Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Goodness, we had internet-connection problems all weekend! I don't even know if it's going to let up so I can only really surf when the connection lets me. :( Anyway, here it is, and I hope you like it. ^_^

Special thanks to tome_raider who did an excellent job betaing! ::hugs::

AND tome_raider would like to express her own thanks to everyone one of you who showed your appreciation for her efforts in the reviews. She's very grateful.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Chapter rating: R

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Chapter Thirty-Second: Allies

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Harry whisked himself to the Ministry shortly after his conversation with Draco, reporting most of his findings to Shacklebolt, Remus and Moody. They were, of course, appalled, and Remus felt horrible.

"It was my fault, then," Remus said, his eyes filling with despair.

"Don't be foolish, Remus," Moody had said in a tone of voice that bespoke of dire things. "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't even the ferret's fault. It was Snape. That oily, good for nothing traitor."

No one outwardly disagreed, but Harry wasn't so quick to put a label on Snape just yet. The "oily, good for nothing traitor" had done many things, but Harry wasn't so sure about the reasons behind them anymore. He decided it was best if others thought of Snape as a traitor. Harry would venture on this strange territory of Snape-ambiguity on his own and hope that the hoard of anti-Snape Order members would be enough of a safety-net in case Harry found himself utterly and completely wrong.

After Harry processed the papers for Roberts's and Turner's "detainment", Remus took it upon himself to order Harry to get some rest.

"Frankly," Remus began. "I'm dead knackered, and I'm a werewolf. I couldn't even begin to imagine how you feel, Harry. I think nothing short of a coma would do you good."

Harry had to admit that at seven in the morning, he was finally feeling the effects of the long, embattled day. It felt like lead was seeping into the marrow of his bones, making each step he took heavier by the minute. He was more than willing to take Remus's advice, but he needed to make one last stop before he went back to Grimmauld Place.

He needed to go to the Ministry archives, and perhaps wanting to make sure that Harry went straight home afterwards, Remus went with him.

Harry looked back on his memories and tried to remember the exact spot Snape had been standing. It had been a shelf where candlelight winked and flickered just beyond Snape's shoulder. Harry followed his recollections and found the book he was looking for. It was still where Snape had put it, its dirty blue cover distinct among the musty beige and brown-spined tomes.

He took the book in his hand and shook it by its front cover. A tiny, unmarked envelope fell out of its pages. He dropped the book and scrambled for the envelope, hastily breaking the seal. He pulled out the encased letter and turned up blank stationary. He muttered a revealing spell. What he saw next had him cursing at Snape all over again.

The words, "Did you think it would be that easy?" bled on the surface of the water-marked parchment.

He cast some more intermediary revealing charms on it, but each attempt was mocked and laughed at by the Snape-made epistle.

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry said with a tired sigh.

Remus mirrored his weary tone. "Take the letter and we'll figure it out after we've gotten some rest. It's waited in the last week and a half and it can wait another few hours, I'm sure. We'll meet at the Ministry at four-thirty tomorrow. I'd pick an earlier time, but I have some research work to finish at the MRI. Can't put it off, I'm afraid, as I've been doing just that these past few days. It needs finishing, mainly because this is the only job that's kept me for this long."

Harry certainly wasn't going to argue with that. Remus had been working for the Magical Research Institute for the last two years, and the fact that the institute had kept Remus in spite of his wolfy problem meant a lot to the mild-mannered educator. He had a career, and far be it that Harry would get Remus sacked from a job he loved.

They left the Ministry, apparated to Grimmauld Place and dragged themselves into No. 12 where they passed out in their respective beds.

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Harry practically jumped out of his sheets in scandalized astonishment when he realized what time it was.

"Merlin!" he cried, the words "Four fifteen P.M." from the Wizard clock mocking him. The mischievous clock rarely gave the time so straightforwardly, but perhaps knowing it would cause more mayhem spelling out the actual time, it chose to do so at that moment.

Eight hours! Harry thought in disbelief. He had forgotten to set his alarm clock, so it was no one's fault but his that he had overslept. He had agreed to meet Remus in the Ministry at four-thirty and Harry had hoped to be at the Ministry an hour earlier.

That's not happening, he thought sourly.

He rushed through his shower, dressed and grabbed a slice of Molly's homemade bread from the pantry. He still had some of the slice clamped between his teeth when he arrived at the Ministry apparating station.

Harry jumped into the late afternoon rush and crammed himself into the Ministry phone box. As soon as he stepped out of the box and into the Ministry, he braced himself against the reporters who were screaming disturbingly accurate questions.

"Did you escort vampires into the Ministry earlier this morning, Mr. Potter?"

"Is it true that Hermione Granger isn't dead, but undead?"

"How much truth is there in the rumor that the Ministry has allied themselves with Dark Creatures?"

"Are you a Blood Flunkie, Harry Potter?"

That caught Harry's attention and he turned to see none other than Rita Skeeter, the deceptively benign smile on her face reminiscent of the malice that plagued him in fourth year. After Rita had been forced to lie-low by Hermione's bold blackmailing tactics, she reemerged with a vengeance, hell-bent on turning Harry into a dangerously fanatic wannabe, a laughably barmy fool, or both, in generally circulated print.

