Author's Note: A particular reader asked me about coffins. Why does she have to sleep in them? I replied to his query in the review page but I decided I would go do some quick research on the matter in my vampire-book collection. I came up with a few answers and wove an answer of my own from there. I decided to cleverly (haha!) incorporate it in this chapter. Just so we all know. ;)
Buffy references abound. Well, not really, but I used a couple of pointy comebacks from the show.
Thanks again to Lady Diamond who betas so brilliantly it's crazy.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter rating: NC-17 (Hehe! Finally, eh? Just a bit, though.)
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Chapter Tenth: Duality
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Hermione glared through the grimy glass windows, trying to put a face to the phantasm that was Yasmin ibna Omar. Her vampire eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, seeing things more clearly in the dark than she ever did when she was alive. It was difficult to see Yasmin, though. The woman kept the shadows close.
No need to be shy, child, said the same silky mental voice. I don't bite. Another chuckle rippled through Hermione's mind.
Great, she thought. A snarky vampire. Just what I need.
So young but so serious! I shudder to think about how stodgy you'll be at two hundred… if you ever live that long. But ah, Cicero did say you had a penchant for being… grim.
Hermione tensed, furious that this complete stranger could hear her thoughts. Cicero, at least, had only done it for her benefit. He never used his powers this casually. Frowning, Hermione tried to convey as much mental disdain as she could manage. I just woke up from the dead a few days ago, so you'll excuse me if I'm a tad out of humor. You know what? On second thought, I don't have to give excuses. You can just put up with my bad mood and screw yourself!
Yasmin grinned visibly. Screwing myself has its merits, but I'd rather screw with somebody else, if you don't mind.
Hermione grit her teeth. She was at the brink of walking out of the conversation and pretending Yasmin wasn't outside when the Coven Master's voice cut through her mind again.
Now, Hermione… must you resort to such childish behavior? Cicero would be disappointed in you. After all, he was so confident that you would fit the profile of membership in the Coven.
As much as Hermione hated to admit it, she was terribly intrigued, and it wasn't as if she doubted who this woman was. Somehow, Hermione was certain that she was who she claimed to be. Like how Cicero claimed he was Cicero and Janus claimed he was Janus. Vampires did not make deceitful claims about their identities. They might claim peace even if they meant to slaughter you, but they never lied about who they were. Too vain. Too histrionic and egocentric, what with the mists and sitting atop lampposts and such.
Muttering angrily to herself, Hermione stepped out of the house and stood at the porch. Yasmin had managed to make a mental connection, probably through the note, which had likely been spelled, but Hermione doubted if Yasmin could actually see her.
Hermione crossed the porch and walked beyond the wards, presenting herself for Yasmin to see.
The Coven Master smiled, hopping off the top of the lamppost and landing daintily on the ground, like she was stepping off a curb.
Up close, Hermione could make out the details of Yasmin's exotic features. Yasmin's skin was a beautiful shade of bronze, lovely in the moonlight. Hermione didn't even know that was possible. Vampires were supposed to be bloodless, yet this woman managed to maintain this beautiful brown sheen.
Yasmin's face was svelte, with a nicely tipped chin and perfect cheekbones. Her nose was regal and her purple eyes were large, and slanted. Dark make-up lined her eyes and made her gaze more penetrating. Her long inky hair fell in straight, luscious strands to her waist and her figure was perfect. It could've been the dress, but Hermione wagered that on anyone else, the outfit would look ridiculous, maybe even whorish.
The woman had on a long black leather coat that brushed at her ankles. It was buttoned up at the midriff but cut in such a way that it opened upward at the chest and downward from navel to hem. The velvet plum top she wore underneath the coat looked to be so tight that her breasts were in danger of popping out, and the black leather short pants she wore showed more thigh than was decent. Those same, impossibly long legs were covered in small-mesh fishnets and knee high stiletto boots that really didn't do much to "cover" anything. And of course, a sexy vamp such as Yasmin had to have accessories. The choker she wore looked like a studded dog collar, but Hermione had no doubt that the purple-diamonds on them were real. A chain hung from the front of the choker like a pendulum, the frightening amethyst-encrusted pendant nestled happily atop the curve of her breasts. And of all things, Yasmin had a whip. Not a long, slithery one, but those short, riding crop types.
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Right, of course she has a riding crop. Any self-respecting dominatrix would…
"You mean, this?" Yasmin held up the whip, smirking. "Oh, believe you me… when you have as many concerns as I do, your best relief comes from swatting incompetent underlings into submission."
Hermione did not find that comforting in the least. It didn't help either that Yasmin spoke without the least bit concern for flashing fang. Cicero had been quite tight-lipped, preferring to keep his fangs to himself. Yasmin, however, didn't even bother retracting them.
Yasmin approached her and Hermione eyed the woman warily.
Hermione could feel the Coven Master's gaze sweeping her as Yasmin prowled around, as if appraising her. It felt like forever and Hermione was already beginning to feel annoyed. She was just about to make a snarky comment when the whip came out of nowhere, hitting Hermione with a pert crack at the back of her hand.
"OW!" Hermione cried, stumbling away from Yasmin and cradling her hand. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Yasmin cocked a grin. "That mouth of yours is going to be the death of you, neophyte. Learn to control your impulses. Acknowledging power doesn't have to mean you're afraid of it. Understand?"
Hermione glared at her. "I give respect to those who've earned it from me."
"Nobody has to earn your respect, Hermione. Not yet, at least. You earn yours, and then you can put on airs. That's the way it goes. Right now, you're nothing but a name, and that earns you shit. We may be immortal, but there's no living forever if someone lops off your head to put you in your place."
Hermione could not believe how offended she was. "You're threatening me…"
"I promised you I wouldn't, didn't I? I'm teaching you. I might be more lenient to your cheek, but it's a big vampire world out there. Nobody else would hesitate to do you in for any reason whatsoever… because you're unaffiliated."
Hermione swallowed, watching Yasmin for any sudden movement. "Unaffiliated? Are you saying that if I join your coven, I'm safer for it?"
"Maybe. But I'm not exactly recruiting you to protect you. I don't offer sanctuary for shrinking violets. However, if you do join the coven, vampires will think twice about doing you in if you happen to-say… take their parking space." A glint of dark humor pricked at Yasmin's eyes.
Hermione had had enough. "Are you going to tell me what it is you do or are you going to lecture me all-night about the vampire pecking order?"
Yasmin smirked, putting a hand to her hip. "I will most certainly tell you what the Coven of Isis is for, but somewhere more comfortable, perhaps? Inside your house?"
"Nice try."
Yasmin's laugh was melodious and sensual. "You don't trust me."
"I have no reason to. I don't know you."
"You do realize that if you invite me into your home, it's really not going to change anything. You're not the 'man of the house' unless you own the joint and you have two balls and a schlong between your legs."
Hermione stared at her, astonished. She knew about the 'man of the house' rule, but she never realized it was so literal. She always assumed it was symbolic of who was in charge of the house at a particular time, like now, with everyone asleep, she was responsible, and so she should be the 'man of the house'.
That was the theory, at least.
On second thought, she shouldn't expect an ancient spell to politically correct itself as gender-roles developed.
"Besides," Yasmin continued. "I don't need your invitation to force my way into your house. All that means is that the usual vampire deterrents would continue to affect me, and I've spent these past few centuries perfecting ways to defend myself against them-"
"If you hurt anyone in that house I'll…" I'd what? "Erm-kill you…" Hermione stifled a sigh of exasperation. Even she didn't find herself convincing.
Yasmin's eyebrow arched. "Right. You know, I can actually teach you to say that and sound like you mean it. In fact, if you stick around long enough, you'll sound like you mean it because you actually will."
