Author's Notes: Have you read Chapter 26: Ghosts yet? If you haven't, better click back!
Chapter rating: NC-17
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Chapter Twenty-Seventh: Horcrux
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Viktor was a most accommodating host, warmly inviting them to sit at the table with him for dinner while the vamps left for their own haunts.
Harry grudgingly had to admit that Viktor seemed more likeable in his natural environment than his surly personality in Hogwarts.
As for Ron… well, he was still as star-struck as ever, even having grown mature about it. To Ron, Viktor was still the best professional Quidditch Seeker there was, and Harry began to get the distinct feeling that Ron had forgotten all about Viktor's transgressions from the fourth year.
So Ron and Viktor talked animatedly over dinner while Harry somewhat picked at his food.
Stefanya and Gavril continued to make appearances in spite of their harried nursemaids and Viktor's repeated attempts to send them back to their rooms. They seemed to have taken an avid fascination of Harry and Ron.
Ron, for his girth and red hair, and Harry, for his glasses and oddly dancing raven locks. Ron, having spent a lot of time entertaining his nieces and nephew whenever he went to visit Bill, knew his way around children. They liked him, but they didn't pick on him, because Ron had practice getting them to listen. Harry, however, had no such aptitude. They picked and poked, observing him like some sideshow freak, and being the clueless single bloke that he was, Harry had no idea how to tell them no without yelling at them and causing them to cry.
So he stammered and dodged while they climbed all over him, pulling at his glasses and his hair.
"They are excited by new people," Viktor explained apologetically. He spoke something in Bulgarian, after which Stefanya jumped down from Harry's seat, taking his glasses with her and breaking them in the process.
Harry stifled a sigh while Gavril hung off his arm. This dinner was taking far too long.
"Stefanya," came a gentle voice behind them. "Gavril. Pruilchno."
Whatever Hermione said, it caused the children to hang back and leave him alone. They lined up by their uncle and smiled shyly at Hermione as she glided in with Lucien and Solomon in tow.
"Harry is too nice to tell you no," she told them in a quiet but firm tone. "Now be good and listen to your chicho."
Viktor said something to them in Bulgarian, yet again. This time, Harry felt something being shoved in his hand. It was his glasses.
"Erm, thanks," he said, putting them on.
Stefanya giggled as she stared up at him.
His glasses were lopsided, having been broken at the joint. Viktor seemed to scold her for laughing.
A tiny smile formed on Hermione's lips as she sat beside him on the dinner table. She whipped out her wand, waved it at his glasses and the glasses, as always, repaired itself smartly under her expert spellwork.
He readjusted his glasses on his face. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she replied, squeezing his shoulder briefly before turning her attention to the rest of the company on the dinner table.
Stefanya and Gavril didn't bother Harry again. Instead, they sat behaved on Viktor's lap until they were too sleepy to protest their being brought to their bedrooms.
Lucien and Solomon joined Ron and Viktor's animated discussion about Quidditch, beating down on the Chudley Cannons' perpetually awful record while Ron defended his favorite team valiantly.
Predictably, Hermione had very little to contribute to the Quidditch conversation and she sat back on her seat, looking subdued.
Harry wondered if her exposure to the staff had actually exhausted her, or whether she had other things on her mind.
She caught him staring several minutes into her brooding and he reddened, looking away.
He wanted to talk to her but wondered if the timing was appropriate.
Coming to Bulgaria and being in Viktor Krum's house wasn't as bad as Harry had expected. Before arriving at the Krum stronghold, Harry had envisioned Hermione and Viktor exchanging knowing looks and flirty glances; private jokes and perhaps even friendly banter, but so far, neither Hermione, nor Viktor, had acted that way.
It was, in fact, rather odd that Hermione and Viktor acted more like… well, Harry found it a bit hard to explain.
In Muggle movies, there were scenes where two strangers were made to sit on a bench, usually in the park or while at the bus stop. The strangers would sit in companionable silence, neither uncomfortable about the other's presence; perfectly satisfied with the arrangement of sitting on the same bench without really talking, perhaps laughing together if something funny happened to pass them by but feeling no obligation to go further than that shared laugh. When one or the other's bus arrived, they might say goodbye in a friendly manner, but after parting, one or both of them had already forgotten what the other looked like.
That was what Hermione and Viktor's treatment of each other reminded Harry of, like bench-fellows. Friendly, comfortable and impersonal.
Had it been like that for them the entire six months they were together? Surely, not.
Surely, Hermione deserved better than that…
She watched the others talking about Viktor's Wronski Feint, smirking ever so slightly, probably remembering what she called it.
Harry wondered if she called it Wonky Faints to Viktor's face. Knowing Hermione, she would have, and Viktor probably laughed it off; he probably got a kick out of the fact that unlike the rest of the world, Hermione was not enamored of his Quidditch persona.
Harry remembered how Hermione had scolded him for his Quidditch daring and rolled her eyes at the way he and Ron seemed to be so gone on the sport. She had thought Quidditch juvenile, and dangerous, and utterly without sense, yet she had gone to each and every game he had played; had screamed as avidly as the rest of the die-hard fans; had booed every bludger, beater and seeker that had gone up against him. She had stood in the stands under the pouring rain; had waved red and gold banners in the wind; had even borne the giggling crowds during Quidditch try-outs.
"You've never been more fanciable," she had told him when he had wondered out loud about the crowd of Quidditch-team hopefuls. She had said it straight-faced and in a business-like tone, yet she later admitted that even then, she had fancied him. How many times had Hermione hidden her true feelings behind a mask of haughtiness, intelligence or even anger? Not just in her feelings for him, but her feelings about many other things, maybe? When had her anger been true? When had it been affected?
When she turned and caught him staring, again, he didn't look away so quickly. He held her gaze for a heartbeat before turning his attention back to Viktor and the others.
After a few more minutes of listening to them, Harry began to get antsy about other matters. He still had quite a few things to do, like examining the case Gryffindor's staff came in, which meant he might have to do quick research on the spells; something that could take all night and all day, tomorrow.
He was already trying to formulate a polite way to excuse himself when Viktor, merciful Merlin, brought it up himself.
"Do you still wish to see the case for Gryffindor's staff, Harry?" he asked.
Harry stifled a sigh of relief. "Yes, very much so. Should I go look for Wenceslaus and ask him to fetch it?"
"I will see to it and have one of my staff bring the case to you. Where would you like it sent?"
"I think I'll go look at it in my room. I'll be heading there right now, anyway," Harry replied, rising from his seat.
"Think you'll need help with it, mate?" Ron asked.
Harry knew Ron's heart wasn't in it and he grinned. "I'll be fine looking it over myself. I'll see you all tomorrow, alright?" He graciously thanked Viktor for that evening's dinner. All of the men gave him a brief grunt goodnight before enthusiastically going back to their previous conversation.
"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said, smiling slightly.
At that moment, he wanted to take her hand and tell her they needed to talk. It was the perfect opportunity, anyway. With the rest of the party occupied, there was a lot of time yet for them to iron things out, but then Viktor called Hermione's attention with his accented, "Her-my-own."