The one consolation Harry had was that because the Daily Prophet-in which Rita was gainfully employed-lambasted and laughed at him by turns, with the token "lauding" on occasion, the general perception of the once-reputable paper had shifted from credible to attention-grabbing sensationalism. People were now more inclined to believe in the Quibbler in spite of their having retained their "Creature Sightings" section. The Quibbler's straightforward reporting and educated editorials were beyond reproach. Their views were based on truth, whether or not the truth was favorable. The Quibbler did not hype Harry Potter. The Daily Prophet took care of that, ad nauseam. The Quibbler's accounts of Harry Potter were incident to the events.

Harry did however notice that the Quibbler was partial to Ron Weasley, particularly when describing him. Harry would swear that an article had called Ron "statuesque and pleasant-featured" at least once. Ron adamantly denied this was true. But all that that was another story altogether.

Right now, amidst reporters sent from all over Europe, Harry was stifling the glare that threatened to jump out of him en route to the Auror Department. He decided he wasn't going to answer Rita Skeeter's question, wordless or otherwise, just because saying or showing anything in response would be giving her the satisfaction of having affected him.

He finally reached the department doors and Harry closed himself in.

The floor was alive with activity, and even from the receiving area, Harry could see Seamus busy on their conjoined desks.

Seamus didn't look up from his work at Harry's arrival, but the Irishman gave him a greeting.

"Hullo, Potter," said Seamus in a distracted tone. "Got through the press in one piece, did you?"

"Barely. Rita Skeeter was there with Quick-Quills blazing." Harry slumped in his seat while depositing his messenger bag on his desk. "What got you in so early?"

"Brittany Watson. They hauled her in this morning and I conducted her interrogation."

"Nice. What did you find out?"

"Nothing new. She corroborated Turner's story and I found out she likes butterscotch ice cream with chocolate on top. She's got killer legs, too."

Harry shook his head, propping his chin on the heel of his palm in weary surrender. "Seamus, Seamus… we ought to send you to Hagrid's and get you neutered. The woman is a suspect…"

"Well, at first, yes, but when it was apparent that she wasn't… you know how it goes, Harry. I had to apologize, make it up to her, invite her to coffee, etcetera, etcetera…"

"Yes, of course," Harry said dryly. "I always said the interrogation room was a singles bar under duress."

"It wasn't as if she was unwilling. She wanted me. I could see it in her eyes."

"Sure she did." Though Harry wouldn't put it past any woman when it came to Seamus.

Seamus smirked. "Now, before you condemn me to Auror-Ethics Hell-"

"I was thinking more along the lines of Randy Bastards Anonymous, actually. I'm nothing if not progressive."

"You ought to be. You're sleeping with a vampire."

"Touché. Go on, then. As you were saying…"

"I asked her about Electra Swansea. Electra and Brittany have had a decent working relationship for several moths now, and apparently, 'Electra' isn't a made-up identity. She's been in the antique books industry for years, and while Brittany generally thinks well of her, Brittany did notice that Electra was a bit of a blood snob."

Harry made a face.

Seamus nodded. "You see where this is headed, eh? Probably got recruited by Death Eaters some time back. We're still trying to find Electra, but it seems no one has seen her since she last went out with Roberts. It's either the Death Eaters 'got rid' of her or she's in hiding with them. It can go either way, I suppose, depending on how much she could be of use to them, but as far as her normal life goes, she'd expired the use of it. She can't be Electra Swansea anymore."

Harry gave a weary sigh and accepted the sad fact. "Well, that's done, isn't it? She's on the wanted list but that's about as much we can do right now."

"Pretty much."

"And how about the bloke in charge of the Lottery? Have we questioned him yet?"

"Mad-Eye did. It was the funniest thing. Two cantankerous old men railing at each other. Boyd's still angry as hell about it. He's been taking bribes from Aurors for years, you understand, mostly in kind, like tickets to see this and that, tasty treats, cigars… he took whiskey from Roberts. Ask Roberts why he had his shift with Malfoy postponed; bet it was to see Electra."

"Naturally," Harry muttered. "When women go wrong, men go right… after them."

Seamus laughed. "Speaking from experience?"

"From Mae West. Muggle actress. You ought to look her up."

"D'you have her Muggle number?"

"I meant look her up in the Muggle database, stupid. The woman is dead."

Seamus sighed. "The tragedy of a single man is losing a woman to death and marriage, especially if the impending marriage is his."

"You're the only bloke I know who considers marriage a worse tragedy than death."

"You've been spending too much time with Remus, is what, or maybe Hermione."

"Frankly, I think she's more afraid of marriage than I am."

"Oh, I can believe that coming from Mr. I'm Wearing A Ring That Matches Hers."

"Ah, noticed, did you?"

"Well, of course! I always check a woman's ring finger first, both hands, because some just get the side wrong. Ever since that incident with Annette and her husband, I've learned to be more careful. I wasn't planning to get with Granger, you understand. I know she's off-limits, but the ring-thing is instinct. Then I see the same ring on you. Way to mark your territory, Potter. Ingenious. Sappy, but ingenious."