Hermione gulped but stuck to her resolve. "I'm not letting you in the house. Right now, you can't see it, and if you can't see, you can't harm my loved ones. I'll talk with you out here, if it's all the same to you."
Yasmin sighed and rolled her eyes. "Aiyayay… I've forgotten how impossible newbies can be. Very well, I'll get us a more comfortable place to talk." She closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, muttering something about being one of the most powerful vampires in all of Europe and still be subject to the tantrums of a seventeen year old diva.
Hermione resented being called a diva.
A stretch Jaguar came out of nowhere and rolled into the curb. It was sleek and shiny silver, like it had been polished with mercury. The driver stepped out, immaculately dressed in a grey, chauffeur's cassock. He went to the back and opened the door for them, his eyes feral enough to be so obviously belonging to a lycan.
But however impressive it was, Hermione scowled.
"I won't leave with you to God knows where," she said haughtily. "I don't want Harry waking up and thinking that I'm missing. He'll be worried half to death! He's been through enough-"
"Oh, shut up and get into the car. We're not going anywhere. We're staying right here. I just want to have this meeting without us standing around the front lawn like a couple of whores doing the walk of shame."
Hermione turned up her nose, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Yasmin a pointed, raised-eyebrow look. "Well, I don't look like a whore."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Get in."
Shooting Yasmin a deadly look, Hermione peered into the car. There were three men. One was human, the other two vampire. She could see scars on the human's neck and wrists and he wasn't the least bit ashamed of it. She could smell him, too, and he smelled delicious.
They were all dreadfully pretty and they wore perfectly fitted trendy clothes, like they all just came off the runway.
Grumbling, Hermione slid in, trying to avoid making contact with the two vampires who were smiling at her from their seats.
Yasmin followed, taking the seat across Hermione's and letting the human drape his arm over her shoulders. Hermione wanted to bite his throat open and suck him dry.
The door was banged shut but the inside remained brightly lit.
She felt someone flicking her hair and she swatted the wandering hand away irritably. She was hungry and this was no time for games. All the boys were smirking, as if they were so terribly amused with her. That only served to annoy her more. "Which boy band did you blokes prance out of?" she hissed, glaring at them.
Their smiles wilted.
Yasmin chuckled. "Testy, testy… Here, take this." Yasmin handed Hermione a vial with a dark red liquid. It wasn't thick enough to be blood.
"What is it?"
"Synthetic blood. It's like a power drink. It sates your thirst until the next time you feed on real blood and tempers your vampire impulses. Go on. It's harmless enough. And it'll help you get through the fasting period that I assume Cicero is putting you through."
"Cicero never told me about this…"
"Cicero is a traditionalist. He believes in disciplining your blood lust the old way. I'm not knocking it. I think every newly risen must learn the basics of controlling one's hunger, but for now, I need you to listen to what I have to say and not have you rip the human's throat out."
Hermione blushed and hastily emptied the vial in her mouth. It was like a potion and it worked instantly. The blood lust was gone. "W-Wow…"
Yasmin took the empty vial. "Amazing, yes? But it isn't blood, therefore it's not something you should take on a regular basis. Real blood - lifeblood - has no real substitute. If you keep on taking this synthetic blood, you'll grow ugly and repulsive and weak. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded.
"These are my top Blood Kin Abraham and Rashad." She gestured to the two vampires with her whip before putting a hand on the human's thigh. "And this is Henry. He's very special to me. Aren't you, Henry?"
"I suppose you can say that." He regained his smile, satisfied that Yasmin had acknowledged him.
Hermione stifled a wince. She didn't know what "Blood Kin" was. She had a feeling it didn't mean they were her brothers or cousins. She especially didn't want to know why Henry was special.
"They answer to me and to the coven," said Yasmin. "They're loyal and they do as they're told. That's all you need to know about them for now. We're here to talk about the coven itself. What it is. Have you ever heard of vampire laws, Hermione?"
Hermione hesitated then nodded. "Cicero mentioned it briefly, but I don't know what they are."
Yasmin cocked a smile. "A vampire can choose whom he turns, but it doesn't mean he can turn just anyone. A vampire must drink blood, but it doesn't mean he can slaughter whole families and leave a bloodbath behind for the media to pick up on. The laws were put there so we can live in a world where humans don't feel the need to hunt us during the day and slay us in our sleep. It happens often enough with the laws intact. It could spin out of control if we give humans the world over a reason to unite and systematically decimate us."
Hermione stared at them in astonishment. "You're enforcers."
"Regulators, actually. Our primary concern is to maintain a strict standard of vampirism. Keeping the peace between humans and vampires is a goal incorporated into our primary aims; our main job is to prevent the wrong kind of vampire from crawling out of the woodwork of human society. We make sure that vampires don't call too much attention to our kind. We make sure that pre-pubescent, crippled, maimed and hyper-dependent humans aren't turned. We take care that turn-happy vampires are executed. We do not allow unwarranted human massacres and serial killings. We answer only to the Most Ancient Ones, everyone else answers to us."
Hermione fidgeted. "Well, who died and made you King?"
"A countless number of vampires have died for it, but the Coven of Isis has been around since anyone can remember. We're older than they are. We're stronger than they are. We kill our own coven members should they be the ones to break the rules. No one is spared from the righteous hand of Horus and the brutal love of Isis."
"And you don't kill humans?"
"We have killed humans, but only when they're aiding and abetting the vampire transgressors."
Hermione studied her. "Who decides what's wrong and what's right?"
"The Most Ancient Ones. There are three: Nekhbet, Dendera and Khalfani. They are powerful in themselves and need no affiliation. They are at least over a thousand years old and frankly, have grown weary of our petty affairs. They let us young ones rule the society, but they believe in maintaining the laws, and since they understand the kind of influence they have, they serve as our supreme judiciary. No one questions their wisdom."
"And who sees to them if they do wrong?"
"No one can see to them. If one of them does wrong, then we all bloody well have to live with it."
Hermione took a moment to mull all of this over. "So now you want me to become a regulator?"
Yasmin shrugged. "Strong sense of justice. Will of steel. High profile ball-buster. Oracle recommended you… what's not to like about you, dahling?"
"Magic I can do…"
"Most offensive wizarding spells are useless against vampires."
"I know, so let me say this: You do realize that I'm a quill-pushing geek, don't you? I've no athletic inclination whatsoever and I squeak when I get hysterical. I'm not exactly an ideal soldier, you know."
Yasmin scoffed. "Your current state of ineptness isn't a problem. The coven can train you to do your job and do it well. You're a vampire now, Hermione. If anything, we're built to kill. We're fast. We're strong and we're ruthless. Any vampire can rip your heart out through your ribcage, but the coven teaches you to kill more effectively. With proper training, no ordinary vampire or werewolf can lay a hand on you without you taking it off them first."
Hermione frowned. "I don't want to kill anybody!"
"Oh, believe me, Hermione. Sooner or later, you'll have to, might as well get paid to do it and get yourself affiliated to boot."
She fidgeted uneasily at that and struggled to regain her bearings. "That's another thing! Where do you get the money to fund this vigilantism? And don't tell me you're a billionaire with a butler called Alfred."
Yasmin looked at her fingernails. "Well, my butler's name is Giles, actually, and I don't think there's a name for how rich I am. Really now, Hermione. My ancestors were the rulers of Egypt. Where do you think all that gold went to? Tomb raiders? Ever wondered why the lot of them would die after they purloined the gold off burial chambers? Honestly, after thousands of years, you'd think anyone would believe it when I say my ancestors and I are pretty savvy when it comes to investing money."
Hermione couldn't believe it. "So it comes straight from your pocket?"
"You say that like it's preposterous."
"It is!"
"Well, honestly, I don't even feel it. I have so much money that they're just numbers to me, now. Units. Suffice it to say, I'll pay you pretty well."