Her gaze left his and Harry pressed his lips together in resignation.
He turned and left to retire to his room in the upper levels of the castle.
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Harry had just tossed in a few more logs of wood into his fireplace when he heard the sharp, even knocking of someone at his door.
Wenceslaus, he thought, straightening from a crouch. The butler was just in time, too. Harry had just started getting comfortable in the cozy room. It wasn't an overly large chamber, of which Harry was glad about. The cobbled floors had rugs to cushion the lounging area in front of the hearth and the floor beneath the bed.
He went to the door and swung it open. He was just about to thank the butler when he realized that it wasn't Wenceslaus at all.
It was Hermione and she held a wooden case half her height in her arms.
He was a bit too surprised to say anything coherent. "Hermio…"
"I just came by to drop this off," she said hastily, shoving the case against his chest.
It knocked the breath out of him a bit and he had to clutch at the case, just so it wouldn't clatter to his feet.
"Oh! S-Sorry," she stammered, reddening.
"It's-It's alright-"
"If you need any help… I mean, with the spells. On the box. I can do research in the library while you-that is, we don't have to work together… you can work here while I'm in the… erm… I looked it over a bit, anyway, when I came here. The wards on the box are fairly simple, but I think they need strengthening, especially after what we saw in the dungeons… I'm talking too much, I know. I'll just go. I'll be in the library." She laughed a bit. "I said that already, didn't I? I better go."
She turned and hurried away before Harry could say anything.
He watched her walk off, but thankfully, something inside him thought better of it. He said her name, ever so softly.
She stopped in her tracks, turned and stared at him across the distance.
A heartbeat later, she was walking back towards him and he found himself captivated by the determination on her face.
"Well, thing is, see," she began when she was within earshot of him. "I was hoping we could talk. You don't really have to say anything, if you don't feel like it, because I have loads of words. First of all, I'd like to apologize for whatever pain my relationship with Viktor may have caused you. I didn't mean to hurt you, going into a relationship with him. It wasn't about you… yet, it was. What I mean to say is all of my relationships were about the equivalent of-well, Lithium. You know that Muggle drug, don't you? It's what shrinks prescribe to depressed old women. They crush those little pellets and sprinkle it over their ice-cream… anyway, the point is, all my relationships after you were those sprinkles. Some kind of artificial happiness to get over the depression. I was constantly aware of the fact that I chose blokes that didn't look, act and think like you. I wanted to get as far away from the memory of you as possible, just so it wouldn't hurt so badly, you know?
"I suppose I can admit that I had a bit of fun with them, and every once in a while it was actually, genuinely enjoyable, because they were all really nice blokes, but I seemed to have inadvertently effed up every single man I dated for the simple fact that I had these huge boundaries that drove them barmy… anyway, as you might have figured, Viktor Krum was shagging the mothers of his children before he and I… fizzled, and-well, that's rather effed up of him, but what's worse is that I didn't really care, and that's rather effed up of me. It's like I decided that a substitute uterus is some kind of thing you can get on eBay… but I digress.
"To say that I was moving on with all these relationships was-I realize now-a big, fat joke, because the only thing moving was my parade of failed and disastrous relationships where the stars of the show are actually just a bunch of balloons filled with hot air… and I'm babbling!" She laughed painfully. "Okay, so the point, Harry, is that I never really stopped loving you. I mean, I always knew that, but five years of Lithium just somewhat jumbles the head, and I actually believed that I could sort of give you up like a bad habit-which, you aren't, really. You're not. I was the one who was the bad habit. That's how I saw it, at least, so I figured you had to quit me. I mean I did honestly believe that I wanted you to move on, and it was an earnest effort on my part to get you to. I suppose I wanted you to get so angry with me that you'd say the most awful, unforgivable and horrible things to me before you completely leave me to rot on my sorry arse. I think that would've made it easier for me to accept that you didn't want me anymore, but in the last three days you've just been… well, uninterested. Like… a person who says, Well, that's it, it's over, and goes out to buy pizza. I think maybe I should've expected that you wouldn't throw a gigantic fit dumping me. But see, it just makes things all the more palpable, because it gave me time to think, and absorb it, and feel it, and it's really, really, really…" She sighed, her brows knotting. "Really… painful. Much harder. Awful, really. I couldn't take it. I mean, the knots on the ring you gave me still haven't unraveled, but it doesn't mean you don't… want out." She bit her bottom lip. "Not to mention the fact that for a very brief moment it hurt me so very horribly to think that you had gone and had children with Cho. I mean, I didn't mind with Viktor but with you… well, I minded a lot. A whole lot. Kind of nailed a few truths, frankly. The reality that I didn't quite feel like sharing you with anyone in that respect… well, I suppose it's selfish of me, but I couldn't help feeling that way. So… what I'm trying to say is I wish I hadn't been stupid and spiteful and difficult, but I was, and I'm just the sad, frightening clown in the rained out parade…"
She fell quiet after her extended monologue, fidgeting uneasily.
He didn't know what to say, and just when he was mustering a response, she began to speak again.
"And, oh, I figured I'd give you-erm-this." She dipped a hand into her pocket and yanked out a ring. His Celtic ring. "I might as well. I've spilled my guts, anyway… it's not as if I have much to hide from you anymore, so there's no point in letting good jewelry go unworn."
He stared at it, dumbfounded.
Awkwardly, she took his right hand and put the ring on his finger. It pulsed twice and he felt a wave of warmth ripple from the ring to the rest of his body. It felt wonderful, and the knots-they were blessedly twined tight.
She let his hand drop and she somewhat moved about like an awkward sixteen year old, her vampiric poise melting away as she shoved her hands in her pockets and shifted her weight from one foot to another.
"So, there," she said, finally stepping back. "You can, umm, keep that. And that's really all I have to say, Harry. "
She turned to leave, and it was at that moment Harry scrambled to set aside the staff case.
It made a racket falling on the floor of his chamber, but there was too little time between setting it neatly aside and touching her arm in a gentle, unimposing hold. "W-Wait…"
She turned to face him with a maddeningly calm look on her face, like she'd just dropped off a singing telegram, or something equally as mundane, and was now wondering if he had called her back to complain about it.
It was supremely difficult to think through the overwhelming rush of emotions her words had wrought in him, and while he probably hadn't understood half of what she said, he had zeroed in on the more important parts, like her telling him she loved him, and how painful it had been for her, thinking that she'd lost him. He hadn't quite the words to be as eloquent, or-as the case may be-as frantically long-winded as she had been, but he had always had good instincts, and he always managed to find an effective, if not the best, way to turn the situation in his favor.
This time was no different. In his utter lack of cognizance, he uttered the first thing that came to his lips: the truth. "I've missed you."
She stared at him, as if wary that he was merely lulling her into a false sense of security before he struck. "You have?"
