A/N: This chapter's a bit shorter by comparison but I hope you like it!
Chapter rating: Hard R for violence.
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Chapter Thirtieth: Tested
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Hermione felt the presence of humans, vampires and half-formed werewolves apparating outside the Krum perimeter walls. Any moment now, the fighting would begin, and she had to think of a way to draw first blood. She clutched her sword, mentally going over the pre-battle questions:
Will you remember your sword forms? Are your guns locked and loaded? Are you ready to take the pain?
Each and every answer to the question had to be yes, or else she just might get herself killed too soon into the fight.
A dark figure in the distance rose into the air, wings like a raven's flapping and stirring the flecks of ice in whirls.
"There's Deardra," Solomon said.
Beneath the winged vampire were the rest of the Death Eaters. They would be walking through the snow to cross the courtyard because the Krum property had anti-apparition wards.
Hermione tightened her grip on her sheathed sword. "Sol. Go."
Solomon took off with vampiric speed. Lucien took off after him and Hermione followed, pulling her sword free of its scabbard as she went.
Across the courtyard, Hermione saw Deardra's gaze dart towards them, and seconds later, Deardra was off to meet them in an attack.
Deardra dove towards them like a bird of prey, her razor-sharp claws elongating as she came.
Those very claws had beheaded many an unsuspecting vampire in the last twenty years of Deardra's existence. Deardra was quite deadly in her own right and she had done some contract jobs for the coven in the past. She was a mercenary, and perhaps she had gotten paid enough money to join with a human faction. Money was, after all, what drove her, and that above everything else, was the reason Hermione was going to take her down this night.
Solomon skidded into a graceful crouch ahead and Hermione planted her foot on his shoulder as she reached him. He heaved, tossing her into the air like a springboard. She flew into deadly action, sword and body melding in fierce combat.
Muscles tightening, she glided into form as she swung and Deardra's claws blocked her sword. The rasp of steel against claws sang through the air. Vampire had caught vampire, but it was exactly what Hermione had hoped. Using Deardra's grip on her sword as leverage, she twisted, pulled her aikuchi out of its sheathe, and sank the silver blade right through Deardra's spine.
Deardra's shriek ripped through the battlefield like a woeful siren and she batted Hermione away with a powerful smack of her raven wings.
Hermione felt the wing land right on her gut and she braced herself for the jarring fall, even as she landed into a graceful, skidding crouch. She sank her sword's blade into the snow and ground as she slid.
Deardra crashed into the snowdrifts as battle exploded all around them.
The humans scrambled for cover as hexes came at them from all around. Werewolves and vampires clashed in the open courtyard, blood and bone mingling as limbs were torn and sliced.
Hermione felt herself vamp as the smell of blood permeated the air.
Deardra batted snow at Hermione and the ice struck Hermione's face with shocking force. Her instinct was to move back, knowing full well that Deardra would take that opportunity to attack. The spray had barely dissipated when she felt the tip of Deardra's claws rake across her body. She felt a distinct sting on her throat. The welling of blood and the warm wetness that accompanied it was a reminder that had she been fool enough to stay planted on the spot when Deardra created her diversion, Hermione's head would be rolling on the ground.
As it was, Hermione fought back the urge to gag and double over. Breathless though vampires may be, the blood flowing through them was a comforting stream. Violent disruptions like the slashing of one's throat caused an abrupt change in rhythm. It was disorienting.
Clearing her mind, Hermione raised her sword and blocked the follow-up slash.
Deardra reversed her spin in a split heartbeat.
Hermione saw the wing closing in on her. It was like a solid wall, black feathers hiding hard muscle and sinew. Bracing her sword with both hands, she turned and felt the wing brush at her back just before she spun to position herself on the other side of it. With all her strength, she swung down, the bite of blade against cartilage distinct and hard.
Deardra's shriek filled the air just before the cartilage gave.
Hermione tore through Deardra's wing, slicing most of it off. There wasn't much blood, but it looked horribly painful.
The second wing swung at Hermione and it clocked her on the head. She felt her head spin as she crashed to the icy cobbled ground.
Wasting no time, Hermione shook off the haze even while invisible fingers pressed viciously into her skull.
Deardra had retransformed, her healthy wing disappearing into her while her injured one remained protruding. She reached for her back, pulling out Hermione's aikuchi with an agonized moan.
Her sight still shaky, Hermione hefted her sword into form as she spoke to buy herself some time to recover. "So… how much did Janus pay you to work for them? Or are you taking money from humans now?"
Deardra sneered. "Least I work for money. You, on the other hand, work for dick. He as good as they say he is?"
That was surprisingly offensive, and Hermione realized that it angered her to hear Harry objectified.
So this is how guys feel when jerks talk shit about their girlfriend.
The rage shot adrenaline through her. It was like a puzzle cinching into place, the way Hermione felt her faltering focus returning. Her determination pumped raw power into her body while years of training harnessed it into a deadly, razor-sharp blade.
Hermione moved, pushing forward with her sword raised.
Deardra responded, hefting the aikuchi in one hand and growing her claws in the other.
Hermione swung her katana upward, deflecting the aikuchi. The aikuchi flew into the air, but the claws swooped underneath. Hermione felt nails rip diagonally down her thigh and the pain made her buckle to one knee, but sucking in the instinct to wail and whine she concentrated on a quick counter. Hermione swept her sword into a looping, upward arc and attempted to slice through Deardra's side. Deardra jumped back to avoid it.
