Harry Potter and the Circle's End
27. Leo in Waiting
And once more into the breach my friends...it's been a bit, but this one is long. Thanks as usual for Lady Starlight and her terrific work on this chapter.
Chapter 27: Leo in Waiting
*********************Hogwarts********************************
December 1, 1997
2:11 am
Hermione woke to a soft, skittering, noise from somewhere nearby. Without opening her eyes she rolled over slightly, and found only a warm spot in the sheets guarding her side. Frowning, she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Over by the fire, which was low, but still burning, Harry was sitting on the couch, staring into the flames as if expecting some great revelation to occur.
The sound was explained as she watched Harry rolling the hilt of the Gryffindor Sword back and forth between his hands. Sparks were flying up from the tip as it effortlessly drilled through the stone at his feet.
Frowning, Hermione rolled out of bed, slipped on a long t-shirt of Harry's from the floor and padded silently over to him.
Harry did not react to her, as he continued to drill a divot in the flagstone floor near the fireplace, other than to scoot all the way down to one end of the couch, allowing her to lie down on it with her head on his leg. He stopped after another period of sparks and laid the sword under the edge of the couch and sat back. His fingers slipped though her hair, pondering, "I didn't want this," Harry stated as he ran his fingers along her jawline for a moment before returning to her hair. He paused, and a soft smirk danced across his face, "Well, yes, I did want you with me like this," he admitted and Hermione smiled, her eyes dancing in the light from the fire. "But I just wanted to be normal...I'm the bloody Heir of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived, the fucking Chosen One...I just want to be Harry."
What brought this on, Baby? Hermione whispered lovingly as she settled her cheek more comfortably against his sweats.
I don't know...I just can't stop thinking about it, about how fucked up our lives are, Harry explained and Hermione nodded and kissed his thigh, I mean that...look at us, I'm the Heir of Gryffindor through my dad, which in this world means I might as well be a Prince...of course that would make Tom one too... Hermione shuddered slightly against Harry's leg, not from fear, but purely from loathing. I'm seventeen Mione, I don't want a war to fight, one that I have to win if we are to have a chance at a life, even putting aside that damn prophesy. And right now...I don't know that we are.
Hermione nodded slightly, I know...Did you hear that Fleur is pregnant? Hermione asked softly, the tone of her thoughts, odd. Harry nodded, knowing what she didn't say. Let's go back to bed Harry, Hermione added, flowing back to her feet and grabbing his hand to pull him up. Which she did without so much as grunt of effort.
Pretty strong there, Mrs. Potter, Harry smirked silently, and laughed as Hermione made a rather impertinent gesture towards him. She knelt down next to the couch, her eyes laughing as she watched Harry's eyes watch the t-shirt she had on ride up. She picked up the sword to hand it to Harry, when all at once she froze as images both from her memories, of gigantic glowing yellow eyes, and Harry's, of a giant serpent, of a flaming bird bringing salvation in the form of the sword in her hands and of the image of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, already calling himself the "Flight of Death".
As one, their eyes met and heads swiveled towards the direction of the lake. Oh, damn, we were stupid.
It's probably not there Mione, Harry replied as he crossed to their closet and tossed her a dark jumper and a pair of black cargos. He slipped on a matching rig, watching her as she doffed the t-shirt and replaced it with the jumper. He watched as she flung out her hand and her daggers, already sheathed in their twin sheath, soared over to her hand. She bent at the waist, her hair falling forward to hide her face as she strapped the sheath of her wand on her thigh, before toeing into her boots and flicking her fingers at them to cause them to lace themselves.
We should have looked there, I should have thought of looking there. She buckled a small pack to her left leg as she watched Harry slipping the Gryffindor Sword on his back and looking around for something. He found it and slipped it into his pack.
Harry found his boots next to the door and slipped them on, No, Hermione, I should have thought of it. But why would one be there? I already destroyed the Diary? Harry reached for his mirror; I'll get the others.
Hermione shook her head and pushed the mirror back into his pack, No just you and me Harry...we can handle it.
Alright.