He frowned at that. He supposed her having lived the vampire life for five years made things a lot less easier to take at face value. "Yes, and I know it was mostly my doing, but I couldn't help it that I was angry. Your relationship with Viktor… it forced me to accept that there had been something wrong with me. Maybe I secretly liked putting all the blame on your shoulders, but-"
"I-It's alright, Harry. I des-"
"No, it's not alright. And no, you don't deserve it. Not all of it, at least. You remember what you said that night you came back? How you said that the reason you left was because you were destroying me? Maybe that was true, but what you haven't realized is that I was destroying you, too. I wanted to protect you. Keep you sheltered, and I realized now that I was going about it in the most restricting, imprisoning way. If we had gone on the way we were, I would have turned you into someone utterly dependent on me, and that sort of thing eats on a person slowly. You would have lost all sense of self; everything you did would be about me, first, and then because you would become more and more dependent on me as the nights drew on, your opinions and your ideas would slowly wither away to the shape you think would most please me. Before either of us would know it, I'd be addicted, and the once natural balance that was us would have tilted in a most unnatural manner."
She seemed to take in his words for a bit before she looked up and met his gaze. "I wouldn't have complained, you know."
"That's just it. You wouldn't have, because you didn't think you were good for me, and that you were a vampire and therefore indebted to my kindness for taking you; for loving you, because you were a monster, or a burden, and all those things you called yourself back then."
She didn't deny it. She was remembering the things she had said about herself. She was remembering the misery, and maybe it was still a part of her, but it was worse for her then, when there was nothing but him because she didn't think she could contemplate something other than him. She had been in a box that she thought bound her, but now she knew there was something beyond that same box, that it hadn't been unthinkable to look outside; it hadn't destroyed him when she sought those outside things, and that it hadn't completely destroyed her, because upon returning to him, she probably discovered, just as he had, that the Hermione she knew for seventeen years was still inside her, just that she had managed to bury it deep under five years of her vampirism. Now, perhaps, she was finding a way to make those two aspects of her coincide with each other; exist together, without compromising what she naturally ought to be.
Harry smiled. "Before you were turned and after we admitted our feelings for each other, I once wondered why I never thought about you romantically before that night you went to Privet Drive. I asked myself what had changed in you that I suddenly saw you differently. I realized that nothing about you had changed, it was just that I wasn't ready then to see you the way I was supposed to, and that somehow, after the end of sixth year, I was. It got me to think that if I had stumbled upon my true feelings for you much sooner, it might not have been so well-developed, because it was too precious and powerful to leave to immature and under-developed sensibilities. So when we finally got together that summer, we were ready then, and so it was wonderful, wasn't it? I think that when you were turned, the process reset itself. Everything was suddenly different, so we had to start all over again, and we were back from where we began: unprepared; not ready. Hermione, you know what they say about powerful things…"
She nodded. "It can either bring ultimate salvation or utter destruction."
"It was getting destructive between us."
"Yes."
"But we've learned to wield it, haven't we? We've gotten to this point and we've both grown in the last five years, whether we want to admit it or not. We're better, aren't we? For ourselves and for each other. I want to love you, and you can't tell me I don't know what I'm doing. You can't tell me I haven't got a choice. I know what I'm doing and I have had choices." He pulled her closer in his arms and she let him hold her, looking up at him as she laid her palm on his cheek gently.
"And I can no longer tell myself that I could exist without you," she said. "I thought I could, but I would have realized sooner or later that I was kidding myself, and maybe it would have been too late to put things to rights… I did catch it, now, didn't I? Just in time?"
"Yes, you did," he said softly. "I am beginning to understand why you left, why you felt you had to do it. And I suppose… I suppose it had done more good than I realized."
Her brows knotted, and she looked like she was staunching her tears. "It… it wasn't easy being away from you, Harry. Don't ever think it was easier for me than it ever was for you…"
"I don't think it was easy for you," he said gently. "At least, not anymore. If we're going to have a relationship, Hermione, we're both going to have to look ahead and stop getting stuck in the past."
"I'd like to look ahead," she said seriously before she narrowed her gaze at him and smirked. "So next time, try not to stick your ex-girlfriend in my face, won't you?"
"Well…" he said somewhat silkily. "Turnabout's fair play?"
"Is it? So you did it to get back at me?"
He laughed softly. "I'm just teasing. The woman's pregnant, she has a child and she left her husband because he was cheating on her. What did you expect me to do?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Right. I almost forgot about your saving people thing. But you're still a git. I hate that she's in the house, even if she has an utterly adorable baby, and even if I feel bad for what happened to her. I should be more vicious than this, don't you think?"
"Well, I don't know," he said, quietly, letting his hands move up her back. "I rather like it that you couldn't help but be kind to people. But tell me… why do you hate it that Cho's at Grimmauld Place?"
"Bint. You know why."
"Well, you know I just want to hear you say it."
"Fine. I hate that Cho's in the house because I'm a territorial bitch and that she has invaded my property."
"Oh, Grimmauld Place is your property, now, is it?"
"I wasn't talking about Grimmauld Place." She smirked, twirling the chain on his neck around her fingers.
Harry laughed at that and he clutched her tighter. "That is so wrong! I should be insulted, really!"
Her eyes twinkled. "Serves you right for forcing me to admit that I'm jealous."
His laughter dwindled and he pressed a soft kiss on her brow. "I'm never going to win one over you without a fight, am I?"
She closed her eyes, leaning into his kiss. "Doubtful."
He smiled. He supposed challenges were alright once the worst had passed and everything seemed to be working out. In the meantime, it was frustrating and even heartbreaking. He liked challenges, but not that badly.
"But it's not as if I do it on purpose," she added softly, paying back his kiss with one of her own to the underside of his jaw.
A chuckle rose from his throat and he lifted her face up by her chin, brushing his lips against hers. "Hate to be on the receiving end when you put your mind to it."
"You already were," she said somewhat seriously, pulling back to meet his gaze.
He sighed lightly, planting another kiss on her lips, this one more heated than the last. Her arms slid up his shoulders as their lips and tongues brushed, briefly but without the slightest hint of hesitation.
"We'll make that part of the past we won't dwell on," he breathed, pulling her into a kiss that lasted much longer and caused heat to spread from their joined lips to the rest of his body.
When they separated, his breathing had already gone ragged and her eyes were half-lidded with desire. She pushed him into the room and he managed to keep his footing as he gingerly took a few steps back.
They were kissing again, and he could feel her fingers gently trying to find the edges of his jumper. The mere thought of her undressing him heightened his need, and as soon as they were clear of the door, he slammed it shut with the press of their bodies.
With her back to the door, their kissing grew desperate. His hands sought her backside, and having been enamored of it since seeing it in Grimmauld Place, he imagined that his squeezing was not gentle, but she made no complaints. Her response only became more intense, and she jumped nimbly into his arms, wrapping her legs securely around his waist.
It was when she pressed herself so brilliantly against his erection that a surprisingly reasonable thought occurred to him: They were going to do it. They were going to have deliriously mind-blowing sex.
The thought made him dizzy, and for a moment, he felt like that proverbial randy teenager who was going to get laid for the first time with the desirable single-woman neighbor that all the boys on the block talked about.