Hermione's lips pursed. "I don't want your money. I'm not going to be some vampire cop…"
"Cops pull people over for speeding. We slay rogue vampires. There's a difference."
"Whatever! This isn't my cup of tea," she squeaked.
"You English and your cups of tea. And for God's sake, stop squeaking and settle down! Or else I'll give you a lump or two."
Hermione sulked, burrowing into her corner and crossing her arms over her chest.
Yasmin arched an eyebrow. "This is an offer of a lifetime, you know. You can't honestly tell me you'd prefer some kind of desk job to this power I'm giving you. Just try to imagine yourself working in an office, Hermione: Shuffling papers for all eternity. Filling out acquisition slips and making cover letters for corporate vampires who still manage keep the bullshit alive even after death. I think I'd rather swallow a blessed cross."
Hermione tried not to acknowledge the fact that when Yasmin put it that way, it sounded horrendous to have a corporate career. "Well, I've always been very fond of research. I'm sure vampires have researchers. I'd be very glad to do that for all eternity."
"Ah, yes. Only slightly better than a corporate career, isn't it? With less pay. And even less thanks. In the coven, I certainly support my field agents when they want to do lab work and research. Sometimes it comes with the territory, you understand. Wait… isn't that what you do with those humans of yours… what are their names? Ah, yes. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You vanquish evil with them but before you do that, you go to the library to prepare yourself and them, don't you? Why, Hermione… the more I think about it, the more perfect you are for this job!"
Hermione glared at her. "It's not the same!"
"Isn't it? We're ridding our society and theirs of bad vampires. If it wasn't so hokey, I'd say we were fighting for the side of right. Isn't that what you want? Fight for the side of right?"
Hermione's fists tightened on her lap. "And where were you when Janus was turning me?"
Yasmin said nothing. She didn't look chastised. Her face would have been an expressionless mask if her eyes weren't boring into Hermione's brain.
Hermione felt her confidence shrinking as the pulse of power emanating from the Coven Master hit her.
After several seconds of dead silence, Yasmin finally spoke. "Janus's turning of you is only one of many reasons why we are hunting him down. It's bad enough he turned an Untouchable, but he has betrayed the coven. To a human, no less."
Hermione's gaze shifted briefly to Henry. If he was offended by the comment, he made no show of it. She gulped and replied. "Janus works for Voldemort now, doesn't he?"
"Janus works for no one but himself. He has affiliated himself to these Death Eaters. He craves power. He thinks he can steal it for himself by joining Voldemort."
"Voldemort can read into minds. Voldemort would have known of his intentions and killed him right off."
"Janus brought him something that Voldemort cannot ignore."
Hermione's alarm bells went off and she sensed that this was information the Order could use. But she steeled her voice, forcing herself to sound nonchalant. "Oh? And what is it?"
Yasmin stared at her a moment before letting a smile break out of her lips. "That's privileged information. Join the coven and maybe I'll tell you."
Hermione cursed.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Hermione."
She set her jaw, straightening in her seat. "I still won't join your coven."
"Aside from the killing, give me one good reason why you won't."
Hermione stared at her incredulously. "Isn't that reason enough?"
"For a vampire? No. It is our nature to kill. When you suck blood, you're draining life. You're killing them slowly. You'd have to give me a better reason than your silly qualms."
Hermione grit her teeth, hardly believing she was hearing all this, yet… in some twisted way, it made sense, and she didn't doubt its veracity. "If I join your coven, I separate myself from my humanity completely. Isn't that correct? Everything you do. Everything you stand for… it's about being a vampire, and if I'm going to believe in your goals, I'm going to have to live it. There's no room for the truly human in the Coven of Isis. Your humans are there to feed you. They're ghouls is all they are…"
Henry made no objection. In fact, he was grinning. Abraham and Rashad, too.
Yasmin chuckled. "I'm glad you understand that much. You can't live among humans forever, Hermione. First you'll outlive them, and then you'll grow tired of them. This I know from experience and the countless vampires I've watched wearing away at their human lives. You can't run away from your kind forever, because it will catch up to you."
Hermione turned away from her to look out of the car window. She couldn't see number 12 from where she was.
Her door opened from outside and night spilled into the car.
"You call me when you've thought about it," said Yasmin, making idle circles on Henry's knee with the tip of her whip. "Cicero knows how to contact me."
"I'm not joining your coven."
"I'm not taking that answer tonight."
Their gazes met and neither of them blinked. Finally, Hermione stepped out of the car. It was the driver who held the door and Hermione stared at him.
"Do you like doing this?" Hermione asked. "Serving her?"
The werewolf smirked. "Better her than somebody else." He closed the car door and hurried back to the driver's seat.
Hermione watched as the Jaguar rolled away and disappeared into the mist.
She didn't know why but she felt terribly depressed.
Going back into the house, she spotted Crookshanks in the hallway. It was just the thing to make her feel better. She hadn't seen her pet in more than a month.
"Oh, Crookshanks! I've missed you, you little beastie," she crooned, getting on her knees on the floor and holding her hands out to her fluffy orange pet.
Crookshanks froze mid-stride and stared at her, flicking his tail slowly. He didn't come any closer.
Her brows knotted slightly. She wondered if it was possible for her cat-kneazle to forget about her after a prolonged absence. Maybe he was being snitty because she left him behind with her parents while she went off with Harry. "Crookshanks? It's me, boy. You still remember me, don't you? Are you angry I left you with mum and dad?"
He didn't come any closer. He even sat on his haunches, tail still flicking, while giving her what looked like a wary stare.
Sighing, she got to her feet to go to him. "I'm really sorry I had to-"
Crookshanks flinched as she approached, as if he was preparing to bolt.
Her feelings of depression returned. Now my pet's frightened of me. "You know I won't hurt you Crook-"
Crookshanks jumped and darted away, disappearing into the dark hallways.
She sighed and shook her head. "Wonderful."
Wearily, she made her way back to the library. Her hunger was gone, so she could be with her boys again.
They were still deeply asleep when she got there. It was a bit cold, so they had the fire going. The lights danced over their features, the slow beating of their hearts faint in her ears.
She looked at Harry. His glasses had been knocked askew, tilted from cheek to chin. Quietly, she knelt by his chair and carefully took the glasses off. She folded it and put it on the nearby coffee table. He'd have to feel around for them in the morning.
Half blind without his glasses, she thought, smiling affectionately down at him.
She brushed hair from off his forehead and she felt the scar against the pads of her fingers.
It was such a strange scar. It didn't look at all like a regular healed scar. One would think that even scar tissue eventually blended back into the color of one's skin, but Harry's scar looked forever like it was scabbed. Like a tiny, cavernous fault-line just slicing down his right eyebrow. Healers said it was because of what put it there. Because the curse had been an Avada Kedavra. Hermione didn't think they knew any more about it than she did.
She traced the line of the scar and he flinched. She hissed quietly, cursing herself for forgetting that her hands were cold even if she didn't feel cold.
He stirred.
"Sshhh…" she whispered, hoping to ease him back to slumber with her voice.
He wasn't going to buy it. Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting through the blur. "Hermione?" His voice was hoarse from sleep.
"Go back to sleep, love."
He smiled that smile of his that melted her insides, even if he did look terribly drowsy. He took her hand in both of his and kissed her knuckles before settling it over his heart. He closed his eyes again, sighing. "What time is it?"
"Bit past four."
"You going to sleep soon?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to tuck you into your coffin?"
Hermione's automatic reaction was to think that it wasn't funny, but she actually gave it a second thought and realized it was. Belatedly, she laughed. She feigned trying to pull her hand from his grasp, as if to punish him.
He chuckled and held on to her, pulling her close.
She settled on the floor beside his chair, propping her chin on her free hand and leaned closer to him.
He smoothed her hair from her face. "Why do you even have to sleep in that thing, anyway? Sleep in your room. On your bed. I'll make sure the curtains don't get drawn and no sunlight gets through.
