Author's Notes: There's a passage in this chapter about a "train wreck." It was inspired by a reader who dropped a note in my live journal. It described Harry and Hermione's relationship in this fic wonderfully, so I just had to add it.
I apologize for how boring you may think this chapter is. It's necessary for Hermione's character development, you see, so I couldn't omit it. There's a teeny tiny bit about Harry, too, anyway.
Thanks so much to Lady Diamond!!! This came at a most opportune time, when my mind was already bursting from too much work.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter rating: R
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Chapter Twenty-First: Learn
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"So let me get this straight," said Ron, whispering fiercely as they sat in the library with a pile of books surrounding them. The sun was streaming through the windows and it was late morning in Hogwarts. "She had the last-you know-all this time and she didn't tell us?"
Harry sighed, peering over the books to make sure no one was near enough to eavesdrop. He caught a whole bunch of students who had been looking their way. Some averted their eyes; some smiled and blushed at getting caught; some actually waved shyly and giggled. Harry had to wonder where all the boys of Hogwarts were. Didn't they know they were supposed to use the library?
Annoyed by the attention, Harry warded their table, casting charms to prevent anyone from listening in on them or paying them any more attention. "She doesn't have it, have it. It's some place safe. She only found out about it recently, when Yasmin told her. So it isn't like Hermione's been keeping it from us all these five years."
"Okay, fine, but now she's using Gryffindor's staff as a bargaining chip to-"
"So I would let her train me. Prepare me for something. I don't know what and she doesn't know what, but apparently, Yasmin knows what, and I hate it when I'm being used, as you might understand."
"God, she's such a bitch."
"Tell me about it. Yasmin's just moving everyone around like pawns-"
"I was talking about Hermione. Why does she have to play you like that? She ought to give you the horcrux, but yeah, Yasmin too."
Harry frowned at that. "She doesn't know where it is. Yasmin won't tell her until Hermione confirms that I'm ready."
"She could lie for you. Won't be the first time."
"She would probably do that if I asked her really nice, but the fact is, if she's going to lie, it would have to be a credible one, and Yasmin's not going to believe that Hermione got me all trained and ready in three days. Besides… I don't think Hermione could lie to Yasmin, even if she wanted to, and I don't want Yasmin taking her head off for it, either."
"Whatever," Ron muttered.
"Look, I told you I'm going to keep out of your business with Hermione, and I'm sticking to that, but if there's one thing I've realized about her in the last few days, it's that she's going to let you hate her for as long as you're willing to. She thinks she deserves the punishment, and maybe she does, but it pushes her away. Do you want to push her away? Is that your main reason for treating her the way you do?"
Ron shot him a sardonic grimace. "Of course not. You know why I do this. I'm watching out that she doesn't hurt you and me the way she did back then. We can't let her do that again."
"She doesn't want to, which is the main reason why she's being so bloomin' cold to us since she got back. It's just like her to cut it at the roots just because it could potentially become a worse situation. Can't you see that?"
Ron sniffed in disgust before slinking down in his seat. "Suspect'd it," he muttered. "It's like she's refusing to let it go back to the way it used to be. But don't you think that just means she has every intention of leaving again? After all this is done, she'll pick up and go back to wherever it was she was hiding, just like before."
"Yeah, well, she thinks that if we hate her by that time, no one would be sorry when she has to go. Even when we were talking this morning-really talking, I figured she still thinks she could get me to change my mind about her. She called herself my 'inclination'. Would you believe it? She said it like she was an eccentricity of mine, or something. Like I'm some freak for loving her."
Ron shook his head, sighing in resignation. "You're hopeless. You both are. It's like a horrible train-wreck waiting to happen but I couldn't help but keep watching it to its catastrophic end."
"That's so inspiring. Sheer fecking poetry."
"Well, it's true! You love her. She doesn't want you to, and I don't even know where to begin sorting what the hell she's thinking. And even if you get past all that anyway, you both still belong in different worlds! It's a complete disaster!"
Harry might have heard his heart crack the tiniest bit. Ron wasn't handing out greeting cards. "Is that what you think, Ron? That there's nothing for me and Hermione?"
"Yes!" Ron sighed. "No! It's both! It's just… on the one hand, I see your point, on another I see… I see her point. In a typical Harry-Hermione fashion, you're using your heart and she's using her mind, so you're both right and you're both wrong! Merlin's bullocks, all this emotional chow-chow is EXHAUSTING, how the hell do you sensitive people deal with it all the time?"
"Wait… you know what 'emotional chow-chow' means?"
"Everybody knows what emotional chow-chow means."
Harry growled. "Well, I'm not everyone, am I?"
"Yeah. You're so different. You're the Chosen One. Boohoo. Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I'm going to eat some worms."
Harry bristled. "Well, if you're so smart, what the hell-"
"Chow-chow is sliced vegetables pickled in mustard, so 'emotional chow-chow' is a slanted reference to the proverbial pupu-platter of angst delectably displayed for all to pick and sink their teeth into. Like hors d' oeuvres."
"I don't know who you are but if you don't tell me where Ron is, I'm blasting your bullocks off."
"Blame Gabrielle. She practically has me memorizing this stuff. Have to say, the food angle made it easy to remember."
Harry stared at him with a certain degree of concern. "Are you sure it's healthy to date her, mate?"
"Oh, not like she's sucking my blood or anything."
Harry sniffed. "Point for you, but at least Hermione's not transfiguring me into a girl."
"I'm not the one who got his ass kicked by a woman last night."
Ron was on a roll, it seemed. Harry scowled. "That's low. I told you that in confidence."
"You relinquished that trust when you ragged me about Gabrielle, yet again. Frankly, I'm getting tired of hearing you tell me that she's too young, or too anything. Can't you just be happy for me?"
"Fine. I'm happy for you, alright?"
"You don't sound like you mean it."
"Well, for feck's sake, Ron! What… do you want me to hug you or something? Share a moment? Here, put your head on my shoulder, Ickle Ronniekins."
Ron scoffed but laughed, too. "As titillating as all this gender reassignment is, I'll pass. And we ought to go back to talking about you, and this thing you have with Hermione. Are you setting yourself up to be heartbroken again?"
"You sure cut right to it, boyo."
"Hey, real men get to the point."
"It's practically a Homo Erectus motto. And to answer your question, yes, I'm setting myself up, but hopefully not for heartbreak. I want her back. Is that so bad?"
Ron gave a non-committal sound. "I don't know. Is it?"
"Maybe… we sorter…" Harry paused then glared at Ron. "Okay, this is really something I'm telling you in confidence. You don't get to use this to taunt, hit or mock me with, alright?"
"Stop ragging me about Gabrielle."
"Deal. Okay… Hermione and I fooled around last night."
"Fantastic," said Ron, unenthusiastically.
"Yeah, it was, actually. She put a stop to it, but… well, she was saying no, but her kiss said yes."
"That's the defense used by date-rapists."
Harry shot him a sardonic grimace. "You know what I mean. I think she still has feelings for me."
"Have you told her about your women?"
"Wha-they're not my women, Ron! And yes, I've told her about those. Told her about Cho Chang, too."