Hitching her more firmly against him, he practically spilled both of them on the bed, and he apparently managed to make that clumsy maneuver seem erotic, because she flashed that sultry smile of hers and said, "Oh, Harry," with such breathless awe, just before she pulled him down to her to reward him in a most delicious manner.
Only then did it occur to him that he didn't want it to be just about sex, and given the things they'd gone through in the last week, he definitely had to make sure she understood this, after which they could perhaps get down and as dirty as she wanted.
He pulled back, gasping for air as he tried to catch her gaze. For a moment, she seemed to think the pause part of the foreplay, but when it lasted a bit longer than she expected, her eyebrow rose. The perplexity in her expression was most endearing, but this was too important for him to leave it to blind faith.
He took her hand, his ring rasping lightly against hers as he held her hand to his heart. "You understand what this means to me, don't you?" he asked softly, rather hopefully.
She didn't look away, and though she didn't answer immediately, the small, affectionate smile on her lips was most encouraging. "You remember what we used to say, Harry? About how I'd hide somewhere and how you'd always try to find me?"
He nodded. "And you'd say I would, because you wanted me to…"
Her hand lightly squeezed his. "This is you finding me… because I finally want to be found."
There were hardly any words necessary after that.
He kissed her, and there was a new intensity to their joining.
Even so tangled, they undressed one another piece by piece, letting lips and tongue moved over naked skin as more and more of it was unraveled.
She looked so beautiful to him; all those five years of wanting and needing was utterly lost to the overwhelming reality of her wonderful breasts in his hands just before his mouth descended to suck on each aroused peak. His fingers wandered to parts of her that ached for attention, and the sounds his gentle but purposeful stroking coaxed out of her lips was almost more than he could stand.
So perhaps to distract himself from the burgeoning desire to do with her exactly what he most wanted to do, he spoke a witty indecency in her ear, or at least it seemed witty given the circumstances. But oh, she liked that, and she writhed beneath him as she said his name in a most uninhibited manner.
He felt the first burst of pheromones just when her climax hit her, and as enjoyable as it was to watch her so undone, her pheromones were powerful, and he let the pleasurable haze blanket him in near-explosive sensations.
Before he even realized it, he was on his back and she was above him, kissing him as she hovered above, her knees to his sides.
"Merlin, Harry," she murmured against his lips as she reached down between them and very expertly began to stroke him. "Those hands!"
Eyes practically rolling to the back of his head, he found that he was in absolutely no condition to be gloating about his hands when hers were being so very clever.
He groaned at the wonderful sensations, but he could think of something infinitely better for them both. Slipping his hands behind her knees, he pulled her to him, coaxing her to relinquish her hold. Her resistance was minimal, and when he felt her warmth and softness wrap around him, they both of them paused, savoring the moment in each other's scorching gaze.
When Hermione began to move above him, he had to force back the intensity of feeling that threatened to make a quick night of the entire thing. He tore his gaze from the erotic cadence of her body, meeting her eyes even as his fingers dug into the delicate skin of her hips.
She held his eyes for a moment before her lids fluttered close, urgent moans rising from her throat.
He fought his own climax, squeezing his eyes shut and desperately trying to think of something else. It was near impossible with the lovely way she was murmuring the most encouraging and sensual words he had ever heard.
Focusing, he pushed back the effects her words had on him, centering himself even as he returned her thrusts with his own.
Her fingertips brushed his cheek, and the delicate touch sent an astonishing shock of magic rushing through that conduit. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but his magic had almost always responded perfectly to whatever the situation entailed, and since he knew that he was right where he wanted to be, he knew it could only be good.
She gasped, but he clutched at her wrist to keep the contact, kissing the heel of her palm as he would her lips. Magic coursed between them; his with hers, a brilliant and alluring dance of diverse auras seeking a balance and common ground. He followed the flow of her power, found that it marked a path to her mind, heart and perhaps her soul, and he discovered infinite possibilities.
Her desperate cries rang in his ears, enveloping his senses and bringing him back to himself. Feeling her and seeing her reach that point was fantastic, and suddenly, all that mattered was her. He clung to his restraint valiantly, because he was nothing if not heroic.
She gave a final gasp, and seeing his opportunity, Harry flipped them over, finding her compliant.
He could see the rings in her eyes and her lengthened fangs. She stared up at him with an adoring gaze he felt could sustain him for the next one hundred years.
Smiling slightly, he touched her face delicately as he calmed his own desires.
Pressing soft kisses along her neck, he felt her fingers combing lightly through his hair before they trailed over his nape and spine.
"What was that, Harry?" she whispered.
"Magic," he replied simply. He didn't wait long enough for her to ask an explanation. He began to kiss her again, and bracing himself by his elbows, he sank himself into the embrace of her body and moved.
It felt phenomenal, their moans muffled only by the joining of their lips.
There were pheromones and he thought he would pass out from the delicious effects of it.
He changed the cadence of his movements and she gasped.
"O-Oh, Harry…"
Well, she likes that, doesn't she? And he found that so did he.
He closed his eyes, feeling his climax coming on. He could wait for her. He knew he could.
Slowing his thrusts, he pressed kisses beneath her ear, her cheek and then her lips, nursing them with his own while they, both of them, breathed desire-ridden words to one another.
He kept this pace, biding his time, but when his name from her lips brought with it a pleading quality, it was almost all he could stand.
His movements gained tempo, and her sultry smile of approval, melting into her sensual relinquishment of self to him, heightened his need.
She began to cry out encouragement, her fingers digging into his hair.
The arching of her back was about as much as he could bear. Harry breathed, desperately seeking focus from within him and the magic all around as his eyes rolled closed.
Lights and colors burst behind his eyelids and again the magical connection that had gripped them earlier caught hold. His immense desire to please her fueled its intensity until everything had an identity; a place; an entity that he could call, manipulate and command.
He saw her, and he touched his astral self to hers. Their magic pulled together before exploding around them, sucking them back into their physical selves and sweeping them in a powerful flood of joined climax.
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Harry felt like he'd climbed Mount Everest and was screaming euphorically from the top. He wasn't quite screaming, and he hadn't actually so much as climbed the mountain as he had ridden a broom up the slopes, but the euphoria was overwhelming, and his blessed exhaustion was all that kept him from jumping up on the bed and giving a triumphant whoop.
Bloody hell. That was just…
"Amazing," Hermione whispered, as if to finish his thought. She lay her head on his shoulder, her spill of fragrant hair silky against his skin. She snuggled to his side and he found that he could put his arm around her, at least. "I've never felt anything like that."
He could, of course, revel in the compliments like an insufferable stud muffin, but he knew, without question, that it hadn't all been him. He might have called the magic, but she had somehow enhanced it. How, he could only guess.
Because she loves me?
He smiled stupidly. Romantic, and perhaps even true to a point, but having known and studied magic since he was eleven, there were aspects of magic that could be explained in a more academic, perhaps even scientific manner. Even now, bathed in contentment, he had recognized the signature of the magic that had occurred. He acknowledged this thought before he decided to push it aside. Now was not the time for that.