She smiled but she shook her head. "Didn't get to that chapter in the book yet, did you?"
"'Fraid not. I can't read that fast." He felt around for his glasses and she gave them to him while she began to explain.
"The enclosed nature of the casket-the silk lining, the complete and utter darkness, the cleansing properties of wood-helps to preserve and regenerate what life-energy we have left so that we'd be fully recharged for the next evening. I can sleep in a bed for a day or two, but then by the third day I'd be considerably weakened because I wasn't able to contain and optimize replenishment with what life-energy I had left going to bed. We have bodies that demand so much from the elements around us yet we give nothing in return. We can only take so much, so we have to make the best of what we're given. Plus… the coffin keeps me relatively safe. If I sleep on a bed, I run the risk of someone opening the curtains and having the sun give me a nasty burn."
"I reckon I'll have to cancel that beach trip I thought I'd surprise you with."
She grinned. "We can always go at night…"
He smiled. "Yeah, we can, can't we? I can apparate us both and we'll do the hokey walk-in-the-beach-hand-in-hand thing."
"I'd love to be hokey with you."
"Oh, I can be terribly hokey."
She looked forlornly at him, remembering her meeting with Yasmin. Should she tell him? Is it even important?
I'll tell him some other time. He has enough on his mind right now.
"Alright?" he asked. "Did something happen while I was asleep?"
There really was no escaping him, but she decided she wasn't going to tell him the whole truth just yet. "Crookshanks is frightened of me."
His eyebrow arched questioningly.
She went on. "I saw him in the hallway and he wouldn't come near me. When I tried to go to him he ran away. Crookshanks has known me for more than four years and he's smart enough to know who to trust. He doesn't trust me anymore. What does that say about me?"
His brows knotted compassionately. "Hermione… don't think about it too much. Crookshanks is smart, but he really is just a beastie. What does he really know, eh?"
"He acts on instinct," she said painfully. "I'm not natural, is the thing…"
He sat up and coaxed her to join her on the chair. They fit if she sat just the right way with her legs across his lap. He draped his arm over her shoulders, rubbing her arm comfortingly as she leaned against him.
"None of this is going to be easy," he said.
Dire as the prediction was, she found real comfort in the fact that Harry knew that they should expect hard times, and that his awareness made him better prepared to deal with them. She nodded, closing her eyes and curling up against him. He held her protectively and she loved the security he gave her.
"But I promise I won't ever give up on you," he said softly. "I promise. I love you."
The emotion in his quiet voice made her tremble and gently, they kissed. The deepening of their kiss was a slow climb but it felt nice and warm to be making out in this leisurely pace.
With the effects of the blood potion still strong in her system, it was easy to hold her fangs back. It was easy to control her vampire impulses, and that thought began to stir her desire. It was such a familiar sensation, so human, that she ached to feel it in all its dimensions.
Ron made a loud sound in his sleep, as if to remind them of his presence, and he shifted on the couch, knocking his book off him completely. He continued to sleep.
Harry's breathing was ragged as his gaze shifted from Ron to her, his eyes glazed with arousal. "I want you," he whispered.
There was no question about it. Gracefully, she got to her feet and wordlessly led them to her old bedroom.
With the door closed and the charms placed, Hermione accepted his slow, languid kiss, and she realized that he was deliberately being gentle; taking it slow, because they were both unsure about what to expect. She loved him for his consideration.
She pulled away from the kiss to remove her jumper and he helped her. They slowly peeled away each other's clothes, trailing kisses on exposed skin as they went. By the time they reached the bed, they were down to their under-things, stripped practically, and vulnerably bare.
Hermione could hear Harry's blood roaring, but it didn't ignite hunger in her. It took hold of her desire and pulled it in its rush.
The potion… she thought in desire-ridden amazement. The potion's curbing my vampire impulses... And that realization was exhilarating.
Closing her eyes as she lay back in the soft sheets, she let Harry pave kisses down her breasts just as he unhooked her bra. When he took her breast into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive peaks, she arched and felt her fangs aching to extend. She realized with mild surprise that it wasn't a distraction. She ran her own tongue over her teeth, soothing the impulse to elongate them.
His lips marked an upward path and she waited blissfully for his lips to fall upon hers again. As he kissed her, his hand trailed down her body, pulling her knickers off her. She let him and watched him toss the lacey black panties away. His hands slipped under her to cup her thigh and she sighed with anticipation, his warm hands gently prying her legs apart.
He tilted her chin up with a push of his lips and let their mouths meet again in a tumble of tongues just when his finger slid inside her.
The contact sent unbelievable sensations pounding through her and she mewled with arousal.
Harry pressed his lips to her ear, whispering words of sweet encouragement through his ragged breathing.
"You make the most wonderful sounds, Hermione," he said, the feel of his breath on her ear doing unspeakable things to her imagination. "I missed hearing you like that… I missed drawing those sounds out of you… and into you… and out of you… again… and again…"
Oh, God, she thought, as his hand moved to the cadence of his voice. The double meaning in his words was not lost on her, either. I want him so badly right now…
Making more of those sounds he declared he adored, she let herself enjoy the gentle tease before moving the process along to be joined much closer.
She helped him shed his last bit of clothing and he pressed himself atop her. She could feel the hardness of him against her stomach and the anticipation grew more painful.
Harry Potter, when perfectly dressed and decent, looked absolutely unassuming. His boyish good looks, made endearing by geeky glasses, oft-used trainers and ill-fitting pants, was not exactly the stuff of fantasies, but unclothed, Hermione always thought she had to be one hell of a lucky witch. Sometimes, she would daydream about that part of Harry and couldn't help but think that it was perfect, and that she wanted to knit it a scarf, or something, to convey her appreciation.
And all of him is mine, isn't he? she thought with arousing satisfaction.
Squeezing his body between her legs, she moved her hips against him, eliciting a moan from his throat.
He cupped her face in his hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb on her lips. She sucked softly on the tip of his finger, prompting him to kiss her so deeply that she thought they would be locked in that kiss forever.
His hips shifted and she adjusted with him so that he could finally be inside her. They moaned into each other's mouths and for a moment, they held still, savoring the sensations, and then he was moving, his slow rolling thrusts a honeyed torture.
She closed her eyes, loving the fire he was stoking between her legs and letting her fangs go just the slightest bit. She felt them with her tongue and Harry moaned.
He was watching her with intense fascination. "That was so hot, Hermione…"
A smirk crept up her lips but before she could say something to encourage the pillow talk, he was kissing her again and the cadence of his hips meeting hers shifted as he moved himself to a more stimulating angle.
Hermione had never felt such bliss before, and the luxuriant pace felt wonderful. She traced her fingers teasingly against the skin of his shoulders, tracing the line leading to his neck. She felt his pulse under her fingertips and she placed her lips over the same spot of skin. She nipped him with her teeth but was very careful not to pierce him.
He made a sound, like a low, barely discernable groan. "Do you want to… bite?"
She closed her eyes, letting the urge to sink her teeth beneath his skin drift away with the thrust of their hips. She wasn't ready for that kind of lovemaking. There were yet so many things she didn't know. She didn't want to ruin something so wonderful and safe for something, as of yet, beyond the realm of her understanding. This was what she wanted for now, this familiar, tender lovemaking that she had been dreaming of while they were apart.
Letting the feel of him inside her overcome her, she shook her head, cupping his face between her hands as she arched her back to the wonderful sensations. "No biting tonight, Harry. Just keep doing that… oh!"
He lifted her back off the bed, sitting himself up to have her straddling him. With her knees to the bed, she had almost complete control, and grabbing the wrought iron foot railing of the bed behind him, she quickened the pace.
