Author's notes: Revelare. Updates to my LJ Vamp Verse entry has been made. Just teeny, tiny additions. If you're OCD like me, you might consider reading the extra-info just because it'll make you feel better. Lol.
This is the unbeta-ed version. ^_^
Chapter rating: R (kinda NC-17-ish, actually… but probably not in the way you'd particularly care about.)
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Chapter Twenty-Third: Betrayed
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Harry apparated back to his room after flooing everyone and admitting them to Grimmauld Place. Taking a deep, calming breath, he threw open his armoire. Systematically, he slipped on the necessary holsters, potion packs and materials he would need. Without giving it much thought, he slipped on his sword. There was no telling if it would come in handy.
He and Hermione had decided that they would put off spreading the word about Lucien until they were sure he had left the perimeter of their reach. Harry knew he was risking much assuming that their small on-call group could find him, but Hermione begged to keep the search confined to his group for now.
"Less chance of miscommunication. Less chance that they'd try to kill him at first sight… you don't want to lose people unnecessarily, Harry."
He and the aurors only ever hunted down one vampire before, and while they had been successful in tracking it, catching it had been a murderous failure. They had lost three men to the hunt, and that vampire was nowhere near Coven caliber.
Harry shuddered at the thought of someone like Lucien, relatively old and competently trained, running scared, or worse, running guilty.
Properly armed with a coat to protect him from the cold, Harry rushed out of his room and bounded down the stairs to the living room.
Hermione stood amongst a solemn group. Remus, Tonks, Ron, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Luna and Solomon. Sitting off to the side was Draco, watching it all with a bored expression.
Luna looked as spacey as ever, though she was steadily staring at Hermione, and Fleur was scowling, perhaps put off by the fact that there was someone else more interesting than her in the room.
Hermione turned at the sound of his heavy footfalls. "We're ready, Harry."
Harry nodded, approaching her. "Good. The sooner we could start the search, the better."
"What exactly is he running away from?" asked Ron who had apparated all the way from Romania in a hurry, with Charlie.
Hermione shot Harry a pleading look. She didn't want him to tell them; not yet, at least.
"I'll explain later," Harry said. "First, we get him back, so listen up…" He gave a brief but concise exposition of Lucien, telling them in no uncertain terms what Lucien was capable of.
"Humph," said Draco from outside their circle. "Knew he was up to no good first time I laid eyes on him."
Harry could see Hermione tensing at Draco's words.
Waving his wand, Harry cast a detention charm on Draco's anklet, preventing him from leaving Grimmauld Place by any magical and non-magical means. Draco's other restrictions would apply as well except this time, Draco would not have his wand. It flew out of Draco's sleeve and straight into Harry's hand.
Draco complained, swearing viciously as Harry pocketed the wand.
"You will let me know immediately if he happens to come back to the house, understand?" Harry said.
"You can kiss my arse, Potter!" Draco hissed. "How dare you take my wand! I've done nothing in the last five years to deserve this kind of treatment and-"
Harry shot a pocket two-way mirror at Draco. Many of the Order members were issued two-way mirrors and it was understood that one must exercise extreme caution when using it. The mirror provided no magical means of security. It could easily be a tool of deception if one of it got into the wrong hands, and the best they could do was issue passwords to communicate from one mirror to another. Top-secret information was never communicated by mirror and there was a level of importance that one had to adhere to in order for a mirror-borne message to be acknowledged. Overall, the two-way mirrors were only used for fast-paced communication, like on missions and raids.
The mirror hit Draco square on the forehead. The fey man yelped as the mirror clattered to the floor, unbroken.
"If he shows up, use the mirror," Harry said. Done with Draco, he turned back to the rest of the group. "Do you all have your mirrors with you?"
The humans nodded.
"Good. If you find him, don't attempt to catch him. Use your mirrors. Call for back-up. Take no offensive action until Hermione and I arrive. Understood?" Harry paired everyone off and assigned the areas. He paired Solomon off with Charlie, knowing full well that Charlie wouldn't have problems being paired with a vampire. As expected, Charlie nodded without the slightest hint of reservation. Remus and Tonks left first, followed by Charlie and Solomon, Bill and Fleur, Ron and George, and Dean and Seamus.
Luna tilted her gaze at Hermione. "I knew you weren't dead."
"McGonagall mentioned that," said Hermione a tad impatiently. "Lucky guess?"
"Oh, no. The Crumple Horned Snorkacks-"
"Told you. Smart creatures, those," Hermione finished for her.
Perhaps not wanting to risk Luna provoking Hermione's ire, Ginny tugged Luna's arm and said, "We have to go now."
Luna didn't insist on further conversation. Both women disapparated soon after, leaving Harry and Hermione for last.
"I don't think Lucien betrayed us, Harry. He said he wouldn't, anyway…" she said.
"Are you sure about that?"
Her brows knotted again, this time with pain. "It's just a feeling. I can't wrap my mind around it if he did!"
"Neither could I, but why is he running away? Why is he acting so guilty?"
"He said he didn't. He wouldn't out-rightly lie…"
"But why is he running away?" Harry insisted.
Hermione blinked back the misery threatening to set off her tears. "Because I doubted him and he felt it."
"And why would you doubt him?"
"Because-because he's hiding something. I know he is, but it doesn't mean he's hiding a betrayal. And-and even if he is… he said he was sorry."
"Sorry? You don't seriously think an apology is sufficient-"
"Yes! I mean-" She looked miserable as she threw her hands up. "He said he was sorry, but I think it was about something else. I just-he looked scared and-"
"Hermione." He held her by the shoulders, meeting her gaze intently. "Lucien's running. Only he could tell us why."
"We have to find him first," Hermione told him.
"Agreed. Where do we begin?"
She gave it a quick thought and replied, "Tirgoviste."
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Henry Dresler, without fail, looked pleased to see them. He welcomed them eagerly into his office as he moved behind his desk to sit on his chair.
If the situation weren't so serious, Harry would've laughed and shook his head.
Hermione, understandably, was not in the mood. "Cut the bullcrap, Henry. Just tell me if Lucien contacted you or not. Whenever my boys do something naughty that they don't want me to know about, they call you to clean their shite."
Henry grinned, fangs and eyes turning intensely vampiric. Hermione was being aggressive and he wasn't going to back down; he wasn't ready to completely antagonize her, either, hence the smile. "Lucien and I… we haven't been friends long, but it's nice to know you think he trusts me."
Hermione looked like she was ready to jump Henry's throat.
Harry gripped her wrist to silence her. He'd played this game with Henry hundreds of times. There was no time like the present to start the tiresome ritual. "Just answer Hermione's question."
Henry shrugged. "Maybe I'm not at liberty to say anything. You know very well that I serve many masters."
Hermione growled. "Henry…"
"Hush," Harry said to her. "Dresler, we didn't come here to wank you off. Either you give us answers or I'm going to have the Ministry of Magic revoke your legal license of business. When they do, I'm going to come down here every fecking night and raid your little establishment to round up every wizard and witch on that floor until they get it into their heads that it's no longer fun to go to your bar-"
"Potter," interrupted Henry through grit teeth, his smile becoming painfully strained. "You of all people know that I take my business seriously, and I never take your threats lightly because I know you're not one for bluffing, you Gryffindor twat, so if I knew where Lucien went, I'd tell you. I swear to you, I would!"
Harry was not going to let Henry's semantics fool him. "We're not asking you to tell us where he is. We're asking you if he contacted you."
Henry's smile finally disappeared, though he remained calm and composed as he said, "As a matter of fact, he did contact me. Called me from a payphone, I think. There was quite a bit of noise from his end."
"Did he tell you where he was?"
"Of course not, Harry. Lucien's no fool. He knows Hermione would know to come to me first, asking questions."
"Which of your phones did he call?" Hermione asked.
Henry frowned. "What difference-"
"Just tell me!"
Henry's jaw clenched but he replied. "My mobile."
Hermione held out her hand. "Give it to me."
"What-"
"Henry, give it to me now or I'll slice off your limbs and cauterize the stumps just so you couldn't grow them back sooner than you'd prefer."
Scowling, Henry handed it over.
Hermione took it, flipped it open and fiddled with the buttons.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Calling a payphone," she said, putting the mobile to her ear. "It's registered in the mobile's electronic call log."
