Author's notes: A bit more of those pesky revelations here.
Alright, here's the thing: It's about time I said something about this, but the reviews… OH my God! There's so many of them! Good, bad, happy, sad… it's just amazing. ^_^ I've never gotten 600+ reviews, ever. I mean I usually get around 10 to 15 reviews per chapter on average for any of my stories which are totally good numbers, but 630+ for 19 chapters? This is crazy! Good crazy! I'm just overwhelmed. I really am. I was never the type to write stories based on reviews and all that, but it's definitely a different, tingly feeling when you just know readers like a story enough to drop a note, and the really long, meaty reviews… forget it! Takes me to cloud nine, those. It's like literary hashish. Like, I'm so down with it, man. So I'm just saying… thank you, all of you. The response has been incredible for me. Insane. Mental! Thank you. I'm very grateful to you all.
And thank you, Lady Diamond. You rock the casbah.
Because the site is playing with my formatting, I have converted all italics to underline. Thoughts and emphasized words shall now be underlined.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter rating: R
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Nineteenth: Journey
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione thought it was strange to be on the Hogwarts Express. When she left Grimmauld Place five years ago, she thought she would never have the pleasure of riding it again. Some of her happiest, and if not the happiest-most unforgettable-, memories were from within the cars of the bright-red locomotive. But mostly, the Hogwarts Express had-to her-always been a bearer of possibilities. She had envisioned many a bright school days and exciting evenings as the train chugged over its rails, bringing them to the school nestled in the highlands of Scotland; a school of fantasy, with ghosts, dragons, giants, three-headed dogs, centaurs, merpeople, basilisks, secret chambers and giant spiders, but most amazing of all, she had friends; true ones who showed her their loyalty as fiercely as she showed them hers. In the end, the points and prefect badge and being Head Girl had mattered the least. Harry had meant more to her than perfect N.E.W.T.s and her friendship with Harry and Ron had always taken precedence over school rules.
When Harry told her that evening that the meeting of the governing board would be held in Hogwarts, she felt equal parts dread and delight. She missed the old haunts, the reassuring sanctuary of knowledge, the excitement of feasts in the Great Hall, the warmth and comfort of their common rooms. She would visit the images of these memories, and that was something to look forward to, but she also knew that Hogwarts had ceased to be the bastion of childhood and dreams when it was invaded in their sixth year through the ingenious efforts of a member of their peer, when the great wizard and Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was flung from the Astronomy Tower, and when-most earth-shattering of all-a professor had done the murdering. Professor Snape, though not inconceivably traitorous, was a far cry from the fanatical and possessed Professor Quirrel. Professor Snape had had a choice. He had, through no merit of his own, gained the trust of one of the most revered and beloved wizards of the century, and Snape had flung that trust right back at Dumbledore's face.
Still, she recalled wishing they could go back for their seventh year. She had wished they could all forget there were horcruxes, and Voldemort and all the other things attached to it. She had daydreamed about being Head Girl and Harry Head Boy, holding hands as they patrolled the hallways, maybe catch a snog in the dark corners themselves, and if indeed, if there was any truth to the rumors about Head Suites… well, they would most certainly make use of that convenience. She even daydreamed about Quidditch, much as she disliked the sport. She only watched it to support her boys (and to make sure neither of them got killed), but she wasn't above admiring Harry's broom handling, especially when he was in uniform.
So Hogwarts was something of a family reunion to her. Some members you want to see again, some you don't, but you're always optimistic about having things go better than the cynic in you is apt to think.
The thought of seeing McGonagall again filled her with angst and anticipation. Out of everyone she left behind, it was McGonagall's reaction she couldn't envision. She and the Headmistress had always thought on parallel lines, but McGonagall's wisdom had inspired many of Hermione's most brilliant breakthroughs.
Would McGonagall understand what compelled Hermione to leave those five years ago? Or would the Headmistress's wisdom prove that Hermione's sacrifice was all for naught?
Hermione didn't know what to hope for.
Tearing her eyes from the dark landscape of outside, she looked to Solomon and Lucien who were sitting right across her in the compartment, the steady rocking of the train the only thing moving them at all.
Earlier that evening, Lucien and Solomon had the pleasure of meeting the rest of the household and it had been a rather revealing evening for her.
~~
The Grimmauld Place residents were having dinner in the large dining room at the time, all of them situated in what Hermione recalled to be their usual seats, at least as far as Harry, Ron and Remus went. There were two new additions to the household.
Remus sat at the head, purely out of respect for his age. To his left was Harry, and beside Harry, Ron. Tonks sat to Remus's right, and Draco, one chair apart from his second-cousin, once-removed, sat with them on the communal supper table. Tonks, Remus and Draco looked like they had just come from work. Tonks with her corporate-auror clothes, Remus with his old-fashioned suit and Draco with his poet's shirt, the office vest accompanying it draped over the back of his chair. Ron and Harry looked to be in casual clothing. It looked so domestic that when Hermione walked into the dining hall with Lucien and Solomon, she didn't know who was more shocked, her-who had never in her wildest dreams conceived of having Draco on the same table as Ron and Harry-or the household, who was seeing Solomon and Lucien for the first time.
As usual, Draco had something to say. "Oh, look. She brought her groupies."
Either Draco had grown braver over the last five years or he had developed a bad case of Stupid.
Hermione always thought there was a fine line dividing the two, especially having been best friends with the likes of Harry and Ron.
Needless to say, it didn't sit well with either Lucien or Solomon, so Lucien-as per usual-did the mature thing and stooped to Malfoy's level.
"Oh, look," Lucien countered right back. "A Jean Paul Laroche throwback."
Draco had looked furious at that and he actually stood from his seat.
"Draco?" Tonks squeaked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
At that point, everyone else was too mesmerized by the phenomenon that was Draco having the balls to stand up to a strange vampire. He usually ran and hid from danger. There were-apparently-darker forces at work here.
Even Hermione couldn't believe it.
"This," Draco began snootily as he clutched at the collar of his blouse. "Is Jean Paul Laroche vintage, you ignorant, Ozz Mercury wannabe."
In retrospect, if there was anything that would get Draco to fight back, it had to be because someone had criticized his sense of style. And if he wanted to piss off Lucien, he couldn't have chosen better words to provoke it.
Lucien, who had, in his one hundred and fifty plus-plus years, probably invented the concept of androgynous rock stars, wasn't going to let anybody call him an Ozz Mercury Wannabe. Ozz Mercury was a Lucien D'Godenot Wannabe.
Lucien advanced a few steps, murder in his eyes. "I was fucking Ozz Mercury's mum while he was still teething and while his hippie father was high on heroin in their basement, boy, so I'm not the wannabe standing in this room. Incidentally, you've gotten some gravy on your throwback."