On pure instinct, Hermione flowed into a third attack. Bracing her palm on the butt of her sword, she levered her injured thigh, thrust forward and sank her blade through Deardra's gut.
Deardra's scream gurgled in her throat as blood poured out of her mouth. Caught, but not defeated, Deardra pulled Hermione's sword in deeper. Hermione lunged, gasping at the unexpected move, just before Deardra sank her claws into Hermione's stomach, twisting as she went.
Hermione bit down her scream. Her body battered and sliced, this new pain seemed to top it all.
Deardra grinned through blood-stained fangs. "Betcha yours hurts more than mine."
No arguments, thought Hermione through grit teeth, but surprised as she was of Deardra's threshold for pain, she was beginning to realize the fact that unlike Deardra, she wasn't attached to her weapon. Hermione let her sword go, dislodged herself from Deardra's claws, and clenched her fist. She spun away, braced her arm and landed a solid, sweeping punch to the back of Deardra's head.
Hermione could tell the blow shocked Deardra more than hurt her. In a fight between vampires, a punch wasn't often useful. It didn't mean it never was, however.
Deardra tumbled face-first into the snow, and gasping in surprise, the sword lodged deeper through her as the hilt collided with the ground.
Hermione drew back her leg and kicked Deardra's side, flipping Deardra over just enough for Hermione to grab hold of her hilt and draw its blade out.
Deardra hissed and struggled to push herself off the ground.
Hermione wasted no time flowing into form, sweeping her blade into a precise arc. Her wounds burned, the earlier ones Deardra inflicted were healing just now even as she moved.
Deardra hissed as she raised her claws, attempting to block the sword. She blocked too high.
The katana sliced through Deardra's wrist and continued on straight through her neck.
Deardra's head went flying before it dropped and rolled lifelessly over the icy ground.
Hermione didn't even stop to look at Deardra's headless body as it fell, the sound of werewolves coming at her from both sides.
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The sharp sting of an ill-aimed Reducto hex blossomed from Harry's arm and to the rest of his body, ripping his attention from Hermione to the chaos of his own battle.
The image of claws ripping through Hermione was chased away by the agony of the wound that felt like it was bleeding fire.
Crying out at the pain, he threw up a protection spell, and in his state of agitation, he put too much power in it, sending his attacker flying backwards and knocking him breathless.
Cursing his attacker's lineage, Harry ducked a stray hex and rolled towards his opponent. As he rose to a crouch, he saw the werewolf coming at him from the corner of his eye.
Harry swung his wand arm, aimed and fired. "Everte Statum!"
The werewolf roared as it got lifted off its feet, spinning frantically into the air as it went.
Holding out his wounded arm at his human opponent, he made a pulling motion. "Carpe Retractum!"
The Death Eater wailed as he swiftly slid on the ground towards Harry at the same moment the werewolf recovered and bounded towards them with inhuman speed, maw wide open.
Death Eater and werewolf collided, and Harry had to duck frantically to get away from its chaotic path.
He rolled, pulling his crossbow from his back and launched an arrow to the back of the werewolf's head.
The werewolf whimpered, froze, and slumped lifeless above the struggling Death Eater.
Harry pushed the werewolf aside with a flick of his wand and cast an Incarcerous at the Death Eater. He jumped behind a snowdrift, magically dragging his prisoner after him. He had three of them now and they looked at one another, the first two eyeing the third one with great irritation, as if to say, "Not you, too!"
Lining up the snow bunker were his unit consisting of Remus, Viktor, Ron, Ginny and Seamus, all of which took a moment to glare at him malevolently before going back to throwing hexes and warding off werewolves.
Ginny came up to one side of him while Ron planted himself on the other.
Both were scowling so very fiercely, but it was Ginny who started to talk. "You great big idiot!" She flicked her wand, tearing a strip of cloth from one of the Death Eaters' robes. "You stupid, bird-brained, four-eyed-"
"Oy!" Harry cried, matching her scowl. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
"The point, Potter,"-she hissed while whipping the strip of cloth straight and looping it around his injured arm-"is hardly that you're alive, because in case you've forgotten, they don't want you dead! The main thing is that they want you living and breathing, and if they manage to capture you during this battle, then all our efforts-mine, Ron's, the entire Order's, really-will go to waste! Besides that, Hermione will have your head if she found out you blundered into enemy hands because you wanted to 'save' her."
"That was-" He stopped, sighed, and growled. "Okay, I screwed that one up!"
Ginny tied the strip tight. "Humph. At least you know that much."
"Harry, you'll drive her away again if you carry on like that," Ron said harshly. "Is that what you want? Is that-"
"NO!" Harry cried. "Of course that's not what I want! And I know, alright? I know that was stupid, and moronic!"
"And bird-brained," Ginny added, to remind him.
He gave her a wilting look. "I know all that, and I know it's just the sort of thing that drove her away before. So I won't do it again! It just-this is the first time I've had to-"
"Actually stand back and let her?" Ron finished for him.
Ron was absolutely right, of course.
Harry nodded and expelled a breath. "Yeah, but I've got it, now. I swear. I was just shocked. It's not everyday you see your girlfriend get skewered-never mind. Let's-"
"I know," Ron said, compassion replacing his anger.