"Was she jealous?"
"M-Maybe…"
"Well, there you go! All you have to do is make her even more jealous. You ought to bust out that black book of yours and floo some birds. Maybe you should have an illegitimate child handy to really drill it in."
"First of all, I have no black book; secondly, I sincerely hope you're joking about me having an illegitimate child. I know nothing about this child you're talking about; and thirdly, especially if you're just making up that bit about the illegitimate-child, you have no soul for suggesting something like that. This isn't a game, Ron. I'm seriously trying to get her back. Please… no more boneheaded advice. And it isn't like I'm going to cook up some kind of sinister plan. It's nothing like that. I suppose there's going to be a lot of talking involved when she's not beating the crap out of me in training. I just don't want to do the wrong thing, you know?"
"Maybe you should talk to Lucien and Solomon about that."
"I just said no boneheaded advice. What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ron rolled his eyes in disgust. "Nothing is wrong with me, and I'm serious. She'd spent the last four or five years with these blokes. A lot has happened in those years. Maybe understanding what she'd been like those five years from their point of view would help things a little. I'm just saying."
"Fine. That makes sense, which is strange coming from you."
"No appreciation at all…"
"I'll take your wonderful, inspired and purrr-fect advice and talk to Lucien and Solomon. There, appreciated it enough for you?"
Ron shot him a grudging smile. "I'm all tingly."
"Good. I think I ought to throw in the traditional chocolates and roses…"
"Oh, Harry, you're sweet, but no thank you."
"For Hermione, idiot. Now I just need an occasion."
"Halloween's coming up."
Harry shook his head. "Might be too far off."
"How about the general meeting of the Order? That's in a couple of weeks."
It might be an odd time to romance her, but Harry figured sooner was better than later. "That'll do."
Ron made a face. "I was kidding."
"You were?"
Ron sighed. "How can a badass, Chosen One, vampire-shagging, Auror-bloke such as yourself be so romantically stupid. I swear to God, Potter!"
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"Blimey, Harry, go ask her out on a date!"
Harry scowled. "Don't you think she and I are a bit past that?"
"The point is to get the both of you relaxed enough to start fresh; get to know each other again. Asking her out on a date will put you both in that mind-set. Besides, don't married women always complain about their husbands not taking them out on dates anymore? Women like to be swept off to a romantic evening, whether they've slept with your ugly mug or not."
Harry looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know all this?"
"Well, you know. I visit my nieces and nephew at Bill's, and Fleur's always off about 'ze romance in ze marriage.' It kinda sticks into your brain if you hear it enough times."
"You do realize, Ron, that I'm a moving target. I can't just go out on a date without getting attacked by Death Eaters."
"Yes, but if she's as kick-ass as you say she is, then she could defend herself in an attack and you won't have to worry about her."
Harry shot him a glare.
Ron was unbothered. "I thought you were determined to get her back. What's with all the excuses?"
"Forgive me if I'm a bit over-cautious about getting Hermione and myself killed while we laugh and flirt over drinks and music."
"I'm just saying; if you want it bad enough…"
Harry sighed and ran his hand irritably through his hair. "I think I'll just take it one step at a time. How's that?"
Ron shrugged. "Eh, might work."
"Should I even be thinking about this? I mean there's the horcrux, and that stupid message from the Oracle and this entire bloody war…"
"I don't know, Harry. We do what it takes to get through this war without losing our minds. Maybe you shouldn't feel so guilty."
"Maybe." He reached across the table, picking up the scroll that contained the agreement between the Coven and the Order. He read it over again and it would be the third time he would have reviewed it. By the time he got to the bottom of the scroll, Ron was deep into doodling nonsensically on his pad while he sat staring aimlessly at a page of one of the many books on their table.
Harry stared at Yasmin's signature. Right beneath it was Hermione's.
He took his quill, dipped it in ink and signed his name at the bottom of the contract. There was a flicker of magic, his signature glowing for a moment before it settled. Several minutes later, Remus's, McGonagall's and Arthur's signatures appeared in the blank spaces with the same, shimmering magic. Shacklebolt's came shortly after everyone else.
The scroll flashed gold for a heartbeat, marking the contract enforceable and binding.
Harry had to wonder if they had just been waiting for him to sign it before they all did.
Nah. Just a coincidence, is all.
Having decided that was a satisfactory explanation, he went back to doing his research.
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Hermione and her Shadow Kin were discreet as they emerged from their dungeon. They waited until most of the students were clear of the hallways before parading through the walkways, and while perhaps their darkly cloaked figures were a bit frightening, they kept their faces hidden and they bothered no one. Besides, they were being escorted by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the two people whom everyone could depend on to make sure that Hogwarts was safe.
They went straight for the Room of Requirement, outside of which Hermione ordered Lucien and Solomon to wait.
Harry noticed a flicker of hurt pass their faces. From what he knew of vamps, the Shadow Kin had a right to be hurt. Shadow Kin liked to think their alphas trusted them because they trusted their alphas almost unconditionally. It was a very important bond. Never to be taken lightly.
"Hermione, you'll eventually tell us what this is all about, won't you?" Solomon asked beseechingly, without demand.
Hermione's eyes visibly softened at the expected looks on their faces. "Yes, eventually. Right now, my instructions from Yasmin were to keep this between me and Harry. I include Ron because it is his right to know, and I do dare Yasmin to challenge me on it. She won't, but I cannot justify telling you and Lucien just yet."
Both vamps nodded at this, though it was evident in their eyes that they wished their alpha had given them a different reply.
"As soon as I believe it wise to let you know, or when Yasmin authorizes me, whichever comes first, I will tell you," Hermione said.
"Not a moment later," Lucien added.
She nodded. "Not a moment later."
"Swear it."
"I swear."
"Here." He pulled back the sleeve of his robe and exposed his leather, long-sleeved top underneath. "Swear it on Versace."
Harry had to wonder if Lucien was serious. The vamp certainly wasn't laughing.
Hermione didn't even blink. She obliged Lucien very patiently, delicately placing her fingers on his leather-clad arm and looking him in the eye. "I solemnly swear it on Versace and all your favorite fashion designers. I would swear on Prada but I'm not wearing my pair."
Lucien nodded, seemingly satisfied. He looked to Solomon who nodded as well.
It was moments like these that Harry could somewhat understand the dynamic of Lucien and Solomon in relation to Hermione. Aside from the fact that she was their alpha, they regarded her as someone who watched out for them, like a parent who was both tolerant and inflexible to their faults and foibles, at the same time, she was proud of their strengths. They took their roles seriously, yet they would indulge in the silliest things, often designed to amuse Hermione, letting her in on the silliness without having to force her down from the pedestal they put her on.
Much as Harry hated to admit it, they were good for her, and considering Lucien and Solomon's background stories, Hermione was very good for them.
After Hermione swore on haute couture, Solomon and Lucien stepped aside for Hermione, Ron, and Harry to walk through the door.
When they were closed into what looked like a very cozy Gryffindor common room, Harry caught Ron glancing hesitantly at the door behind them.
"Your… Shadow Kin are rather funny," said Ron.