Draco's eyes flashed just before he checked for stains.
The stains weren't there and Lucien laughed. Someone else laughed with him, a muffled, almost untraceable sound. It might have been Ron.
Draco glared at him. "Why, you-"
"Draco, shut-up and sit down!" Tonks ordered him as she forced him back to his seat.
"Erm-" Harry began, rising frantically to his feet to introduce them to Tonks, Remus and Ron.
Ron stared up at them a few seconds and fidgeted a bit before transferring his gaze to Hermione. "Are they-um… er…"
"Housetrained?" Solomon suggested somewhat teasingly. "Yes. Hermione taught us how to hide the bodies."
Hermione shot him a look.
Ron reddened painfully. "That's not-never mind." He skulked down in his seat. "Nice to meet you by the way. Just don't-you know-suck my blood."
Hermione saw Harry shoot Ron a scowl.
Ron gave a helpless shrug and fiercely whispered, "Well, I might as well put it out there!"
She couldn't help but roll her eyes.
Lucien's blue-black pupils expanded, almost eclipsing the whites of it completely, as he gave Remus a curious stare. "You're a werewolf."
Remus cleared his throat. "Yes. I am that."
"No pack?"
"Er, no."
"Master?"
At this, Remus hesitated.
Hermione thought she would die all over again. "Remus doesn't have a master."
And that settled the issue for the meantime, though Hermione thought Remus and Tonks both looked troubled, likely for entirely different reasons.
"I came to tell you that we have to step out for a while," Hermione said. She tossed Harry a meaningful look.
He didn't catch on as quickly, or else he would rather not assume. "Where are you going and how long will you be gone?"
"Unless you want us to order take-away…" Lucien began, muttering loud enough for everyone to hear.
Hermione daintily stepped on his foot. Lucien winced. She noticed that realization dawned on everyone's faces and she decided she didn't need to go into any more detail. "We won't be long, and I promise we'll be careful."
There was tense moment, as if everyone was anxiously awaiting Harry's response.
Finally, Harry nodded. "Alright, but no longer than an hour and a half. We'll be leaving then, for the meeting I told you about last night."
She remembered. "We'll be here. Where will the meeting be?"
Harry's gaze darted to Draco and Hermione could've sworn Harry's eyes flashed.
Draco's nostrils flared in outrage in the next moment. "How dare you, Potter? I'm Malfoy!" Furious, he walked out of the dining room, bringing his plate of food with him so he could finish it in solace.
"It's hilarious when he walks out like that: as if we'd care, or something," Ron told Harry.
Harry smirked turning his attention back to Hermione. "We're going to Hogwarts. Remus and I thought it an auspicious venue. Aside from Hogwarts being quite secure, many of the Order captains are already stationed nearby. Also, it would be best to get you reacquainted with those… closest to you before you come out to the rest of the Order. Best thing about Hogwarts, we don't have to make plans ahead of time for transit. The train runs regularly and this time of year, it's mostly empty, so we don't have to reserve tickets and have someone find out we're planning to make the trip."
And amidst Hermione's turmoil from that bit of information, she looked briefly at the door Draco exited to. "What was he so angry about?"
"Muffliato."
"Oh."
Lucien jerked a thumb at the door. "You know, there's something incredibly annoying about that twat."
Hermione stared at him in astonishment, taking a moment to exchange questioning looks with Solomon.
Solomon mugged a stupid grimace and shrugged, utterly baffled. She cocked a hip as she tilted her gaze at Lucien in mild surprise. "You know, I actually thought you and he would get along. It surprises me you find him annoying since you seem to be so in love with yourself."
Lucien scowled. "What the hell is that supp-excuse me, he and I are not alike!" he cried. "I'm D'Godenot. My bloodline is one of a kind."
Insert "I rest my case," one-liner right about HERE.
From the looks on everyone's faces, she didn't have to say it out loud.
"Right. My mistake," she said dryly. She turned to Harry. "We'll be back."
She was about to grab Solomon by the hand as she turned to leave, but at the last second, she changed her mind and grabbed his arm instead. Last thing she needed was to provoke Harry into anything. Merlin forbid, she had enough emotional baggage to deal with.
~~
It only now occurred to Hermione that she was fully acknowledging the fact that she could still make Harry jealous. It wasn't so much the jealousy as it was the fact that she was so… aware of him.
Solomon had called it exactly that before: Aware. It was only now she fully understood what he meant.
"Tell me something," said Hermione, breaking the silence. "Am I still acting out of sorts?"
"Umm-hmm," they said in unison, without pause, warning or hesitation.
She frowned but accepted it.
"Hermione, can I tell you something?" Lucien said.
"Can I stop you?"
"No. But promise you won't get mad."
"Me? Mad? I'm as sweet as treacle tart."
"Oh, sure. We know that."
"What is it, then? I promise not to get mad."
Lucien hesitated before expelling a sympathetic sigh. "Darling, I hate to tell you this, but I don't think Ron likes you."
It was absolute silence before Solomon broke it with a laugh.
Hermione scowled. "Rub it in, why don't you?"
"Seriously!" Lucien cried. "I've spent the last few years listening to you tell us that 'he's such a dear' or 'Ron was such a sport', but on the way to King's Cross, he wasn't nice to you at all! What did he mean when he whispered that he was keeping his eye on you? It sounded like a threat!"
"Well, he's right pissed at me, that's for sure, but even like that, I believe he cares for me. Just that right now he'd rather sock me one."
"Then why doesn't he just have at you and get it over with?"
"Because, Ike Turner," Hermione began patiently. "Ron doesn't hit women."
"You're not a woman."
"Oh, thanks for reminding me! It's been so hard to remember since I lost my dick to the accident."
Solomon kept laughing. He was finding this immensely entertaining.
Lucien nudged him disapprovingly. "You know what I mean. You're a vampire. You can get run over by a Mack Truck and it wouldn't kill you."
"I'd be terribly sore, though," she said with gravity.
"I'd imagine so," added Solomon, graver still.
Lucien was not pleased. "Look, I'm trying to be a friend, here. I'd appreciate it if you two were more cooperative. It's not everyday that I think of someone other than myself!"
Hermione grinned and kicked Solomon gently on the foot to make him stop laughing. "Fine. You're right. Thank you for your concern, Lucien, but I think Ron and I will weather this little storm in our relationship. I promise you, he likes me. It's just… not showing right now."
Lucien pouted. "It's just annoying, you know? You tell me I should be more sensitive to you and Solomon and when I do it, I get laughed at."
Hermione bit back any comments about how Lucien had gone back to thinking of himself again right quick. She touched his shoulder. "Yes. I know. Solomon and I are sorry for being mean. Aren't we, Sol?"
