Under The Silver Moon

msscribe

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 31/03/2003
Last Updated: 31/03/2003
Status: completed

Through all the darkness, there shines a light.

Chapters

1. Under The Silver Moon

1. Under The Silver Moon

Under the Silver Moon by Ms.Scribe

Summary: Through all the darkness, there shines a light.

Disclaimer: No profits are being made off the fiction on these pages. Harry Potter, associated characters and the associated Harry Potter universe is © J. K. Rowling and respective publishers. Fanfiction is fiction—it’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

AN: This is for AngieJ, because she sees the beauty in so many things, and for Nanea, because a friend is a rare gem indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A hand reaches out to her. Harry.

“They’re coming.”

Hermione looks behind her. At first, the narrow path appears to be blocked by a low wall. It is only when the moon moves beyond the cover of the cloud again, spilling out its light, does she recognize the “wall” to be something composed of foul smelling muck, animal like claws and eyes narrowed in interest at something new. She and Harry are fresh, alive.

She hears the approach of the others closing in. She grabs Harry’s hand and they swerve left through a courtyard filled with immense cauldrons bolted into the ground. A suffocating odor comes from the thick green liquid bubbling up inside. Droplets burst into the air every few seconds.

“Be careful, don’t let any get on you.”

From one of the cauldrons, they hear a scream.

Other voices swell, not just behind them like before. The group following them is splitting up. The footfalls are coming closer. He leads her to a hole in the ground, and suddenly Harry is no longer beside her.

“Get in.”

She lowers herself as quietly as possible down into the darkness, praying that they won’t be discovered. The vile stench of the cauldrons no longer fills her nostrils, replaced by the damp, musky dirt surrounding them. It is a tight space. She cries, overwhelmed with grief and fear. Harry presses her face into his chest to muffle her, holding his breath as the footsteps draw closer.

They wait. There are faint whispers along with angry incantations. All the screaming birds and hunting animals are silent. Blackness like the inside of a cloak, is all around them. Harry’s breathing is steady, slow. She wills her pulse to synchronize with his, to match his calm, but she wants to scream. She bites her lip against the urge.

The voices grow near silent.

Hoisting himself up out of the hole, Harry offers her his hand again. She accepts out of fear and exhaustion.

They sprint beyond the courtyard, past the bodies of those she had watched fall only moments before. The path they follow now leads uphill. There is no more serious pursuit.

By midnight, they are standing on the hillside overlooking the river. Scarcely an outline of the fallen city remains visible.

Harry catches her hand again.

“I can’t keep going, Harry.”

“We’ll rest then.”

“Ron is dead.”

He grips her tighter, his gaze riveted on a canoe at the edge of the water.

“We can’t let them win. If we do, it means Ron died in vain. We have to get back to the ministry.”

“I don’t think I can.”

There, silhouetted against the night sky, Harry stands waiting, unwilling to leave without her.

“You can, Hermione.”

She hesitates, looks back at what they have lost.

They race down the hill, towards the boat. Inside are three bags. One would have belonged to Ron. She gets inside, trailing her feet over the long boats edge, cooling them. Harry pushes the survival packs towards the center before getting in. She is barely keeping back the shakes. He unties the rope holding them to the shore and pushes them off, out, into the foamy, iridescent water.

Harry charms the canoe with a few whispers and a flick of his wand. It will follow the current until morning.