Hermione looked at him with a barely stifled smirk as she undid her robe. "If you're meaning to tell me they're queer, Ron-and yes, I know you mean it in that way-all I can say is welcome to my world. If you have a problem with it-"
"Oh, no problem at all! I'm really quite fond of-" Ron reddened, checked himself and continued. "I mean, I'm all for that-erm-gay thing…"
Hermione grinned. "Thing?"
"What I want to say is… I think maybe… erm, Lucien's been… looking at me funny."
"Funny, haha, or funny, I want you so badly I'm going to eat you up?"
Harry choked on a laugh.
Ron scowled at him before replying to Hermione's question. "I'm not sure. I don't know him enough to tell by the look of him."
She smirked. "Well, I'm just teasing you, Ron. I know why he's looking at you funny. He doesn't like that you're being mean to me, so he's… well, he's not too happy with you, is all. So no, he doesn't fancy you. Not that he doesn't fancy men, mind you. He's bisexual and does tend to prefer men every once in a while."
"So he's just teed-off with me?" Ron looked relieved, as if getting on the bad side of a vamp was better than being fancied by him.
"No. I don't think you're his type. I think he's more inclined to fancy Harry. He said Harry was good looking."
"Yeah, I'm a big hit with the vampires," Harry grumbled, sitting on the couch as he slumped over, elbows to knees.
Hermione actually chuckled as she shrugged out of her robe. She wore a dark maroon halter top with felt patterns of the same shade. Her black leather pants fit her really well at the hips but went down a straight, flattering cut to accommodate belted biker boots at the bottom. She wore a thick lacey choker with a gothic pendulum hanging down the middle from a thin chain. It took everything in Harry's willpower not to stare down her halter top.
She sat herself on the great big reading chair that was just for her. "Truer than you realize, Harry."
He wasn't even going to take that at face value. He eyed her questioningly. She merely smirked in reply.
Ron took the sofa chair, putting his foot up on the adjacent ottoman. "I'm not that mean to you, am I, Hermione?"
She cocked a smile. "I don't know. I've grown a bit thick-skinned over the years."
Harry shot her a look, eyebrow arched, as if to remind her of their promise with each other to be honest.
She caught it and arched her eyebrow right back at him. "But we'll talk about that some other time, Ron," she continued. "Right now, we have a bunch of other important things to discuss."
Harry supposed he would have to settle with that, for now. They hadn't really talked about the particulars of their "arrangement". After she told him about the horcrux, it was all sort of downhill from there.
His initial reaction was similar to Ron's. He asked her if she had it all these five years but didn't tell him. She had-amazingly-looked hurt. The emotion flashed very briefly, but Harry caught it, and he felt a little remorseful about accusing Hermione of something like that. After that, she glossed cold again, telling him that she'd only just found out about it when Yasmin told her the details of this mission, which had been about a week ago. How Yasmin got her hands on a horcrux, or even knew it existed, Hermione didn't know. All Hermione knew was that Yasmin-though capable of using people and withholding the truth-never told outright lies. So while Hermione didn't know where the horcrux was, she was sure Yasmin had possession of it.
Harry remembered apologizing for assuming Hermione had been keeping this information for years. He really was sorry. She had said something like, "It's fine. Don't even worry about it," but it was bereft of warmth. He believed she had accepted his apology, but he had a nagging feeling that she had resigned herself to the idea that her motives and priorities would be questioned because his first reaction had been that, and he did realize that if he, out of everyone, could judge her like that, then that was the way it was going to be for everyone else.
"I saw the contract," continued Hermione, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Yasmin will be pleased. She should know about it by now. She has a copy, too. I should be hearing from her soon, if not personally, by owl. Have you decided on whether you're going to accept the training, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I'll go with it, Hermione. What choice do I have? I need to get that staff."
"I know, and under any other circumstance, I would've gotten that staff for you, even if it means I have to lie for you, but Yasmin would know I'm lying, and there's no telling what she'd do after that."
Harry briefly exchanged glances with Ron. Now he felt even more wretched about mistrusting her.
"You have the worst boss, Hermione," Ron muttered.
"Her system works, I suppose," she said, curling up into the chair without kicking off her boots. "How far have you boys gotten on the research."
Ron tore his gaze away having done very little reading that afternoon. Harry was more forthcoming.
"Not far," he said. "Most of the leads I followed turned up as dead-ends. There's still a lot of material to cover, though, so it's too early to say there's nothing."
She nodded. "I'll head on to the library after this, and I'm fairly confident I could order Solomon and Lucien to help. They'll whinge, but they won't shirk."
"You should talk to Remus about this. He could help."
She visibly hesitated. "Umm, yes. I'm sure he could. You go and talk to him. And you decide what parts he gets to research."
Harry's eyebrow rose inquisitively. "Something wrong?"
She seemed surprised. "Wrong? Nothing's wrong."
"You don't want to talk to Remus?"
A blush tinted her cheeks. "It's nothing like that… it's just that-what I mean to say is-well, Remus… he'll do as I say… you know what I mean?"
At first, Harry was confused. He didn't even look to Ron in case Ron understood. There was already a glazed look in Ron's eyes having already zoned out.
Then it occurred to Harry what Hermione was trying to tell him. Remus would do as she says. Remus was a werewolf drawn to Hermione as a servant. Unlike Lucien and Solomon who deferred to Hermione out of loyalty, respect and survival, Remus would do so out of instinct, and in servitude. It was easy to understand how Hermione-of all people-found that revolting, and odd as it was, he was warmed by this tiny rediscovery of her.
She had, in the last two days, made an effort to keep large pieces of her from knowing eyes, only to slip with the little, telling things.
He tried not to let on that he was pleased by this discovery. It was bad enough he had caused her retreat the night before with his careless assumptions; he didn't want to make her edgy because he let on that he saw more and more of what she was trying to hide. He simply nodded. "I'll talk to Remus."
"Thank you," she said with a hint of relief.
Ron frowned. "Did I miss something?"
"Nope," said Harry.
"I did miss something. You two have that look about you again."
Harry frowned. "What look?"
"That talking-with-your-eyes look. I ought to butt your heads together, the way you're getting back into old habits…"
Hermione scowled. "It's not our fault if you're zoning out in the middle of important conversation."
"Well, excuse me. Some of us actually have to speak to understand one another, and whatever emotional drama you had in the last five minutes is not something I make my business. Because it was an emotional drama, wasn't it? Your eyes were like-'Oh, Harry, save me!' and Harry was like-'Don't worry, Hermione, I will because I'm Super Harry!'"
For someone who missed something, Ron sure had a rather detailed take of it.
"I go by many names, apparently," Harry said, but neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to pay him much attention.
Hermione looked like she was going to pass out from the blood rush to her face. "I was not looking at Harry like that! I hadn't needed Harry in the last five years and I'm not going to start that again!"
One step forward, two steps back. Ron, Ron… I have to love you, or else I'd have already killed you, he thought wearily.
She continued her tirade. "So you can just quit making stupid assumptions, maybe go back to your little corner and play chess."
"Well!" Ron cried. "Some things never change, obviously! You're still impossibly haughty about your brains, you know-it-all little nightmare."