Henry looked displeased. "What, you expect Lucien to pick-up?"
"No, you blithering idiot. I expect some poor sod, who couldn't stand to let a phone ring unanswered, to pick up!"
"Can't you just call the phone company?"
"And get put on hold? Get told my call is important to them but they only have three customer service representatives to answer a bagillion bloody disgruntled customers?"
"Talk about disgruntled…" Harry said.
"Yes, well…" She pulled the phone back and dialed again. No one had picked up the first time. Seconds later, it seemed like someone finally did. "Hullo? Sir, can you tell me where this phone box is at? What's in it for you? Well, today's your lucky day. How about you wait for me there and I'll give you the best shag you've ever-thank you, good sir, I'll be right there."
She flipped the phone closed. Harry was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she had promised to shag a complete stranger, even if he knew she didn't mean it.
"He might still be in Brixton," she said. "The phone box was along Blenheim Gardens, in front of the post office."
Harry nodded before looking back at Henry. "We have to go, but don't think we're not coming back if we don't find him."
Henry rolled his eyes. "I'd be shock if you didn't return with more grave threats."
Hermione glared at him. "Depend upon it." She pocketed Henry's mobile.
"Oy!"
"I'll owl this back to you when I'm done with it."
Henry hissed and cursed, completely relinquishing his calm and unflappable persona. Anything but the mobile.
Harry and Hermione left the club to go to the nearest apparating point.
Once there, she grabbed the edge of his coat. He pretended he hadn't noticed the contact and pulled her into the embrace of his arm. Her resistance was only minimal.
"Harry," she began. "Do you still have it?"
Harry wasn't able to resist the easy opportunity for repartee. "I should hope so."
She frowned. "I mean-"
He chuckled. "I know what you mean. You're asking me about the Finder."
"Yes."
"Of course I still have it, and I have it with me all the time, but I don't think it could find vampire possessions…" He smiled rather sadly at that, knowing that vampirism had nothing to do with it.
"It could, too, find vampire possessions," she said with more gentleness than he was wont to expect from her, considering the circumstances. "I just made sure you wouldn't be able to use it finding my possessions."
"You spelled my Finder while I was in a coma?"
"No. That would've been pointless. You could've just bought a new Finder. I warded my wand, and all the things I couldn't bear to part with. Then I just… I just threw away my old things and bought new ones… I told you, the Finder's brilliant, but it's not a particularly infallible thingamajig."
"Should've known better than to out-clever the cleverest witch I know."
"Well, let's just hope my cleverness finds Lucien before anyone else does."
"We will. I promise."
And with that, Harry apparated them to Brixton.
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Dean and Seamus met them at Brixton. Brixton was their designated area, and to Harry's mind, four able-bodied people were better odds at tracking down a vampire, safely. It helped too that one of them was an alpha vamp.
They converged across the street from the post office. There were still a lot of people considering the hour.
The phone box, lit overhead by a dim lamp, had a stocky, unshaven, unappealing stranger loitering nearby. He looked like he hadn't showered for days.
"Ugh. Thank God I don't really have to shag him," Hermione muttered. "I wouldn't sleep with that bloke if he was the last man or earth; wouldn't sleep with him even if the last battery operated vibrator died on me."
This, of course, caused all heterosexual males present to gape just before they broke out in a sweat.
"Erm-" Harry began, face flushed. He rifled through his pockets to get out the Finder. "We should start looking."
Hermione nodded, taking the Finder from him but not yet activating it. "Follow me."
They did without question. They were still a bit winded from her talk of vibrators.
Harry felt Seamus nudge him with an elbow.
"I take back what I said about Granger being frigid," Seamus whispered.
Harry glared at him. "Easy, Seamus."
"I'm just-"
"Shut it, you," Dean said, butting into the conversation. "Don't you get it, Seamus? Potter and Granger used to be together! Or maybe they still are. Ginny wasn't clear… either way, you don't go talking about Granger like that. That's like you talking that way about Ginny, with me."
"Didn't Harry used to date Ginny, too?"
Harry reddened. "Now, let's qualify that-"
Dean interrupted. "Seamus, you're my best friend, but Merlin help me, I'm going to punch your face in if you don't S-T-F-U."
Hermione turned, hand to her hip, as she glared at them all ferociously. "It might benefit you to know that being a vampire, I could hear you loud and clear. And Seamus, I don't appreciate the fact that you ever thought me frigid. I'm an intensely sexual person."
Seamus promptly looked to Harry and was about to say something when Harry stared him into silence.
"And Dean?" Hermione continued. "Just so everything is clear, Harry and I used to be together. We aren't anymore."
Harry scowled. "We're working on that!"
"Harry!"
Dean frowned. "Well, are you or aren't you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to keep walking. "There are a few places here in Brixton I can guess Lucien is at. If we get to the center of a certain perimeter, the Finder might be useful to us."
Harry caught up with her. "How do you know where in Brixton he could be?"
"Talked about it a lot," she muttered. "It's where he used to get his drugs…"
He saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes at her own words and Harry realized just now how emotionally difficult this all was for her.
When she first burst into his room, she was furious, because Lucien had-it seemed-exploded a "light" bomb that distracted from his escape. Her anger wasn't directed at Lucien, either, but at herself. She felt stupid for having reacted so slowly; she hadn't expected Lucien to do such a thing; but it was the sort of surprise she should have been able to deflect, instead she had failed miserably, and had lost Lucien to boot. Harry then asked her what exactly she had said to set Lucien off, and Hermione replied, "I… I told him I was going to look into his mind."
It did not bode well at all.
"Tell me the places. I'll apparate us to the middle of it," Harry told her.
She agreed to this plan and listed the places off. A few minutes later, Harry-grinning broadly-told her that her center point would be near the statue of Henry Tate. "In front of the library."
"Of course," Hermione muttered.
Giving instructions to Dean and Seamus, Harry apparated himself and Hermione to the designated place.
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Hermione muttered the incantation to the Finder and it spun for a few seconds before settling on a direction. It pointed southwest of her.
There was a building directly in the arrow's path, but it could be the building behind that, or the one beyond it. That was the thing about Finders.
"We start in that direction," said Hermione, nodding towards it and setting off. Harry followed right beside her.
"Where are we going?" Dean asked, falling into step.
"That building over there, to start," Hermione replied. "And let's be considerate to the vampire, shall we? Step it up. I only have a few more hours until sunrise."
"Hate to burst anyone's bubble," Seamus said. "But how do we know it's that building and not the one behind it?"
"We go around it," Harry replied.
"Okay, then. And if by some stroke of luck, it is that building, how do we know which floor he's on?"
"More often than not, vamps only hang out in basements," Hermione said.
"More often than not. So sometimes, they don't?"
"Sometimes. What's your point, Finnigan?" Hermione asked testily. If Seamus didn't shut up soon, she was going to start being mean.
Perhaps seeing the impatience in her gaze, he hung back a bit. "Nothing. No point… just, erm, several floors to that building… twenty-something, I think…"
No one paid him much mind for saying that, mainly because they didn't want to worry about it until they had to. It turned out that it wasn't the high-rise that the Finder was pointing at, and it wasn't the building behind it, either.
They did, however, happen on a nightclub spilling over with cyber-punkers sporting pink hair and five-inch platform boots. At least half of the crowd had glitter on their faces and men and women alike wore make-up, usually combined with elaborate body piercing.
The club, named Avatar, was the object of the Finder's incantation, and considering Hermione's estimate from the library, they had about reached the edge of the Finder's perimeter.
"That it?" Harry asked her.
"Either he's in there or his slave collar is."
"Shite," Seamus muttered. "Kinkier and kinkier."
Harry frowned and Hermione shot him a glare. "I didn't make him wear it, alright? That's his thing."
"Whatever you say, Mistress. Look, Harry and I could muscle our way in there with our auror badges. They look official enough for muggles to think they mean something, so-"
Hermione turned her nose up at Seamus. "I got it covered, thanks."
She set off and she heard Harry sigh.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Dean grumbled, probably thinking that she couldn't hear him.
Well, she couldn't say Dean wasn't perceptive. It was going to get ugly quite soon.