They sleep, the thrum of the night insects and the crash of tiny waves against the small canoe the only sound.

~~~~~~~~

They come to shore at the first light of day, bathing and resting on dry land. It isn’t safe to stay long, they don’t know yet if they are being followed. They gather anything useful; berries, nuts, herbs for healing potions.

Harry holds the canoe steady while Hermione boards, and they push out into the water again.

The river is almost sapphire, its current swift and unforgiving. Huge shapes move beneath them and black snakes guide their way. Harry can talk to them, he understands their sighs and hisses.

He stretches his long, muscled legs in front of him, careful not to make the boat lean to either side. The snakes occasionally surface, splashing them. They watch the parade of animals and insects along the edge of the river.

“How many days until we reach Agistan?” Hermione asks.

He questions the black bands, alive, and swirling across the emerald stream.

“At least two.”

Hermione shields her eyes from the morning glare. The air is hyper-oxygenated, like drinking spring water. Hermione notices the sky. She begins to study it, trying to reeducate herself about its fine details. The winds shift and shutter.

Harry is quiet, his face contorted by intense concentration. He is suffering from rage at the world.

Hermione stares out over the waves, not looking Harry directly into the eyes.

“I can’t believe he’s gone...” She closes her eyes, takes a deep openmouthed breath as her heart pounds inside of her chest.

Harry moves his hand over hers without looking at her. “Neither can I.”

She opens her eyes again. The cliffs, the river and the wind will carry them.

~~~~~~~~

The dark comes fast, like a giant hand moving the sun clear from the sky. It turns and falls inward over them, covering them, smothering them under its palm. Every exposed inch of their skin is burned from the daylight and the cool night is welcome relief.

Hermione is in a constant state of dampness, sadness bordering on depression, with an ever-increasing awareness of the arduous task ahead.

“What if they don’t believe us?”

At her question, Harry’s chest grows into a knot. It feels as if someone has gripped the muscles there, not terribly hard, but persistent.

“I’m not sure what we’ll do in that case. I have to believe they’ll take our word.”

The knot tightens into a burning.

“I hope so.” Hermione turns her head as something moves on the horizon in the corner of her vision. Just for an instant, its pale face is touched by moonlight.

Harry pulls a bottle of water from one of the bags. “There are vampires around us.” He puts it to his lips, drinks from it, and looks into her apprehensive eyes. “But they won’t come into the river.”

He can feel her fear; hear the breath rasping in her chest.

“Try not to think about it.”

He offers her a sip, and she takes it. “Okay.” Her whisper is hoarse, heavier than she wants it to be.

They lay down beside each other.

“We’ll get through this, Hermione.”

She trembles, and he pulls the thin cover up around them. Hermione shifts her hips closer to him for warmth. Harry tenses, dizziness swirling in his brain likes a tornado.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daylight splashes across Hermione’s sleeping face like a warm wave. She gasps, recoiling from her nightmare, clutching the blanket. Sunbeams stream in from the tall trees now lining the river to form an avenue of light.

Harry is already awake, paddling them towards the shore. He stops for a moment, laying a firm hand on her leg.

“Its all right. You were just having a bad dream.”

She nods. She is vaguely aware of her surroundings – the water and waves, sun, shore and distant birds crying out. Light seeps dimly from between the wooden slats of the boat.

“I thought we could stop here for a while.”

The river laps impudently at the beach. As they grow closer, the light in the water is stronger, more vibrant. The canoe screeches across the sand and Harry leaps out to pull them ashore.

Hermione’s feet sink into the soil, her legs unsteady and unused to solid ground. Harry stands before her, as dour as a medieval saint.

“Is an hour long enough for you?” he asks, “I’d really like to reach our destination by morning. The news of a massacre is sure to have reached the ministry by now.”

“Yes, an hour is fine.”

Her response is weak. The day is already furious with heat, the breeze offering no respite except to stir and redistribute the scent of mold, and mildew. Hermione moves slowly, her body stiff and achy from last night’s confinement at sea.

Harry takes a few halting steps ahead of her, and then sits down onto the sand. She quickly plants herself next to him, stretching her legs, raising her arms above her head. He considers their options.

“When we get there, I’ll need help. I know this isn’t what you wanted to do after Hogwarts, but with Ron gone…I don’t know anyone else I can trust like you.”

She grabs a handful of sand, lets it sift through her fingers.

“Didn’t you see me back there? I panicked.”

“Anyone would have panicked.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t know, Harry.”