Now, he had better things to do. He was going to cuddle. This was the third thing he missed about her, after all. Sex is second, he thought wryly, laughing at his own sentimentality. The thing he most missed was everything else that meant she loved him, and perhaps he would never admit that sort of thing to other blokes, but he would admit it to himself, and to Hermione if she felt like talking about it.
"Me neither," he said in response to what she said.
She looked up at him, mildly surprised. "Really?"
For a moment, he actually wondered if he had gleaned just the slightest hint of insecurity. It astonished him for only a heartbeat, realizing in the next second that this was what entailed Hermione's relinquishment of her heart, mind and body. She wasn't hiding anything anymore… well, at least for now, so open and vulnerable in his arms.
He reached up to push some stray ringlets from her face. "What, did you think I was able to do that because I've had practice?"
A flush rose in her cheeks and she chuckled softly. "Well… you've had more of that than I-"
"I was able to do it because it was you," he said, deliberately but gently cutting off her train of thought. "I've never done that before."
She smiled, and he liked the possessive gleam in her eyes, as if she were utterly pleased that this was hers and his alone. "And you could do it again?"
He grinned. "I'm almost positive I could."
"Brilliant!"
"Well, aren't you the greedy one?"
"There's no half-arsing the quest for the perfect orgasm, I'll have you know." She said this with a straight face, and perhaps that's what he found so funny.
He had to laugh and it was only then he realized that he was really lethargic now. "Words to live by."
She laid her head back down and her fingers traced idle circles on his chest, outlining the skin around the shape of the pendant. There was a brief silence before she spoke. "What are we going to do now, Harry?"
He knew what she meant, but he couldn't resist being the tiniest bit flippant, especially since he was getting drowsier by the second. "Save the world. Live to tell the tale."
She chuckled softly. "After that. What are we going to do?"
"You mean because you don't know if you'd want to leave your job to move to London?"
The idle circling stopped, and for a moment, he feared he had been too flippant, but when she looked up at him, there was only gentle concern in the knotting of her brows. "I have been wondering about it in the last three days, Harry. It's one of the things-I felt that if I had to beg you to take me back, I should be able to promise you real things; important things. But now that I think about it… they're things I want, too. I'm staying where you are, Harry. There's no doubt about that now. I'll fight for a reassignment if I have to. It won't be easy, but I'll do it. In the meantime, if I could make arrangements with Elena to get me a portkey I could use regularly to see you as often as our schedules permit…"
He smiled, utterly happy at the fact that she was making-or at least intending to make-a real effort to be with him. "So long as she doesn't ask for too high a price, if you know what I mean." He jerked his eyebrows up and down, bellying his objections.
She slapped him lightly. "As if you really hate the thought. Sorry to disappoint you, but Elena has enough whores. She'd definitely ask monetary remuneration, and it's not going to be cheap, either, but it's worth it, isn't it? To be able to be with you…"
"Or I could move to Albania," he said, adjusting to a more comfortable position and pulling her into his embrace in the process. "Do they have a Quidditch Team?"
"Silly. You would leave your job as an Auror?"
"Why, yes. It's not something I'd like to do forever, you know. Too dangerous, if you ask me."
"Are you serious, Potter?"
"Gravely."
"Huh. Interesting. What would you like to do after you kick the Auror habit, then?"
Harry gave it a brief thought. "A Quidditch career sounded nice and cushy about three years ago, but the truth is… I don't really like fame all that much."
"You don't."
"So… thought maybe I'd like to teach."
She looked up at him again in surprise. "Teach? Like a professor?"
He smirked, blinking sleepily. "They're usually called that, yes. There's the occasional 'Oily Git', but since I very diligently shampoo, I don't reckon I'd have to contend with that title. Four Eyes, I think, would be more forthcoming."
She shot him a dry grin. "Very funny smarty no-pants."
"Another nickname. But naughtier, I think."
She pinched him lightly for punishment. "It's rather ironic, though, isn't it? Everyone thought you'd want to be an evil-fighting Auror all your life while I would be holed up in some laboratory somewhere, doing research."
Harry thought that was ironic. "You don't want to teach?"
She snorted and began to recite a monologue. "Dear Mum, we met our Transfigurations teacher today. Professor Granger is wicked! She is great fun and very beautiful. I think she is in love with the D.A.D.A. professor, who is a dish. I learned today that it is not advisable to get Professor Granger angry, though. It's a good rule of thumb never to tee off a vampire. I am definitely going to do my Transfigurations homework from now on. Love, Sally."
He considered it. "You have a point."
"Of course I do."
"But it's not as if teacher-teacher relationships are bad, per se. We just have to be discreet, is all, and not make too much noise in the broom closet-"
She gave him another light slap. "You missed the entire point, you blithering mortal." Then she laughed, knowing full well that he had completely understood what she was trying to say.
He smiled. "McGonagall would trust you, you know," he said seriously.
She nodded. "Yes, but why give Hogwarts and its Headmistress unnecessary problems? Employing a vampire? If I were human and I had a child at Hogwarts, I wouldn't want to think that she was left to the mercies of a blood-drinking creature, even if she was their professor."
"If you believe in that then you believe that Remus being bullied into resigning was fair."
She opened her mouth, hesitated then spoke. "That was different. There were measures to contain his situation, and the children were reasonably safe from the… symptoms of his disease. It won't be the same for a vampire."
He shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Would you ever hurt a student?"
"If he's Slytherin, I guess…"
"Seriously?"
She huffed. "Oh, alright. I won't; not even if he's a git like Malfoy. Not even if he's a junior Death Eater. I'll just turn him into a Pygmy Puff and shove him in a cage."
"Then I suppose that's all that ought to matter. Everything else is just prejudice."
"The vampire prejudice isn't without basis."
He yawned. "Oh, I know. Just like with werewolves, I suppose. But still, you have to admit that if you ever get the notion of teaching at Hogwarts, it might be something to seriously consider."
She smiled affectionately. "Look at you, all exhausted and staying awake… go to sleep, Potter. I release you from your obligatory post-shag cuddling."
He smiled back, closing his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Almost midnight."
"Wake me in thirty minutes."
"Whatever for?"
"Well, what do you think? We have five years of shagging to make up for. D'you think I'm about to waste time?"
"Apparently not."
"Thirty-minutes," he reminded her before sighing and snuggling more comfortably into the pillows.
"I won't forget."
He cocked one last grin before he let the waves of slumber lull him into a well-earned nap.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione did wake Harry up in thirty-minutes and it had been a most wonderful awakening indeed, as she had endeavored to wake other parts of him first with her very lovely lips and hands. Harry was half-certain there was a lot of tongue involved, too. When he was fully awake, he took to the most pleasant task of "ravishing" her, as per her instructions. Of course, she had been joking with the term, but as most jokes were wont, it was most assuredly half-meant, and he interpreted it thusly.