She walked past the lines and the angry cries from the queue assaulted them. The language was atrocious, and she could see Dean, from the corner of her eye, cringing. Harry and Seamus looked a bit more composed. She always believed aurors were made of tougher stuff.
A beer bottle came at them from the crowd and it would have smacked her right in the face if she hadn't raised her hand to catch it. But then she hadn't caught it. Harry had caught it first.
The cries died down and she looked at Harry in mild surprise.
He looked to the crowd and simply said, "Don't do that again." Calmly, he set the bottle on the ground and continued as if nothing happened. The complaints did not commence.
"Erm, good catch," Hermione said.
"Yeah," Seamus said. "Like a seeker."
Hermione didn't think seekers were ever that fast. Then again, this was Harry they were talking about, and she was slowly finding out that there were so many things about him that one just couldn't explain.
They reached the front of the line where the bouncer, a very big man with a beard, a mullet and body odor, stood between Hermione and the entrance.
"Let us in," she simply said.
"Get in line and maybe I'll let you in," said the bouncer.
"I have a friend inside. Let us in."
"I don't care if your mother's on the dance floor getting gang banged. Get in line, y' skirty bitch."
Hermione's eyebrow arched. She just didn't have the patience for this, especially not when she had to find Lucien, and especially not when she got called a skirty bitch. She looked briefly at Harry who was probably just about to defend her honor when she decided she could very well defend herself. She turned back to the bouncer and went straight for his groin.
No such thing as a tough guy when one had a bloke's balls in one's vampirically-strong claws.
The bouncer gave a labored gasp, shock evident on his face at the initial pain. She twisted, and he gave a short scream, mouth hanging open in agony.
She could feel all three of her companions' astonished stares behind her. They weren't saying anything. They were probably beyond words.
"Listen to me, you rude, smelly, primate," she hissed fiercely at his contorting face. "I need to get in there and find someone. The fact of the matter is, I could literally pick you up by your balls and toss you through the window, but I'm not going to, and why? Because it's not worth it. Now I can keep doing this"-she wrenched none too gently and he gave a dry sob-"all night if you want and you can say goodbye to spawning your species, or you can let me, and my companions, into the club, thereby allowing you to keep your bollocks. Understand?"
He nodded, gasping and rasping. His eyes pleaded for mercy.
She let him go and he was about to stumble when she took a fist full of his shirt and held him up to her face.
"At any rate," she whispered, showing him her vampiric eyes and fangs. His eyes widened, perhaps momentarily forgetting his pain. "If you didn't, I could always make you understand."
A sound trickled through the silence, like running drops of water. Hermione looked and saw that he was peeing his pants.
Disgusted, she let him go and shoved him to the ground with her boot.
He toppled over, hands between his legs as he curled over on the ground and soaked on his own bodily fluids.
The door was wide open, but no one was rushing through it. Everyone was staring at her.
She looked up at her companions. Their jaws were still hanging open as they stared at the incapacitated bouncer.
Willing herself not to roll her eyes, she motioned to grab Harry's arm to drag him into the club.
Seamus and Dean stepped back and away from her in response.
She sneered at them. "I'm not going to grab either of you."
Seamus swallowed. "Er… Harry, sure you like her grabbing you?"
That definitely broke Harry out of his stupor and he shot Seamus a glare. "Let's go." He moved towards the door without need of further prompting.
The front of the line shrank back as Hermione got near. They stumbled back on the ones behind them into a pile of frightened people. The tension broke and a great number in line scrambled away, changing their minds about wanting to go into Avatar.
"You sure know how to kill a party," Dean said, casting the fleeing club-goers a sideward glance.
"I've killed worse things," she replied just before they stepped through the threshold of blaring techno beats. The bass reverberated through them, carrying synthesized tunes and quickened melodies. Strobe lights struck the entire floor black and white in between flashes of bright color. Glow sticks danced with the frenzied movement of their bearers as the crowd responded to the disc jockey's rallying.
The tables and sofa seats surrounding the dance floor were filled with bodies, many of them drinking and smoking. Some looked like they were consuming something else.
Hermione's vampiric eyes spotted a few vamps here and there, though she noticed that the vamps weren't quite showing what they were. This wasn't a vamp club. At least not openly.
A boy, perhaps no older than Gabrielle, swayed in front of her. "Hey there-"
She barely spared him a glance. "No," she said without pause, expression or the slightest bit of concern, after which she flipped the Finder back up to eye-level to emphasize the fact that she had no time for him.
The boy left, looking dejected.
Seamus shook his head. "Harsh."
Without removing her eyes from the finder, she spoke. "That's where we differ. I see it as kindness; swift and considerably less painful."
"He'll live. I did," said Harry, tongue-in-cheek as he followed her.
She followed the Finder's arrow, shoving through dancing bodies. The music blared louder. "I didn't reject you, Harry."
"What?" he yelled through the techno.
Dean nudged him, speaking into Harry's ear. "She said she didn't reject you!"
"Oh, right! She didn't! She left me."
"Well, mate, there is a difference," Seamus said.
Another club-goer got in her way. This time, he didn't bother with formalities. He just put his hand on her waist and started nudging himself on her. It looked like dancing. Rolling her eyes, she simply placed a careful hand on his chest and shoved him aside.
There was a "Whoa!" as he crashed through the nearby club goers. Nobody had bothered to catch him as they danced on, as if nothing was amiss.
"Unbelievable!" she hissed. "The boy had peach fuzz! Do I look like I'd fancy these teenagers? I mean I know I died at seventeen, but I know I project older than that. Arthur-fucking-Pendragon! You! Does your mother know you're here?"
The unfortunate adolescent she had caught gawking at her out of the darkness scampered away.
"Blimey, Hermione! Give the poor sods a break! They just wanted to talk to the babe!" Seamus cried in appeal, ever the advocate of hitting on women.
"Babe? It baffles me that you even get laid, Finnigan. Anyway, they're getting in the way. If I had any say in their being here, I'd tell them to go home and read a book."
She could see all three of them rolling their eyes.
Checking the Finder, she saw that the pictures were standing still but the needle was turning. "Lucien's below us. Come on! There should be a basement entrance somewhere around here."
A few inquiries with the bartender confirmed the way and they were rushing down a short hallway and down a flight of stairs soon after, the sound of music fading behind them as they descended further. Hermione got to the landing first and what she saw provoked her temper.
Junkies.
There were junkies everywhere; muggles with their mascara running while they flopped about or hung off the couch. There were syringe needles, melting spoons, mirrors with powdered surfaces and rolled up pound notes, scattered Ecstasy, tiny packets of heroin, crack, absinthe and good, old-fashioned marijuana. There was so much money being snorted, shot-up, swallowed and smoked that Hermione wondered how the hell it was possible that there weren't narcotics agents banging down the doors already.
"Where is he?" Harry asked. If he was bothered by the scene at all, he didn't show it. Seamus and Dean were less discreet about their revulsion.
She scanned the room and couldn't find Lucien anywhere. She raised the Finder. The arrow pointed and they raised their gaze in unison.
There was an alcove at the end of the room. It looked like the way to the bathrooms. She was almost sure he was in there.
"Did anyone happen to bring a holy wafer?" she asked.
Of course, Harry had a few.
Dean's eyebrow arched. "I know you can throw holy water, but the wafer?"
Hermione smirked slightly. "They're not like little ninja stars. Hosts are useful to trap vampires in a room." She was quite sure Dean would know what ninjas were. He was half-muggle after all.
"Can I throw them like little ninja stars, anyway?" Dean asked.
"You're going to have to put a considerable amount of wrist in it," Harry said jokingly while he handed a few hosts to Dean. "Sticky it over the door."
Hermione began to weave her way through the bodies and Harry followed her.
She reached the threshold of the men's room and stopped.
Harry chuckled softly. "Surely your rule gods wouldn't mind if you went into the boy's loo just this once."
She couldn't find it in herself to take the joke in stride. She looked up at Harry and she must have looked miserable, because his eyes softened. "What if he did betray us, Harry?" she whispered. "What if… what if he'd been faking loving me all this time?"
"No one can fake something like that with you," he said gently. "Anybody who does will fall in love with you anyway."
His words did not soothe her. "And what if he does love me for real but somehow he did betray us. I'd have to-my society would expect me to kill him, Harry."
