with Lupin's threadbare robes, which made him look more disheveled than usual. Hermione led the two Aurors to Harry's room, where they found him sitting straight up, apparently trying to keep his torso from touching the bed.
"So what's going on, Harry?" Lupin prodded. "Hermione told us you came here with an outbreak of Bulbadox Boils."
Harry and Hermione sighed and looked each other in the eye. They knew they could trust Lupin and Tonks to be discreet about the situation. The fewer people knew about it, Hermione thought, the easier it would be to track down the person who was threatening them.
"Someone seems to be stalking me," Harry said slowly. He then recounted the contents of the three messages he'd received by owl. After he finished Lupin stood silent for a minute, considering Harry's words. He cast a significant look at Tonks, who nodded in silent agreement.
"It sounds as though we do need to open an investigation," Lupin said finally. "Do you still have the latest letter and the envelope it came in?"
"No, Neville sent them to the hospital laboratory for testing," Hermione explained. "He didn't even want to touch them before he discovered it was just Bulbadox Powder."
Lupin gave a half-smile. "Quite understandable. He didn't know what he was dealing with. That's just good common sense. Well, I'm sure he'll tell us if it turns out to be anything worse."
Hermione's throat went dry and she put her hand to her mouth. What if it was something worse? What if Neville didn't notice something he should have?
Noticing her distress, Harry quickly tried to reassure her. "Don't go spare about this, Hermione. Neville was always aces at Herbology. He seems to know what he's doing now and I'm sure he's a wonderful healer." Harry reached out and grabbed her hand to comfort her. "So stop worrying about me and let's help Remus get started on his investigation."
A sigh of resignation escaped Hermione's lips. "You're right, Harry. Going spare won't help anything." Fierce determination welled up in her as she turned to Lupin and Tonks. "What else do you need to know? What can I do to help?"
Lupin smiled kindly at her. "Well, first and foremost, take care of Harry as well as you always do. Obviously he needs the rest of today off work, and he shouldn't come in tomorrow either, even once he's been released from hospital." Harry frowned and tried to object but Lupin cut him short. "I do want him rested up and ready to come back on Monday morning."
"Aye, Captain Lupin," Hermione laughed, giving him a mock-salute.
Harry fidgeted with the hem of his blue hospital jacket. "What else?"
Lupin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Did you keep the first two messages?"
Hermione frowned. She remembered Harry binning the first note because they thought it was a prank by a nutter. Harry seemed to read her mind. "We didn't keep the first note because we thought it was a crazy prank," he said morosely. "I did keep the second note though - the one that arrived while Hermione was away. That's in the middle drawer of my desk in our study."
"That's good," Lupin said. "If you don't mind, I'll send Tonks over to retrieve it."
"No! Don't go to that much trouble," Hermione interjected, feeling anxious about accident-prone Tonks
tromping around their flat. "I'll go. It will only take a few minutes." She made to leave the room but
Harry stopped her.
"Actually, Hermione, they do need to go to our flat," he sighed. "If someone really is stalking me, then our bedroom might be a crime scene because that's where we opened the letter."
Tonks and Lupin tried to hide their smirks behind their hands. "I did wonder how you managed to get Bulbadox Powder all over your torso," she sniggered toward Harry. Hermione wanted to say, "It's none of your bloody business," but realized she couldn't; she blushed while Harry looked very uncomfortable. Their bedroom was a crime scene - which meant that Aurors would be all over the flat, especially the bedroom, examining everything for evidence. They would see the bed where she and Harry had been playing just moments before the whole thing happened. They would get a very good idea of what had transpired in that room right before the owl arrived.
Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for a very long time.
If anyone had any doubts about her and Harry being a couple, a look around their bedroom would dispel those doubts very quickly. Not that she was ashamed of being with Harry; quite the contrary, nothing made her happier than being his lover as well as his best friend. She just hadn't reckoned with the possibility of Ministry staff (and worse yet, friends and coworkers) combing her own flat for evidence of a crime and thereby discovering evidence of all aspects of her relationship with Harry. She leaned back against his shoulder and sighed, which prompted him to kiss her neck.
"It'll be okay," he whispered, circling her waist with his arm. "Really. I'm sure the Aurors have seen much worse…" She hadn't said a word to him about her misgivings; he just knew. She looked up into his green eyes and thanked him wordlessly.
"Remus, Tonks - go do what you need to do," Hermione said, finally admitting the obvious. "I'll stay here with Harry and see what I can do to help him get better quickly."
Lupin nodded and left the room. On her way out, Tonks stopped and patted Hermione's hand. "Don't worry, love. Rem - Lupin and I will respect your privacy as much as we're allowed to. And try not to worry about these owls you've been getting. We'll do our damnedest to find out who's been doing this and to make them stop." Tonks then kissed Hermione on the cheek and departed.
For the first time that evening, Hermione let herself believe that Tonks could be right.
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