"I am not marking my territory."

"Oh! Of course you're not!" Seamus winks at Harry in an exaggerated fashion.

Harry didn't even bother to argue.

Seamus kept on and Harry helped him with his reports. They probably didn't get a lot of things done, considering their conversation was more interesting than work, and an hour had passed before Remus finally showed up.

It surprised Harry that he had hardly noticed the hour go by, and he realized that if it hadn't been for Seamus, he would've been worried sick about Remus.

The weary werewolf was hardly ever late for anything unless he was in trouble, but judging by the look on Remus's face, nothing untoward had kept him.

"I am terribly sorry for being late, Harry," Remus said hurriedly, shuffling papers about as he struggled to right himself from the gauntlet that was the press outside the Auror Department. "But I got held up by something at the MRI; something very interesting and scholarly that I'm afraid will bore you both to tears if I tell you about it, but I think I'll talk to Hermione about it later." His smile was broad with anticipation.

Harry was reminded of the time he first watched Professor Lupin teach. Tired and worn out as Remus had been due to his condition, the kind professor had been smiling and eager that day he taught at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It was a moment where Remus Lupin was happy enough to forget that he was a werewolf.

Remus looked like that professor from long ago, right now. It was impossible for Harry not to smile back.

"Well, now," said Remus after having gathered his bearings. "Are we ready to go to you-know-where? I expect our little pet is hungry enough to feed on you-know-what."

Seamus frowned. "'You-know-how' I hate it when you two talk like that."

Harry smirked. "Sorry Seamus, but this stuff's classified."

"The last time I was told something was classified, my unmarried cousin Clarissa began to show three months later and all hell broke loose in our Catholic household."

"Don't worry Seamus. I can tell you right now, with reasonable certainty, that I'm not pregnant. Can't vouch for Remus, though."

Instead of protesting, Remus laughed it off and shook his head.

Harry thought he sounded the slightest bit giddy but decided to say nothing about it. Gathering his warding notes, he lead Remus to the lifts.

They descended to level nine and were met by Dedalus Diggle, one of the most senior members of the Order of the Phoenix and the head of the Department of Mysteries. He was, perhaps, one of the most secretive men Harry knew. Dedalus had, after all, shadowed him for years before Harry started at Hogwarts and never once spoke to Harry before that. It was some time four years ago that Dedalus was appointed head of the Ministry's most mysterious department (so to speak-or unspeak, as the case may be), making it entirely possible for the Order to conduct business within Ministry walls without the "Ministry" (namely the Minister and his cronies) knowing what exactly was going on.

That McGonagall believed Dedalus never made sense did not seem to affect his ability to shanghai an entire Ministry department.

"The Ministry might not be very useful as a government, but it's got excellent facilities, and well… the Ministry ought to be good for something, you know!" Dedalus had once said.

And so they made use of the level nine facilities, taking advantage of its mysterious nature; its power to keep secrets from the Ministry itself. To have the Head Unspeakable on one's side was a great thing, indeed.

Dedalus lead them through the soundless halls of the department. The entire level was barren of work-place chatter, though each and every closed door had at least one Unspeakable working behind it. Unspeakables did not "meet up" at the water cooler to talk about the daily news, or even how the weather was like outside. Unspeakables were never seen taking coffee or bathroom breaks, though the coffee pots ran out of coffee and the toilet paper in the loos had to be replaced on a daily basis. Unspeakables rather liked being alone, contemplating the meaning of life when they weren't researching it in one form or another.

This was how secrets were kept, give or take various forms and levels of Fidelius charms cast by each and every Unspeakable in even more varied ways that was perhaps necessary.

The Strigoi was quartered in the department Beastiary, alongside the strangest, most unidentifiable creatures Harry had ever seen. They were caged in different ways, probably depending on the beast's abilities as far as escaping was concerned. All of the creatures were unnamed, or at least unlabeled, and Dedalus had flat-out ignored Harry's questions regarding the creatures' origins and soubriquets, but Harry would almost swear that the pig-like beast with the spiraling horns was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

The leaden chamber upon which the Strigoi had been quartered was solid and opaque on all sides except for the glamoured wall from which they looked into the cage. The glamour was never as clear as they wanted it to be. Lead had always been resistant to magic, and it was probably one of many reasons guns and magic didn't mix, and while the magic did nothing to affect the lead's properties, lead certainly had its effect on magic, though in many cases only to a mild degree. The glamour was about as mildly affected as far as lead went. The ill combination of magic and lead made for a soupy viewing window, so while they could still see what was going on inside the Strigoi chamber, details were most definitely fuzzy.

It was a strange contrast, that lead would be resistant to magic yet be so effective in containing something magical. One couldn't spell lead, so a Strigoi wouldn't be able break through it to suck the essence of the living creatures it shared the Bestiary with.