"You don't have to."
"And what of the wizard that died on that train?"
She felt the gentle pressure of his grip on her arm.
"Do you think he did it?" he asked softly. "Do you think he betrayed us?"
"No." She paused. "I don't know. My heart tells me he didn't, but my mind…" She closed her eyes, mimicking a sigh. Why was it that listening to one's mind almost always resulted in the breaking of one's heart?
"Then he didn't betray us," Harry said. "Come on, Hermione. You'd want to know the truth, anyway, whatever it is. Sooner is better than later."
Opening her eyes, she nodded. "Should I kick the door in? It isn't really locked…"
"Element of surprise always throws them."
"Then kicking, it is."
Composing herself, she stepped back before she kicked the men's room door off its hinges.
She heard the scream as the door groaned off the jamb and crashed into the mop closet situated right across it.
There was an excessive amount of swearing while the screaming continued.
The pitch of the shriek was too high to belong to a man, but the profanity definitely spouted from a voice she knew well.
Hermione stalked right into the bathroom and Harry followed. She barely noticed Seamus and Dean scrambling to get the host in place.
Lucien was there, and he had his slave collar on. Blood was dripping from the girl's wrist and she was kicking backwards on the floor to get away from them, pushing herself into the corner as her incessant screaming continued.
Lucien was up, a bit of the girl's blood trickling from the corner of his lips.
"Lucien!" Hermione cried sternly. Her voice bounced off the bathroom walls, amplifying it. The bathroom had no windows big enough to fit an adult through and the only way out was through the door. She and Harry were standing in his way.
Lucien made a movement, like he was going to make a run for it anyway, but she caught him mid-run, slamming her shoulder against his and sending him crashing to the mirrors.
The mirror shattered on impact, causing shards to fly as the imprint of Lucien blossomed from its reflective center.
Harry cast the shields, protecting himself, Hermione and the screaming girl in the corner. Hermione could see the amber circles in her own eyes from what was left of the mirror. She was furious, and her fangs had elongated past her lips. She strode through Harry's shields and grabbed Lucien by the neck, slamming him back against the wall once, then twice when he tried to get away from her again.
"Stop it!" Hermione hissed. "Just stop running!"
Lucien blinked, his hands clamped around her wrists. He looked like he was going to burst out in tears.
"I-I didn't mean to lie," Lucien gasped through the press of her fingers.
The screaming continued, and if everyone outside weren't so drugged up, a bunch of people would be in that bathroom, asking what the hell was going on.
Hermione's eyes turned to the hysterical girl in the corner.
The girl suddenly lost her voice. Harry had cast a silencio. The bathroom fell silent, and there was nothing but the sound of glass crunching underfoot and tiny pieces tinkling to the floor. The distant sound of bass thumped around them, rattling the heating vents ever so slightly.
"Um… you two alright in there?" Seamus cried from outside.
"Fine," Harry replied. "Stand by."
"I'm going to let you go," Hermione said to Lucien slowly. "And don't even think of trying to get out of that door. It's barricaded with holy hosts. The two of us aren't going anywhere."
There was understanding in Lucien's eyes.
She let him go and he crumpled to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.
Hermione filled her lungs and let the sensations of air calm her. She stepped back a bit and collided slightly with Harry. He held her arm to steady her and found herself hoping he wouldn't let go just yet.
After a moment, just watching Lucien, she spoke. "Are you high?"
"No!" cried Lucien, looking up at her in earnest. "I didn't, alright! I… Jenny and I were just talking."
"You were feeding off her."
"Well… it got to that. I swear to you, Hermione, I haven't snorted, shot-up, popped or rubbed anything on… I just-I just needed to be where… where I was better than everyone else. Been there, done that… you know?"
Hermione turned away to mull this over, glancing at Harry. He still had his wand out, and he was staring at Lucien intently; studying the vamp with auror-trained instincts.
She welcomed his objective evaluation of Lucien. They would need it because she was more than willing to acquit Lucien of everything about now. He looked so helpless and penitent, curled up beneath the sinks. He had lead nothing but a depraved life in the last one hundred fifty years; no one to care whether he was alive; no one to tell him that he was loved for who he was and not because he had, at one time, been filthy rich, or dead famous, or simply a riot to have around. She had taken him in when he was at his most useless; most repulsive. And that above everything else, seemed to humble him.
Kindness had changed him more than dungeons, and pain and misery. Love had made him better.
Now he had put all of it on the line. Why? What had been powerful enough to make him risk it?
Fear. It's always fear.
She crouched down in front of him and held him by his shoulders. "Did someone threaten you, Lucien? Did someone tell you they'd kill you if you didn't do as they said?"
He blinked in surprise. "Me? I'm not afraid to die, Hermione…"
"Then what are you afraid of?"
He laughed miserably, as if she should have known the answer to that. He looked up at Harry, as if to be wary of him, before reverting his gaze back to her. "Of being alone again, the way I used to be. Of losing you because you hated me. At least… if I ran away without you knowing why, you'd want to find me, and that's something I could live with…"
It was difficult to harden her heart, even if she knew she had to. If she hadn't known what Lucien was before-what he really was: alone and unloved but so capable of giving affection and so willing to offer companionship-she might have said he was full of bullcrap. But then she did know, only too well, and she couldn't help but lose her heart to him. "You won't lose me like that, Lucien. You won't. But you have to tell me what made you run away. What was it you didn't want me to see?"
"I swear, it was just harmless fun, the first time it happened…"
Hermione was instantly worried. Harmless fun… "What did you do, Lucien?"
He buried his head beneath his hands. "Yasmin…"
Her heart crashed. No. Please tell me she hasn't been using you… please… She reached out and dug his face out of its burrow. "What did you do?"
He trembled slightly. "I mean, it's not like she's a Death Eater… at least she shouldn't be. She's your boss, for God's sake!"
"What are you talking about?" she growled.
"I've been… I've been sleeping with her. I've been sleeping with Yasmin."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry wasn't sure why he found that so shocking. After all, vampires were intensely sexual creatures, and for the most part, Yasmin was a woman made from the stuff of fantasies (if you liked that sort of thing). Lucien was no prude, either. In some twisted, demented way, it almost made sense that Yasmin and Lucien would be fucking each other on a regular basis. Harry was even willing to bet his wand arm that it had nothing to do with love for both of them, either.
But in retrospect, Harry realized that somewhere in this leather and lace scenario, there was something far more sinister going on. Lucien might have done it for sex, but Yasmin was definitely doing it for something infinitely more malicious. The woman was using Lucien, and that wasn't so much shocking as it was horrifying, that Yasmin would take someone like Lucien, who probably had the potential to lose everything, and use him for whatever reason she deemed fit, just because Hermione trusted him and loved him.
"That bitch," Harry hissed before he could stop himself.
Lucien looked up at him in astonishment.
Hermione grabbed Lucien's chin to look at her again. "Have you been exchanging blood with her, Lucien?"
Lucien's gaze lowered in shame. "Yes. Just a few times, really. I didn't want to be her Blood Kin. Her blood… something in her blood-makes me feel like… like how the drugs used to make me feel."
"How long have you been sleeping with her?" Hermione asked, her gaze intent.
"Since before she gave you this mission."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. "Is that how you knew about the details of my mission? You saw it in her mind after the blood exchange?"
Lucien's brows knotted. "I don't know about all of it. She only let me see some. Reading minds isn't my vamp power, so I have no control of it during blood exchanges-"
Hermione's frown deepened. "I know that, Lucien. She only let you see what she wanted you to see. And so you saw her that night; before we left for Hogwarts?"
"I didn't know it was her. Honestly, I didn't! She did something. She-I was with someone and then suddenly it was her. God, I didn't even know she was vampire!"
Harry looked at Hermione. She didn't seem all that surprised about it. Perhaps Yasmin had done that sort of thing before. Perhaps Lucien's muggle roots had made him particularly prone to Yasmin's pheromones, or whatever magic she possessed.
Hermione lifted her gaze at Harry. "Hypnosis. It's one of her quaint vampire powers. She'll make you see what she wants you to see. She'd used that power many times to get information from her enemies and 'friends'."
Harry noted the scorn in which she had said the last word. He crouched down beside Lucien. "You exchanged blood with her that night, didn't you?"