How he loved that if the sounds he made were any indication. He clamped his hands on her flank and tightened his grip, easing her into a rhythm they both enjoyed.
She caught snatches of his mind again, and the many "Oh, yes, Hermione…" in many variations that might have embarrassed a sailor only served to encourage her. Everything was different when they were together this way. Their inhibitions were completely stripped away, leaving them utterly accepting of anything. He could be commanding her to fuck him and she'd find it intensely erotic.
His lips and tongue trailed fire on her shoulder and the hollow of her throat, while his hand wandered to cup a breast, moving to a gentle massage.
It felt amazing and the tingling within her began to gain momentum.
He groaned and she knew he was close, too.
He was kissing her shoulder again, but when he got to her throat, he used teeth. She felt them scrape lightly over her skin, the low growl from his throat sending vibrations through her that shot straight to her center.
It was the end of her. She came, crying out at the burgeoning climax.
Harry tumbled right after her, his moans filling her senses utterly and completely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were lying side by side on her bed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his arms and shoulders. He was blinking sleepily as he stared at her, a slight smile on his lips.
She smiled back, pushing hair off his damp forehead. His glasses were still on.
At the beginning, his attempts to keep them on resulted in them clumsily falling off his face, or getting skewed or worse, getting crushed beneath them, but practice, it seemed, made perfect. He didn't like taking his glasses off. He wanted to see, he said. He wanted to see her. That was enough for her to help him achieve this feat, and he did, quiet admirably.
They whispered appreciation of one another as they bathed in the afterglow, telling each other how much they missed each other's bodies; each other's touch. They pressed their palms together and twined fingers, relishing the intimate talking.
Harry grew sleepier as the minutes ticked by.
"You'll be here when I wake up?" he asked, softly, wistfully.
She stared sadly at him, tracing the planes of his face with her finger. She knew that he already knew the answer, but she could see in his eyes that he hoped she would lie to him just this once.
She remembered the very first time he asked that same question. She had replied yes, she would be, that she wasn't going anywhere without him and he had looked so pleased by it that she treasured the memory, still. This time, her answer would be different. So many things have changed, and she had already gone somewhere he couldn't entirely follow.
She made no reply, choosing silence instead of the cruelty of the truth.
He sighed, closing his eyes and wrapping her in his arms. She snuggled into his embrace.
"I love you," she whispered after a long moment of silence.
He whispered back the same words.
Several minutes later, Hermione could hear the evenness of Harry's breathing; could hear the steady beating of his heart. He was asleep.
She slipped out of his embrace, watching him for several minutes. Even with his face so relaxed, she could make out the rings surrounding his eyes and the tight angles of his face. He lacked sleep; he was tired and he probably hasn't been eating all that well.
Just as soundlessly as she did most things now, she began to weep for him, and for her. She wasn't sure why, except that there was this malignant, tumor-like feeling in her heart that compelled her to cry for a loss she couldn't begin to define.
Wiping the tears from her face, she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, pulling the covers over him more securely and setting his glasses aside.
Quietly, she rifled through her drawers for a nightgown. Her clothes weren't there anymore.
Ah. Of course. They're in the dungeons, now.
Dressing in the clothes Harry had removed from her, she crept out of her old room and forlornly, miserably, headed to the new…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry opened his eyes to the streaming light of day, everything a blur. Sleepily he felt around for his glasses, found them on the nightstand and put them on. The clarity of his vision opened his eyes to the fact that he was alone in bed.
He sighed unhappily, checking the time as he did so. It was a little over nine in the morning.
Hermione would be in the dungeon.
He hoped at least that she managed to get over her "willies" and settled herself comfortably for her daytime sleep. He pulled himself out of bed and put on what clothes he and Hermione had scattered the night before. His eyes ached from lack of sleep and he wondered if he shouldn't just keep sleeping so that he'd be wide-awake when night rolled around. In the midst of the drama and chaos of his life, all he really wanted anyway was to keep being with Hermione. That was evidently difficult if they were separated by time zones, as in day and night zones.
Buttoning his jeans and grabbing his shirt from the floor, he sat on the edge of her bed, trying to jumpstart his mind.
It was strange. Usually, when he had just made love with Hermione the previous night, he'd be bright and chipper the morning after, no matter how much sleep he lost. But today, he just wanted to sink back into the covers and not come out.
It's because she's not here. It's because you know she hadn't been sleeping beside you after you fell asleep.
Just when he was seriously considering plopping back into bed to wallow in self-pity, Ron unexpectedly ambled into the room still wearing the same clothes he had on when he fell asleep in the library. He was yawning, scratching his tummy. His red hair was impossibly pillow-pressed.
Ron sat beside him, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head between his shoulders.
Harry eyed him briefly through his scowl. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to wake you," replied Ron drowsily. "I knew you'd be here."
"Oh, did you, now?"
Ron nodded, mugging a one-eyed squint and tapping two fingers to his temple. He pointed those same fingers at Harry. "Had you pegged for a randy bastard. Knew it was only a matter of time before you got your pervy hands on her."
In spite of himself, Harry laughed, crumpling his shirt in his hands as he slumped forward in the same way Ron was. "Yes, well…"
Ron sighed, pulling something from the back pocket of his jeans. "Here." He tossed it in the air.
Harry caught it even before he could decipher what it was. It was moments like these he thought that one day, someone would toss him a ticking time bomb and he'd catch it anyway. It was evident enough that his friends tossed him things just to see if he could catch it. It was that Youngest Seeker in a Century thing. Everyone wanted to see it for themselves.
Harry hefted the object and saw that it was a gift-wrapped box. It fit in his palm, was half as long as his hand and was three fingers wide. It felt a bit heavy and it was thick.
His eyebrow arched questioningly.
Ron yawed again. "Happy birthday. Belated, anyway. I'd have given it to you sooner but I was still teed off at you until yesterday."
Harry couldn't conceive of Ron being pissed at him all this time but thought better of it. If Ron had taken Hermione just when he thought things were going to work out between him and her, he'd be royally pissed at Ron, too, probably for a longer time.
"Thanks, mate." Harry began to tear the wrapper off. "So, we're good now?"
"Yeah."
"You still-you know… have a thing for her?"
Ron shot him a slanted look, shrugging one shoulder. "Thought I was over it, but when she died… well, you realize things when shit like that happens. I'm not over her, but what am I gonna do? Take 'er from you?"
Harry arched an eyebrow. It's not that Ron would ever do something like that consciously, or that Hermione would ever venture to betray him, but having known his own gamut of emotion, it wasn't a completely far-fetched concept. One can't hide what one feels, and given enough time, it would show. You can pretend three hundred sixty four days of the year that everything was completely fine but on that three hundred and sixty fifth day, you'd give out and do something really stupid.
"What are you gonna do, Ron?"
Ron seemed mildly surprised that he'd been called on it. Then he scoffed. "I've been winning Sidekick of the Year for six straight, Potter. What do you think I'll do?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Fame and fortune's easy to give up to someone else… this is Hermione we're talking about."
"All these years, I've never been jealous… no, wait. That doesn't apply at all, does it?"
Harry sighed.
Ron made a gesture indicating that he was resigned to the fact. "Alright, I've always been jealous of you for something, but I'm not jealous of you and Hermione. I'm not. I just wanted her, you know? What she and I might have had would've been different from what you have with her now, right? It's stupid to be jealous when what you have with her and what I could've had with her are two completely different things."
It wasn't exactly what Harry expected, but at least Ron was telling himself that he wasn't going to be jealous about them. That was a positive start. "So, now what?"
"My plan right now is to learn to live with it without secretly plotting your demise. Eventually I'll be able to move on. Besides, if I find out I can't handle it I can always fight you for her. You swing like a girl."
Harry sneered. "I do not. You caught me off guard that first time."