"Ooh, good First Year insult. Too bad the only Troll you can get now won't save my opinion of your IQ."
"Alright, you two, stop it," Harry said, eyeing them both sternly. "Ron, we talked about this, eh?"
Ron tore his gaze away, grumbling to himself.
Harry looked to Hermione. "Just try not to argue with Ron so much."
"Of course. I would have to be the grown-up, wouldn't I?"
No grown-ups from where I'm sitting, he thought irritably. He was about to say something when the look on her face stopped him.
She blinked and her anger seemed to recede.
"Whatever," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping into her seat.
Harry looked at her in surprise. Had she heard that? He waited for her to say something more but she wouldn't catch his eye.
"Somebody has to be," he said to wrap up the issue. "I can stay in Hogwarts for another day, after which I have to go back to London. You can either stay here or come back with me. Ron's staying longer, I think."
"Yeah. Got some stuff to finish at the dragon pens so I could be free for the weekend. Have to go to France, you know."
"Of course you do. Gabrielle has to show off her older-guy boyfriend to her friends," Hermione teased.
Ron made a face but said nothing.
"I'll go back with you, Harry," she said. "The research is important, but so is your training. If I really need to go back to Hogwarts, then I'll just have to risk another train ride. I won't compromise yours and Tonks's jobs by asking you to make a portkey for a bunch of unattended vampires."
Harry smiled apologetically. "I'd make you the portkey if you wanted me to, and I could care less about the job, but Scrimgeour and his ministry flunkies will cause an unnecessary fuss and there's no telling what the repercussions could be. I just want to keep you under the radar. You don't want the ministry's and the general public's attention on you, and I don't think your vamp superiors would like that, either."
"No, they wouldn't," she admitted. "This is the one thing I hate about the vamp thing. Can't apparate, can't floo, can't ride a broom…"
"You can fly, though, can't you?" Ron asked. "That vamp that brought Harry to the hospital…"
"Rashad," said Hermione, a faint look of sorrow in her gaze.
Harry didn't know if it was for Rashad's death or if it was because she was remembering that night she had promised Yasmin her life in exchange for his.
He answered the question for Hermione. "Not all vamps can fly, Ron. It's a special power, like their mind reading and the coming-with-the-mist thing."
Hermione nodded. "And even then, any power that has to do with shape-shifting drains a vampire considerably. So sprouting wings, or turning into mist or transfiguring into a dog-demon… it shouldn't be used on a regular basis."
"I've never seen a dog-demon," said Harry.
"They're ugly. That's all you have to know," said Hermione.
"So can you fly, Hermione?" Ron asked.
Harry looked to her. He never thought about asking her about her vampire powers. When she first turned, she wouldn't have developed her vamp powers yet. She might have had an inkling that something about her was changing, but most vamps only become aware of their powers when the power randomly manifested. Nothing or anything can trigger it. It just happened. It hadn't happened for Hermione yet before she left them, or she might not have been aware of it.
She hesitated. "I-I'd really rather not talk about that…"
Harry's eyebrow arched. So did Ron's.
"I'd really rather not," she repeated.
Which of course made Harry think that he would bring it up next time and probably wheedle the entire story out of her.
"I use a car to get around," she said, grinning slightly. "Yasmin always has a lot to spare for the coven affiliates. I've had to use a motorcycle a few times, but they make too much noise and I feel exposed. Love the outfit that goes with it, though. That's the only upside."
Seeing Hermione on a motorcycle, with the outfit, was likely to make him drool and pass out. He shut the image from his mind lest it addled his brain further. "I can apparate you side-along. Just you, though. Lucien and Solomon could very well fend for themselves."
Hermione frowned. "Like, just leave them?"
"I thought you were good at that sort of thing," Ron said.
Harry sighed, leaning back on the couch as Hermione became visibly outraged by Ron's remark. And just as he expected, she didn't explode. She instead froze over and stood up from her seat.
"You're right. I am. Watch me do it." She turned to go and Harry had to stand up and take her gently by the arm to stop her from leaving.
"Don't," he said in a soft, soothing voice. "Please don't. Look… you and Ron"-he volleyed his gaze between them-"you have to talk."
"We have talked," she hissed.
"Well, talk again," he insisted, shooting Ron a glare. "I didn't want to interfere, but if I'm going to spend all my time refereeing you two, that broom's not going to fly. I have better things to do with my time. I'm going to leave you two alone. You can come get me when you've sorted things out." He made for the door.
He heard Ron grumbling unintelligible things.
"Where are you going?" Hermione demanded as she watched Harry go.
"I think I'll hang out with Lucien and Solomon," Harry said as he walked out of the Room of Requirement.
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"So you left him in there with Hermione?" Solomon asked. "Is that safe?"
Harry frowned. "Ron's not going to hurt her."
Solomon rolled his eyes. "I'm not worried about Hermione. I'm worried about Ron."
Right, thought Harry, mentally chastising himself. "I don't think Hermione's going to hurt Ron, either. They'll work it out. I know they will."
Lucien made a face. "Yes, well, we'll keep our fingers crossed."
Harry adjusted his seat on the floor and muttered a cushioning charm on the stone. They'd been sitting across the Room of Requirement door for a few minutes now, and Lucien and Solomon were eager to find out what all the drama was all about. Harry was surprised to realize that the two vamps were easier to get along with than he expected. They, as Hermione said, hardly took anything seriously, and Harry found that oddly refreshing. The war took the sense of humor out of too many people.
He had to admit that he had another reason for walking out on Hermione and Ron. He was eager for the opportunity to have some time with Hermione's Shadow Kin and ask them things about her. He was going to take Ron's advice.
"So," said Harry, bracing himself for what he was about to do. "I've been curious. How's Hermione as an alpha? Is she fair? Is she good at it?"
Solomon's and Lucien's eyebrow shot up. They were nobody's fools, after all.
"Relatively more affectionate than most alphas," said Solomon casually. "And she takes her promises to us very seriously."
Lucien nodded. "Never left us behind for anything… takes care of us… protects us… actually quite nurturing."
Harry tried to sound nonchalant as he gave a half-shrug and nodded. "Hmm. Sounds like her. You"-he began, looking at Solomon-"dated Hermione?"
Solomon's eyes bugged out, a blush rising in his cheeks. "She told you about that?"
"Yep."
Lucien made another face.
"For the record we didn't shag," Solomon said rather hastily.
Harry had to wonder why Solomon felt compelled to explain himself. In retrospect, there was every reason to desire Hermione. She was gorgeous and loving and intelligent. It wasn't Solomon's fault. Then again, Harry just felt so much better about the entire thing because there was no shagging involved. "I know. She admitted that."
Solomon held his hands up. "Just so you know. She had… issues. So it was awkward."
"Yes, well, I suppose the whole 'just friends' thing could sort of take the mojo out of anyone…"
Solomon stifled a laugh. "Well, I wasn't thinking of her as a friend when we were-well, if you know what I mean."
Harry wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. "You probably didn't, but she did. Told me so."
"Oh, is that what she said?" Lucien smirked.
"Lucien…" Solomon said in a warning tone.