Solomon just nodded, visibly biting his bottom lip, probably to stamp down his laughter.
Lucien was appeased. "Alright, then. Now that I've addressed your issues, I've something important that I want to consult with you. Should I get a haircut? Because I think I have split ends. I think that last batch of hair products I got was no good."
Solomon sighed. "Lucien, do you know how I know you're gay?"
Lucien was just about to answer that when the compartment door slid open.
Harry stood there with Ron behind him.
Earlier, Hermione, Lucien and Solomon hid themselves in cloaks while Harry, Ron, Seamus and Remus brought them to King's Cross. Upon alighting the train, Harry had deposited her in a compartment with Lucien and Solomon while he went off with Ron and Seamus. Remus had gone to the back to speak to Shacklebolt and Arthur.
In the last few years, Hermione hadn't been told by anyone to "stay put" while they went off to discuss important matters without her. And she was definitely never left out before when it came to Ron and Harry, but that had obviously changed.
There was a scuffle, and Ron appeared to be scowling at someone. Seconds later, Seamus walked by, waving to them as if he had just happened to be passing through, which Hermione knew wasn't true at all.
Ron, Harry and Seamus, now. Surprised Dean and Neville aren't here to complete the set.
"Solomon, Lucien, would it trouble you so much if you gave us some time to talk?" she asked. They would go without question if she ordered them to, but she didn't like treating them too much like underlings during relaxation time.
They nodded and stood, throwing on their cloaks and filing out of the compartment.
Lucien shot Ron a deadly glare and said, "I have my eye on you," before he pulled his cowl over his head to hide his face.
Ron looked only a bit disturbed, probably unsure about whether he had done something or whether Lucien was coming on to him.
Hermione only sighed as the two hooded figures left.
Ron and Harry watched them go for a moment before Harry closed all three of them back into the compartment.
Sitting across her, she had a bittersweet sense of déjà vu.
"You're not going to gang up on me, are you?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at them.
"Not really," Harry said. "But I'm getting the impression that you want us to be angry with you. Does that make all this easier for you?"
Ron waited for a reply, his jaw set.
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. Ron might be able to pull off the cold, angry friend, but she already knew Harry could only hold out on her for so long. She wondered how long before he crumbled. She looked at him frigidly. "Sure, Harry. Whatever you say. Now, what do you want?"
His expression didn't change, but he hesitated a moment too long. "Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye are concerned about Lucien and Solomon in Hogwarts."
"Shocking."
"I tried to tell them Lucien and Solomon would listen to you but they said they refused to risk it."
Hermione tried not to get too incensed. Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye were being reasonably cautious. They had a school full of children to think about. "What do they want to happen?"
"They'll only let you into Hogwarts."
She sniffed disdainfully. "Fine. But where my Shadow Kin stay, I stay. I think the Hog's Head boasts of a dark enough dungeon to accommodate three vamps."
Ron frowned. "You can stay in Hogwarts."
"Ron, how would you feel if all your brothers and Ginny were forbidden from entering the Burrow but you were allowed to go in and sleep in it?"
His only response was the knotting of his brows.
"I thought so," she said haughtily. "I'll stay with Solomon and Lucien at the Hog's Head."
Harry looked like he was struggling within himself for something and Ron was eyeing him purposefully. Hermione began to wonder what this was all about.
"Look," said Harry, clearing his throat. "It's not really safe for you to be out there without protection wards. You know what they did to your parents' house and what's to stop them from trying again?"
"So I'll let Lucien and Solomon get staked during the day while I'm all safe and tucked in my coffin at Hogwarts?" Hermione hissed. "The reason why they're with me is because they trust that I won't ever let harm come to them if I could help it, and if I can't help it, the least I could do is come to harm with them."
"I'm not saying you should leave them," Harry said. "I'll try to convince Mad-Eye and Shacklebolt that Solomon and Lucien are harmless-"
"Like puppies," Ron interjected with an arch of his eyebrow.
Harry paused. "Alright, maybe not harmless but Hermione seems to have them pretty much whipped-"
Hermione scowled. "They are not whipped. Don't call them that!"
Ron scoffed. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Hermione, we know when you have a couple of blokes whipped."
"What's that suppose to mean?" she hissed back.
"The point being," Harry said, raising his voice slightly to get both of them to shut up. "If I can get Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye to see that Lucien and Solomon aren't a couple of wild, undisciplined vampires, then I'll rest better knowing Hermione's safe in Hogwarts."
"Harry!" Ron hissed, scowling at him as if Harry was backing out on something they'd talked about.
Harry reddened considerably but didn't look like he was going to let Ron pressure him into doing anything. Hermione began to wonder just what these boys were up to. "If they're absolutely forbidden to stay in Hogwarts, then I'll just have to set up a detail that would guard their resting place. I'll head it myself."
Ron crossed his arms over his chest and sulked in the corner. "Why don't you just transfigure yourself into a doormat and prostrate yourself at her feet while you're at it?"
It then occurred to Hermione that Ron, and possibly Seamus, had given Harry the boneheaded advice of treating her colder than he was ever wont, the primary objective of such an act being-of course-that she would be unbearably regretful of her sins and likely grovel at his feet for a morsel of his affection.
Hermione would have smacked Ron and Seamus's heads together if Seamus was there. She wanted to tell them that they should know Harry wasn't like that. If Harry played mind games at all, that wasn't the way he did it. Harry was too caring and considerate to pull off anything like that, not to mention the fact that they didn't realize how Harry had powers over her that transcended these petty schemes.
Harry, for his part, didn't like Ron's side comments at all. He first reddened then his eyes sparked angrily. "Why don't you just have Lavender come over here so I snog her senseless? How about that? Maybe it'll get Hermione to sic canaries on me and then I'll know I'm getting somewhere. Think that'll work?"
Ron sat up on his seat. "Look here, you sorry-arse berk, don't come crying to me when somebody rips your heart out again and throws it to the ground. Don't think it won't happen again, because it seems to me she's only sticking around because she has to."
Harry looked like Ron had sucker-punched him, but he recovered quickly enough, jaw hardening. "Oh, well then tell me what to do, Mr. I'm In A Meaningful Relationship With A Seventeen Year Old."
This was awful. "Stop it!" Hermione hissed, not the least bit amused. "Both of you, just stop it. You know it hurts me when you fight!" The words were out of her before she could bite her tongue.
Ron rounded on her. "Oh, does it? 'Bout time you felt something in all this, eh?"
Double ouch. I WON'T CRY.
Hermione felt like she had brought a plague amongst them. Oh, she knew this mission would be a complete disaster. She wanted to stand up and-well, probably stomp her foot and weep, or something, when the train came to a grinding, jerking halt.