Harry felt grateful, and it was enough that Ron understood. "Alright, then. Let's try this again…"
Refocusing on the fight, Harry gathered Ginny and Ron, rounding them up with Remus, Viktor and Seamus.
He took about three seconds to tell himself, "Hermione's strong. She can handle it. She's going to be alright. She's phenomenal with her sword," before he gave them their orders in quick succession.
The number of human Death Eaters alone would've been easy to manage, but those werewolves were making things quite difficult. Not only were they tougher, but they were fast, and they were powerfully distracting.
Harry reloaded his crossbow before he led his unit out of the bunker. They spilled out after him, alternating protection spells with hexes. They formed a circle in one section of the battlefield, backs to one another before Harry, Ron and Remus broke off into a wider circle and took on attacking werewolves. Harry stared right at an approaching wolf, whipping out his crossbow and letting its arrow fly.
The arrow sank into the wolf's open mouth and the wolf crashed back, raking at his throat as he trembled, stiffened and finally died.
A hex flew over his head from behind, Ginny's Petrificus Totalus catching a Death Eater mid-attack. Harry summoned the Death Eater to them just as he threw a hex to catch another.
It was while he rolled to throw back another approaching werewolf that he saw the vampire coming at them from the corner of his eye.
The vamp was in what looked like a cassock, his long auburn hair braided into shiny tips. He held a sword with confident grace. No Coven vamp appeared to hinder him, and it he was heading straight for Harry.
Don't panic, thought Harry amidst the tensing of his shoulders. Any moment now, a Coven vamp…
But no Coven vamp came to their rescue. Harry realized in no small way that one of them was going to have to take on the vamp, and considering the past week, training with Hermione, it ought to be him.
It ought to be me…
He pulled out his sword.
I've gone abso-fucking-lutely mad.
Harry gripped his sword hilt and began to move into form.
"Harry!" came Ron's frantic voice. "Have you gone abso-fucking-lutely mad?"
Well, the man knows me, after all.
He centered himself, letting what meditative technique he learned calm his senses. Ron's voice, Ginny's shrieks, and Seamus's potent profanity melted away. He cast a protective charm around himself, spells bouncing off before they could touch him.
His emerald eyes met the grey, Vampiric gaze.
Accept the challenge… came a foreign, psychic voice.
The vampire flashed fang, knowing that Harry heard him.
Harry breathed and took off.
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Harry saw the vicious smile spreading the vampire's lips as he closed in, sword held firmly into form. He flipped through the sword forms Hermione had taught him and his mind set upon one while his body put it to action.
He slashed upwards and the vamp leaned back to avoid it just as Harry shifted, hands still to his hilt as he crossed one wrist over another, flipping the sword for a backward sweep.
The vampire dodged a second time, but Harry wasn't through. One hand released the hilt, allowing his sword arm to complete the arc and flow into a third form. Sword and arm came back up over his head, and both hands on the hilt, he swung downward.
His sword met solid ground as the vampire jumped back, skidding gracefully away.
"Impressive, Harry James Potter," said the vamp.
Harry was used to enemies calling him by name, but this was the first time he'd heard his whole name from enemy lips. It irked him, somehow. There were few who could claim to summon him by his full name, and every one of them was someone he cared for. He did not care for this vampire, therefore the vamp had no right.
He took a page out of Hermione's book. "That's Mr. Potter to you, Flunkie." It was, according to Hermione, one of the worse insults you could lop at a vamp. Flunkies were at the bottom of the Vampire World's food chain, literally and figuratively.
The vamp frowned slightly but continued to speak. "My name is Edward, not like you have to know, though. You'll be dead in the next minute because I could care less about keeping you alive. To me, you're just another human."
Harry stifled a scoff. Vamps disobeying humans… what else is new? "Just Edward? No last name? What is it with you vamps? Keeping your last names to yourselves like a bunch of pop stars from the eighties…"
Edward glared at him.
Now he's angry. Why did I say those things, again? Oh, right. It's supposed to make the enemy lose focus. I hope it worked.
Edward clutched into sword form.
Alright, so maybe it didn't. What now?
Edward attacked and Harry blocked once, twice, before Edward's foot sank into Harry's gut and sent him stumbling back.
Harry rasped for breath, his eyes watering at the pain of his diaphragm refusing to work properly. He willed himself to focus, knowing that Edward would take advantage of his vulnerability. He raised his sword just in time for Edward's downward swing.
Edward spun, his braided hair flying in all directions.
It was only then that Harry realized that the tips of Edward's braids were razor-sharp. The blades stung as they bit, one after another, on the side of Harry's neck, ear and cheek.
Cursing, Harry scrambled away, forcing himself to go into form, however awkward it felt.
The sting of the small wounds flared through one side of him just before he felt the trickle of blood oozing from his cuts.
"Didn't expect that, did you?" Edward sneered.
Harry told himself to ignore the aggravating jibe; ordered himself not to think about how he hated it that each vamp had some kind of surprise in store, some unique ability; scolded himself not to whine and whimper how it was all so bloody unfair.
He forced himself to think rationally, inhaling and exhaling to steady his rattled nerves.
He's good, but not that good. The fact that I could block his strikes means he's nowhere near Hermione's and Solomon's caliber. I can beat him. Just have to find a way how.