Ron shot him back with a smirk. "S'all about the follow-through, Potter…"
Harry gave a snort of disdain but figured he'd let Ron have the last word. It was only fair.
Tossing the wrapper of his birthday gift aside, Harry lifted the lid and saw a penknife. It wasn't as fancy looking as the one Sirius had given him but it was still of a good make and quality.
Harry couldn't help but grin, taking out the penknife and flipping the blade open.
"Thought you might like that. You never replaced the one Sirius gave you. I know it's not the same…"
"It's brilliant. Thank you. Be handy for more breaking and entering."
They exchanged smirks.
"So, chief," said Ron. "Any plans for today?"
"Git. Don't call me that. And yes, I do have plans. I was planning to read and research."
Ron scratched at his chin, looking slightly befuddled. "I must have woken up in some alternate universe."
"Yeah. You're not jealous of me and I'm planning on spending my waking hours in the library. It's the bloody Twilight Zone."
"The what zone?"
"Never mind. I'll go get ready and I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast."
"Breakfast! Now, we're talking."
"S'all about prioritizing, Weasley."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry joined Ron for breakfast after he made a quick trip to the dungeon. He had just wanted to make sure Hermione hadn't dropped unconscious before she reached her coffin. And when he got to her chamber, he stood looking at her silver blue coffin as the light of the torches bounced off its shiny surface. He couldn't very well lift the coffin's lid to look inside. The book said that doing so activated survival instincts in vampires, and that they were most dangerous when woken unwarrantedly from their sleep, because most of the time, vampires are only ever disturbed in the day when someone wanted to stake them through the heart.
He didn't tell Ron that he'd gone to check up on Hermione. Ron had openly admitted to him that he still had feelings for her. If he could spare Ron any hurt in that respect, he would. Heck, maybe one day, he'd be able to do something as ordinary as set his best friend up with someone. Get him to move on more quickly.
Harry tried not to dwell on the fact that whatever Ron was, he was still the guy Hermione put in second.
After breakfast, they did go to the library to pick up where they left off the previous night.
Hermione's things were still on the table, and Harry recognized the journal he'd given her lying tantalizingly open.
He couldn't help himself. He leaned over to read it, half fearful of what he would find.
Harry was relieved to discover that what she had written was her theory on horcruxes. A rather fascinating theory, at that. The bit at the end was a somewhat confusing, but he couldn't very well put any meaning to it. It did amuse him vastly when he read the part about Death Eaters giving Voldemort blowjobs.
"What's that you got there?" asked Ron.
"Hermione's notes." He closed the notebook. He'd read enough. He sifted through the books Hermione had been perusing the previous night and began to flip through the pages, unconsciously following the trend of thought her theory began.
He discussed some of it with Ron, and together, they looked through founder objects that might lead them to something. At the very least, they wanted to have something for Hermione to process when she woke up. They knew enough to let her do the real thinking.
Occasionally, they would go to Remus for advice. He was easy to find, almost always in his study.
They did this all day, pausing only for a late lunch. Before they knew it, it was nightfall.
Harry smiled when he saw Hermione coming through the library door, only to realize that her eyes looked intensely vampiric; ringed in several shades but feral, nonetheless. Even Ron noticed it, jaw dropping in surprise.
He didn't know what it was, or what it meant. She didn't seem angry. He'd seen her angry, with Shacklebolt. This was much different.
She was dressed to go somewhere, again in dark, forbidding clothes. Harry wondered if he should be letting her go on her own. There was obviously something wrong.
He motioned to reach out to her. "Hermione-"
She flinched away. "I just came by to say I'm going to see Cicero. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
Is it even safe for her to go out alone? "How are you going to get there? You said you can't apparate-"
"There's a car waiting for me outside to take me to his office. I'm all set. So don't worry."
"But-"
"I have to go, Harry!" she practically hissed.
Harry couldn't help feeling snapped at and not deserving it. "Fine. Sorry to trouble you," he muttered.
She stared at him, nothing in her eyes changing, but the lines on her face softened. "I didn't mean to snap at you." It was the only apology she offered. "I'll see you two later." She turned and left.
Harry didn't want to be overly sensitive, but she could've been a bit warmer.
"What the hell was that?" Ron asked.
Harry glared at him.
"I mean, I know that was Hermione, but did you see the look in her eyes?"
"Yeah…"
"It's like…"
Harry's eyebrow shot up. "Like what?"
"Like a dragon's… when they're…" Ron fidgeted uncomfortably.
"When they're what Ron?"
"When they're hungry…"
Harry felt his stomach drop. Of course. He felt like an idiot. He should've known.
He slumped in his seat, taking his glasses off so he could close his eyes and massage the bridge of his nose. He felt the day catching up on him right then. He noticed that he was developing a headache from all the reading and lack of sleep. He also realized that Remus had been right: that there's no knowing a vampire until you've met one.
"I'm going to catch a nap," Harry said, getting up. "If I'm not awake by the time she gets back… just tell her where I am, will you?"
Ron just nodded, eyeing him with some concern.
If Ron asked him if he was alright, he'd scream. Ron didn't ask. Harry almost wished he had.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Hermione returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, she was well sated and in better spirits. Cicero had been a patient listener, and as usual, he had calmed her frayed nerves. When she brought up Yasmin, Cicero did not offer any advice, even when she asked for it. He merely said, "This is a decision that you alone can make."
It was mildly annoying, but she knew Cicero was right. Anyway, she didn't know why it was such an issue all of a sudden. She had been so sure last night that she wouldn't.
As she walked past the reception hall and came to the living room, she was surprised to see that there was Ron, but no Harry to meet her.
"He's asleep," he said by way of explanation. "Bloke didn't get much sleep last night, I reckon." He smirked at that.
Hermione felt herself blushing. "Git. I suppose it's just you and me then. I'll let him sleep. He doesn't look like he's had much of it lately."
"Yeah."
She gave him a speculative look. "You don't look like you've had much of it either."
He seemed almost surprised that she'd noticed.
Sighing, she touched his shoulder and squeezed. "You're my best friend too, you know…"
"Th-Thanks."
"Ron Weasley, what are you on about? We don't have to thank each other for caring." She hugged him and felt him tense considerably.
Nonchalantly, she pulled away from him. She didn't want to ask what had him so uncomfortable. She had a feeling she knew and she didn't really feel like talking about it. "Have you had dinner yet? I'm fairly sure I can still cook something edible."
"I'm done. Mum cooked some earlier…"
"She came by?"
"She's still here, actually. They all are. They're in the drawing room. I've been waiting down here to-erm-prepare you for that."
Hermione stared at him a moment before chuckling. "Considerate of you. Let's go, then. I don't want to keep them waiting."
"You don't have to if you don't feel like it. I can tell 'em all to go away."
"It's alright. I'm better now… I didn't upset Harry too much, did I? When I left?"
"J-Just a little, but he'll be fine. He just needed to sleep it off."
She smiled, taking his hand. He tensed again, but she didn't let go, dragging him with her to the stairs. His grip relaxed halfway up.
Outside the drawing room doors, she could hear the chatter of voices. She paused momentarily and turned to Ron. "Don't leave me, alright?"
She didn't know when she got so needy.
Might have been the dying thing, you know… she thought snarkily to herself.
He cocked a smile. "I won't."
She smiled back, bracing herself before she opened the door.
Silence greeted them.
All the Weasleys, save for Bill, Fleur and Percy were there. Even Charlie came, and he didn't have to.
They were all staring at her, no doubt shocked by her appearance. She didn't really take it against them. The first time she saw herself in the mirror, she wept. It wasn't because she looked ugly, or anything. In fact, it was quiet the opposite. Her vampirism had touched her features and improved on them, but she didn't look quite the same. She looked at her reflection and saw a vampire. That's all she saw. She was still getting used to it herself. So really, she couldn't resent the Weasleys for looking at her like she was some freak.