The lights went out and the dim glow of the crescent moon barely illuminated the dark sky outside.
They fell silent, and Hermione's sick sense of déjà vu returned.
Hesitantly, she began to speak. "Was there a scheduled stop-"
"No," Harry replied. "There wasn't. Stay-"
A shadow fell across the glass of the compartment door. The shadow was hooded; reaching to slide their door open.
Ron squeaked.
The soft rumble of ball bearings broke the silence and slowly, the cloaked figure advanced.
Hermione's mind became flooded with images of dark, demonic creatures that sucked hope and happiness from everything around it. She was in third year again, watching as a dementor attacked Harry and she could do absolutely nothing to stop it.
So it was an utter shock to Hermione when the figure poked its head through the opening and said, "Hermione, d'you happen to have some sickles on you? I found a cart full of those delightful chocolate frogs and I didn't have any money on me."
There was a collective sigh of relief and Ron began to utter curses beneath his breath.
"Lucien!" she shrieked, clenching her fist.
Lucien frowned. "What? Was it something I said?"
Right now, she was just embarrassed that the visual stimuli and her memories had somehow made her forget that it wasn't cold enough for a real dementor to have been there.
She looked at Harry and Ron and their gazes caught. She knew they had all been transported back to the third year, and that they had-for a few seconds-felt a familiar sense of solidarity.
Harry stood. "I'm going to see what's wrong. Must've been a power outage of some sort…"
Hermione froze. Her vampire senses kicked and she knew then that this wasn't a power outage.
Solomon came up behind Lucien, looking worried. "Hermione, something's very wrong. Don't you feel it?"
Hermione nodded. There was a presence that hadn't been on the train when they first got on. Definitely increasing in number.
She grabbed the gun nestled in the hollow of her back and cocked it. "We're under attack. Lucien, Solomon, get to the roof." They were gone in an instant.
She looked to Harry and Ron and was momentarily startled by what she saw. They seemed… different right now. Tense, but self-assured. Even their clothing didn't look as randomly thrown on like it first was. The sleeves of their coats and jumpers had been slightly pushed back revealing wrist holsters for their wands and tiny vials, probably filled with defensive potions. Harry had his crossbow out. Ron was nervously, but skillfully, flipping a tiny silver knife in his hand. There were several more strapped to his arm and Hermione was almost certain the boots he wore had a hefty supply of them. She saw that their coats were weighed down and that beneath those coats, they had weapons strapped to their bodies.
All this had escaped her earlier, and she only now realized that Ron and Harry had been fighting a war for five years now.
"How many?" Harry asked her.
Of course he'd know that she would be able to tell. "Five vamps. I sensed three werewolves, but there could be more. One could've been on the train since King's Cross, and if that's true, then there could just as easily be five. Or ten."
Harry's cheek twitched. She knew what he was thinking. How did the enemy know they were on the train at all? But that was a question for later. "Werewolves on a crescent moon night… I hate those. Difficult to kill."
She nodded, understanding exactly what Harry meant. Werewolves who left their lycanthropy untreated for a certain number of years transformed whether or not the moon was full, so long as the moon was up. The degree of their transformation corresponded to the phase of the moon, so on a crescent moon night, they had more traces of human on them than wolf, but while they weren't fully were, they were still strong, dangerous and infectious.* They were more difficult to kill, not because they were faster or stronger but because they were more human. Hexing a human was one thing, but slicing, shooting and skewering them was an entirely different thing.
There was a loud crash from somewhere else and Hermione didn't wait. She rushed out of the compartment, Harry and Ron right behind her.
Hermione could see clearly in the dark, and in the distance, she saw Solomon crashing and striking against one of their own, breaking glass and wood in the process. Solomon was already in full vamp, fangs elongated and eyes ringed ferocious as he tried to rip into his opponent's throat.
She was just about to rush to his aid when she felt the presence of a second vamp coming at her. There was no time, or space, to draw her sword. Plucking a second gun from within her coat, she cocked it and opened fire. The deafening pop of her semi-automatics bounced through the small space.
She could hear more crashing and breaking to the other side of her, nearer Harry and Ron, but her opponent had already ripped through the train compartment directly across her.
Hermione's silver bullets had landed, but the huge vamp had taken the shells as if they were nothing. He crashed into her, slamming her through the wooden and glass door of the opposite compartment.
The vamp was upon her, fangs drawing back to bite. The bullets she had lodged in him began to get expelled from his body.
Activating her wrist holster, a knife shot out of her sleeve and she swiped it cleanly at his throat.
The vamp gagged, his hand automatically going to his throat to stop the blood. It poured anyway and Hermione summoned her strength as his blood spilled on her. She kneed him in the gut and sent him flying off her. He got bucked right off; well clear enough for her to get to her feet in a low crouch.
The wound on his throat wasn't going to bother him for long. It would at least stop bleeding, if not heal as quickly.
Sure enough, the vamp was upon her again, but she was better prepared this time. She threw a punch that sent him careening to the side, but his leg rose to catch her in the middle. She braced herself for it and as it connected, she heard a couple of ribs give way as pain shot through her body.
Bloody hell, that SMARTS!
She caught the same leg as it sank into her side and bit down her pain. She heaved and swung him to another wall, effectively incapacitating him long enough for her to rip a large enough pointed stake from the broken wood around them and plunge it through his heart.
Hermione pushed it down hard enough and fast enough to nail him to the floor.
She was just about to go find Harry and Ron when she sensed the werewolf behind her. She turned just when the half-human wolf jumped for her neck. She caught it by its hairy arm and dug her nails into his flesh, her grip snapping muscle and bone. He made a sound, the mingling of a beastly whimper and a human groan, just before she threw the wolf over her head, slamming him to the floor.
Her fingers came away bloodied and she fought the urge the lick the blood off.
The wolf righted himself, his broken arm knitting back into place right before her very eyes. She whipped out a third gun and cocked it, saving the fourth for when she really needed it. They were her last semi-automatics, after which, she would only have the tiny colt pistol strapped to her inner thigh and her close-contact weapons.
She fired two shots and the werewolf avoided them with lightning quick reflexes.
Alright… so he has some skill.
There was a familiar presence behind her. She'd met this vampire before.
Hermione kept her gun aimed at the were, glancing cautiously behind her. She groaned when she saw who it was.
Silvia. Lovely. Where does the drama end?
Images of horrors long buried began to leak out of Hermione's suppressed memories and she quickly stamped them, focusing on the situation at hand. Hermione pulled out her katana, the Japanese etchings on the base of the blade glinting with the kanji for "Let justice guide thy hand". She could manage a one on one swordfight, even with the closed quarters, but with the werewolf there cramping her style, things were going to be a bit tricky.