Edward came at him, sword raised and eyes blazing. He flashed fang and attacked with vamp speed.
Harry saw the flash of steel; knew that Edward's sword was on its way for the kill.
Three thoughts crossed his mind.
First: I can't die.
Second: I have a world-lives to save.
Third: If I die, Hermione and Ron will never forgive me.
Those thoughts bore down on him, anchored him then pushed him over the edge of conscious thought with a powerful heave, and he realized one, irrevocable truth that pulled all three thoughts together into something so potent, he could almost feel it; see it: I HAVE TO LIVE.
It wasn't just about survival now. It was something he knew he had to do. It was an instinct attached to rational thought. There were reasons, concrete and tangible.
For the first time since his magic began obliging him, he felt the true impact of it.
From the center of him; not just his heart but his soul, too, that ball of conviction, determination and resolve burst out of him into visible patches, strings and slivers of color, light, and dark. He recognized it because he'd seen it amidst the passion of being in Hermione's arms. They'd made love and he made things happen, half-knowing what swath of magic could cause one thing or another. She had unlocked something in him as she taught, trained and made love to him, and now he knew how to call the magic, at least in times of desperate need.
The anti-apparition wards drifted with hollows in the spaces and he summoned the magic of apparition. He slipped through the grooves, easing in, then out, popping up right behind Edward.
Edward gasped, hair whipping as he spun with his sword raised.
Harry pulled at the magic, wrapping it around Edward as he cast. Immobulus.
Edward froze. One second. Two. He was moving again, but it was enough for Harry to duck out of the way.
Vamps seemed somewhat resistant to the spells, some more prone to resist than others. Perhaps it depended on how old a vamp was.
And perhaps sometimes it depends on how aware I am of casting it, he thought, remembering how he had cast the same spell on Solomon before, with similar results, except then he didn't know how he did it. Perhaps if he had known how when he cast it on Solomon, a young vamp who still had a lot of years ahead of him to develop a resistance to magic, the vamp might have froze for a longer amount of time.
Harry flipped his sword and plunged it through Edward's heart.
The shocked surprise was evident on Edward's face, and Harry completely understood why. Edward was vamp-amped. He was moving faster than the human eye could see, yet Harry had matched that speed with something all his own and managed to thrust his blade through Edward's chest.
I love magic.
The snarl that befell Edward's face was so vicious that Harry was sure Edward had a bit of magic of his own. Harry felt the hatred pulse, just before Edward pushed, ramming his palms against Harry's chest and sending him careening backwards into the hard, icy ground.
His sword was still embedded in Edward and in a swordfight with a vampire, that was never a good thing.
Edward swiped Harry's sword out, hefting it in one hand while he hefted his own sword in the other. Fangs drawn and eyes alight with vampire fury, he lunged at Harry and Harry only had time to frantically Apparate again.
When he reappeared behind Edward, Edward was stumbling out of balance.
Caesaries Inflamare.
Edward's hair burst into flames and he screamed, dropping the swords as he plunged his head into a snowdrift.
Harry picked up his sword as Edward plucked his head from the ice.
Smoke drifted up from his charred hair and scalp as he spun to face Harry, profanities issues from his lips.
Harry didn't let him finish. He swung. His form was perfect; his aim true, and his sword sliced cleanly through Edward's neck.
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Bloody fucking hell… he did it! Ron thought, seeing the vampire fall headless at Harry's feet. He still couldn't fathom how, though. He had been too busy fighting off Death Eaters and werewolves to figure out how in the world Harry was able to do the things he did.
It can't just be that he's better at this than everyone! thought Ron. It can't-
"Ron!" shrieked Ginny.
The werewolf came out of nowhere, jumping for his throat.
Ron cried out as he held up his arm, the werewolf's teeth clamping down on his arm. He yelled out a curse as the werewolf bore down on him, snarling and growling menacingly as he knocked away Ron's wand.
A sharp, unbearable pain roiled up from where the werewolf was lodged and Ron cried out in agony.
He was going to pass out. He knew he was going to, but Ginny's panicked shriek pierced through his senses and he held on while he and werewolf rolled and tumbled on the ground. No one could get a spell in. They would either hit him or the werewolf, and they couldn't risk the former for the latter.
Ron threw a punch to the werewolf's ear and it whimpered, but it didn't let go of his arm. He threw another punch and the werewolf rolled beneath him. Ron reached for his wand, caught it and fired a hex right between the werewolf's eyes.
The werewolf broke off with a pained cry and Ron scrambled off him.
Remus and Viktor hurled hexes at it, one after another before Ron pulled out his crossbow, aimed and lodged a silver arrow into his chest. Seamus's arrow caught the werewolf's knee. The werewolf fell over, breathing his last breath.
"Oh, Ron!" Ginny cried, pulling her brother within the protective circle of Remus, Viktor and Seamus. Tears were coursing from her eyes as she looked at Ron's arm.
Pain shot through Ron as her hands fell upon it to examine it. "Son of a fucking Merl-"
"Ron, I have to see!" Ginny pleaded, poking her fingers into the holes the werewolf's teeth wrought through Ron's parka. Downy feathers burst from the rips and Ginny pushed them back, blowing off the puffs and clearing the opening of the jacket sleeve.
"Oh, God," she gasped with what Ron realized to be relief.