Remus cleared his throat, trying to break the surface of the silence that was drowning them. "Um… hullo there, dear. Just got back?"
She was just about to nod when Ron threw his arm over her shoulders and gave her a friendly shake while he swept his gaze over his family.
"Well, don't just stand there!" Ron cried enthusiastically.
The twins were the first to react. They brought indoor fireworks and promptly detonated them, greeting her enthusiastically. Molly came to her in tears, crushing her in an embrace. Arthur patted her head fondly, telling her in his usual, warm tone, that he was glad she could be with them again. Charlie was more formal than the others, but there was a fascination in his gaze that was unmistakable.
She thought, amusedly, that she was about as interesting to him as his dragons. That was completely fine. At least he wasn't afraid of her.
She was in a sea of Weasleys, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Ginny, hesitating as she tried to make her way through the bodies and through the wall that she herself had put up in the Burrow.
Hermione gave her a tight-lipped smile and a nod, hoping that Ginny would understand that meant they'd get to talk later.
Ginny sighed with what looked like relief and smiled back.
The drawing room was alive with Weasleys and it was as crazy as it ever was being in their company. The twins kept teasing and Molly kept admonishing them. Arthur and Remus watched it all with parental satisfaction while they bent heads and exchanged a few quiet words. Charlie watched her like a scientist would an experiment and Ginny sat nearby, laughing or pouting, depending on what the twins were doing.
Ron sat beside her the whole time, making good on his promise not to leave.
In a way, she felt a bit guilty. If Harry had been around, she'd have asked Harry to stay by her, but she also knew that asking Ron to be her stronghold now was also her way of saying that she needed him, too.
Later, as the activity died down and the Weasleys spread out more thinly, Ron said he'd go see if Harry wasn't up yet.
She motioned to protest but was stopped when Ron's eyes roved pointedly to Ginny.
Hermione realized he was trying to give them time alone and she smiled, nodding.
As soon as Ron was gone, Ginny sat by her, eyeing her cautiously.
The younger girl tried to say something but was visibly hesitating.
"It's alright," Hermione said to help her along. "I don't bite."
Ginny blinked, shocked at the joke.
Hermione blushed, chuckling. "Vampire humor. Sorry."
"Goodness," Ginny breathed. "I'm just not sure I know what to say, is all. I mean, I know I apologized to you in the letter and all, but I wanted to-"
"Ginny, you don't have to apologize about anything. Not about my being this way and not about anything before that. I mean… I suppose I should be apologizing to you for… I don't know, about the Harry thing, but it somewhat makes me feel silly. I'm not sorry that Harry and I are together and I don't really want to say anything along the lines of 'I'm sorry I stole your boyfriend', because lord knows… it wasn't like that."
Ginny sighed. "You didn't steal my boyfriend," she muttered. "Harry dumped me, remember? Didn't mean I didn't hate you like a bitch when I saw him kiss you like that at the Burrow, though. You wouldn't believe the names I called you whenever I got to thinking of it. I wanted to bat-bogey you so bad, but I didn't want Harry to hate me. It was the only thing that kept me from hexing you… and smothering you in your sleep."
"Ah." Hermione tried her best not to laugh. She remembered teasing Harry about Ginny killing her while she slept. Had she known Ginny had contemplated it, even as a joke, really, she might have slept on the living room couch, or at least put warding charms around herself.
"But I was just being stupid, I suppose," Ginny continued. "I guess I thought he'd still want to get back together with me, or at the very least, I thought he still had feelings for me before you came 'round, but I'd been kidding myself for weeks, anyway. He kept talking about you in his letters."
"Yes, well, we were… doing stuff together a lot."
A visible blush crept up Ginny's cheeks and Hermione realized that Ginny understood exactly what she had meant.
"Research and stuff," Hermione added hastily, hoping to cover up for it.
"Right. Like when Harry and I went off to 'study'."
Hermione gulped. She didn't know if she wanted to hear about Harry's intimate history with Ginny. Hermione knew she and Harry were each other's first time, but still! Harry and Ginny had definitely snogged and he had at least copped a feel from the gorgeous redheaded heartthrob. "Erm-"
"Sorry," said Ginny, blushing even redder. "Residual bitterness, but it's not as bad as it sounds. I'm actually… I'm not as hurt as I thought I would be. I mean, really, I'm quite amazed at how… relatively painless it is for me. Maybe I didn't really love him."
Hermione looked at her in mild surprise. "You thought you did?"
"Well, shouldn't I have been? I mean, I've liked him since I was ten and he saved my life!"
"I-um-suppose so. But… now you're not sure if you did?"
Ginny seemed to give it a quick thought. "Something like that. I think maybe he wasn't-I don't know-what I expected? Maybe I thought he'd ride into the sunset decked in armor and I'd be waving my handkerchief at him as he went, or something. Too many romance novels, I suppose."
Hermione smirked, understanding some of it. "You didn't expect that he'd be standing around in his trainers with his shoelaces untied and his shirt coming out one side of his pants, did you?"
Ginny chuckled softly. "Nope. Aside from being the Chosen One, he's pretty ordinary."
They laughed quietly together. They both knew there was nothing ordinary about Harry, but where Ginny had expected something bright and shiny, Hermione had more profound expectations of him. Ginny had seen a brave, unshakable warrior. Hermione saw a young man who had had to fight and find the strength to do so in the worst circumstances. Ginny had seen a bloke who wanted to have wonderful times with her. Hermione had seen a person who needed a reprieve from the madness. Ginny had wanted to be his girlfriend. Hermione hadn't even known what she wanted to be, but she made herself available, anyway.
Neither of them was better than the other for it, but there was a time for everything, and Ginny's time was done. Hermione's time was now.
The drawing room door cracked open and Harry slipped through, followed by Ron.
Hermione caught Harry's gaze and she offered him a smile, hoping he would smile back. He did, but before he could cross to her, Arthur, Lupin and Charlie stopped him midway to engage him in conversation. Ron remained just right behind him, straight-backed and arms crossed, listening intently. Hermione wondered if they weren't mirroring some kind of unspoken rank in this ominous war.
"I heard about what Harry did to Mad Eye," whispered Ginny. "Moody was livid. Dad was there when Tonks told him and Moody kept saying Harry's possessed, or totally gone of his mind."
Hermione grinned. "Moody called him mad? That's something you don't hear about everyday."
After several more minutes, Harry and Ron were left alone and they joined Hermione and Ginny.
Hermione was relieved when Harry sat beside her and immediately slid his fingers through hers.
She leaned over and spoke softly in his ear. "I'm sorry about earlier."
He squeezed her hand, his gaze intense enough to dissolve the presence of everyone around them. "It's alright. Don't worry about it." He kissed her on the cheek, just missing her lips by a breath.
Ron cleared his throat to catch their attention. They looked up, blushing slightly.
Hermione chanced a peek at Ginny and saw that Ginny was giving serious attention to her fingernails.
"As I was saying," continued Ron. "Dad said there's going to be some sort of meeting of the order about all the recent muggle-born attacks, some time in the next two weeks. Harry has to go to the meeting, and I'll go with him. You don't have to go if you don't want to, Hermione."
It took all of her willpower to keep her voice steady. "Why wouldn't I want to go?"
Ron and Harry watched her intently, probably waiting for her to falter. She stared back at them defiantly. She was going to go to that meeting especially because she had important information to share. She, of course, had to find out if there was any merit to it at all. How, she wasn't sure, but she fully intended to have it verified.
"You're impossible, you know that?" said Ron.
Harry shot a glare at him. "Ron."
Hermione frowned. "Tell me why I shouldn't? You seemed to have made up my mind for me."
"I haven't-" Ron stopped, looking terribly displeased about something before he visibly backed off. "Fine. Do what you want. I don't really know anything, anyway."