Ruefully, Lucien nodded. "I wasn't going to, I swear! I knew I had secrets to keep, and I wasn't going to risk anyone knowing about that trip to Hogwarts, but…"
"Why didn't you tell us about it, after?"
"How was I supposed to know it would result in the train getting attacked?" Lucien cried. "It was Yasmin! Isn't she supposed to be on Hermione's side if not yours?"
Harry frowned. A man had died on that train; he couldn't afford to be gentle. "It was relevant. You should have said something."
"It's not that simple!"
"It is."
"It's not! How old are you, Harry? Twenty-two? Even if you spent every moment of those twenty-two years miserable, you don't know how it is to be without anyone for one hundred fifty years. You can't possibly…"
If you're not going to tell me, then I'm going to have to see it for myself…
Harry met Hermione's eyes.
Will you let me look? He sent the thought out to her, and not a second later, she nodded.
"Don't hold back," she said, her eyes filling with sadness.
Lucien's eyes widened. "What...?"
Harry closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, recalling what little of the focusing technique Hermione had taught him. If he wanted to know everything, he couldn't be overly cautious the way he had been with the thugs who had set fire to Hermione's house. Lucien was just going to have to bear with his barely-harnessed powers. He was going to see, and he was going to get to the bottom of this.
With a whoosh of parting mist, he was in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her blood washed over him in ripples of near blinding ecstasy, her hips moving to the rhythm of his climax as he held her tiny waist. All he could think about was how awesome it felt, and how unbelievably delicious her blood was, swimming in his body; swimming in his head.
He'd felt this high before. Those vamp drugs were nothing compared to this. This woman-this powerful woman… he couldn't put a name to her; couldn't tell who she was, but she was someone familiar, and lovely, and her blood was what he craved; what he wanted.
As it was, his prick was getting the best end of the deal. Sex with this enigmatic someone was amazing. She knew how to get him in the mood; knew how to coax his desire, and most of all, she knew how to get him off. She had to be gifted. She had to be a freaking genius.
On the other hand, he didn't need to figure out how she did it; at the moment, he was too happy to care.
God, there's nothing like great sex and good blood to make my day…
Lucien felt his head floating, as if it was unattached to his neck and he smiled drunkenly up at her; her svelte, high-cheek-boned delicacy; her slanted violet orbs and her ebony black hair, long and luscious. Her skin dark in an exotic sheen and her breasts round and full.
He loved beautiful things. He loved looking at them, and holding them, and making them his, even if it was just pretend, even for just a moment.
"Oh, Lucien…" she said in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe kind of way. "That was the best shag ever…"
"Well… I do try," he slurred, grinning.
She smiled back. "And you never disappoint…" she said.
A shock of pheromones burst through his system and he gasped, unprepared for the onslaught. A predatory look gleamed in her eyes, and for a moment, he actually felt frightened.
The fear doubled, and like someone cracking open his skull, awareness got forced back into him. It was like snapping out of a daze, and suddenly, he was fully and utterly aware. Her eyes lost all humanity and she had fangs.
Oh, my God… OH, MY GOD!
Lucien couldn't believe it. How was it possible? How could he not know? "Y-Yasmin?"
"Hello, lover. Missed me?"
"B-But how-"
"Practice, my dear. Practice. Now, hush. This will take but a moment."
She was going to do something. Lucien saw it in her eyes, and he didn't like it.
Instinct kicked in, his muscles bunching to push her off him, just before another shot of pheromones enveloped him in its comforting, wonderful haze. Her fangs sank into his neck and he was powerless to stop her. Her touch raised the hairs on his body, the sounds she made like silk to his senses. She began to thrust against him again, her movements sending him to instant readiness as if he hadn't just been spent.
She pulled back, her teeth stained red with his blood. He blinked slowly, lost in her double-edged spell. She tossed her hair away from one shoulder and nudged her neck against his pliable lips.
"Drink some more," she whispered.
He obeyed. He could do nothing, even as the voice inside him told him that Hermione wouldn't be pleased, that he was letting her down somehow; that he was being weak and depraved and all those feelings he used to have when he had been addicted to all things hell.
He pulled his fangs back; cutting off the flow. Cutting off the connection, but the damage was done.
His thoughts and hers collided in an overwhelming flash of pleasure. The quick, revealing exchange left him boneless against the couch of their private room. Echoes of the club music wafted into his senses, but it was nothing to the shock of psychedelic thoughts and flashes Yasmin was feeding him.
It was groovy. There was just no other way to describe it, and whatever thoughts she was taking from him was lost to his awareness. He was just surfing the waves of five hundred year's worth of jive.
And then it was over.
Slumped against the sofa, she stepped off him and stood naked on her heels, hand to her hip.
She was shaking her head, tutting disapprovingly. "Lucien, Lucien… always a puppy to your appetites…"
"Wh-What…"
"And here I thought you'd found someone you loved more than yourself! She, so kind to take you in, too, when NO ONE wanted you. Rather ungrateful of you, don't you think? I always told Hermione, nothing good will come of you, but did she listen? Of course not."
Slowly, her words began to make sense to him, and that voice in his head earlier; the one that was telling him to remember everything Hermione did for him, came back in full force. It was wailing, it was GUILTY, and it knew he had done something horribly wrong.
"Hermione…" he whispered thinly.
"Hermione," Yasmin confirmed, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. "Her-my-own… Her-our-one-and-only, dear, sweet… loving Hermione. Don't think I don't know what drew you and Solomon to her. Don't think I can't see into your souls. The both of you are smarter than you look. You can feel her power, can't you? You, just like any vampire, gravitates to that greatness like a Curious. Little. Moth. To. A. Flame." She skipped her fingers upward over his chest at each word, ending it with an affectionate pinch of his nose. "Well, guess what? She could die by that greatness, and perhaps she would take everyone else down with her when that happens. I know, because it's my job to know these things… at any rate, her importance shouldn't come as a surprise. The Oracle only ever chooses the great ones, so if I were you, I would tread lightly, telling her anything about what happened tonight. You don't know how your telling her would affect the fates. You've taken enough tonight, Lucien. Would you be so self-serving as to risk her future, as well?"
Lucien's brows knotted as the words embedded itself deep into his heart; in his soul. Was Yasmin threatening him? Was Yasmin threatening Hermione? Or perhaps… she wasn't threatening anyone at all. There was always that possibility that Yasmin was telling him the truth…
"Imagine the possibilities," Yasmin continued, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "If you tell her about tonight, she'll know that this wasn't the first time we met this way, and she'd realize that everything she's done, from the moment you woke up to greet her a good evening, up until the moment you parted, I saw the things she did through your eyes. And perhaps because of that sordid fact, she might have to look into your mind to find out just how much you've given away, and she would see… see the things we've done. See the things you've thought. See what I've seen every single time we FUCKED… it's NOT pretty, Lucien. Not pretty at all. She has never peered into your soul like I have, and unlike Hermione, I can't get repulsed by the blackness of it; by the darkness… how you used to find killing ORGASMIC."
"Stop it…"
"Oh, she doesn't know that about you, does she?"
"Twas the past… years ago… a hundred, in fact…"
"Do you think that dancing with the devil ends when the music stops, Lucien? The devil has your card and he could always call you back…"
"She won't ever turn her back on me."
Yasmin smirked, a glint in her eyes so malicious that she could've slain the pure of heart were she to gaze upon them with those eyes. "It wouldn't be the first time she would turn her back on someone she loves…"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry jerked his mind back forcefully, utterly revolted by what he'd just seen.
He stumbled back on the tiled and littered floor, cutting his hands on the shards of glass as he fell. He gasped. He felt like he'd been suffocating, and then he felt sick, like he wanted to vomit, and then take a nice, cleansing hot shower.
Hermione sat in place, shock evident on her face. She had her hand out, fingers curled around an imaginary something, and Harry realized, with pure horror, that she had seen it all, too, through him. Tears were running down her cheeks in rivulets.
She looked at Lucien. Blood was flowing out of his nose. His eyes were rolled back in his head. He didn't look conscious slumped against the wall.
"Lucien?" Hermione whispered, edging towards him. "Lucien…" She gently took Lucien by the shoulders, cradling him in her arms as she closed her eyes, perhaps to still her tears.