"Liar, liar…" Lucien said in a singsong tone. "Pants on fire…"
Harry stared at Lucien suspiciously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked cautiously.
"Lucien!" Solomon cried more forcefully.
Lucien waved a dismissive hand at him. "Oh, hush up. This'll be good for her."
"I swear! I wish I hadn't told you about it! You couldn't keep a goddamn secret!"
Laughing, Lucien leaned over in Harry's direction. "They were fooling around, right?"
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't think-"
"And in the heat of the moment, she called him Harry,"
Solomon sighed in resignation. "Which was terribly weird because-well, I'm black and you're… just… not."
Lucien laughed. "I thought that was particularly hilarious."
Harry paused to consider this.
"That happened three and a half years ago. She was quite hung up on you still," Solomon explained, sneering in Lucien's direction. "But out of loyalty to Hermione, I'm telling you: her feelings for you might have changed since then. I don't mean to be harsh, and I'm not telling you to fuck off. I'm just saying don't go jumping to conclusions. The last thing Hermione wants is someone telling her what she feels or ought to feel. She'll come out with it, whatever it is, when she's good and ready. Don't push her."
Harry was really listening now. "How many boyfriends did she have not counting you?"
Solomon sniffed, glaring at him.
Lucien nudged him. "Give the man a break. He's been looking for her for five years. He just wants to know."
Harry gestured agreeably at Lucien. "Lucien feels my pain. Come on, Solomon, I just need to know my chances here."
"Your chances," Solomon began through grit teeth, "are up to her. I swear to you, Potter… I don't care if she left you or if she broke your heart. She had her reasons. Good reasons. I love her and respect her for them. If you mess her up-"
Harry sighed in frustration. Great. Someone more protective of her than I am. "Mess her up? How in hell could I do that? She's more likely to mess me up."
"I'm not kidding, Potter. It took a lot from her to go on without you; without falling apart. If you think you're the only one who had hell to put up with because she left, well, then you thought too little of her. She sacrificed something too, perhaps more than you did. You had a bunch of Weasleys and a whole Order of people who cared for you to listen to your woes. She hadn't told me about any of it until much later, when she had herself under control, and by that time, she didn't need much from me and Lucien anymore, so she had to keep herself together all by herself. Do you understand? She had no one but herself. So boohoo for you, Potter. Boohoo for Ron. But forgive me if I'm taking her side. If I didn't, then who would?"
Harry leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. He had to admit, he hadn't exactly though of it that way, and he could respect Solomon for being the way he was. Heck, he could even like the guy. He considered Solomon's words before looking the vampire in the eyes. "Look… I can't-I can't explain to you what I feel about her. And frankly, I simply don't want to be telling you this when I'd rather be telling her. Know what I mean?"
Solomon rolled his eyes but nodded. "Go on."
"I'm dead serious about all this. I don't want to screw up. And I don't want to screw her up, but tell me honestly, Solomon, if you were in my shoes, would you stand around and do nothing if the woman you cared about more than anything walked back into your life and-and made you feel like she still thought about you in a certain… way."
Solomon eyed him warily. "What way?"
"That way."
Solomon was quiet for a moment. He looked to Lucien who simply grinned and shrugged. Solomon rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face ponderously before he dropped his hand and said, "She'd had four real boyfriends. I consider myself more of a… fling, even if she did care about me. There was another guy later on. A one-nighter."
Harry hissed softly but he listened. He asked for this and he was going to pay attention.
Solomon went on. "She regretted it and never did another one-nighter again. Her four boyfriends… one was human. Sweet blokes. Very loving."
"One of them was gay," said Lucien.
Solomon shot him a sneer. "Adrian was not gay. He was rather new age, but not gay."
Lucien waved him away in disgust.
"She mentioned Adrian," Harry muttered. "Mr. Tantric."
"Yes, well, he was her last boyfriend. Ten months ago, I think. She hasn't dated again since. Her other boyfriends were… well, there wasn't a pattern, really. They were all nice guys, but I couldn't say she had a particular type. None of them looked like you, if that's what you're wondering. Maybe she did it on purpose, but they were all sorts of shapes and colors. Brown, blonde, red-"
"Red?" Red! Of all the…
Solomon had to laugh. "And then brown again. None of them wore glasses and they were stocky, tall, short, just right, respectively. Athletic, intellectual, genius, new age-in that order-and they all worshiped the ground she walked on, like-mental."
Lucien nodded in awe. "She's so good at that. Twining them around her pretty little fingers and they don't even know it… it's magic."
Harry had fallen for that spell hook, line and bludger. "Give me something to work with here, Solomon. What did she like doing with these blokes?"
"There wasn't a pattern there, either. Boyfriend number two and three, I understood how she got along with. They liked hanging around in-well, smart places. You know, museums, art shows, the opera… that sort of thing. And they were so..."
"Informed," Lucien supplemented. "I could hardly understand a word they said."
"But Hermione understood, and she really enjoyed being with them. But… well, they dumped her."
"And she dumped Adrian," added Lucien.
"The first boyfriend… well, things just sort of withered away there… didn't understand how they got together in the first place," Solomon said.
"Wait a minute," said Harry. "You said they worshiped the ground she walked on. Why did those two blokes dump her, then?"
"Because they wanted all of her and they felt she was holding something back. They couldn't love somebody half way, you understand. She couldn't give them what they wanted of her."
"Which was?"
Solomon shrugged. "Only she knows. Maybe she still is hung up on you, Harry. I don't know. Maybe she wouldn't set free that part of her that belonged to you after all."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of this bit of information. He would like to think that he was embedded in her heart that deeply, but he didn't want to take things for granted. Still, all this was leaving him no more informed than when the discussion began. He was getting a little desperate. "How does she respond to gifts?"
"Appreciative, whatever it is. She's not picky or high-maintenance. It doesn't have to be diamonds and rubies. I suppose she likes the ones that mean something, the most. One of them… I think it was Stephen-the third one-gave her these wonky beaded earrings strung in the shape of two suns, imported from Aruba, because she mentioned the week before that she wished she could go to the beach in broad daylight. Obviously, it wasn't something she could do, but the gesture was thoughtful. Get what I mean?"
Harry nodded. This was good. "Yes. Is there anything that's been important to her in the last five years? Apart from her work."
Solomon paused. "Well… that's different. She… I don't think I should be telling you this…"
"Solomon-"
"It's very personal to her. If I tell you what it is-"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Lucien muttered. "Children. She loves children. Not to suck their blood, mind you. She loves them in the real sense. She used to give to that county orphanage in Godric's Hollow-"
Harry thought maybe he got the tiniest bit emotional about that. It was just the kind of thing that the Hermione he remembered would do. And he loved her all the more for it.
"And there was this orphanage in Albania," Lucien continued. "She helped there, too. She went through all sorts of lengths so that the orphanage staff wouldn't know she was a vampire. You understand that they wouldn't have let her near the children if any of them knew what she was. I suspect the resident nun knew, but she'd seen Hermione with the kids and knew Hermione wouldn't hurt them. And then there was Sa-"
"Lucien, no," Solomon hissed. "That's Hermione's story to tell."
"She told me about Samir," Harry said quietly.