*************** Moaning Myrtles' Bathroom/Chamber of Secrets*********
Harry frowned as he watched Hermione looking at him, he stood next to the joined sinks and knelt down,
Chapter 27: Leo in Waiting
*********************Hogwarts********************************
December 1, 1997
2:11 am
Hermione woke to a soft, skittering, noise from somewhere nearby. Without opening her eyes she rolled over slightly, and found only a warm spot in the sheets guarding her side. Frowning, she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Over by the fire, which was low, but still burning, Harry was sitting on the couch, staring into the flames as if expecting some great revelation to occur.
The sound was explained as she watched Harry rolling the hilt of the Gryffindor Sword back and forth between his hands. Sparks were flying up from the tip as it effortlessly drilled through the stone at his feet.
Frowning, Hermione rolled out of bed, slipped on a long t-shirt of Harry's from the floor and padded silently over to him.
Harry did not react to her, as he continued to drill a divot in the flagstone floor near the fireplace, other than to scoot all the way down to one end of the couch, allowing her to lie down on it with her head on his leg. He stopped after another period of sparks and laid the sword under the edge of the couch and sat back. His fingers slipped though her hair, pondering, "I didn't want this," Harry stated as he ran his fingers along her jawline for a moment before returning to her hair. He paused, and a soft smirk danced across his face, "Well, yes, I did want you with me like this," he admitted and Hermione smiled, her eyes dancing in the light from the fire. "But I just wanted to be normal...I'm the bloody Heir of Gryffindor, the Boy-Who-Lived, the fucking Chosen One...I just want to be Harry."
What brought this on, Baby? Hermione whispered lovingly as she settled her cheek more comfortably against his sweats.
I don't know...I just can't stop thinking about it, about how fucked up our lives are, Harry explained and Hermione nodded and kissed his thigh, I mean that...look at us, I'm the Heir of Gryffindor through my dad, which in this world means I might as well be a Prince...of course that would make Tom one too... Hermione shuddered slightly against Harry's leg, not from fear, but purely from loathing. I'm seventeen Mione, I don't want a war to fight, one that I have to win if we are to have a chance at a life, even putting aside that damn prophesy. And right now...I don't know that we are.
Hermione nodded slightly, I know...Did you hear that Fleur is pregnant? Hermione asked softly, the tone of her thoughts, odd. Harry nodded, knowing what she didn't say. Let's go back to bed Harry, Hermione added, flowing back to her feet and grabbing his hand to pull him up. Which she did without so much as grunt of effort.
Pretty strong there, Mrs. Potter, Harry smirked silently, and laughed as Hermione made a rather impertinent gesture towards him. She knelt down next to the couch, her eyes laughing as she watched Harry's eyes watch the t-shirt she had on ride up. She picked up the sword to hand it to Harry, when all at once she froze as images both from her memories, of gigantic glowing yellow eyes, and Harry's, of a giant serpent, of a flaming bird bringing salvation in the form of the sword in her hands and of the image of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle, already calling himself the "Flight of Death".
As one, their eyes met and heads swiveled towards the direction of the lake. Oh, damn, we were stupid.
It's probably not there Mione, Harry replied as he crossed to their closet and tossed her a dark jumper and a pair of black cargos. He slipped on a matching rig, watching her as she doffed the t-shirt and replaced it with the jumper. He watched as she flung out her hand and her daggers, already sheathed in their twin sheath, soared over to her hand. She bent at the waist, her hair falling forward to hide her face as she strapped the sheath of her wand on her thigh, before toeing into her boots and flicking her fingers at them to cause them to lace themselves.
We should have looked there, I should have thought of looking there. She buckled a small pack to her left leg as she watched Harry slipping the Gryffindor Sword on his back and looking around for something. He found it and slipped it into his pack.
Harry found his boots next to the door and slipped them on, No, Hermione, I should have thought of it. But why would one be there? I already destroyed the Diary? Harry reached for his mirror; I'll get the others.
Hermione shook her head and pushed the mirror back into his pack, No just you and me Harry...we can handle it.
Alright.
*************** Moaning Myrtles' Bathroom/Chamber of Secrets*********
Harry frowned as he watched Hermione looking at him, he stood next to the joined sinks and knelt down,
Text from our crawl of the site, 25 November 2014.