Silvia's long blonde hair was braided and draped over her shoulder. Her sword was drawn for a closed quarter attack. "You're supposed to be dead."
"I get that a lot," Hermione said, dividing her attention between Silvia and the werewolf.
"Tell me where Potter is and I'll leave you alive."
"Even I don't know where Potter is. At any rate, you better back off, Silvia. I'm better than you at this. You know this, don't you?"
"You're outnumbered."
"No. You're outnumbered. Get a couple more vampires here and maybe we're all even."
Silvia's eyes momentarily traveled to the dead vampire at Hermione's feet.
"Yes, I killed him," Hermione said. "And if you're going to try and kill me, we better get a move-on. I have friends to find."
Silvia frowned and raised her sword over her head in samurai defensive form. "Fine. Hans!"
Hans, who was probably the werewolf, jumped with claws extended from his over-jointed human hands.
Hermione only had a split second to move. She fired a shot, and the bullet popped out of her gun to head straight for the were's right shoulder. True to form, Hans avoided it with uncanny skill. There Hermione got her chance.
She dropped her gun, swung her sword in a narrow arc and cut right through Hans's wrist. Hans's high-pitch shriek rang out just as Hermione met Silvia's sword with her own.
The sound of clashing steel permeated throughout the train car just when Hans fell awkwardly to his side, wracked in wolf-human cries as he cradled the stump that used to be his hand.
Silvia hissed, calling Hans names.
"Better than you," Hermione grunted, as if to remind her.
Silvia swung for another strike and Hermione swiped an aikuchi*, from her belt, flipping it to slash Silvia's side. Silvia cried out, losing her momentum and her grip on her sword. The sword tumbled out of her hands and Hermione caught it, plunging it right through Hans's heart just as she brought her own sword precariously close to Silvia's throat.
Silvia froze, blood still pouring from her wound.
Hermione grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and turned her, pressing her face into the wall. She twisted Silvia's arm behind her as she removed all of Silvia's weapons. Hermione figured there would be a few more on Silvia that she missed, but that wasn't something Hermione was overly concerned about. Silvia wouldn't try to kill her again. They had trained together, once upon a time, for the Coven, and Silvia's skill was up to par, only Hermione had always been better. Silvia had defected from the Coven some two and a half years ago and Hermione always hoped that if anyone was going to teach Silvia the evil of her ways, it would be her.
Now was her chance.
She jerked Silvia to walk further up the aisle. "Move!" she said, sword held to Silvia's thoat.
Silvia walked, wincing as Hermione nicked her with the edge of the blade. Blood came and went, the shallow wound disappearing almost immediately. The wound at her side had almost stopped bleeding. Silver tended to slow down a vampire's healing process, though not by much.
Hermione followed the sound of fighting. There was a dead werewolf, an arrow in his throat and a knife in his eye.
Harry and Ron.
Where the hell are they?
They were almost to the back of the car and Hermione had no idea where Harry and Ron were.
And just when Hermione was beginning to get annoyed, the sound of ripping wood broke above her. She shoved Silvia forward, getting them out of the way as a werewolf fell right through the ceiling. Harry dropped right beside him, sword at hand. The blade flashed and cut right across the werewolf's throat. The werewolf swung with his claws in his dying throes and Harry flipped his blade to catch it in mid-swing. The sword sent three fingers flying before the were dropped totally limp on the floor, eyes wide open.
Hermione found that her heart was pounding very, very fast. That split second where that claw was coming at Harry had frightened her. She couldn't bear the thought of Harry infected as a werewolf. He had enough problems. He didn't need to turn furry every full moon.
He had avoided the danger with flawless ease. Stifling a sigh of relief, she hid her tiny smile, filing the memory of his skill in her mind.
Harry exhaled and gathered his bearings. The front of his jumper was torn to shreds, but there seemed to be no blood.
Hermione stared at him, surprised. "Harry? Are you alright? Your jumper…"
Harry checked himself and Hermione saw a scaly, shimmering swath of dark-blue through the tatters of his clothes. "I'm fine. It's going to bruise, though."
"B-Bruise-"
"Dragon hide," said Harry, picking wood splinters off himself. "Better than armor. It's flexible like skin but near impenetrable."
Hermione felt so relieved.
"You alright?" Harry asked, looking up. He saw Silvia and he frowned. "That doesn't look like Lucien."
Silvia hissed at him and Hermione banged her against the wall.
"Harry, meet Silvia," Hermione said through grit teeth. "Silvia's going to tell us everything she knows."
"You can't make me!" Silvia growled. H
"Oh, you're going to talk, I promise you," Hermione said, giving her another forceful shove. "Harry, where's Ron?"
Harry looked up through the hole in the ceiling. "He was with me a second ago. Merlin… I hope he's alright."
"I'm fine," came Ron's voice. "It's all clear here. Think there are more?"
"We'll make a run for the back. Meet me in the third car. Hermione, are you staying here with your prisoner?"
"Prisoner's coming with us. Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."
Harry nodded, eyeing Silvia briefly, as if committing her face to memory before he was off.
Hermione roughly shoved Silvia forward, hurrying them along. "Your mole gave you incomplete information," she said. "You weren't expecting us to be on this train at all. Else Voldemort wouldn't have sent you sorry-arsed, half-skilled lot."
"He would've sent us anyway," Silvia hissed. "We've proven our worth!"
"That would've sounded better if I didn't have your arm twisted to your back. If Voldemort knew I was here, he would've sent someone ancient. Maybe not Janus, but someone old, like Ginza or Augustus. That hulking piece of giant that attacked me earlier wasn't even properly trained. All brawn, no technique. You were sent to kidnap Potter. Why?"
"I don't know. My instructions were just to take him-"
Hermione snapped her wrist.
Silvia shrieked with agony. "You bitch!"
Harry skidded to a stop ahead of them and turned, wand raised.
"Don't you call me a bitch, Silvia," Hermione growled in her ear, already feeling the bones of Silvia's wrist knotting back into place. "I have every right to hurt you, you sadistic psycho. I still remember that night you killed him. That night you murdered Samir. I won't ever forget that, and one of these days, I'll call you on that life, but not tonight. Tonight, I'll break every bone in your body if I have to, and it'll just keep healing. Unfortunately, the pain stays the same, no matter how many times I do it, and you don't get to die just yet."
Those horrifying memories began to surface in Hermione's mind once again, but she still insisted on pushing those back. Another time. Another place. If I let that memory consume me, I'll rip Silvia's heart out. Silvia is useless, dead.