Lucien shrugged. "Well then, there you have a breakthrough, Harry. She never talked about that with anyone after it happened. Not to me, or Solomon. You should be glad she told you."
Harry frowned. "I wish she didn't have to go through that."
"Well, it happened, and something of her died then," Solomon said. "She stopped the orphanage visits. I don't know if she stopped giving them money. I think she hasn't, but personally, I thought her visits were far more enriching… well, that's over with, now. I'm sure she still cares for them. Sometimes she sees kiddies with their mothers and she sort of gets this look, but that's about it. Tragic that she can't have her own sprogs."
Harry sighed. "Yeah…"
"Is there anything else you want to know, Harry?"
Harry felt oddly depressed. Maybe those children had helped her more than anything in her supposed period of isolation. Maybe those children had been her anchor because Solomon and Lucien certainly hadn't been given the opportunity to help her, but then the thought that Samir's tragedy had ripped that refuge away from her, too… maybe she had fought to stay cold for more reasons than he thought. Maybe…
Maybe it's not all about me. He almost laughed at himself for it. Way to go, Harry. Thought you were the center of the universe? Well, think again.
"I think I've heard enough, thanks," he said softly.
They sat in silence for several minutes before Lucien and Solomon began telling fat-mum jokes to each other.
Harry only half listened, pondering everything he'd learned in the last half hour.
It was in the midst of Solomon's turn in the joke-telling that the Room of Requirement door opened. Ron and Hermione stood within, peering at him. Neither of them looked worse for wear.
"We're alright now, mate," Ron said. "We're not going to fight anymore."
Harry looked to her and she nodded.
It was odd that he looked at her now with a different sense of perception. So much of her appearance had been improved in the last five years, but it was only now he recognized Hermione underneath all the perfect hair and perfect clothes. He could recognize the beauty that once had been all her own, without the vampire enhancements. It was lurking there, alive. He didn't need to flush it out of her. Just the certainty that it was there was enough for him. He wasn't going to screw this up. Not for anything.
He rose from the floor, eyeing her intently. "Good."
She reddened and tore her gaze from him. "I think we've talked enough for one night. I'm headed for the library. Anyone want to come with?"
"I will," Harry said.
"Are there any books there with pictures?" Lucien asked.
She shot him a wry grimace. "I'll try to find a Dr. Seuss for you, Lucien."
"A doctor who? I'd like to know, too-what this Healer Who-could do."
She actually laughed; a true sound of mirth as she pinched his cheek. "You're adorable sometimes, you know that?"
"Of course I know that. And you love me for it, darling." He leaned over and pecked a kiss on her temple. "Race you to the library!"
He was off in a blink of an eye.
"Does he know the way?" Ron asked.
Solomon shook his head. "No."
Hermione sighed. "Solomon, would you-"
"I'm there, luvvy. We'll see you in the library." Solomon left in a flash.
Harry cocked a smile. "I hate to admit it but… they're alright, Lucien and Solomon."
She looked up at him, surprise evident in her expression. The warmth shining from her eyes moved Harry. He realized that she really did think the world of her Shadow Kin, and perhaps Harry felt slightly jealous. It was what she used to think of him and Ron, yet, Harry couldn't begrudge Solomon and Lucien for it. To have Hermione's deep affection was a beautiful thing.
"Yes, they are," she said. "They're very special, but… you know, it's not like-they're not your replacements, you know. They can't ever be like you and Ron."
He was mildly astonished. Had he been that obvious? Had she read his mind? Or maybe she had merely been thinking along parallel lines and had caught it from the look in his eyes.
"No way in hell I'm like either of them, anyway," Ron muttered. "I'm not exactly a swinging hipster."
Harry might have had a brain meltdown if he had pursued the idea of Ron being a hipster.
Hermione smirked. "No, Ron, you're not. You and Harry are more… casual chic, really."
"I never thought I'd ever hear my name and Ron's with the word 'chic' in the same sentence," Harry said. Without thinking much about it, he draped an arm over her shoulder, rubbing affectionately. The stories Lucien and Solomon had told of her had left a deep impression on him. He had a desperate urge to let her know that she didn't have to keep her hurts to herself anymore; that now, she had him to turn to again.
He felt her flinch slightly at the touch but she immediately relaxed into it, though she refused to look him in the eye. "Yes, well, when you spend an inordinate amount of time with metrosexual men like I do, 'casual' is immensely refreshing and easy on the eyes. Ron, I've been meaning to tell you that you really should rethink your eating habits. I mean, now you're all broad and firm, but as soon as you slow down, that's all going to become fat and I really don't think that'd be flattering. Not to mention the fact that both Gabrielle and Luna look like such delicate creatures from what I remember of them. You wouldn't match with either-"
Ron scowled. "You leave my eating habits alone, hear?"
She put her hands up. "I'm just saying. You don't want to look like a Troll."
Harry laughed. It was just so typical of Ron to get riled up about food before criticism, and it was so typical of Hermione to go all dietician on him.
"A troll!" cried Ron indignantly. "And what are you laughing about, Potter? It's not my fault I'm big and strong as opposed to scrawny and four-eyed."
"Oy!"
"Harry's not scrawny," said Hermione loftily. "He's nice and fit. And don't call him four-eyed. His glasses make him look distinguished."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother," he muttered.
Harry grinned broadly. "Why, thank you, Ms. Granger. Does this mean I have to tell you you're lovely and alluring?"
She arched her eyebrow. "Well I-I knew that."
Harry laughed again.
"Oh, don't be so modest," said Ron disgustedly, walking ahead.
Harry then took the opportunity to lean over, perching his lips lightly over her ear. "I do mean it, you know. I think you're gorgeous."
She looked up at him and actually blushed. "Takes one to know one?" she asked softly.
He smirked, pleasantly surprised at the indirect compliment.
She blushed even redder and squirmed out of his arms. She seemed flustered; probably a bit embarrassed. "Oh, enough of this nonsense, Harry. We better hurry on along. Stop flirting!"
Grinning and utterly pleased, he hurried on after her so they could catch up with Ron.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I feel stupid reading with a cowl on," Solomon whined softly from across the table.
The library was quiet and sparse of students, the most distinct student being the Head Girl who sat several tables away, furiously scribbling on her long roll of parchment.
Harry looked up from the book he was reading to regard Hermione. She looked slightly annoyed.
"I'd rather the students not know there are vamps amongst them, Sol," Hermione explained patiently. "It's going to create problems for McGonagall when those Slytherin brats tell their mumsies."
"You Hogwarts alumni and your silly houses," said Lucien, who was muggle and never knew the glory of house rivalries.
Solomon ignored him. "But doesn't Harry's misdirection charm work well enough? I mean, really…"
"Harry's misdirection charms would work 'well enough' if a couple of vampires weren't projecting to get attention!" she hissed. "I swear the two of you are such attention-whores. It's a disgrace sometimes!"
Lucien sighed. "Well, we're so good-looking! It seems an awful waste if no one sees us!"
"So, is this vanity catching or are vampires just naturally full of themselves?" Ron asked to no one in particular.
"He says 'vanity' like it's a disease. I don't get it," Lucien said.