At the moment, the Strigoi had taken the shape of a small cow. Since they caught it, it had gone through various transfigurations, trying to decide which would best serve him. Usually, he took the shape of smaller farm animals-cow, sheep, dog, pig or donkey-so it could blend into the surroundings and go about his business unnoticed, but the chamber had provided him no incentive for camouflaging. Harry suspected that it merely liked to have a shape, rather than float about like an indiscernible mist.

Nearby, mounted on stilts, was a locked trunk. Inside the locked trunk was the sealed and warded case containing Gryffindor's staff. When they were ready, the staff would be placed into the Strigoi's leaden cage and opened from there, because while it would be deadly to cast spells on the staff, it would be safe to use spells on the case. So it was imperative that when they opened the staff inside the chamber, there were wards placed to keep the staff's power from hurting everyone around it.

Dedalus said he would make the last minute preparations for the potion they would need for the procedure and he was off, leaving Harry and Remus in the chamber.

Taking a seat on one of the many storage crates, Harry opened his notes and pulled out his computations. Remus took a nearby crate and examined the computations with him. Together, they configured the wards so that it could be used on the leaden chamber. They had a sample block of the same lead upon which they tested the adjusted wards.

It was as difficult as Harry suspected. Twice, Dedalus had returned, asking them if they were ready for the potion. Twice they'd said that they needed a few more minutes. Dedalus hadn't pestered them a third time and it had been an hour since Dedalus last appeared. The properties of the lead made everything uncertain, and he wished Hermione were there to lend brainpower.

"Maybe we ought to go back to Grimmauld Place and consult with her," Harry said as they came up short once again. He looked at his watch. "It's already dark. She'd be awake."

Remus nodded. "Couldn't hurt."

They took their leave of Dedalus, telling him that they might come back in a few hours. He made no fuss about it. The man practically lived in the Department of Mysteries.

They were able to leave the Ministry without incident, having skipped the reporters, and they made straight for 12 Grimmauld Place from the apparating station.

Harry went to the library to find Hermione, and true enough, she was there. A pile of books surrounded her as she sat lengthwise on the couch by the hearth. She was reading a book about dark magic while Lucien seemed to be examining her toes. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that he was giving her a pedicure, or painting tiny images on the red of her nail-polish.

Nearby, Solomon sat on the floor, his back to the couch and he was singing in a surprisingly soulful voice. His instrument was a harmonica, and he was singing the blues.

"Ain't got her nail technician…

Ain't got the time…

What's a she-vamp to do?

To keep it looking fine?

She gotta do with what she got…

Boy, it ain't that much

He's a beauty-school drop-out!

Maaaan ain't got the touch…"

"Shut-it, you! I'm not that bad!" Lucien cried with a deep scowl. "And I only dropped out of beauty school because Felicia did. I only went there for her!"

Hermione paid all this no mind as she sat engrossed in what she was reading. She had her thumb between her teeth and her focus didn't waver from the page. She did, however, acknowledge the arrival of Harry and Remus without looking up.

"Hi, Remus," she chimed half-absentmindedly. "Harry, darling, you're early." Her foot fidgeted and Lucien complained.

"For God's sake lady, hold still!"

Harry stifled an exasperated sigh. "Hermione, can we see you in my study? It's important."

Solomon didn't flinch, continuing to blow into his harmonica as he turned a questioning eyebrow at Hermione.

Lucien did the same, looking up from his work without letting go of her foot and his paint brush.

She nodded and stood, sliding her feet into black slip-on platforms. Harry let her lead while in the background, Lucien sang to Solomon's music.

"His name is Harry Potter

'Boy Who Lived' is how he's known

But according to our alpha

The Boy's man to the bone!"

Solomon blew a broken chord at that and laughed.

"Lucien!" Hermione cried, spinning in place to face them. A mortified blush rose in her cheeks as she glanced surreptitiously at Remus.

Lucien grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

Harry hastily hustled Hermione and Remus out into the hallway, the faint sound of harmonica wafting through the doors as Harry pulled them shut.

"And here I thought nothing can embarrass me anymore," she muttered, walking briskly in the direction of Harry's study. "I swear, Harry, I haven't been talking to them about you and your bones… LORD that sounded awful, didn't it? I'll shut up now."

Harry felt a flush rise in his cheeks, especially when it became more apparent that Remus was trying, but failing, to look grave and serious.

As soon as they reached the office, Harry let her take the seat behind his desk. He spread his notes out in front of her and he and Remus hovered over her shoulders as Harry explained their predicament over the Strigoi cage's warding.

She looked at them, utterly confused. "What are you two on about? Of course you'll have problems sticking the wards on the lead, but you don't have to put the wards on the lead cage do you? Viktor didn't use a cage at all for the staff. He just put the wards."

Harry and Remus looked at one another in surprise, appalled that they hadn't figured that out themselves. They laughed, embarrassed, and they had no choice but to admit that they'd been utterly daft.

"I'll have to configure the wards to accommodate the presence of the lead, though. We can't have too wide a perimeter of wards around the cage because that would just make the work more difficult. Give me a day. I'll try to figure something out."

"What would we do without you, Hermione?" asked Remus sheepishly.

"Drown in a pool of poisoned magic, apparently," she muttered, laughing lightly as she looked the notes over.