The room suffered somewhat, as they seemed to have exploded at least two vases to powder and scorched the sofa seat that had been set by the fireplace. How the flames leapt from the hearth to the chair, they could only guess, but a fair portion of the furnishings had blackened dismally, and if Harry hadn't been so adept at dousing flames with his magic, they might have burned the entire castle down.
With their desires sated for the meantime and the fire put out (so to speak), they lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"We should stop," Hermione had said as the chair smoldered still from its previously fiery plight even after Harry and Hermione's combined efforts to restore it was mostly a success.
He lifted his head from the bed to look at her. "Stop? Why?"
"Because, you randy sod, we almost set the castle on fire!"
"Well, we put out the flames, didn't we?"
"Harry!"
"It's only one o'clock!"
"Don't you-like, ever run out of-"
"Bite your tongue!"
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not meaning to say forever! Just for tonight!"
He arched an eyebrow. "You don't want to, anymore?"
"Of course I want to-"
Well, that settled that. They were not going to stop. At least not yet. He was a twenty-something bloke, fit, he had a lot of-well, whatever one called it, and he hadn't gotten any in months. What did Hermione expect?
There were no more untoward accidents after that, anyway.
It was sometime before sunrise, both of them distinctly aware that their night was coming to a close, that Hermione pressed her lips to his neck and sank her fangs into his tender flesh.
The pheromones, the blood rush and the wonderful way their bodies joined was more than enough to have him tumbling into sweet surrender.
He was bonelessly exhausted after that, even with the blood-replenishing potion she made him drink.
Her, "Sweet dreams, Harry," was the last thing he heard as he finally slept, completely content.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry woke a little after noon. He had overslept, which he should have expected, whether or not Hermione took blood from him.
Hermione wasn't there, of course.
He felt a little bit sad, and realized in no small way that he had liked awakening all night, last night, simply because she had been there to wake up to. He did, however, have many, many things to offset the gloom.
Things were definitely looking up. The ring on his finger (and the somewhat burnt furniture) was proof that he hadn't dream the entire thing. It had happened, and so he could hardly wait to see her again.
In the meantime, he had work to do. He had been distracted enough and now he had to make up for it.
He bathed and dressed before taking the case and examining it. He had a few basic Auror instruments in his bag that helped him make proper readings and detailed notes, after which he gathered everything and sought the library.
Wenceslaus was most accommodating in showing him the way, even explaining to him the different sections in the Krum archives. There were two ghost librarians who were more than eager to offer their assistance, anyway.
Two hours later, Harry had books stacked on a table while he scribbled notes frantically on a parchment.
Wenceslaus returned carrying a late lunch on a tray. Harry was terribly embarrassed, but the good butler dispelled his worries with assurances that "Young Master Krum" tasked him to make his guests' stay as comfortable as possible.
Harry felt a twitch of guilt.
He hadn't exactly been the friendliest guest, yet here he was, availing of the library, eating Viktor's food and-well, there was him and Hermione (who happened to be Vitkor's ex) shagging all night in no less than Viktor's home, on bed sheets bought by Krum coffers, not to mention the burnt furniture… in a way it was all rather twisted, even if Harry knew there was really nothing he could do about all of it now except to make up for it all by being a more gracious guest.
Wenceslaus then went on to tell him that "Mr. Weasley" was in the courtyard playing a pick-up Quidditch game with Young Master Krum and the stable hands.
Harry thanked Wenceslaus and went back to work.
By the time Ron ambushed him in the library, Harry had worked out a formula for strengthening the wards on the case. He just needed to see the staff again; perhaps make a few calculated adjustments, and surely, Hermione could very well verify his notes when she awoke.
Harry had to look up from his work when Ron sat by him on the table. Ron smelled like many things; among which was horse manure.
Harry grimaced and shook his head. "When it's not Dragon dung, it's bog water, and when it's not that, it's horse crap. No wonder Gabrielle doesn't want to see you."
"I helped the hands clean out the stables," explained Ron. "Only fair. They played a really good game. You know what I just found out? Krum's a decent Beater. Really good at it, in fact. Not hard to believe, though. Bloke's got arms like battering rams and a good eye for opportunity."
"Fascinating. Sounds like you have a real future with this man."
"Very funny, Harry."
Harry smirked and went back to studying his notes.
"Oy…" Ron suddenly said. "What's that shiny-twinkly-thing on your hand? That looks just like… bloody hell, did she--?"
"Yep."
"And did you--? On second thought, I don't want to know, so wipe that spectacularly stupid grin off your ugly mug, Potter."
"You're just jealous."
Ron scoffed. "That's so fourth year, mate."
"Why not? We've got the whole cast present. You, me, Krum, Hermione… I ought to floo Cho to come Portkeying over here so we could have our own little Yule Ball."
"Lovely." Ron grinned. "Well, I'm happy for the both of you, mate. Sounds like you have one hurdle down, a million more to go."
"You must be that Half-Empty bloke everyone's talking about. I think I like Half-Filled better."
"Well, I didn't mean to sound discouraging. I honestly am glad for the both of you. Hermione would never admit it, but she was already beginning to squeak whenever I brought up the subject of the two of you. It was entertaining, but also somewhat disturbing…"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe it helped that you were pestering her. She was the one who initiated the talk last night. And as you know, that turned out really well. I mean, really, really well."
"I'm going to pretend that I don't completely understand what you mean by that. What's all this research you've got going on here?"
Harry allowed Ron the change of subject. He explained the research and how he wanted to see the staff in a little while to confirm his computations.
When Harry was done, Ron nodded. "I'll go with you when you go check it out. Best you don't go down there alone. But first, I think I need to go shower."
"I concur, with everything you said, especially the last part."
Ron waved off his retorts.
Harry took the time of Ron's absence to review his re-computed spells. Arithmancy wasn't his best skill, but he was thankful that he had taken the time to learn it.
Wouldn't have bothered if Hermione had been around…
He chuckled at the irony. Maybe Hermione had been particularly right about that; that because she hadn't been around to turn to for Arithmancy and History, he felt that he had to learn it, and in the process, he improved his own knowledge.
Small blessings? he wondered.
If he had been made to choose before, at seventeen, between knowledge and Hermione, he would have chosen Hermione, hands down. But now, at hindsight, especially with his realizations of the last three days, maybe the decision won't be as easy, or as clear cut. The things he had learned because Hermione hadn't been there had saved his and many of his loved ones' lives.
If I were given the chance to choose… Knowing what he knew now? He just wasn't sure anymore about how he'd decide it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The horcrux was as alive as they left it the night before, and Ron was still as repulsed.
Ron said that it wasn't that the staff was taking his strength. It felt more like it was oppressive and ultimately painful. Besides that it was evil, and somehow he felt utterly disgusted by it, like the thought of getting near it made him sick.
It was, however, evident that touching it was far more dangerous than looking at it. Contact was, according to the note Viktor received, fatal.
So as they stood outside the perimeter of the staff's reach, Harry made a few adjustments to his notes.
"Are you done, then?" Ron asked, implying that he just wanted to get the hell out of there.
Harry became ponderous. "Ron, I'm going to tell you something that might freak you out."