"Most vamps don't," Harry told him.
"Just keep the cowls on," said Hermione. "And I don't want to hear another word from you two. Honestly. Like children, the pair of you. And don't think I don't know that you're reading a lingerie catalogue behind that book, Solomon."
Solomon pouted, caught. "But it's the winter collection!"
"Lemme see that," Ron said, reaching across the table.
"I recommend an in-depth study of page thirty one." Solomon said, relinquishing the catalogue to Ron.
Hermione rolled her eyes and rose from the table. "I have to fetch something from the restricted section," she grumbled.
"Fascinating," said Ron, straight-faced. "Such brilliant engineering of fabric and aesthetics. I'm academically impressed. Do you think she's really feeling that cold?"
"That's why the winter collection is our favorite," Lucien pointed out, winking.
With the boys thus occupied, Harry let himself wonder about something he had put off long enough.
Who had tipped off the enemy about their trip to Hogwarts? Only seven people had advanced knowledge of the train ride, of which he was included. Everyone else; Shacklebolt, Arthur, Seamus, Mad Eye, and the rest of the auror unit had been informed at the last minute, both for their safety and the safety of all the travelers.
Out of the seven who knew, Harry was certain five wouldn't have betrayed the knowledge for anything.
He watched Lucien and Solomon furtively. It was hard to wrap his mind around either of the two betraying him, much less Hermione, and after the talk he had with them outside the Room of Requirement, it was harder still. There was nothing treacherous about either of them, yet his reasoning was telling him that they were the two people out of the six he knew the least.
Should he talk to them? Save Hermione the burden of confronting her own Shadow Kin for answers?
It seemed like the easy way, but if Hermione found out he had gone behind her back, he had to deal with more than just her inevitable anger. He would have to deal with the fact that he had disrespected her; bypassed her authority over her Shadow Kin. He might as well slap her face head-on. It was that awful.
I have to talk to her.
He shifted his gaze to the restricted section. He couldn't see her from where he was seated but he would have no trouble finding her.
Seeing that Lucien, Solomon and Ron were distracted, he set his book aside and followed Hermione into the restricted section.
He found her nestled between two of the more obscured bookshelves at the back. Peering through some books, he saw Ron, Lucien and Solomon seated on one of the tables some distance away. He needed to talk to her in private and what he was going to say wasn't going to go down easy.
"Need something, Harry?" she asked, barely looking up from the book she was reading.
He sidled up to her and spoke to her in a lowered tone. "We have to talk about the mole, Hermione."
She looked up and frowned, pressing her back against the shelves as she closed the book. "Yasmin's handling that. There's nothing I can do about that from here."
He pulled her closer and she scowled. He couldn't afford anyone but her hearing what he had to say.
"Harry!" she hissed. "Room for the Holy Ghost, please? And if you're just trying to cop a feel-"
"Hush it. I'm about to tell you something that you might not like to hear."
"What-"
"The only ones who knew about our trip to Hogwarts were Remus, Tonks, Ron, me and you three. Everyone else on that train had been informed at the last minute. Remus, Tonks and Ron would never have given it away and I believe you wouldn't have, either."
Her eyes narrowed to ferocious slits. "What are you saying, Harry?"
"Lucien and Solomon… I believe they're good blokes, but in retrospect, what the hell do I know-"
She gasped. She looked so utterly shocked. "Harry, don't you accuse them of betrayal. That's like Remus telling me you and Ron can't be trusted!"
He shook his head, hardening his heart at the hurt expression in her eyes. "No, it's not the same. We practically grew up together. We shaped each other. When you met Lucien and Solomon, they were already made. You were already made. It's not the same!"
She pulled herself away from him. "Don't, Harry. Just don't!"
"I'm just telling you that's what I think. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought this up if it wasn't important, but I have to ask you, Hermione. You know I do!"
"Harry, those vamps and wolves on the train tried to butcher us all! Do you expect me to believe that Lucien or Solomon brought that upon us?"
"It's not as if Lucien and Solomon are meek little lambs, Hermione."
"Then accuse me!" she whispered fiercely. "Accuse me, too! Because neither of those boys would betray us anymore than I would. I can't believe you would think-"
"Ask them, then. Ask them if they told anyone about the trip. Hermione, please. I'm not doing this to hurt you. A man died on that train, and so many others almost lost their lives. I'm responsible for those lives. I'm begging you to understand."
She tore her gaze from him, but he could tell that her shock-and perhaps what anger she felt-had passed. "Oh, Harry…"
Her tone of voice wrenched his heart. He was asking too much; he knew, but it had to be done.
"Alright. Alright, Harry. I'll ask them. For you, I'll ask them."
"Thank you," he said, finally stepping back.
He watched her expression. She looked troubled and he wished he didn't have to ask what he just did. "I'm sorry. I know it's too much-"
"It's not that…"
His brows knotted, and he stood there, perplexed. "Then what is it?
"Harry, I hope you realize that you have certain… powers over me that not everyone could understand. I don't know if Solomon or Lucien could see it when they look at me, and I'm pretty sure Ron doesn't have a clue, but if… if other people knew, like Yasmin for instance… it'll be considered a weakness. My status and survival in vampire society depends heavily on how people perceive me. I can't be-they can't know you have this power over me. What I'm trying to say is… you made yourself vulnerable to me in the Room of Requirement with the things you told me, and so I make myself vulnerable to you admitting this much… we're squared. I don't have one over you."
Harry felt the tiniest bit wearied by what she said. Something always seemed to derail the progress of the healing, yet he refused to believe it was what Ron called it: a train-wreck waiting to happen. Frustrated, he did the only thing he could think of to stop the bleeding. He pulled her tight into his arms.
He was surprised to feel her sinking against him compliantly.
"It's not like that," he said softly in her hair. "It's not like that at all. It's not one having the advantage over the other. I told you what I felt because I needed you to know. It's not a competition, Hermione. You said so yourself. Things are different now and we have to get reacquainted with each other in this situation. This is just… this is one of those things we have to deal with, alright?"
He felt her grip on the fabric of his shirt tightening. She said nothing. He couldn't explain her silence. Maybe he was getting through to her, or maybe she wasn't listening at all. They stood there in silence.
After a while, she pulled back, though she remained within the circle of his arms. She didn't lift her gaze to him, but he watched in mesmerized silence as she undid the tie of her robes.
"What are you-"
"Hush," she said softly. She reached into her halter-top and pulled out the chain attached to her choker. At the end of it was a pendulum.
Harry had thought it had an odd design when he saw it in the Room of Requirement, but up close, in the dim light of the restricted section, he could see just how odd the pendant was. It was crystalline red with metal filigree, probably silver, worked around it. Upon closer inspection, the metal-craft formed the shape of a winged-angel, sensually wrapped around the cut crystal.
She shook it and he saw that the red was actually from the liquid inside. The pendulum was a vial. She rubbed the vial between her fingers and the liquid inside it took on a dark, crimson glow before the light receded. "This contains the message from the Oracle."
Harry stood transfixed by the viscous substance. He reached for it and she relinquished it in his palm. The crystal felt warm. He rubbed it between his fingers and it glowed again. "The message is in here?"