The dragon-hide armguards he had worn were intact. Not a fang had gotten through. Not a scratch marred its impenetrable surface. But the pain…
"I think your arm's broken, Ron. Thank God!"
"I wouldn't say thank you, if you know what I mean…"
Ginny's tears continued to spill. "Git! I thought-I thought you'd-a werewolf's bite is-"
Ron couldn't help but give her a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I know. But I'm fine, alright? I'm fine."
She nodded, putting her arm around him and helping him up. "We have to get you into the castle. No more fighting for you."
It sounded like a good idea, and there was nothing he wanted more than relief from the pain, but everyone he loved; everyone dear to him was on this very battlefield. He couldn't. Not even with a broken arm.
So one arm was broken. That only meant the other was fine, and that he still had his legs to run, walk and jump with. War was not for the faint of heart, and he was, decidedly, all heart and no faint. "I can fight."
"No-"
"I can fight. I'll tell you if I can't. I promise."
She stared back at him, and perhaps seeing the determination in his eyes, she let him go.
Grinning to mask the pain from his arm, Ron braced his broken arm against his chest and raised his wand at an approaching Death Eater. "Expelliarmus!"
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Without losing flow, she flipped her sword, thrusting backward just in time to skewer the werewolf at her back. She spun, both hands gripping her hilt as she slashed the same werewolf in half.
Crimson warmth gushed over her, sticky and sweet, hot against the biting mountain cold.
She turned just in time to see another approaching werewolf.
It came at her ferociously and she ducked from its powerful jaws. She felt claws rake down her back from a second werewolf and she stifled her cry of pain. Crowded by the two hulking bodies, she sank her sword through the chest of one werewolf and allowed the second one to barrel into her.
It felt like she had gone head-on with a refrigerator, the crushing force snapping three or four ribs and a collarbone. The sharp pain that welled through her from the jagged edges of splintered bone pierced through her skin tissue and she tried not to think about the piece sticking out from beneath her leather coat.
His jaws clamped down on her injured shoulder and a shriek clawed its way out of her throat.
She gasped, willing herself to do something rational, to do something other than cry out in pain.
Rational thought came. She swiped out her gun, pressed the barrel of it to the werewolf's temple and fired a shot. And another. And a third one just to dislodge his jaws.
Brains and blood flecked over her as the werewolf bucked once before it slumped limp, lifeless.
Rasping from the pain, she pushed the werewolf off her. Sluggishly, she got to her feet.
Mangled as she was, she would have been ready to take on another couple of vampires, her adrenaline powering her in spite of her injuries, but she saw the litter of bodies around her, vampires and werewolves sliced and beheaded, none of which were from her side of the fight. Towards the edges of the battlefield, Death Eaters lay stunned and incapacitated. She hadn't even had a chance to sting-hex a Death Eater.
Would've been satisfying, I think, she thought with weary humor.
It was over. There was no need for her to keep fighting.
Nearby, the werewolf that had taken her sword to his chest whimpered. With deliberate ease, Hermione went to him, aimed and put him out of his misery between the eyes. Blood blossomed thick in the snow from where the bullet punched a hole through the back of his head.
Putting her gun away, she pulled her sword from the werewolf and flicked the blood off the blade. She hissed as her wounds screamed murder. Werewolf bites and claws took a little longer to heal. Werewolf saliva and claw tissue acted like poison on vamps' wounds, but such wounds did heal without treatment, excruciating though they may be.
She had taken more than her share of the vamps and wolves, and while she was never one to complain, she felt that too many had aspired to kill her.
My head would've made a nice little trinket for Janus, I suppose.
Her vamp amp ebbed from her system and her fangs began to slowly retract. The stench of blood was no more pronounced than it should be and the pain of her injuries was becoming unbearable.
Well… all things considered, it could have been worse.
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The mist seemed thicker now. Or maybe it had been just as thick earlier, just that the masses of frantically moving bodies had stirred and pushed it back. Now, with everyone beaten into a more sedate pace, the mist had reestablished itself around them.
"Hermione."
She was mildly startled that Harry had managed to sneak up on her again. She looked up and she supposed he got a good look at her because she could see the flicker of shock on his face.
"Good lord," he whispered after a heartbeat.
I must look horrific. She arched an eyebrow, seeing the wounds on the side of his neck and face. Blood was fresh against his coat. "Well, you're not looking too good, either."
He frowned and perhaps chose to ignore her observations. "Are you-"
"I am," she said before he could finish the question. She attempted to heft her sword and found that her arm was a bit uncooperative. She felt her broken bones knitting right then, slower than usual because of the poison, but the wounds directly caused by werewolf fangs and claws would be a while yet. "Or at least I will be," she added reluctantly. "I've had worse. Everyone alright?"
"Yes. Death Eaters didn't know what hit 'em. Hermione, you're hurt-"
"I'll heal in a few hours, Harry. Nothing to worry about-"
"Shut up and let me have a look."
Rolling her eyes, she held still as he moved around her.
"Merlin," he muttered as he saw the wounds on her back. "I saw them picking on you… those last two werewolves were nasty. I almost ran over here to help you."
But he hadn't, and Hermione found that that was an immensely satisfying thought. Worried as he was about her, he had trusted her to handle it, and while on any other day he might have helped anyway, he didn't this time, because he had other responsibilities on the battlefield, like his own unit, which would not have appreciated their captain abandoning them for his immortal girlfriend.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "How far you've come, Harry," she said softly, meaning it.