Harry caught Remus's inquisitive stare.

"What does the staff do?" asked Remus.

Harry proceeded to explain to Remus what happened the first time.

"And after the incident," Remus said, looking to Hermione. "You handled the staff yourself? Did it have any effect on you?"

Again, Hermione's face froze over, and Harry scowled.

"What aren't you telling me about that, Hermione?" Harry asked straightforwardly. "Something happened to you. Ron said so-"

"Ron's overreacting," she said curtly. "I just felt a bit odd handling the thing. You know it has a bad effect on everyone, but you neutralized it, so it wasn't so bad, then. It has no lasting effects anyway, so just let it go."

"But-"

"I said let it go, Harry. You're wasting time worrying over nothing."

They stared at one another stubbornly for several seconds until Remus cleared his throat and spoke. "In the meantime, perhaps we can decipher the information Harry gathered this morning from Malfoy. We ought to put his memory in a Pensieve, don't you think? Examine it more closely."

Harry still had his gaze locked with Hermione's while he nodded. He finally pulled away, incensed at Hermione's stubbornness. He was inclined to believe that when it came to trusting that she could protect and handle herself, he had made progress in leaps and bounds, but it irked him that she seemed to think it didn't give him the right to worry about her.

Just because she's a bad-ass vampire, it doesn't mean nothing could harm her, he thought sourly.

"Harry, you ought to show Hermione the letter," said Remus.

Her eyebrow arched.

Harry undid the lock on one of his drawers and gave her the letter they found in the Ministry archives. "I'll go get Malfoy while you try to break the spell on that one."

They looked at him in mild surprise.

He shrugged. "No time like the present." He left, hoping Remus would explain some of what Harry had gleaned from Draco and the origins of the letter.

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"What do you want this time?" Draco asked when Harry knocked on his door.

Harry didn't dally. There was absolutely no need for niceties when it came to Draco. "I'll need your memory for my Pensieve. I'd like Hermione and Remus to see it."

Draco's eyebrow arched. "Let me see if I'm understanding this right, Potter. You decided that you want them to see my memory? Don't you need some kind of court order for that?"

Harry glared at him. "Not really, no. Technically, you're a detainee of the Ministry and having that status, we can extract any memory of yours that we need. You can either make it easy for all of us and cooperate or I can beat the tar out of you and force you to comply. Either way, I'm going to get that memory."

Draco glared right back. "You're an arsehole, you know that?"

"I wouldn't be if you weren't so damn difficult all the time. Would it hurt you to be cooperative every once in a while?"

"Yeah it would, actually."

Harry stamped down his rising temper. "Are you going to show the memory or not?"

Draco scoffed. "Why should I?"

"It may mean lives saved, Malfoy."

"Only life important to me is mine, so you're going to have to find a better reason to-"

Harry's fist inadvertently clenched. "Listen to me, Malfoy. You're going to cut this bullshit right now. You can't fool me, because I was in your head this morning. I felt the things you felt, and as impossible as it seems, even to me, I happened to discover that you actually have something of what could be called human decency-"

Draco's eyes flashed. "Oh, and how did you figure that? Because I was sad for mummy? You know nothing about what I felt. You don't know anything about me, Potter. So you can just shut up-"

"Easy way or hard way, Malfoy. Choose. Right now. I haven't got the luxury of time."

Draco's lips pursed, his anger evident, but he pushed Harry aside and walked the path to Harry's study, his back rigid from silent protest.

Harry tried not to be too pleased with himself as he followed in Draco's wake.

When they arrived at Harry's study, Hermione shot Draco a ferocious glare.

"Hey there, Sunshine," Draco sneered, dropping into one of the chairs. "Missed me?"

She scowled, like she was annoyed that she had to do this dance with Draco again. "Like a wooden stake through my heart, I missed you."

Draco chuckled, turning his gaze to Harry. "D'you want to know why she broke up with her last boyfriend, Potter?"

Her nose lifted haughtily. "You're the worse kind of vampire there is, feeding on people's secrets. Why didn't you tell anyone you were an Inaudio? Liked the power too much, did you? You sick, sadistic, degenerate bastard-"

"I'm not the only power whore in this room," Draco said silkily. "It sucks when you realize that you're not your own alpha anymore, doesn't it? Even Lucien and Solomon know it…"

Her eyes blazed with anger and Harry could only stare at her in surprise. Draco had used his "talent" again and had most definitely hit a nerve. If Harry understood it correctly, Draco took thoughts and images to form his own conclusions, and while he was probably right most of the time, there were times when Draco merely made a person believe that he was thinking one thing or another, and therein lay Draco's true talent. He knew how and where to embellish malice and intent. He could tell when the exaggeration would be too much, and he drew the line and pushed it just before it reached its limit.

Perhaps Draco was pushing it with Hermione. Maybe he was embellishing on a fleeting thought, because Harry couldn't fathom Hermione resenting him for taking the lead.

Then again, you don't want her knowing that you can "handle" her, do you?

Hermione was right. Draco was a sick, sadistic, degenerate bastard.

She always did have a way with words, especially when it came to describing Draco.