Fascinated though he was by the object, he couldn't wrap his mind around how the message could be in it. Would he hear the message when the vial was opened? Would it be anything like the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries?
"And I can't unravel it yet, you say?" he asked.
She shrugged. "You can risk it. I won't stop you, but I've told you Yasmin's caveat. She's unraveled the message and she knows what it contains. She suspects that Janus and Voldemort may know something, though she couldn't be certain to what extent."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. "How did Voldemort get his hands on this?"
"We don't know if he ever did. Maybe somebody told him. I don't even know how Yasmin found out he knows something, she just said he does."
"Then I should risk it, don't you think?"
Her hand wrapped around his, closing over the vial. Finally she looked up at him and he stood transfixed by her gaze. "Remember when I told you that the future wasn't meant to be foretold? I know I said this isn't a prophecy, but even if it isn't, it's still more about what might be than anybody should ever know. Knowledge is power, I agree, but power can destroy, too. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"
"You don't think I should unravel it."
She sighed. "I used to think prophecies were nonsense, but now I know they're destructive. If you ask me, I won't ever bother to know what's in that vial. There's a reason why things come to us in their own time."
"Then why give me the vial at all if you feel that way?"
"Because the choice is still yours to make, and whatever you decide, I believe it's the right one."
He studied her expression and something occurred to him just then. "Yasmin gave you the choice, didn't she? You could've unraveled the contents of this vial."
She nodded. "Believe it or not, Harry, there are some things I don't want to know."
He rubbed the pad of his thumb on the apple of her pale cheek. "They tried to kill you for this."
"I have a feeling they'll try to kill me anyway. You decide what to do. Just promise me that when you do find out, you won't do anything stupid. Alright? Promise me."
He smiled affectionately, cupping her face. "Do you want me to swear on Versace?"
She chuckled and let her mirth dwindle. "Swear on me."
He hesitated before casting a plaintive smile. "That's not fair…"
"Are you planning to break the promise, then?"
"I never plan to. With my luck, it just sort of happens…"
She scowled but didn't ask him to swear again. "Just don't get killed."
"Does everybody think I want to get killed?"
"Well… I don't know if they think you want to, but sometimes I think you forget that you can get killed."
"Or worse, expelled?"
"We will not speak of That Which Must Not Be Named."
Harry couldn't help but laugh.
She finally pried herself away from his embrace as she unhooked the chain from her choker. She looped the chain over and around his neck and attached the open end of it to the top of the vial. With the vial secured, she slipped chain and pendulum into his shirt, pressing her hand over it as the vial settled against his heart.
He placed his hand over hers. "I'd really like to get this training over with."
She looked up at him in mild surprise. "We'll start tomorrow night."
"Good. The sooner we get that done, the sooner we can talk about us."
She hesitated before she nodded.
He let her go.
"You'd best go back to the table," she said haughtily as she went back to reading her book. "Have a gander at that lingerie catalogue before they manhandle it beyond recognition."
"A what catalogue? Lon-j'-ray? Never heard of such thing."
She didn't even look up as she said, "Smooth, Potter. Now, go away."
He smirked. Retreating for a bit in a backward gait, hoping to catch her smiling.
She looked up and glared at him, though the corner of her mouth was lifting. "Shoo."
Satisfied, he chuckled, turned and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron and Seamus were deeply asleep in their beds when Harry entered their communal guest room.
Light was already beginning to color the sky as Harry tiredly sat at the edge of his bed. He kicked off his shoes and socks and peeled off his jumper, exposing the wand holster strapped to his arm.
Wearily, he peeled the holster off and draped it over the side of his headboard where he could most easily reach his wand. He doubted anyone could sneak up on him in his sleep while in Hogwarts, and ultimately, he could make-do without the wand, but it was always more reassuring to have it nearby.
He pulled his undershirt from the waist of his pants and without bothering to change into nightclothes, lay back in bed. Reaching into the collar of his shirt, he pulled out the chain holding the pendulum.
Examining it more closely, he saw that the angel had fangs, and that perhaps it wasn't as angelic as he first thought it was. The features on its face were a bit sharper, and less serene, than he first thought. The angel held what looked like a sand clock. It was an odd design, indeed.
His thoughts drifted to Hermione and everything she brought with her. It was no party, having her back, but the sense of having her there, even in the worse of circumstances, was strangely exhilarating.
Near dawn, he had escorted the vamps to their dungeon doors. Solomon and Lucien had hurried on ahead, leaving Hermione with him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do anything, actually. Anything more than an embrace would push him over the edge of reason and there was no telling what he would do, so he just said, "Sleep tight," and waited briefly for her reply. She didn't say anything, but she took his hand, squeezed it and hurried into the dungeon.
It wasn't exactly the response he had been expecting, and perhaps it was a bit disappointing that she hadn't given him reason to throw all his inhibitions to the wind and just let the moment take them, but thinking about it now, she had made great leaps trying to thaw that wall of ice she had put between them, especially during their encounter in the restricted section.
He chuckled softly to himself. Forget flowers, chocolates and the opera, the library's the way to go with Hermione.
He smiled fondly at the memory of her nearness and was gently sloshing the liquid inside the vial when there was a flapping, like an odd rustle of wings from beyond the curtained window. An overwhelming sense of magic washed over him before it began to beckon like the touch of silk.
This wasn't Hedwig, or any other messenger fowl, for that matter. They didn't bring magic like that with them. Not with such noticeable potency.
It wasn't hypnotic. In fact, Harry took a moment to be suspicious of its source.
Plucking his wand from its holster, he crept to the window and slowly, cautiously, pulled the shutter open. He peered through the crack.
A shock of colored lights blinded him and magic hit him square in the face. It wasn't a painful hit, but it was forceful enough to send him stumbling back on his behind, half-blind.
He gave a yell, promptly causing Seamus and Ron to scramble out of their beds with their wands out, already on the verge of throwing hexes.
Harry shook his flashing vision to normal and blinked, looking up.
His jaw dropped, realizing that he wasn't the only one stupefied into shock.
Hovering above him, with its beautiful feathers of red and gold, was Albus Dumbledore's missing phoenix, Fawkes.
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A/N: References abound.
And Sex and the City references are:
Samantha: Well, I don't know how you people do it. All that emotional chow-chow. It's exhausting.
Carrie: … his words said no but his kiss said yes.
Miranda: That's the defense invoked by date-rapists.
Carrie: Swear it. Swear on Chanel.
The definition of "emotional chow-chow" was all mine, though.
The words, "Nobody loves me. Everybody hates me. I'm going to eat some worms," came from a friend of mine way back in the sixth grade. A most distinguished lady who now writes for a magazine, has a loving husband and a beautiful little girl. She said these words to me back then and they stuck in my head forever. I don't know if she got it from a book. I have reason to suspect she did, because I know there's a book called, "How to Eat Fried Worms" or something like that, but whether she got it from a book or made it up herself, she'll always be the author of the quote, to me.
On edit: A bunch of readers told me that the worm-quote is actually a popular Mexican children's song. It makes sense. My friend (her name's Rosemary) used to sing it.