"Oh, no, not another one of those…" In spite of the many years they've known each other, Ron hadn't yet gotten used to the little magical "surprises" Harry sprung on him, like Parseltongue, or having the same wand core as Voldemort's, painful scars, and the prophecy…
"I'm not feeling as repulsed by the staff as you are," Harry said in a rush. It was always best to dive right in. "I mean, right now, I think I can actually walk up to it and give it a closer look."
Ron stared at him, horrified, and for a moment, Harry thought he had finally convinced Ron that yes, he was a freak. "You're not serious, Harry! That thing could kill you!"
It was always the best feeling in the world finding out that one had true friends.
"That's the thing. I don't think so," Harry responded. "And you know what else? Something inside that staff has been trying to fight off the piece of Voldemort's soul. I think that's why it's so unstable, and that might even be the reason why it's repulsing everyone. There's a war going on in it and neither side wants to risk tipping the scale in their opponent's favor through external interference."
"Vampires could hold it. Don't you think their darkness would've helped the bad side of it along?"
"I wondered about that, but I have a theory that might explain that. I have to confirm it, but I'm pretty sure I'm right. Anyway…"
"We still have to find out why you aren't getting repulsed."
"Maybe neither side in the staff perceives me as a threat."
"That's bad, Harry. When magical objects aren't as resistant to you as they are to everyone else…"
"I know, but perhaps-"
"No. Harry, you're getting that way again. Risking stuff. Thinking you're invincible, or something."
Harry frowned. "Even when I'm wrong I manage to get things to work my way. You know that."
"Yes, but-at least wait for Hermione to wake up. She'll tell you what she thinks. If she says you can, then I'll shut up. Agreed?"
Harry thought about it.
"Harry!"
"Alright, fine. Agreed."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione laughed when she heard it. "No. Absolutely not. You're mental if you think I'd let you touch that thing."
Harry rolled his eyes and looked at Ron.
Ron shrugged. "Hey, you heard the lady."
They were in the in-house theater, seated among the audience chairs.
Viktor, at the moment, was indisposed, as his manager had arrived to discuss some Quidditch career matters. Viktor said he would rejoin them as soon as he was able and Harry found that he felt genuinely alright about the idea, even if it still made him wince when Viktor said, "Her-my-own."
Before Viktor left them to see to his manager, Harry had one question for him. "Viktor, when you say the staff deflected all attempts to move it by magic, what did you mean?"
Viktor had given him a thoughtful look. "The spells bounced off it rather destructively. It did not want magic to touch it."
Harry had nodded, his suspicions about the staff gaining more credence.
Now, discussing the staff, he contemplated talking about his theories with Hermione, preferably alone.
Lucien and Solomon were currently balancing on the backs and armrests of the seats, racing each other from one end of the theatre to another. They'd already fallen very painfully, at intervals, several times, but they continued on with the game, the two-out-of-three becoming five-out-of-seven. They were now up to fifteen-out-of-twenty-one.
He and Ron agreed that they wouldn't talk about horcruxes and Voldemort in front of Solomon and Lucien, so Hermione was still quite a bit in the dark as to Harry's suspicions about what was going on in the staff. For now, they could talk about who best could handle the packing of the staff.
"Look," Harry said. "Don't you think it's odd that I seem to have no problem approaching it while the rest of you couldn't wait to get away from it?"
"Yes! It's the oddest thing! Which is why you shouldn't, Harry." She said loftily. "Lucien will do it, so under no circumstance should you-"
"Because I'm mortal?"
"Well, of course because you're mortal."
Harry scowled. "The fact that I don't feel any harmful effects at all means I'm the best candidate to handle that staff."
She tutted, likely annoyed by his insistence. "I'm sure there are protections spells you can cast on Lucien to mute what little effects the staff might have on him. The wards Viktor has up seem to do the trick well enough, and if you can transmute that to protecting Lucien, it's still a better option than risking the one and only life you have, Harry."
He sighed. "I'm telling you, I don't think I'm in any danger!"
"Famous last words," she muttered as she took the case and the papers sitting atop it.
Harry shot Ron a tired glance as he let her flip through the parchment.
"These computations are sound," she said, picking up one of the self-inking quills Harry brought with him. She began scribbling some things on the margin and making adjustments. "It ought to work better with this transposition… how's that?"
Harry looked it over and of course Hermione added just the right touch to make it brilliant. "Well, that does make it better, doesn't it?"
"Common enough mistake to forget that the thaumaturgical third-constants could be applied in most arithmantic formulae."
"Huh. That's right, isn't it? Many arithmantic formulae are compatible with thaumaturgy's tertiary elements. Clever of you to remember."
Ron shook his head in disapproval.
"Aww," Lucien sighed.
"Geeks in love." Solomon said from the side.
Hermione glared at them. "Harry, we should apply these wards now before we go down to the dungeons. You can apply them, can't you?"
"Well, of course I can. What do you think I am, an amateur?"
"Oh, most definitely not."
Harry was half-certain they weren't talking about wards anymore. He cocked a grin and she shot him a mischievous smile, arching her eyebrow, as if to issue a sultry dare for him to tell her otherwise.
Ron hummed, looking away. "Pretending…"
As enticing as flirting with her was, Harry told himself that they could have fun later. They had work to do.
Harry applied the recomputed wards to the case and had Hermione tweak it a bit before they headed for the dungeons.
At the top of the dungeon stairs, Harry handed the case over to Ron. "Think you can give me a minute alone with Hermione? I have to talk to her about something."
Ron nodded, knowing what it was about. "Don't take too long, though. When Lucien and Solomon get bored, they start picking on me and I'm not in the mood for that right now."
"A few minutes."
Ron left, ushering Lucien and Solomon away. When they had left hearing range, Harry pulled Hermione behind a corner.
Hermione stared at him uncertainly. "You're not just trying to get alone time with me, are you?"
He laughed softly. "Always, but I'm afraid snogging will have to wait." He told her about what he thought was happening inside the staff as briefly as he could. When he was done, she did not look pleased at all.
"And you're sure about the two entities?" Hermione asked.
"Yes. Positive. We already know a piece of Voldemort's soul is in there, and while I don't think a piece of Gryffindor's soul's been left in the staff-"
She nodded. "The staff served a very powerful wizard, and there would naturally be imprints of the person who wielded it best, left on the staff."
"I'd imagine the imprint Gryffindor left could have formed a light entity of sorts. It might have been passive then, but when it fell under siege those years ago when Voldemort created the horcrux, it may have gained some kind of primitive sentience."
"Feasible. And you think it's resisting any form of magic from touching it because both entities want no outside interference in this battle of theirs?"
"Not any form. The harnessed form. The form that we could consciously cast spells with."
She nodded. "Which is why formerly Muggle vampires could touch it with relatively minimal stress compared to their wizard counterparts. Their immortality dampens the fatal effects at the same time their Muggle aspects have no aptitude to wield magic the way we wizards do, therefore, they cannot affect the staff the way wizard-folks can."
"Exactly."
"Which only makes the implications of why it isn't repelling you a lot worse."