"Alright, you two…" Remus said gently.

Draco jerked his head in Remus's direction. "Hell, he knows it."

"I said that's enough, Draco," Remus said more firmly. "We have important things to accomplish. If you'll settle down, you won't have to suffer our company for very long."

"You present a compelling argument," Draco replied. "Potter, do what you have to do."

Shooting him a withering glare, Harry motioned for him to come closer to the Pensieve.

Draco stared into the luminous pool with a blank expression, his grey eyes turning silver by the reflection of the liquid light.

Harry took his wand and pressed its tip to Draco's temple.

Carefully, while still reeling in the power of his Legilimens, he extracted the imprint of the memory from Draco's head. He dragged it out, snipped it and let it go over the Pensieve, tapping on it once to nudge it into the ethereal pool.

Draco stared at the thread of memory as it dissipated into the swirls of thought. "I can still remember it," he said, and Harry detected a hint of despair.

Harry nodded. "Of course you can. There's still an imprint of it in your head because I didn't erase it. It isn't like your usual Obliviation."

Draco scoffed. Harry wasn't sure what it was for because Draco didn't say. Draco simply turned and sat back down on the chair he had occupied earlier, falling silent.

Harry gestured for Hermione in a business-like manner. "You first."

She complied without a word and together, they looked into Draco's memory.

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It was Remus's turn, and as he and Harry peered into the memory, Hermione turned to Draco and pondered what she had seen.

So the ferret's human, after all.

Draco was, at the moment, the picture of apathetic depravity. He sat like a rich, spoiled brat would if his parents had made him sit in on something he had no interest of attending. Every tense muscle in his body screamed rebellion, yet staying put was his way of saying, "So you forced me here. Happy?"

"I'm sorry about your mum," she said blandly. She meant it, but she could not muster a sympathetic tone for him. Even if she hadn't seen the memory through Draco's eyes, or through Draco's thoughts, she saw exactly what was going on behind his cold grey eyes when Snape told him of his mother's death. She had seen that look in her own mirror all too many times in the past.

Some people didn't like the cold, but Hermione had learned a true appreciation of it; how it dulled the pain. Draco had, it seemed, learned to appreciate it, too.

Draco scoffed. "So it's true. You and Potter do think alike. He said the same thing to me."

She stiffened. "Harry and I do not think alike. We know what the other is thinking without having to literally read each other's minds-"

"How sweet."

She pursed her lips. Draco liked it when he provoked people. She was not going to take the bait again. "Do you want revenge for her?"

He gazed at her with surprise.

"Do you?" she insisted.

He wiped the surprise from his expression and frowned. "What's it to you?"

"You know who can help you get that revenge."

"Is that why you're fucking him, Granger? So that he could give you the revenge you're looking for?"

She didn't let his words provoke her. "I don't need anyone to serve my revenge for me, Draco. I can very well go after the man who murdered my parents and destroy him myself, and I promise you, I will kill him if it's the last thing I do, but you… you can't kill Voldemort. You know you can't. You haven't the power or the strength-"

Draco glared at her. "I do so-"

"Shut up! You have nothing. Your so-called talent is a joke and you haven't the skill to measure up. Voldemort will take one look at you and he'll step on you like you were a bug beneath his shoe. You're nothing to him."

His eyes flashed with outrage. "Well, look who's the sick, sadistic bastard, now."

"If you help Harry-help him in every way you could, you'll get what you want. I can't say that it will be enough to heal the wounds, Malfoy. Revenge has a tendency to make false promises, but you want it done, anyway, and Harry can destroy Voldemort where you couldn't even give Voldemort a cold. Swear your loyalty to Harry and he'll deliver your revenge. Who knows? You might even find inspiration and purpose. Harry can do that. You'll find that it will save your soul more times than you realize."

"Spoken like a true hero's whore."

She raised her nose haughtily, saying nothing and sparing him a withering glance. She did not feel that she should honor what he said with a response. She had said all there was to say and she was done.

He glared right back, as if it annoyed him that he hadn't gotten a rise out of her from that last bit, because that was what he wanted, and that was his power, after all; his ability to incite anger, or hatred, or distrust. He didn't like failing in all three.

They stayed transfixed in that glacial silence until Harry and Remus emerged from the Pensieve.

Harry took one look at them, noted the Arctic stillness, and said, "I don't even want to know what happened."

"Malfoy's done now," she said snootily. "He should go."

Draco's eyes widened with shock. Perhaps he had expected her to tell on him with Harry. That she showed how little he had affected her was obviously unforgivable. She could see that she had finally gotten Draco Malfoy angry. In fact, she had never seen him so furious. It was immensely satisfying.

Draco stood, his eyes trained to her with fierce hate. "I wasn't waiting for your permission, Granger."

She sneered as she began to speak in a vicious tone. "Good night, Malfoy. I know you'll be thinking about what I said and it'll make you toss and turn-"

"Go to hell," he hissed, stomping off.

"Bet you we'll see each other there," she said after him as he slammed his way out of Harry's office.

"Bloody…" began Harry in disbelief. "What did you say to him?"