After a few moments, Lucien began to stir, and Hermione looked up to meet Harry's gaze.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Harry swallowed the gorge rising in his throat and he nodded. "Are you?"
"I don't know. I feel like I should be sick, but then I can't be, so I just feel dirty all over… damn her, Harry… damn her."
His head was still spinning, and right now, the implications of what he'd seen in Lucien's mind was staggering.
He tried to think; tried to be rational. Pushing himself off the floor, he got to his feet. He made his way to the door.
Seamus and Dean looked at him expectantly.
"Dean, call off the search. Tell everyone we've got him."
"Check."
Seamus arched an eyebrow. "Are we detaining anyone at the ministry tonight?"
Harry looked at Hermione who knelt on the floor, speaking to Lucien in whispered tones while he let her hold him. Harry made a judgment call. "No. He's going back to Grimmauld Place with us."
Seamus leaned over to peek inside. His eyes widened. "Is that girl alright?"
Harry blinked. He had forgotten about the screaming girl.
She wasn't screaming anymore. In fact, she sat reticent in the corner, watching everything with avid fascination while she held a hand around her wrist. She was pale, but she didn't look like she was in danger of bleeding to death.
Harry sighed. "Seamus, can you-"
"Yeah. Want me to obliviate her?"
"That'd be wise. Do it."
Seamus nodded, seeing to the girl. He walked by Hermione and Lucien as if they weren't there, and Harry had to credit Seamus for taking many things in stride. The girl looked at ease with Seamus immediately, probably because of the Irishman's good looks.
Dean was just finishing up with the communications, and when he was done, he pocketed his mirror. "What next?"
"We go back to Grimmauld Place. Dean, do you mind taking Hermione with you?"
Dean's hesitation lasted a split heartbeat. "No. I'll take her."
"Thank you. I'll take Lucien…" He let out a breath. "This has been a long day…"
"Knowing you, Potter, I bet it has."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lucien was reticent when they headed back to Grimmauld Place. He looked, to Harry, like a dog that had bit the hand that fed him and was regretting it horribly.
In a lot of ways, Harry couldn't blame him for what happened, not after what he'd seen, but it was going to be difficult to sell the explanation to everybody else, even if Harry knew the Order would trust him if he simply told them Lucien was innocent of treachery. It was, however, regrettable that Lucien's small mistake might have resulted in fatal consequences, and Harry wasn't quite sure if Lucien should be made to answer for it.
Whether Harry should take it upon himself to demand some kind of reparation, Hermione had certainly been put between a rock and a hard place. Lucien had failed her in some way, and even if she was willing to forgive him unconditionally-something Harry could see her doing-her society would expect something else entirely, especially when it got around that Lucien had failed her because he let the vamp queen screw him over. It was especially tricky because the said vamp queen was Hermione's boss and mentor. So Hermione had to punish Lucien, she had to punish Lucien's defiler and yet his defiler was the one person nobody fucked with.
Harry couldn't imagine what Hermione was going through.
Solomon anxiously helped them into the house after they apparated just outside of it.
Hermione did not meet Lucien's pleading gaze as she told Solomon to take Lucien to the dungeons. Solomon complied, the gentlest of friends, it seemed, when the situation called for it.
Ron, upon meeting Harry's eyes, looked to be brimming with questions, and Luna, looking frail and delicate beside Ron's hulking form, had flashes of curiosity lurking behind her spacey gaze. She tugged at Ron's sleeve, whispered something in his ear, which caused Ron to nod and look at Harry again, as if to say, "Heard that?"
Of course, Harry didn't, but he had a pretty good idea just what Luna had told him. Not that Harry understood Luna better for being around her in the last five years, but Luna's quirkiness wasn't without its predictability. She had probably said something like, "Tell Harry that Wallachian Gorglepunks eat secrets and regurgitate them to turn them into spirit-eating Borkovian Chatterloons," or something along those lines. It was Luna's way of saying, "Better to come clean with what's going on."
Harry didn't even want to meet Remus's and Tonks's gazes after that. He would deal with all of them in a while. Presently, he sent everybody home, telling them the situation was under control. Thankfully, none of those who left asked questions, and one by one, they disapparated. Harry then dealt with his housemates, plus Luna, since Ron was never inclined to tell the girl to "leave". Luna was an excellent secret keeper, anyway. Harry promised them that he would tell them all about it, just not tonight. Tonight he was bone tired.
Draco had watched this all with barely veiled contempt. He simply snorted in disgust, threw the mirror back at Harry and retired to his room.
He's not getting his wand back anytime soon, Harry remembered thinking.
It was an hour and a half yet until sunrise, and he had a nagging feeling Hermione wasn't ready to rest just yet. So it was little surprise when Tonks, while he was just about to open a carton of pumpkin juice, came rushing into the kitchen demanding that he go after Hermione.
"She just stepped out of the house hopping mad, Harry. It's barely two hours before sunrise," Tonks said frantically, taking the pumpkin juice straight from his hands and putting it back in the chillbox. "That girl is going out to get in trouble! For god's sake, go after her and make sure she comes back in one piece!"
Harry refrained from saying that Tonks should be more worried at whoever Hermione was after rather than the other way around, but he supposed Tonks would take it the wrong way.
And so Harry did go after Hermione.
His, "Can't this wait 'til tomorrow evening?" was met with Hermione hurriedly shoving him into the passenger seat of the Jaguar, after which she drove it like a maniac to Tirgoviste.
Harry swore that whoever gave Hermione a license to drive was drunk at the time.
And so cringing while Hermione recklessly avoided a crossing cat, Harry delicately reminded her of something he considered most relevant. "Hermione? Erm… in case you've forgotten, you've got a mortal on the death seat."
Her only response was to yank at his seat belt to tighten it.
He thought it best to shut up so that she could put all her focus into driving, even if the blood flow to his legs had just been cut off temporarily.
When they reached Tirgoviste, she skidded to a halt right in front of the club (regardless of the "Loading and Unloading Only" sign, of course), cut the engine and stormed out of the Jag.
Harry had to scramble to follow her. However futile his "saving people thing" might be in this instance, he had promised Tonks due diligence, at least.
When they got through the bewildered bouncers, she went straight for Henry's office and confronted him at his desk.
As per usual, Henry was pseudo-accommodating. He greeted them with his pearly-white smile, fangs and everything and, open-armed, said, "Hermione, dear. What can Henry do for you?" as if they hadn't been there earlier, threatening his business. One had to credit Henry for his diplomacy.
"I know you know where Yasmin is," Hermione said without indulging Henry's niceties.
"And why do you think so?"
"We both have no time for this, Henry. The sun's going to be up soon and we vamps like our beauty sleep. Tell me where she is."
Henry rose from his seat, holding his hands up and tilting his head. "Hermione… you give me too much credit, I'm just-"
"Her fucking doll. Yes, I've heard that one before. I know you're not just. She has much use for you, and you are indeed very useful. You know where she is. Tell me. I'd like to have a word with her."
Henry's eyebrow arched, though his smile remained. "I've never gotten called a Fucking Doll before-"
Harry sighed. "Look, Henry, it's late. I'm tired. Could you please just tell Hermione what she needs to know without all these bullcrap acrobatics?"
Henry shrugged. "I can't. I would if I could, but my hands are tied, you understand."
"These vamp games," Hermione growled, "are the bane of my existence-"
"Hey," said Henry while checking his nails. "We all have to learn how to play, Hermione. I'm surprised you're not better at this. You were, after all, taught by the best."
Hermione's eyes ringed and Harry decided he was going to step away just the tiniest bit…
"You're absolutely right, Henry," she said, shoulders tensing. "Yasmin did teach me, and you know what? Here's what I learned."
She grabbed Henry by the front of his crisp shirt and blazer and threw him through the glass of his office window. He went crashing to the dance floor.
What little people remained in the club for that evening ran screaming and Hermione, scrubbed to a rather thick lather, jumped after him, her booted feet landing on both sides of the astonished and winded Henry Dresler.
Harry knew Henry had it coming. The man provoked it, after all. He rushed down the stairs and immediately stood to guard Hermione's back. Benjamine and Earl were already there with a bunch of other bouncers. They were staring at the scene like they couldn't believe it, which was probably the case. Their boss was lovable and shrewd. He never got in trouble like this.