Harry was surprised at this. "Worse?"
"This isn't just a random ability on your part, Harry," she continued. "Earlier, when you told me you weren't being repelled by the staff, I was very worried that you might be right."
"So you think I could touch it."
"Yes."
"Then-"
"It doesn't mean I think you should," she snapped. "Tell me, what do you think is the primary goal of this so-called war those entities are waging inside the staff?"
"To drive one of them out, of course, so they could inherit the vessel completely."
"Correct. And why do you think neither of the entities has shown you resistance?"
"I'm not a threat to either of them."
"Wrong. You are a threat, magically. Harry, you're the strongest wizard among all of us. At the very least, the part that is Voldemort should be kicking and screaming to get away from you. Try again."
Harry frowned. "Really, Hermione, just tell me-"
She sighed but complied. "Both entities have use for you, somehow, Harry. I'm not sure in what way, but-"
"But you have an idea?"
Her lips pursed, eyes blazing with sudden conviction. "An idea that hasn't enough facts to give it credence or compel me to talk about it with anyone. Don't ask me to discuss it with you because I won't. But the fact is you must not touch that staff. You just shouldn't. Do you understand?"
It was most certainly difficult to resist her when she got this way, all fired up and decided on something. He was, however, not ready to promise her that he wouldn't touch the staff. So, partly to distract her and give in to his urges, he kissed her.
She took to the kiss immediately and they both took a few minutes to enjoy it. After they got in a grope or two, he grinned and pulled away.
"We ought to get this thing over with," he said, taking her hand to lead them back to joining the others.
She pouted. "You better have plans of finishing what you started, Potter."
"You better believe it."
That seemed to please her well enough.
Together with Ron, Lucien and Solomon, they headed down to the dungeons.
Viktor had, earlier, already given him and Ron access to the wards around the staff. They easily stripped the wards to get to the viewing room.
They came face to face with the staff again, and as usual, it made everyone but Harry uncomfortable.
Lucien, though agitated, stepped up. "Alright, let's do this, then."
Harry nodded, handed the box over to Lucien, and began casting protections spells on him. "Seal the staff in as quickly as you can," instructed Harry as he flicked his wand deliberately on Lucien's hands and then the rest of him. "No showing off."
Lucien scowled. "Oy, I don't always do that!"
"Yes, you do," Solomon said.
Pouting, Lucien huffed away and approached the staff. His progress was sure enough as he began to cross the perimeter between the last ward and the staff itself, but a bit further down, he slowed.
"Alright, Lucien?" Harry asked.
"It's-it's a bit oppressive," Lucien said.
Harry exchanged looks with Ron before looking to Hermione.
She frowned. "Is it painful in any way, Lucien?"
"Not really. Not yet, at least. I can go on, I think. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Worse comes to worst, I'll get off on it."
"That is so not funny, Lucien," Hermione said, scowling.
"Oh, honestly," Lucien said as he gradually made his way towards the staff. "You can be so uptight sometimes, Her-my-own."
Ron laughed. "Bet you like that one better than Her-mi-ninny."
"Don't be unkind, Ron," Hermione said. "Viktor's really trying!"
Trying to what? Harry wanted to ask, but decided not to, adding it to his efforts to be more gracious. After all, it didn't seem as if Viktor was trying to get Hermione back, and by all accounts, Hermione felt nothing more than an easy friendship for the surly Bulgarian. Still, that Her-my-own was little grating.
Lucien had just about reached the staff and had laid the box aside. He lifted the lid off the box before he went before the mounts and reached for the staff.
Harry found himself waiting breathlessly for what was going to happen next.
Lucien's hands wrapped around the staff and he held it for two heartbeats before speaking. "Feels strange, but I think-"
The staff began to glow purple in his hands and Harry's eyes widened in horror as he felt a strong wave of malevolence. Lucien was still speaking, and Hermione seemed to be giving him instructions. No one else seemed to be reacting.
They couldn't see it! Harry thought. "Lucien, let it go," he said, enunciating every word.
Of course, his words didn't register with any of them at once.
"Let it go, now!" Harry cried.
But it was too late. Lucien stiffened and his mouth dropped open, as if in a silent scream. The staff shook in his grasp but his fingers wouldn't unlock, and very slowly, it seemed to suck Lucien from within him. His skin began to collapse over bone, his pleading eyes making it more than evident that he was conscious, and he was feeling an insurmountable pain.
Immortal or not, Lucien looked like death was just about to suck him dry.
"N-No!" Hermione screamed, her impulse to get to her Shadow Kin automatic. She lunged just as Harry cried for her not to.
He cast a binding charm on her, dragging her backwards and right into Solomon's arms. There was a resounding "oof!" from Solomon and he heard the inevitable eruption of Hermione's anger, but Harry ignored all that, diving into the wards to get to Lucien before the horcrux killed him.
Ron was hurling shouts and curses, demanding Harry to stay away from the staff, but Harry pretended not to hear him.
Harry focused on Lucien and the staff. He couldn't risk a spell. Viktor had told him what the staff did when they threw magic at it, and he couldn't chance hurting anyone if his spell ricocheted. He was well aware that he had an unpredictable amount of power in his magic. There was no telling what a deflected Expelliarmus would yield when the staff spat the spell back out at them.
So Harry did what he thought was the only thing he could do. He grasped the staff and yanked it out of Lucien's hands.
The glow dissipated as soon as Lucien was wrenched free.
Lucien dropped to the ground with a groan and Harry attempted to go to him.
"Don't!" Solomon yelled.
Harry froze, letting his logic take root. If Lucien was seriously hurt, he would need blood, and if Harry went to him, the injured vamp would take that blood from Harry. Harry might not survive Lucien's bloodlust. Lucien wasn't anybody's Shadow Kin at that moment. Now, he was just a vampire fighting to survive.
He backed up. He had to put the staff away so that Hermione and Solomon could help Lucien.
He scrambled for the box, and shoved the staff in its cushioned lining, but just before he could set it down, a roaring and whistling sound grinded in his ears, like a freight train. The sound became a presence, and it bore down on him, just before it tried to ram through his mental walls.
He knew it then; that the staff was more sentient than he realized.
It was a trap.
Lucien had been used, yet again, and this time as bait.
Harry pushed the dark entity within the staff back, away from him. The entity was strong; it had been fighting for dominance for at least two decades now, and it wasn't going to feebly give up after one failed attempt. The rightful entity in the staff did not try to help Harry. Why would it? Harry was the solution to their stalemate. The dark entity would move out and into something else, the rightful entity would have the staff back all to itself.
Focusing his mental powers, Harry summoned all the strengthening techniques Hermione had taught him. His magic and the entity's clashed, exploded, and before Harry knew it he was flying across the dungeon in one direction and the staff in another.
All he could make out were the shouts of everyone around him just before he felt the bone-crushing force of ancient stone walls slamming against his back, knocking him into oblivion.
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A/N: I'm definitely writing chapter 28 right now.
Don't forget to thank the betas!!!!
::Does a Thank You Betas dance::