"Something that needed saying," was her only reply. "So Remus… what did you think of His Royal Arseness's memory?"

"Disturbing," Remus replied without hesitation. "I've heard Harry tell it, but seeing it is different. Snape really did betray us, didn't he?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "That's… debatable. You heard him, didn't you? He knew I was there. He knew I had my Shadow Kin with me, and most of all, he knew I wouldn't let Harry be taken. Yet the vampires they sent to fetch Harry couldn't have possibly measured up to me, Solomon and Lucien. Snape needed to give Voldemort information, and he did, but the information was incomplete. If Snape had told them the whole truth, the older vampires would have readily volunteered to get rid of me so that Harry could be taken. Instead, Bellatrix could only get Silvia and her cronies to go. Low-level vamps. Bellatrix certainly seemed to have gotten a bad dose of Crucio for the failure of the mission. Maybe Voldemort punished Snape for the lack of information, too."

"You imply that he's helping us," Remus said.

Hermione snorted. "Well… the train attack wasn't intended to help us, I agree. While we were able to get some information from Silvia and Paolo, Snape's motives, I'm afraid, are more complicated than that. I have to wonder if he really meant for his charade to save Malfoy's life. I mean, what the hell does he care for the spoiled little snot?"

"You have a point," Harry muttered, though he couldn't help but wonder sometimes if the odd alliance he'd seen between Draco and Snape in the past didn't have more to it than it appeared.

"What I do believe"-continued Hermione-"is that he used his meeting with Malfoy to communicate with us. He needs to limit direct contact with Harry, so that whatever it is he's planning, he won't easily get caught. He could have just given the letter straight to Malfoy, but then that would have resulted in three possibilities: One, Malfoy might never give the letter at all. Two, if we assume for a moment that Snape is looking out for Malfoy, that might have gotten little Malfoy in more trouble with the Order and Voldemort's camp. Three, assuming that Snape really is trying to help the Order, the letter is evidence that Malfoy would have of Snape communicating with Harry, so if Malfoy so decides to try to get back in Voldemort's good graces, all Draco has to do is bring that letter to Voldemort. Snape's roundabout way through Draco's memories is more effective and less prone to leading to catastrophic results. As Snape said, it tests your mettle, which implies that if you couldn't figure it out, then there's no point in helping you in the first place, and I'm pretty sure, Harry, that he left some kind of trail to lead you to look into Draco's mind. Am I right?"

Harry nodded, having already concluded that Snape had deliberately left the Ministry that day without bothering to have "Roberts" clock-out. Whether Snape thought about doing this before or after he found out that Harry and his travel-party would be vulnerable targets on the Hogwarts Express, Harry didn't know, but Snape was smart enough to figure that whether or not Roberts got assigned on the train on guard-duty that evening, his sudden absence from work on the afternoon prior to the attack would be investigated, and it would mark a path straight to Draco.

She brought out the letter and held it up. "I assume you couldn't break the incantation on this?"

"I couldn't."

She nodded. "You wouldn't be able to. He used the same method on this letter as he did with the one he gave Viktor. The ink's spelled to recognize my magical signature. I can read it plain as anything." She slid the folded parchment from its envelope and opened it. She held the letter out and let him watch as the words bled to the surface of the paper.

Harry frowned. "Are you sure you hadn't missed any knickers when we were in Hogwarts?"

Remus looked scandalized.

Hermione felt a flush rise in her cheeks. "Oh, for--!"

"I'm just saying!"

"I stand by my theory that he uses my test papers and whatnot. Honestly, Harry!" She yanked him to her side so he could read the letter better as she held it.

~~

Ms. Granger,

Being that we are both in no way friends of each other, I will get right to the point. I have spelled this ink to reveal itself only to you, and when you do activate the message, I would be alerted of this fact, thereby it would be possible for me to make arrangements for when I can finally meet with Mr. Potter. I'd have most willingly given him the choice for the venue, but as this method of communication precludes him from taking that necessary precaution, I will have to do the best I could on the matter of the venue. Forty-eight hours from the minute the words on this letter are revealed, Mr. Potter is to meet with me in Godric's Hollow Anglican Church, third pew from the pulpit. I'm sure he knows which church I speak of. I'm going to say that he must come alone, but he probably won't. Just make sure I see none of these bodyguards, or else I will not make an appearance. You understand, of course, that I chose hallowed ground to keep the lot of you undead freaks away. Take comfort in the fact that the precaution goes both ways for us.

I expect that by the time you read and unravel this message, things have begun to move quicker in the war; things would have progressed. Make no mistake about it. We are coming to a head, and soon, the Dark Lord will make his move. You ought to have made Potter ready by now. It is what Yasmin expects of you after all, is it not? Whether by love or violence, I frankly do not care. Potter better have a trump card, because the Dark Lord has kept his all this time.

I will be at the meeting place at precisely the same time you begin to read this, forty-eight hours hence. If Mr. Potter is not there within half an hour of the prescribed time, I will assume that he does not want to see me. I assure you that members of the Order will not be able to capture me, so do not even attempt that route. At any rate, my usefulness to the Dark Lord is fast coming to an end. I am at the cusp of completing my work for him, and when I'm done, I expect he will not keep me alive for very long, so if I were you, I would not waste this opportunity. If this war continues well after I'm gone, I assure you, all is lost, and you will have nothing of your precious Harry Potter left to save you.