She picks up a small rock, turns it over, touching it lightly with the tips of her fingers.

“I need you.”

He takes the stone from her, forcing her to meet his gaze. Leaning closer, he cradles her head in his palm and lifts her face to his. He kisses her. Slowly, tenderly, he kisses her. The edge of the river slides up Hermione’s legs, and for an intense instant she stops breathing.

Harry pulls away, his expression remorseful.

“I’m so sorry.”

He stands, and finishes pulling the boat fully onto dry land. He has the sudden urge to throw himself up through the warm air, descend down through the surface of the water, and wash away the thoughts running through his head.

Hermione can’t find her voice, the words forming in her head incoherent and confused. She can’t seem to focus on anything: the sky blurs.

~~~~~~~~~~

The moon is beautiful, full and scintillating. Light and heat seem to emanate from it. Hermione looks up at the sky. She thinks maybe it will have the answers. Maybe it will explain to her why she and Harry are still alive, and whether or not they will be for much longer.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, running his hand along the side of the canoe.

Harry’s second apology pushes tiny points of fresh anxiety into her belly, having successfully pushed the event to the back of her mind most of the day.

Hermione lies down, covering herself with the blanket. “Don’t be.”

“So we’re okay then?” His voice is deep, soft.

“We’ll always be okay.”

He clears his throat and lies next to her, pressing his back against the side of the canoe. She offers the cover, and leans into him. They are face-to-face, moon and meteors illuminating their features.

Her breathing becomes as complex and reactive as the small ripples on the water’s surface. She can feel the presence of Harry’s hands on her skin before he touches her.

His arms slide around her waist.

“I love you.” It is a string of words, a mere exhalation, barely a whisper.

His hands are clean and smooth along the small of her back. She is bound to Harry in ways even she doesn’t understand.

“I know. I love you too.”

Harry swallows, hard. Hermione is so familiar, beloved. He studies her face. Her head tilts forward, and she draws in a shallow breath. He kisses her, as if in response to some silent spell. She is lost. He takes her mouth again, shy at first, but she clings to him.

The canoe floats lightly along it’s destined path. Wide green eyes stare into hers, and he whispers, “I need you.”

With a shuddering sigh, she lets her body fall into his. She has never known anything as sensually beautiful as his mouth; the soft, warm lips that part against hers, dryness opening into wetness. His hands, hot and damp, slide down to her legs, greedily testing and kneading each muscle and swelling of flesh.

He slides his hands beneath her shirt. The contact releases a flood of sensation. Moans burst from her throat. He lowers his head to kiss her there and she feels the heat swell across her breasts, deep in her belly, behind her knees.

“I need you,” he says again.

She arches her back, and his fingers find the groove between her inner thighs. She strokes his temples, glides her tongue along the roof of his mouth. Short time, long time, no time.

“Please…”

Her heartbeat becomes more rapid still. The rhythm draws him on, beating from deep inside of her. She is all life; all heat.

She answers. “Yes.”

A star streaks across the sky and flashes. Her flesh is overwhelmed. It’s happening too much, too fast. There is pain, followed by pleasure as she takes him in, in, in again. His thrusts rock the boat beneath them. The sounds she makes are shameless, inseparable from his.

“Yes.”

He plunges deeper now, hungrier and hungrier. Their breath scorches the night as he fills her.

“I need you.”

She finds herself gripping the sides of the canoe. She is stripped, hot and glowing, melting into him, radiating around him. A low note escapes Harry’s tuneless voice as he crashes into her.

“I need you.”

They make chords, and discords, passing the song between them in perfect unison under the dim light. She swings her legs around him tightly, meeting his strokes.

“Yes.”

Harry comes down one last time, firmly clutching Hermione’s hips, a surge of water rocking them even after he has collapsed beside her.

“I need you,” he says again.

They are floating together, quietly, on their sides, touching, returning to earth only because they choose to.

“I’ll fight with you.” The moon spills liquid silver over them.

Their path is clear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~