"What are you on about?"
"Nothing. I'm shutting up now."
"I suppose," said Ginny, "that there's no chance of me being included in this so-called meeting."
Ron snorted as he exchanged glances with Harry. "Like hell."
Ginny scowled and got up to stand over her big brother. "I was in the Department of Mysteries too, you know!" she hissed with whispered rage. She didn't want the elders hearing them argue about it.
"And ma made me regret it after we both got out of it alive," Ron hissed back. "Could you even conceive of how damning it would be for me if I got you killed? Nope! Never again. So sit your Weasley ass back down!"
She pouted but complied, slapping away Ron's hand that was meant to be conciliatory.
Ron glared at her and spared Hermione one, too. "I don't know why I put up with you witches at all."
Harry just shrank back and let Ron get what he deserved.
"We can't all be like Lavender, Ron," said Hermione. "We don't just walk and talk. Thinking is an integral part of our make-up, in case no one's told you that."
"Testosterone is a funny thing. It turns all men into morons," added Ginny snootily.
Hermione had a distinct feeling Ginny wasn't just talking about Ron.
Harry shrank back even more.
"Oy!" cried Ron. "Are you telling me girls haven't lost countless productive hours plagued by unwarranted sexual thoughts and feelings?" He was looking exclusively at Hermione, making it clear that Ginny wasn't included in this part of the conversation.
Harry pretended he was interested in his shoelaces.
"No!" said Hermione and Ginny together.
Ron glared at them in disgust. "It was a rhetorical question, not a poll!"
He was saved from further punishment when Molly came over to them and fussed over Harry. Of course, she mentioned how unwell he looked and that he should have some of the Shepherd's Pie she brought over from the Burrow. She patted his shoulders as if to check if there was enough meat in his bones. When she was satisfied that he would make good on his promise that he would take care of himself better, she began to make her goodbyes, herding the rest of the Weasleys as she did so.
Hermione got her hugs goodbye from everyone, even Charlie.
Molly promised they would drop by again.
Arthur told Remus that Ron would see them out, which Ron obviously didn't like, but Ron wasn't given much of a choice.
Ginny looked over her shoulder and gave Hermione and Harry a final wave before the drawing room doors were closed.
Hermione had a distinct feeling that Remus had stayed behind for a reason.
Remus gestured for both of them to be seated. When they were comfortable, Remus visibly tried to find the words before he began. "Hermione, I have to talk to you about your parents' funeral arrangements."
She should have known it would only be a matter of time.
Harry put his arm over her shoulders, trying to catch her gaze as he held her hand.
How she managed to keep her composure was beyond her. "I know they made arrangements with the All Saints Anglican Cathedral. There are funeral chapels there where they'd be lying in state, yes?"
Remus nodded, regret etched into his face.
Hermione went on. "They'd be cremated and their ashes entombed in the nearby Memorial Center, which is still part of the church."
"Hermione, there's the matter of-"
"I know. It's hallowed ground. I can't be at the wake and I can't visit their tombs."
Harry looked mildly surprised before his eyes shone with compassion. She tore her gaze from him. If she looked any deeper, she'd crumble from the inside out.
Remus nodded, sadly. "We can make arrangements for the crematorium, of course, so that it doesn't have to be on hallowed grounds. You can at least see them before they are cremated. Minerva and I discussed it and if you so desire, we can make different arrangements about their entombment-"
"No," said Hermione in a cool and steady voice. She felt frozen inside, like nothing could faze her. It was frightening, but it numbed the pain and it was more welcome than crippling grief. "They were devout Anglicans. I can't deny them their final resting place. Let them have their Memorial Center. I-I'm fine with sending them off in the crematorium."
"Alright," said Remus gently. "With regard to your parents' estate, I'm relieved to say that they made arrangements with a wizard administrator who is quite attuned to the special needs of your case. You're still officially the beneficiary of your parents' estate."
Hermione nodded. It wasn't something she had expected, but it wasn't something she could be happy about, either. She'd rather have her parents back, if it were all the same to the fates. "Good. Is that all that needs to be talked about, Remus?"
Remus gave it a brief thought. "There's a meeting of the Order…"
"I'm going to attend."
"Right. Just wanted to confirm that. We've covered everything for now. I'll owl Minerva and let her know of your intentions regarding your parents."
She swallowed, managing to stifle the overwhelming emotions. "Thank you. I don't think I could've… I don't think I could have endured making all those arrangements. I would have forced myself to do it, but it would have been very hard. I appreciate what everyone's doing for me."
Remus patted her shoulder. "You've been through enough and it's all we can do to help."
Her eyes threatened to water but she fought the urge back. She managed a tiny smile filled with gratitude.
Remus then excused himself and she saw him give Harry a significant look.
She didn't know what it meant; probably something along the lines of "take care of her" or something. Right now, she needed to summon the strength to keep herself intact.
She told Harry she was going to the library to do more research, and that if he wanted to, he could go on ahead of her. She just had to look for something in her old bedroom.
Maybe he saw the hollowness in her eyes, because he looked terribly concerned, cupping her face tenderly in his hand as he rubbed the pad of his thumb on the apple of her cheek.
"Alright, Hermione?" he asked in a gentle, undemanding tone.
She hardened herself, looking back at him. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"For many reasons. Your parents... you haven't really… talked about them, have you?"
No, I haven't. I haven't wanted to. I feel nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing at all…
"I've talked to Cicero about them," she said hastily. It was a lie, but that might stop him from asking her to talk about it with him.
He didn't flinch. "Have you?"
She could tell by his tone that he didn't believe her. "I have. Look, I'll meet you in the library, alright? I'll be there shortly. Don't worry about me." She kissed him for good measure and left to head to the upper floors.
She entered her room and searched the drawers of the dressing table without bothering to turn on the lights. She was a vampire. She was comfortable in the dark.
A lot of her bric-a-brac hadn't been moved to her chamber yet and she assumed Tonks and Harry had left that for her to move, just so she would know where everything was when she transplanted the items to the dressing table in her new chamber.
On the top-right panel she found what she was looking for: The rosary. There were two of them. She had bought one for her mother and one supposedly for herself. She had planned to give them both to her parents. Swallowing, she riffled in her drawers to use something to pick them up with. She didn't know if the rosary was blessed, but it was better to be safe. She found pocket tissue and she took a thick wad, using it like an oven-mitt to pick up the rosaries. Carefully, she wrapped the rosaries in the same tissue, pocketing it so she could put them in a nice handkerchief later. She would offer the rosaries to her parents, before they were cremated.
She wasn't all that religious. What little theology she possessed in her fact-dependent brain had been washed away by her initiation into the wizarding world, but the rosaries would have meant something to their parents and it was the only way she could think of to offer her last respects.
She was about to head to the library when the rosaries in her pocket began to feel unbearably and painfully hot.
Yelping, she yanked the rosaries out of her jeans pocket, the beads searing her fingers. She dropped them and gasped from the pain as she cradled her hand against her.
Smoke wafted from her burnt skin, the smell of branded flesh crawling up her nostrils.
It was about as much as Hermione could bear.
Sinking to her knees on the floor, rosaries whole but smoldering nearby, she let loose the dam of tears and the wracking sobs. The walls she had built around the death of her parents shattered and she was unequal to the grief. It was painful when she tried to silence her cries of anguish.
She was so lost in her emotions that she never noticed someone coming into the room until he was right there, enfolding her in a strong embrace.
She had no will to fight off what comfort he offered. Sinking into Harry's arms, she wept and gasped until her tears were spent and blood was all she had left to cry.
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A/N: Ah, nice and melodramatic ending for this chapter, eh?
Props to the movie "Prime" starring Uma Thurman, where her character, Rafi Gardet, quite wistfully says, "His penis was so beautiful I wanted to knit it a hat."