"Think you can break me like that? Well, I've been locked in a coffin for three months without being fed, so I know suffering like you've never had!"
"We'll see about that. Keep walking!"
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"Everything's wrong," Hermione said as they maneuvered through debris and body strewn aisle. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Someone ratted on us."
He was unresponsive for a moment before he finally nodded.
They maneuvered through the wreck and switched cars. Hermione wondered where Solomon and Lucien were. She had seen the vamp Solomon had been fighting with earlier, head unattached to his body. Obviously, Solomon had won that fight, but where were they now?
The third car was even more damaged, dead werewolves strewn everywhere. There were at least five. One headless vamp lay among them.
At the other end of the car was the rest of their party.
Solomon was speaking to Seamus and Mad-Eye while Lucien stood at the background, restraining a vampire.
Harry flicked his wand at Silvia.
She hissed furiously as her arms and legs were bound and tied by magic.
Hermione set her facedown on the ground.
Harry turned to one of the aurors. The young man looked like he was fresh out of Hogwarts, unfamiliar yet to the realities of war. "Watch her. If she tries to turn over, call for help. Got that?"
Mutely, the young man nodded. He looked pale and nervous, but he had gotten through the night alive and unscathed. He was dependable. Not everyone had been as lucky.
There was one dead, a few others injured, two of which suffered were-infection. They sat on the ground as the cuts the werewolves dealt them were attended to. They would never been fully were, but it was still a damning disease.
Remus, Shacklebolt, Arthur and Ron looked up at their arrival.
Ron gasped upon seeing Hermione. "Merlin, Hermione! Are you alright?"
"The blood isn't mine," she said.
"Harry?" Remus asked.
Harry nodded. "I'm okay. How's everyone else? Any casualties?"
Arthur looked tired. "One, too many, but Lucien and Solomon were very helpful. The werewolves were manageable, but those vampires… we couldn't have made it if we didn't have our own vampires to defend us."
Harry looked to Lucien who held their vampire prisoner tight enough to prevent movement. "We've got a prisoner, too. We can interrogate them both. Is the train in working order?"
Shacklebolt nodded. "The engineers seem to be fine, though one of them is a bit too shaken up to be of much use. We can get this train moving."
"Good. We can interrogate the prisoners on the way. I just want to get us all to Hogwarts."
Hermione looked at the vampire in Lucien's captivity. Past the blood and gore staining the enemy vamp's face, she came to a surprising but advantageous realization. She chuckled, catching everyone's attention. "This is most convenient," she said, walking towards their captive.
She grabbed a fistful of their prisoner's blonde hair and she yanked his face up to what little light there was. She smiled. "I smell groupie…" she whispered in a sing-song tone.
"What?" asked Lucien.
"Don't you recognize him? He's one of Silvia's. I think this one's even involved with her now. Paolo, isn't it?"
The prisoner bared his fangs at her.
Hermione chuckled. "Would you like to see her, Paolo?"
Lucien gasped. "Silvia's here?"
At that, Paolo's eyes flickered, hissing with rage. "What have you done with her?"
Hermione chuckled. "Spoken like a true Boy Toy. Your Silvia's safe, for now. And I'm going to have fun questioning you both." She looked to Harry and the rest who had been watching her with oddly fascinated stares. "Alright, here's the deal: I want first dibs…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The train moved at a steady pace, the more damaged compartments blocked off with magic. Most of the party converged in the third car. Hermione said she would conduct the interrogation in the fifth. The space was wider there than in the other cars. Perfect for its purpose now.
Hermione had Silvia and Paolo sitting face to face, Lucien holding Paolo while Solomon held Silvia. There was no one else in the room with them.
Walking in circles, Hermione considered how best to approach the situation. She had reached into their minds earlier, hoping to catch something from their memories. She was expert at catching images, but her powers, though strong enough to penetrate the sturdiest walls, were limited; she couldn't hear words, not unless they were being fed to her directly, and as the memories of others went, that just didn't happen. Sometimes, she was able to piece things together with the memories, but pictures could only go so far; worse, pictures could be misleading. Silvia's and Paolo's memories weren't so detailed as to enlighten Hermione, so an actual interrogation was necessary.
So now she had to ask herself: How far was she willing to go to get answers?
Considering the answers might save Harry's life, as far as it takes.
That realization was almost crippling.
Hermione braced herself. Time to channel my bitch of a boss.
"How long have you been 'officially' together now, a year? Year and a half?" Hermione asked as she put her foot up on the side of Silvia's chair. She extracted her pistol from her thigh and slid out its cartridge. She removed the silver bullets from its cartridge and pocketed them. "Took you long enough. Been dancing around for ages, it seemed…"
Silvia and Paolo watched her warily. Hermione gave them a poisonous smile as she reached into Solomon's jacket pocket, pulling out a wallet of odd-looking bullets. They were mostly made of lead, except that half of it was hollowed out with tiny little arches. Inside the hollowed, windowed cavern sat a tiny glass ball with something liquid and colorless. With deliberate care, Hermione put the wallet on Silvia's lap so she could see what they were.
Hermione began to load the cartridge with those same bullets. "Silver bullets can pretty much hurt us, can't they? But I've found that they don't really do much good breaking stubborn vamps such as yourself." She looked at Paolo and smiled briefly. "You love Silvia?"
Paolo glared at her, hissing with bared fangs.
Lucien giggled. "That's vamp-talk for, 'Leave her alone you fucking bitch or I'll rip your throat out.'."
Hermione cocked a grin. "Well said, Paolo."
Lucien laughed.
"Solomon," said Hermione, loading the last of the bullets in her gun and cocking it. "Why don't you tell Silvia just what these bullets can do to a vamp."
Solomon leaned over, pressing his lips to Silvia's ear but speaking loud enough for even Paolo to hear him. "Each bullet contains a thimble-full of garlic essence. The glass ball containing it is mounted in such a way that would prevent the glass from breaking at the wrong time. It's a clever bullet. It only explodes when it's inside you. As you can imagine, it hurts like a motherfucker when the garlic starts to run in your blood. Best thing about it? Your body expels the bullet, but the garlic essence stays right where it is."
Hermione cocked the gun. "Now, would you like me to demonstrate? Or is Solomon's little explanation enough?"
Silvia glared at her. "Just try it, bitch. You won't get me to break."
"Oh, I know that," said Hermione cheerfully. "Which is why I'll do this." She pointed the gun at Paolo's thigh and pulled the trigger.
Paolo screamed as the bullet lodged itself into his leg and then his screaming got louder, prolonging into one, agonized wail. He bucked as the garlic shot through his system, convulsing as pain gripped him from within and twisted him inside.