He smiled, understanding what she meant. It had been his inability to balance his concern for her with the welfare of others that had driven her away all those years ago. More and more he proved how profound his understanding of their relationship had become.
She felt warmth spread over her back, most of the sharp pain ebbing. She had to admit to the relief. It was handy to have someone care. She didn't have to bear the pain by being too tough to ask for the simple relief of a numbing charm.
"You look like hell," Harry said in a softly teasing tone. The smile on his face was strained, but at least he didn't seem as worried as he first was.
"I might appreciate honesty most times, but not this time," she grumbled.
He placed his hands on either side of her arms and squeezed ever so gently. "Everything looks like hell, but I'm-I'm just glad you're alright. Gave me a minor heart attack going head to head with that winged vamp, though. I'm still reeling from that one."
Like a set-up joke, Deardra's head was within reach of her foot, and nudging it slightly, she said, "Deardra, meet Harry. Harry, Deardra."
Harry swallowed something, valiantly keeping it from rising back up. "The… less experienced members of the Order are still shell shocked, but they're all pretty much unharmed."
She gave him a placid smile. "They might as well get used to it. The Order's going to be fighting side by side with vamps from hereon. Voldemort's going to find out about tonight sooner or later and he's not exactly going to let you out-vamp him."
He nodded. "I'd say that this was a… relatively successful trial run."
"Relatively." She looked up at the front steps of the house. Standing at the foot of the steps, intimidating the hell out of the humans passing them by were Keiko and Tatiana.
Tatiana, tall and model-thin, preferred long purple hair to her naturally blonde locks. Her eyes were smudged by dark make-up and her lips were painted black. She wore a kind of de-layered Victorian-era cut dress-black, of course-with lace-up knee-high boots. She was pierced everywhere, perhaps even in places most people thought one shouldn't.
Keiko looked delicate and demure by comparison, which of course she wasn't. Keiko was, in Hermione's opinion, one of the fiercest alphas in the coven. She could rip the eyes off anyone with her bare hands like she was picking seeds out of a grape then lick her fingers clean without expression, pause or hesitation. She was fierce because she could care less.
Both vampires were stained and matted in blood, but they stood as unbothered about it as only proper vampires ought to be.
Hermione gave the two vamps acknowledging nods before she looked back at Harry. She told him she needed a few minutes to confer with the alphas.
She could see his protest of having her walk around by herself in the brief moment that his shoulders tensed, but he seemed to get over it, for which Hermione was eternally grateful. It wouldn't do for her to get escorted around like an invalid, not when the other hard-assed alphas were standing around, seemingly so unconcerned about their own extensive injuries.
He let her walk by herself, even if they were basically headed in the same direction. She had to admire his will, letting her trudge miserably through the snow with her gait so obviously pained.
Keiko and Tatiana didn't even blink when she reached them. Upon closer inspection, Hermione saw the real extent of their wounds.
Keiko was missing three fingers and had claw marks riding down her left leg. Tatiana suffered claws across her stomach and three ghastly gashes down one side of her face.
They were a miserable lot, but they would regenerate in quick time. Even Keiko would get her fingers back.
"Where are the other alphas?" Hermione asked. There had to be at least two other alphas by Hermione's estimate.
She was right.
"Sasha decided to do inventory on the bodies and Ruth's taken debriefing duties. They'll have a full report for you by tomorrow night," Keiko said.
Hermione nodded. As the alpha who issued the summons, she took the lead in the mission and was entitled to the basic reports. "Everyone accounted for on our side?"
"Yes," said Tatiana. "The enemy was trained, but not coven-trained, and they didn't expect us. It was a slaughter."
Hermione didn't miss the faint flicker of delight in Tatiana's eyes. "Indeed. Keiko, you're second on this. I want your full assessment report by tomorrow, as well."
"You'll have it," Keiko replied. "Same email address?"
Hermione smirked. "No email. You'll have to owl it to me."
Keiko rolled her eyes. "Fine. Stupid… you wizards and your backwards…"
Hermione chuckled. "Just shut up and owl it. You're going to have to get used to it, anyway. You'll be working with wizards now, and this conflict could take weeks… months… years, really."
Keiko's and Tatiana's deadpan gazes studied her, probably to determine if she was serious.
She was, and she stared right back at them to let them know it.
Tatiana blew a breath through her lips, as if giving in to a great concession. Keiko just looked away, resigned to the tragedy.
"Come now," said Hermione in a silky tone. "It wasn't so bad. In fact, I'm quite sure you were both satisfied with the way the humans handled themselves. They took care of their enemies and let us take care of ours. As we go along, we might even learn to help each other."
"Right," said Keiko, almost dismissively. "Your human killed himself a vampire. He's not a bad slayer."
"My hu-? Oh, you mean Harry. Yes, well, he's… he's quite talented…"
Keiko and Tatiana smirked lecherously.
Hermione frowned. "With his sword… that didn't come out right, either, did it?"
"You will take us to your human and his captains, then," Keiko said, looking all business once more. "If we're going to work with them, we might as well be properly introduced."
Hermione's eyebrow arched and she could tell, even with Keiko's and Tatiana's impassive faces, that Harry had piqued their interest.
The charisma on that man, she thought, amused. Or maybe he's just that attractive.