"This is between the two of them, Earl," Harry had said, sticking his wand out and holding his hand up. "You don't want to get between them!"
Nobody looked eager to cross Hermione, anyway. They were only too glad to have someone tell them to stay out of it.
She had Henry by the hair, speaking to him with amber-eyed outrage. "I know you communicate with her, Henry, so I'll make this simple. You tell that bitch I didn't appreciate what she did to Lucien, and that I don't care if she fancies herself Queen of the Vampires. To me, she's nothing but a cheap-arse, high-maintenance whore. Tell her that if she's the least bit inclined to explain herself, she should know where to find me. Tell her that if she doesn't show herself, she could very well rot in hell with whatever schemes for power she has cooked up. I was never hers. I never will be hers."
Hermione had let Henry go, dropping him on the floor. The wounds he suffered being thrown through the glass were beginning to heal; shards embedded in his skin began to get pushed out of his body. "And, oh yes. Here's your phone back." She tossed the mobile back at him quite forcefully.
They left the club, and now they were back in Grimmauld Place, Hermione parking the Jaguar on the curb.
Considering how eventful his night was, he was pretty glad that so far, no one had gotten killed.
He was just about to get out of the car when Hermione leaned over the steering wheel and gave a miserable moan.
"God, Harry…"
He sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. He was beyond shocked when she slipped into his embrace, burying her face in his chest.
"The things I have to do as alpha," she said wearily. "I'm feeling the tiniest bit sympathetic of your objections to leading the Order. It's just too much responsibility. And I haven't even begun to wrap my mind around this situation. For once, I don't want to think. I don't want to puzzle out the implications, or the consequences, or anything. It's a complete and utter mess."
"Don't think about it like that," he said quietly. "You've always been rational and logical. And you always find answers in the most complex of situations. This time won't be any different."
They fell silent for a while before she spoke again.
"Yasmin… Merlin, has she been working for Voldemort all this time? Is that how she found out about the last horcrux? It makes sense in so many ways but makes so little sense in others. What the hell is going on?"
He decided he would go for the immediate answer and work their way through it. "She stole the information about our trip to Hogwarts from Lucien. She's the mole."
Hermione caught on and looked up at him. "I've considered that, of course, but it doesn't make sense!"
"What doesn't make sense?"
"Many things." She bit her lip, looking quite unsure but still thinking. Always thinking. It was why she was Hermione. She thought, therefore, she was.
Harry tried a different tact. "Yasmin cares nothing about humans. Obviously, something in all this serves her purpose and she's using everyone to get what she wants. Hell, she's probably even using Voldemort."
"I'd agree to that," she said thoughtfully, "if I were irrational. First the obvious rebuttal: Why would she set up an agreement with us if she was with Voldemort?"
Harry filed away the fact that she had called them an "us", like she was a member of the Order instead of the Coven. He would deal with that later. Right now, they had a more important discussion going on. "She set up the agreement so the lot of us humans could kill each other."
"Sounds like her, at first blush, but the logic of it doesn't hold up to tougher inspection. Why would she want to get rid of her food source? Why would she want to do away with her power hoard? Heck, why get rid of the humans, a great number of which are just dying to answer her beck and call?"
"So she doesn't want all of the humans to die; just those who are threatening to usurp what power she has."
"That would be Voldemort, then."
"Like I said, maybe she's playing Voldemort, too."
"At the expense of other vampires?"
"Are you going to tell me Yasmin isn't Machiavellian? It's a means to an end."
Hermione seemed to be filing this away in her mind. She wasn't convinced. Not by a long-shot, but the arguments might later lead her to the answer, if it wasn't the answer already.
She changed the direction of the discussion. "If Yasmin is the mole, and if she's manipulating everyone to serve her interests, then why didn't she tell Voldemort I was on the train? If she really wanted to help Voldemort, she would've reported that I was still alive, and Voldemort would've sent someone better to kidnap you, knowing I would be there to protect you."
Harry pondered this. "If I'm interpreting Lucien's memory correctly, I don't think she wants you killed. She isn't done using you for whatever purpose."
"A rational assumption. But consider this: Voldemort seems to know things, but he obviously hasn't been told enough to destroy us. He has a mole, but let's consider the possibility that it isn't Yasmin. Everyone that had been sent to get you always mentioned Bellatrix, and when Voldemort supposedly found out about the train, or even just about me being alive, he punished Bellatrix, which seems to imply that the spies go to her with their information and she conveys them to Voldemort. So here's a new scenario, Harry… there's a spy amongst us. Lucien got used. Yasmin wasn't the one who ratted on us in the train and considering Yasmin's total lack of sympathy for humans, she wouldn't waste her time flushing out the mole on the Order's side of the fence…"
Harry was getting a little lost. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we have a mole in our midst and she has a mole in her midst. The affairs of humans have only ever been her concern if it affects vampires. In this case, she has settled the matter of the human-vamp war by making the agreement. That concern has been packed, sealed and sent for shipping, but this mole that SHE has been talking about, has been stalking, really, is more vampire related than anything else. When she speaks of a mole, she's not talking about a mole in the Order reporting to Voldemort. She doesn't care about that. Even if that's what the mole does anyway, the mole must be much more important than that for her to obsess. Because she has been obsessing about it, Harry. I can only wonder why."
He paused to absorb the words and organize them in his head. "Alright then, so what if it's like what you said: She's trying to find this mole of hers that for some reason is important to her. Is it possible that she took the information from Lucien, told her suspects, of which I'm assuming she has more than one, some facts-in slight variation with one another-holding back some of the more relevant details like how you're still alive, etcetera… and when one of the suspects passes on the information…"
"… she can tell by how Voldemort responds which of her suspects is the mole," she finished. "Entirely possible!"
"Still speculation, though," he finished rationally.
She nodded. "Of course. But I'll certainly need all the ammunition I need for when she comes to me. It's not going to be pretty, Harry. Even if we're completely wrong about her; even if she didn't rat on us… she used Lucien. She used my Shadow Kin. I can't-I don't know if I can still stand to take orders from her anymore…"
Harry stifled the catching of his breath. He understood Hermione's plight, of course, and ordinarily, he would support her one hundred percent, but there was one teensy detail that she might be forgetting at the moment. "She still hasn't told you where the last horcrux is."
Hermione closed her eyes. "Yes. I'm constantly aware of that. I have to work some deal with her. See if I can make some kind of exchange without selling out."
"In the meantime… do I still have to train with you?"
Her eyes flashed and she frowned. "Yes. You still must. Whatever Yasmin knows, she wants you trained for it. I'm not going to risk your life by letting you slack off."
Harry laughed. "Alright, fine. Just checking…" His mirth dwindled as he stared at her troubled face. "Does all this mean you're willing to leave the Coven?"
She stiffened. "I don't know. Maybe. A handful have done that. The Coven isn't the Mafioso. If you want to leave for your own personal reasons, Yasmin would have no objections to letting you go. Heck, she'd only be too glad to be rid of an uncommitted associate hiding under her protection. But… the thing is, the Coven isn't just about Yasmin. I told you, we get rid of rogue vampires. It's about as much as being on the side of 'good' as vampires are going to get… if I leave the service, what am I going to do? Research? I do that as a Coven associate, anyway, and… all books and no action doesn't seem fulfilling anymore, is all. And Harry… I have an eternity ahead of me. I think I'd jump into a pit of fire if all I have ahead of me are endless days of… passive resistance."
He smiled, a bit saddened by the fact that she had overlooked the obvious answer. He cupped her jaw, rubbing her cheek lightly. "You can take up with me. I'll take care of you, and I promise you I'll let you fight bad guys."
She chuckled softly. "Real romantic, Harry."
"Hey, a bloke does what he has to."
She shook her head. "Seriously, Harry… have you ever, ever stopped to considered what it would be like being with me?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No, I mean what it would be really like. No children… no sunsets… heck, no morning afters… don't you find that-I don't know-damning? For goodness' sake… my heart breaks every time I remember I couldn't have kids…"
"I know…"
She looked up, a flicker of realization in her gaze. She knew he understood the depth of what she said. She probably figured Solomon or Lucien had told him things. To his relief, she didn't make a big deal of it.