Silvia had gasped, and as Paolo's screams filled the room, she struggled from Solomon's grip, vampire eyes blazing at Hermione. "You fucking bitch! You arrogant dyke!"
Hermione choked on a laugh. "Dyke! Never heard that one before. Is that what the rumors say about me now, Sol? That I'm a dyke?"
Solomon shrugged.
Lucien grinned. "I think I heard it once. Said you and Yasmin were getting it on. I think it's hot."
Hermione tapped the barrel of the gun to Silvia's temple, smiling. "Yasmin's alright. Sexy as hell, but if I'm going to get me a girlfriend, I won't pick someone as coldhearted as Yasmin. Someone sweet as candy. Someone wonderful, like Elena, for example."
Everybody in the vamp world knew Elena. Elena was a jet-set Madam who had all sorts of connections. She gave vamps what they wanted, for a price. Usually, the goods were legal, but sometimes, they were difficult to come by. Elena had the resources to get them without having to break a sweat.
Lucien sighed wistfully. "Oh, man. Elena… that woman is amazing. Been after Hermione for years."
"Shut-up, Lucien," Hermione said, mildly disparaging. "She is not after me. She fancies me, but Elena chases no one. Now, how's Paolo doing?"
Paolo was just now getting over the throes of the bullet. Just as Solomon said, the bent and battered remains of the bullet began to resurface from Paolo's healing skin. The shards of glass followed, but the garlic had done its worst. Paolo made a few more agonized sounds, groaning as the last of the pain nagged him. The memory of it, though, was something that wasn't going to leave him anytime soon.
"And now a question," Hermione said, looking to Silvia. "Who told you to kidnap Harry Potter?"
Silvia didn't hesitate with this one. "Bellatrix."
Old news. "Any idea who ordered her to order you?"
"Voldemort."
"Who told Voldemort?"
Silvia was quiet for a moment. "I don't know."
Hermione snorted. She had expected as much. She had seen no misplaced face in Silvia's mind earlier; no one Hermione could suspect as a mole. "Of course you don't. You're just a flunkie. Well then, tell me why they want Harry alive."
At that, Silvia's eyes flashed.
Humph. Predictable. Hermione arched an eyebrow, turning to Paolo. "Do you know why Voldemort wants Harry alive?"
Paolo was still gritting his teeth from the residual pain of the bullet. "To kill him. Voldemort wants to kill Potter himself."
"How very dramatic," Hermione said dryly. She grabbed Paolo by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward, drawing him close enough to be nose to nose with her. "I have no time for this bullshit, Paolo. I'm sure I don't have to remind you how painful that bullet was, the garlic inside you boiling your blood. That wretched, agonizing pain can go on all night. There are more bullets were that came from."
Hermione smelled Paolo's fear and Silvia, perhaps sensing it as well, cursed on her seat. Hermione grinned. "Now are you going to answer my questions?"
Paolo's jaw hardened through his fear. "I can take the pain. I don't care. I won't talk."
"Fine." Hermione threw him back in his seat, turned and grabbed Silvia by her braid. Yanking back Silvia's head, Hermione pressed the barrel of the gun to Silvia's eye.
Paolo's eyes widened in shock and he bucked in his seat. "No!"
Fangs bared, Hermione looked over her shoulder at Paolo. "Remember the pain, Paolo? How it felt? Well, there's nothing quite like having one's eye blown out and having all that garlic pooling in your brain. Silvia's going to love you after this."
"Silvia!"
"Sh-Shut up, Paolo!" Silvia hissed. "Don't say a thing. Don't!"
"I'm going to count to five, Paolo!" Hermione warned.
"If you hurt her, I swear!"
"ONE!"
"You-"
"Bitch! I know! TWO!"
Paolo's struggles were so violent that Lucien actually began to exert effort to hold him down. "Let me-"
Hermione hissed. "Five." She motioned to pull the trigger.
"No! Just don't! There's something. I'm not sure what it is, but it sounded like a spell! Maybe it is, but I couldn't be sure!"
"Paolo, you IDIOT!" Silvia cried as Hermione released her roughly.
Paolo looked at her beseechingly. "I can't let her, Silvia. I just can't…"
Hermione snorted. "Touching. Silvia, you vicious girl, how did you get such a tenderhearted, naïve creature to fall in love with you? Incidentally, Paolo, did you know that your sweetheart liked butchering children for the Coven? She loved doing that. It's against vampire law to sire the young and pre-pubescent, but most Coven members, even Yasmin, for that matter, don't really go out of their way to hunt vampire younglings. After all, who wants to kill kids? It wasn't their fault they were turned. Silvia, however, just loved ripping out their little hearts. And you know what? She messed with the wrong child when she killed Samir. I've got her on my shitlist and I'm taking down anybody that gets in my way. So do yourself a favor and quit her. It's not in your best interest to be associated with someone like her."
"Samir thought he was safe from the hand of the law," Silvia growled, a dark shadow falling over her eyes. She looked more the beast than any of the werewolves they had slain that night. "Fortior et potentior est dispositio legis quam hominis."
The will of the law is more resolute and more powerful than that of man.
Hermione controlled her rising fury and kept her gaze on Paolo, biting back her reply to get to the more important matters at hand. "Tell me the name of this spell you're talking about."
"Animus Messer. That's all I heard. I don't even know if it has anything to do with Potter, but I heard the words."
"Soul harvest," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Interesting."
Hermione shucked a few more questions, hoping to get more information. Paolo didn't know any more than what she already knew. Silvia wasn't going to talk; not for Paolo, not for anyone. The woman may look like an angel, but she was demon all the way through.
Hermione ordered Solomon and Lucien to bind the vamps and haul them to the third car where they could be constantly watched. They left, leaving Hermione alone in the room.
When they were gone, she wearily sat on one of the chairs, letting go of the Yasmin Persona she had created for the interrogation. She un-cocked the pistol and slid the cartridge out of the gun, removing the garlic bullets. It was only then, as the silence enveloped her senses, that she felt his presence. She tensed with a mixture of horror and amazement. Horror, because she knew he had seen what she had done, and amazement, because she realized a moment later that she had only felt his presence because he let her.
"Well, Harry… brilliant magic you got up, there," Hermione said.
For a moment, there was no response, then the familiar rustle of that clever, magical cloak shuffled through the air. Harry stood in the corner of the room, shock evident in his eyes. His breath trembled and he swallowed visibly.
Hermione gestured to the seat across from her as she pocketed the garlic bullets and took out the silver ones. "Care to sit?"
Slowly, Harry approached, settling on the chair in front of her. He was still watching her with barely concealed horror.
She smiled bitterly. "Nice trick, masking your presence. Didn't know you were there, so… you saw what I did. Not pretty, but it had to be done."