"Come with me," she said, gesturing for them to follow her up the steps of the castle.
They did, getting the attention of a few of the Order members and several bound and gagged Death Eaters.
She saw Harry at the other end of the room with Charlie, Shacklebolt, and Ron. Ron's arm was in a sling.
Broken, likely. There was only one healer in the house, and many were wounded. Ron's arm, perhaps to the healer's assessment, could wait.
Charlie and Shacklebolt saw them first, and Hermione could detect the horror in the two men's gazes. She was pretty sure that she, Keiko, and Tatiana looked the stuff of nightmares.
Ron swallowed at their approach, his eyes switching warily between Keiko and Tatiana.
Harry was less rattled than everyone else, though his eyes briefly darted to Hermione's companions. His gaze returned to her, and it was filled with concern. "You alright?"
She stifled a smirk. "Yes. I'm fine."
Ron fidgeted, possibly taking stock of Keiko's missing fingers, Tatiana's mangled face and the raw claw wounds all three of them bore. "Erm… your friend's missing some… yeah…"
Hermione's brows knotted at that and she looked over her shoulder at the alphas. Their eyebrows were arched and all three of them exchanged confused looks.
Friends?
Sniffing, Hermione gathered her bearings. "These are my colleagues, Keiko and Tatiana. They're alphas in the coven. There are two other alphas outside but they're working right now." She introduced everyone, and while the vamps extended courteous interest in the others (foregoing the fingerless handshake, to everyone's relief), it quickly became apparent that they had come to assess Harry.
Hermione felt a bit apprehensive all of a sudden, realizing in no small way that this meeting could mean everything for how the vamps would treat the alliance. Keiko and Tatiana, as it was, were high enough in the ranks to influence the general opinion of the coven members.
Harry must not show fear, and while Hermione knew Harry was pretty damn good at being brave, it didn't mean he didn't get scared.
Harry fidgeted as he suddenly found himself between the two vamps, their gazes filled with curiosity and slow appraisal. He seemed a bit uncomfortable, but no fear perfumed the air near him. "Umm… so, Hermione's colleagues, are you?"
"You can say that," Tatiana said, peering at his scar.
Keiko crowded him a bit, possibly listening for his heartbeat; waiting for him to give off that distinct scent of insecurity and panic. Her eyes ringed with the intensity of her evaluation.
Tatiana was a bit more aggressive, showing more than a bit of fang, and it was no pretty picture, especially with half of her face torn to shreds.
"Erm…" said Harry, his eyes watching the fangs elongate. "How's the coven's dental plan? Comprehensive?"
Hermione had to take a very deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter.
Well, Harry, that's one way of telling 'em.
The two vamps stared at him in mild surprise and their gazes flickered just the tiniest bit. They were not the most friendly of vampires, and perhaps they weren't quick to laughter, either, but they had a sense of humor, and they knew enough not to take themselves way too seriously.
"He'll do," said Keiko.
Tatiana gave a curt nod. "I concur. We'll owl you, Harry Potter, copies of the reports we will be submitting to Hermione. Is that to your liking?"
"Yes?"
Hermione tried not to beam. She wondered if Harry knew he had been tested, or that he had passed the first level of it quite well.
"Good," replied Tatiana. "Keiko, best we go. We have to report to coven central."
Keiko nodded. "Hermione, I'll swing by with Lars and Michael when you get back to London. And for God's sake, don't owl me to let me know you're back. Email me: Coven sakura at nova-craft dot com. Or better yet, pick up a phone and call me."
Hermione's eyebrow arched. "Nova-craft dot com?"
"Online computer role playing game," explained Tatiana. "Keiko's addicted to it."
"Coven sakura?"
Keiko shrugged. "I want to come off as fragile and delicate."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're a real cherry blossom alright… from hell."
A tiny smirk turned up the corner of Keiko's lips. "True, but my online opponents don't know that."
"Ah, now it becomes clear. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything. I'll still owl you."
Keiko sighed but followed it with a soft chuckle before turning to leave.
Casting Hermione one last amused and pierced-lipped smirk, Tatiana followed after Keiko.
Harry watched them go.
"Will we have them in the general Order meeting?" Shacklebolt asked.
"We should," Harry replied. "They're our allies now."
Shacklebolt didn't look happy, but he said nothing, and even more surprising, he nodded.
"In that case, we ought to sit down and talk about a few other vamps you might want to invite," Hermione said.
Harry nodded. "Done. As soon as we get back to London."
She derived a familiar sense of warmth from what he said. "As soon as we get back to London." Not so long ago, she would have dreaded those words, London being a place of loss and pain. Now it felt like home again.
She supposed the old adage was true, the one about home and the heart.
The doors to the castle were banged shut as the last of the Death Eaters were hauled in. Outside, the mist was nearly impossible to see through, and one would think nothing was happening there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry hastened to his bedroom. He needed to pack what little belongings he brought with him. They were going to head back to London with the rest of the Order that night, and with all the Death Eaters to book and question, it was best to get back to London as early as they could.
And then there was the staff to destroy. Valuable relic of Gryffindor though it may be, they would have to give it up to the mercies of Strigoi and potion. That meant they would lose the staff forever, but it was a small price to pay to for the destruction of Voldemort.
And if it's not the last Horcrux?
The thought came unbidden and he willed it away from his mind. It was too…
Devastating…
It wasn't something he didn't want to consider right now.