"I just think you're selling yourself short being with a vampire," she said.
"You just don't get it, Hermione. It's not about me being with a vampire; it's about me being with you. Just you. People go around tossing stuff about love and romance, and to them it's about roses and champagne and picket fences…"
"Isn't it?"
"No! You're the logical one in this picture, Hermione. You going to tell me love is about what the movies and romance novels make them out to be?"
"But relationships are tough enough, Harry. Do we have to jump hoops and swallow fire to make it work?"
"Well, if that's what it takes…"
"I refuse to accept that for you. It's totally possible for you to be deliriously happy with the roses and champagne and picket fences. It was so easy with us before. You were happy and loving me held promise of nice things; those things. Now I'm just dark, angst, blood, whatever the heck you want to call it. You shouldn't have to settle for me."
He laughed incredulously. "Who's settling? I was happy because it was you! I had a chance with Cho. She could've given me everything you want me to have, but I didn't take it, because it doesn't matter if I couldn't feel for her more than I ever felt for you. If I-God, if I did something like marry her, that would be settling, and I would've been miserable…"
"You wouldn't have…"
"I would have. And then she would've been miserable, and it would've been unfair to her, because she should've found a bloke who loved her the way I love you: unconditionally. So you see, I've tried it your way … it didn't work…"
She fidgeted. She had that look on her face; one he'd ever rarely seen; the one that said, "Maybe I am wrong…"
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Could it be? Could it be that he was finally getting through to her? It would seem to make sense. Creature of logic and observation that she was, it was only natural that she would finally consider his words after he had-in effect-"obliged" her so-called experiment: the one where he was placed in a controlled environment with a beautiful girlfriend who had every promise of giving him what a bloke "ought to" have in life. Wife. Kids. Picket fences.
He turned his gaze to the darkness outside. It wasn't long before sunrise. He had to get her inside. "Come on. I have something to give you before you go to sleep."
He stepped out of the car and she followed, too lost in thought to ask him any more questions. Taking her hand, he led her back into the house. He told her to go to the dungeons and that he'd be there in a while. He just had to get something in his room. She seemed puzzled, but she said she would be waiting for him in her chamber.
So he rushed to his bedroom, opened his armoire and stared at the one drawer inside it that he hadn't opened in years. It was the smallest drawer there, barely noticeable, especially with the distracting weapons and anti-creature paraphernalia. There were only two items in that small drawer. Well… three, actually.
He opened it. There was a letter and a blue palm-sized velvet box. The letter was from Hermione; the one she gave him that night she left. The velvet box contained his birthday gift to her those years ago.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the box and headed to the dungeons.
She was seated on her dressing stool nervously, and she began to look frightened when she saw the box in his hand.
He chuckled. "I'm not going to ask you to marry me, Hermione."
She blinked at that, tried to laugh and failed. "Um… good?"
He smirked, sitting on the edge of her dresser. He handed the box to her. "It was my birthday gift to you back then." He knew he didn't have to elaborate what birthday he was talking about.
She paused very briefly to look at him before opening the box. Inside it were two rings, both three-quarters of an inch thick in matted white and red gold. Each band was made of intricate knots that formed a kind of pleasing pattern.
"Celtic rings…" Hermione said.
He nodded. "Spelled Celtic rings. I'm not asking you to marry me now and I wasn't going to ask you back then. We were only seventeen. Duh."
She glanced at him with a small smirk.
"These are usually used as wedding bands, but I asked the jeweler to modify the spell. Instead of the ring telling one if the other was cheating…" He grinned at this when her smirk widened. "It tells us when the other's… feelings have waned…"
Her eyebrow lifted and she looked amazed. "Seriously? It could do that?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe. The jeweler said it could. According to him, the knots on the ring unravel when that happens. When you think about it, it's not complicated magic. Sometimes, we don't have to be told that someone doesn't love us anymore. We feel it, don't we? Often, we see break-ups coming before they happen. It makes sense that magic would make it look… simpler…"
She nodded, looking at the rings.
One band was smaller than the other, of course. Hers would fit on her right ring finger, just as his would.
"How do you activate the spell?" she asked.
"I put your ring on you and you put my ring on me. Easy."
"Just like in a wedding ceremony."
He smirked. "You have to admit; for two kids in love, this would've been romantic and meaningful. Celtic knots hold meaning significant to the two of us."
She nodded. "Interconnectedness of life. All things living for one another, whatever we may be, water or earth, wind or fire, human or vampire…"
"I thought you'd figure that out. It also means infinity, which supposedly tells you how long my feelings for you will last." He chuckled at that. "Sappy, I know."
She gave a noncommittal shrug, turning a little pink.
He continued. "You were also always going on about me not knowing what I'm getting myself into being in a relationship with you, and you thought you were a burden, and all those things… I thought a ring that told you just what I felt would at least settle the question, and if, somehow, by some cruel twist of fate, the feeling goes away… well, we'd know, and we'd be spared the awkward confession and just skip right to the post-break-up rituals, like returning the stuff we've lent each other… and you'd likely move out even if I didn't want you to…"
"When you put it that way, it's sounds a bit awful."
"I thought that would appeal to your vampiric nature."
"Oh, did you?"
"Yeah. Esoteric death, inevitable angst, emotional darkness, the end… that sort of thing."
She stared at him, blinking, before she burst out in melodious laughter. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in ages, and it was a really beautiful sound.
He smiled wanly. "Would you have liked the rings?"
Blushing, she nodded. "I would've…"
"Not anymore?"
"Harry-"
"Sorry. You don't have to answer that now. I didn't give them to you now to pressure you into anything. I'm just giving them to you."
"Both of them?"
"I can't wear mine if you don't put it on me."
"Well, in that case, I can't wear mine either."
"I'll put it on you if you want…"
She fidgeted on her seat, staring at the rings at intervals. Finally, she looked up. "I'm not ready to give you yours."
"But you want to wear your ring?"
"It's pretty…" She fingered the box bashfully after she said it.
"I thought you'd like it."
She held out the box for him and he took her ring, slipping it on her right ring finger. The ring glowed golden, once, then twice, like two heartbeats, and then it settled. She looked at her hand. "It feels warm."
"Does it? Maybe it's supposed to."
"The knots are still there."
"Of course they are. I still love you very much. You weren't hoping the knots would unravel when I put the ring on you, were you?"
She shrugged, flushing slightly. "Might have settled matters…"
He laughed softly. "It might have. But the knots are still there. What are you going to do now?"
She gave him a contrite smile as she snapped the box shut, his ring in it. "Keep this ring. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll give it to you."
He smirked. "After everything I did tonight, and after I give you a pretty ring, which, by the way, only opens my heart to you, thank you very much, all you're going to give me is a lame-arse 'maybe'?"
"Live with it, Potter. That's all you're going to get tonight."
Which, of course, implied that she had been thinking of other things she could've given him.
She rose from her seat and ushered him out of her chamber.
He couldn't help but laugh miserably. "No kiss? No grope? Don't think I didn't know you were doing just that while you were helping me into my shirt earlier."
She frowned as she flushed a bright red, but she did not stop ushering him out. "Yes, well, a girl ought to be able to when she wants to. Thank you for the ring, Harry. It's lovely. And thank you for helping me find Lucien. And thank you for going back with me to Tirgoviste. And thank you for-well, thank you."
He turned to give her a snarky reply when she shut him up with her lips. He was a bit too surprised to respond properly, and it was a shame, too, considering it wasn't really a "friendly" thank you kiss. He felt the slightest caress of her tongue, and the tender, but unhesitant press of her lips.
Another second and he would've grabbed her, but she turned, fled back into her chamber and extinguished all the torches, probably with her wand.
He stood in the darkness and saw that the only light there was came from the end of the long hallway, where the stairs to the dungeon exit began. It was her way of telling him where he should be headed.
Chuckling, he shook his head and did follow that brightly burning torch.
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A/N: Considering everything about this chapter has been filthy and disturbing, I thought ending it "kinda fluffy" would balance things out. It would torment you to know that I initially had a completely different ending that involves a Jaguar, two randy people and a car horn. Beep, beep!
Reference of the day: Laurell K. Hamilton's "Bloody Bones" I don't have the quote handy, but I'll definitely fill it in when I get the chance.