"Y-You…" he began, swallowing. "You used… you used Paolo's feeling for Silvia… and you shot his leg…"
"That, I did. But you have to understand… pain is different for vamps. Aside from the fact that we can heal from our wounds, we can take pain. It won't make us break. Paolo would've never said anything if I kept hurting him. But I had to make him feel what it was like to get shot by these bullets. I shot him where it hurts the least… but yes, he did feel an enormous amount of pain."
"Then why hurt him if you knew he wouldn't break that way? Why let him feel such pain?"
"So that he'd save Silvia from it. Paolo would take the pain, but he would never let Silvia suffer it, even if he knows she could take it. He loves her. Paolo would only break for her. Wouldn't you have given in for someone you love, no matter how strong you know they are?"
Harry held her gaze for a moment before slowly nodding.
"Silvia wouldn't have cared," Hermione continued. "She could've watched Paolo suffer all night and she wouldn't have budged an inch. My way was more merciful. Contrary to what Ron thinks, Harry, I don't like inflicting pain. I already told you, didn't I? Torture isn't my cup of tea."
"But you did it anyway."
She nodded, clicking the newly loaded cartridge in place. "Yes, I did it. Tonight, I did it. Don't ask me why, or else suffer the burden of my answer."
"What does that even mean?"
"Harry… for what reason have I ever broken the rules? For what reason have I ever broken my rules?"
He didn't speak. Not for a while, the terrible answer hanging in the air between them.
She couldn't ever be so cruel as to let him say the answer out loud. "I'd expect we'd be arriving in Hogwarts soon. Will Shacklebolt and Mad Eye let Lucien and Solomon stay in the castle?"
Harry swallowed before he replied. "Yes. Your boys won them over assisting them in battle this evening."
"Good. Do you think I should be let into the castle, now that you've seen what I'm capable of?"
His eyes flickered with what she was astonished to realize was hope. "I was listening to everything you said, you know… who's Samir?"
Her heart twisted painfully at the name and hesitated. Should she tell him about that?
"Please," he said in a soft, beseeching tone.
Maybe it was one of those looks of his that she couldn't turn away from, but she could tell he needed her to tell him. Who was Samir, indeed.
Tentatively, she began to speak in a soft, hushed voice. "Samir… he was only seven when he was turned, and his family abandoned him for becoming what he was. He was… he wasn't even vicious. Vampires turned that young… they don't usually turn out right in the head. Sometimes they're even more vicious than adults, but they lack the skill to survive. Often they're slain by any vampire they happen to cross. It's such a frequent outcome that we in the Coven don't even bother to hunt them. It's just not… easy to take a child's life, no matter how-but Silvia could handle it. She found those children and killed them. Called them Little Buggers."
Harry flinched.
"Samir," she continued quietly, "was just a frightened little boy. He didn't even know how to hunt. He was so weak. So I took him in."
He remembered, then. The talk they had the first night she came. He had seen pain, and he had wondered whom that pain was for. "You took in a stray…"
She swallowed. "Yes… I have a thing for… anyway, Yasmin didn't care. She thought I was an idiot for taking in a child, but she didn't make a big fuss over it. Besides… I wasn't going to give up Samir for anything at that point. I loved the sprog."
Harry made a motion to touch her.
She shifted, flinching away.
He pulled back and expelled a breath. "Silvia murdered him."
Hermione nodded. "She used a wooden stake. Didn't even bother to give him a quick death with a sword."
"Oh, Merlin…" Harry whispered, running his hand down his face at the horror of it.
"I watched Samir die, Harry. In my arms. Silvia… I never thought she would harm Samir. He was… he was hers. She turned the child, and then she killed him. I still don't understand it."
Whatever revulsion Harry had for what she'd done earlier was gone and for the life of her, Hermione didn't know if she should even be feeling relief. His revulsion was what she wanted, wasn't it?
"I would've killed Silvia," he said. "I would've shot a whole round into her, watched her suffer before I took her head."
Hermione smiled slightly at that. "No. You wouldn't have, Harry. You can never do such a thing. Not for Samir. Not for anyone you love. You're too pure for that."
She was astonished when his hand wrapped around hers.
"You could've killed Silvia in battle. Staked her through the heart, like she did with Samir. Why didn't you?"
She clenched her hand into a fist. "We needed her."
"We did, but can you, Hermione? Kill her in cold blood for Samir? For revenge?"
Hermione hesitated, but she realized that the hesitation came not from uncertainty. She knew what she wanted to do to Silvia, given the opportunity. What she couldn't bear was what Harry would think of her if he heard the answer from her lips. "Don't make me answer that."
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
His hand loosened, and just when she thought he was going to let her go, his hand was cupping her face. The touch was tender, and his eyes conveyed true sorrow.
She was too shocked to pull away.
"I'm sorry about Samir," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
Tears threatened and she frantically blinked them back. "It was over three years ago. It's not-it's not something-"
She felt the firm but gentle grasp of his hand on her neck; the warmth of his touch scattering her thoughts.
She didn't know how it happened, but she was in the embrace of his arms, and she wasn't struggling to be let go.
Closing her eyes, she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent as she pulled herself together within the safety of his nearness. The bitter coldness she had placed around Samir's loss melted and the grief hit her anew. Tears fell and it hurt to push back the sobs. She clung to the fabric of his shirt, fighting her emotions back. She had to stop. This wasn't part of the plan.
Finally, she found control, and gingerly, she pulled away from Harry. Mostly dry-eyed, she gave a final sniff before she spoke. "It's fine, Harry. I'm over it. We better get back to the third car. They might be wondering what we're doing, staying away for so long."
He didn't look at all convinced that she was alright. "They can think whatever the hell they want. Are you sure you're-"
"I'm fine," she growled irritably. "Can we please just go?"
He expelled a soft breath before he nodded. "Alright, Hermione. Alright. Let's go."
She hated it and loved it that he was giving in for her. Hated him and loved him for caring.
It was almost more than she could bear. Turning, she hurried to the front of the car, leaving Harry to follow sluggishly in her wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Props to the Merovingian, from Matrix: Reloaded who said, "Okay… you have some skill." I love that quote and I just had to use it. Later on, you'll probably catch, "We are getting aggravated. Yes we are…"
*The "Crescent Moon Werewolves" were mentioned earlier in the story in Part I, Chapter 4: Occasion. So it isn't as if I've just now come up with the idea to fit my purposes. I came up with the idea earlier to fit my purposes. ::evil laugh::
*An aikuchi is a tanto (dagger, or knife, with a blade less than twelve inches) without a tsuba (guard).
*Credit duly given to the movie "40-year-old Virgin" for popularizing the words, "Do you know how I know you're gay?"