He was just about to turn the corner leading to his chamber when he heard Seamus's voice echoing from behind.
Stopping in his tracks, Harry waited until Seamus caught up with him.
"Finally got a chance to talk to you," said Seamus in an exasperated tone. "You're impossible to get alone, Potter. Think you can work me into your busy schedule?"
Harry smirked. "Walk with me then. I haven't got all night." He stepped up the pace and Seamus followed.
"Right. I've been meaning to tell you since I got here, but the Death Eaters sorter got in the way."
"Understandable."
"Most. I've been looking at those files you gave me for the Hogwarts Express incident and I actually found something."
Harry paused in his tracks ever so briefly before he resumed walking. "Well, that's excellent, isn't it?" That was somewhat of an understatement. His heart rate had increased quite a bit from anticipation.
"Yes. I'm very proud of myself," said Seamus, drably. "I checked off the passenger roster with the Auror roster and I discovered an inconsistency."
This was most interesting. "Go on."
Seamus waved his wand and two folders appeared out of thin air, plopping into Seamus's waiting hand. "These are two Aurors. One of them was on Shacklebolt's original list of Aurors assigned to be on the train." He handed the first folder to Harry. "The second Auror is not on that list." He handed over the second one.
Harry took them and opened the first folder. It was the personnel file of one Roberts, Jeremy. His picture showed that he was a rather round fellow and he had a nervous tick on his upper lip. His hair was thinning. The second file showed one Turner, Stuart, and he was the young, fresh-out-of-Hogwarts Auror he had spoken to after the attack.
"What did Shacklebolt tell you about these blokes?" asked Harry.
"Shacklebolt took Turner on that train as a last minute replacement. He couldn't find Roberts on the night of the trip."
"And where are these two now?"
Seamus sniffed. "Detained for questioning. Shacklebolt said Turner wanted to be on the train, which frankly makes him even less of a suspect because hell… who wants to get caught between marauding fangs on a moving train, whoever's side they're working for? He's more like an eager rookie wanting to prove himself; found himself way in over his head when the train got attacked… we all went through that. But I rounded him up anyway so you can question him. Now Roberts… well, he kept going to work after the attack, so it doesn't exactly fit the profile of guilty, but… see, according to his timesheet, he did check in for work that day…"
Harry looked the timesheet over, flipping to the proper date. "But he didn't check out. He has a relatively early start of his night shift and then… you said Shacklebolt couldn't find him when it came time to dispatch to the Hogwarts Express?"
"Disappeared, it seems."
"Incriminating."
"There's more. Turn to page six of Roberts's Assignment Tracking Sheet, item two, subsection A."
Harry did and under item two was the "Special Assignments" box. Subsection A said 'Lottery Winner', and beside it was the date and time the assignment was issued. Subsection B said 'Express'. The date and time coincided with the fifteen-minute window Shacklebolt was entitled to when he received the information about the secret trip to Hogwarts.
Assignment Tracking Sheets magically updated as soon as assignments were handed out, so they were mostly accurate. There have been instances when the sheets had been manipulated, but in this case, especially if Roberts was hiding something, it should have been manipulated to not show he had been assigned on the train. Yet there was the entry, un-tampered with.
Strangest of all was that Seamus had directed him to the entry above it, which to Harry made very little sense to begin with.
"Lottery winner?" Harry asked. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It's a nick name for a miserable assignment. You've never heard of it because you were never included in the lottery in the first place. Shacklebolt didn't think it wise."
"What the bloody hell are you talking about Seam-"
"Names from the Auror, Hitwizard, and Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department are 'raffled' for this particular job. The assignee is different everyday, and there's no particular pattern in who would be assigned and when. All everyone knows is that if you get assigned that week, you have a two-week grace period of not getting assigned to the task again. Sometimes… well, there's a rumor that the person drawing the raffle could be paid off to postpone assignments, but that's just a rumor…"
"Seamus," said Harry a bit impatiently. "What's the job?"
At that Seamus halted before he turned grim. "Babysitting. To guard Draco while he's working in the Ministry archives."
Harry frowned, mulling this new bit of information over. He could understand why Seamus suddenly involved Draco in this investigation. While in the last five years, Draco had done nothing for them to think that he would, or was, betraying the Order, it was still a fact that Draco had once tried to kill Albus Dumbledore in service of Voldemort. It didn't help either that his father, Lucius Malfoy, was still an active Death Eater.
That Malfoy was remotely connected to one of the suspects of this particular investigation bore examination, even if there was no evidence to suggest that he was involved in any way.
"I'll conduct interrogation for Turner and Roberts," Harry said, tucking the folders under his arm.
"Should I haul Malfoy in, too?"
"No," Harry said. "We don't have anything on him to justify that. I'll talk to him."
Seamus smirked. "Talk?"
"Well, that's how Malfoy and I consider it when we're calling each other names and telling one or the other to 'do this and that or else'… you get the picture."
"Five years and I still couldn't get over the fact that you and he are living in the same house and that you suggested it in the first place."
"I couldn't get over it, either, but hey, maybe this time I'll have a reason to send him to Azkaban."
"Thank Merlin for small blessings."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Don't have parting words. Must sleep…
Oh, except maybe thank you, again. 10,000 times thank you.
Chapter 31 shall be written as soon as I wake up from the dead.