Severus Snape

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry felt his stomach knotting at the words. Snape always had the power to knife true anxiety through his heart.

He felt the pressure of her hand on his arm. "This could be a trap."

Harry nodded. "But what if it isn't?"

Remus looked troubled. "I don't know if you should risk it."

"I should," Harry said, and he knew, deep down, that he would even if Remus and Hermione told him not to.

Harry met Hermione's gaze and she stood there, searching beyond the green of his eyes. She said nothing to contradict him. She knew better than anyone how he thought, even after having been separated from him for years.

Remus was less adept. "But Harry, Severus is a traitor! You can't seriously-"

"I have to see him. The information he has is potentially tide-changing-"

"You don't know that for sure!"

"Other people have died for less."

Remus's facial expression hardened. "I hate to say it, Harry, but the fate of the Wizarding world didn't rest on those people's shoulders. We couldn't afford to lose you. We just couldn't. If something happens to you-"

"I won't let anything happen to him," said Hermione resolutely. "Harry will do this whether we want him to or not, so I'll let him. At least this way I can protect him."

Harry couldn't help but give her hand a grateful squeeze. She shot him a piercing gaze and he understood that she was doing this under protest. She didn't want him to meet with Snape, but all she could do was take care of him because he'd go meet Snape anyway.

Remus's tense shoulders finally sagged and he shook his head. "Very well. I'll speak to Shacklebolt then. Make arrangements to ensure your safety."

Harry had to chuckle. "The way all of you talk… you'd think I couldn't protect myself."

Hermione's eyebrow arched. "If Godric Gryffindor and Albus Dumbledore could fall, then so could the great Harry Potter. The first two got done in by treachery, by the way, and you couldn't have picked a worse man to trust."

"Who says I trust him?"

She said nothing, but she gave him a meaningful stare, complete with the arching of her eyebrow. He shot back with a sardonic sneer all his own, to which she rolled her eyes and grimaced.

"My goodness, it's true, isn't it?" Remus said with mild disbelief. "You can speak with your eyes! Ron hates that, you know."

"Well," said Hermione loftily. "He can understand it too, if he paid more attention… where is he at, anyway? Is it usually like this with him? He's here then he isn't?"

"Only when he started dating Gabrielle, I suppose…" replied Harry as he thought back on it and realized that it was probably true. Ron's schedule only started being erratic two and a half months ago.

"I don't know how he could stand it, frankly," Remus remarked in a weary tone. "He couldn't possibly have that much time on his hands: going to work in Romania, visiting a girlfriend in France, and taking care of family in London… I'm not even going to try and sort out what in Aslan is going on with him and Luna."

"Wow," Hermione said. "When you put it that way, Ron's life is absolutely soap-opera worthy, isn't it?"

"If you think that's a soap opera, wait till you hear about my life," Harry said.

She pinched his shoulder playfully but made no other objection. She instead sat herself down behind Harry's desk and began to look over the warding notes. "I'm going to work on this, for now. Let me know when you're ready to discuss the plans for Harry's meet-up with Snape."

Remus nodded. "We ought to call an emergency meeting with Kingsley, McGonagall and Arthur. This is going to take some explaining, and Kingsley…"

"It's about time we told him about the horcruxes," Harry said, then he smirked. "I had a rather eye-opening conversation with Shacklebolt the other day and I think he's finally decided I'm less of a menace than he first thought I was."

Remus eyed him suspiciously. So did Hermione. He hadn't told her the details of his conversation with Shacklebolt.

Harry chuckled mysteriously. "He'll be quite teed-off when he finds out about the horcruxes, though, particularly because everyone on the board except him knows about them. And I expect that it'd take no less than enthusiastic arse-kissing to gain back his good graces. We'll probably need to beg and grovel a bit. It's not something I'm looking forward to."

"I'll bet," Hermione said.

He cracked a lopsided grin before looking to Remus. "I'll meet you in your study in a minute, Remus. I just have some things to discuss with Hermione."

Remus didn't even blink. "I'll go ahead then. See you in a while, Harry."

When Remus was gone, Hermione shot him a slanted look.

"Uh-oh," she said. "What have I done this time?"

Harry laughed softly, sitting himself on the edge of his desk on one side of her. "Channeling Ron now, are you?"

"Am I? That wasn't my intention. You just have this look in your eyes, see…"

"Two things," he said, quietly. Though there was still a hint of a smile on his lips, he knew his eyes conveyed concern.

"Hit me with it, then. One at a time, please."

He nodded. "Do you think I'm usurping your alpha status?"

Whatever she was expecting, it hadn't been that. First she seemed surprised, then she flushed very brightly, tearing her eyes away from his gaze. "I already told you that you have some kind of power over me, Harry… you can probably tell me to jump through hoops of fire and I'll do it."

He smirked. "Oh, will you?"

She looked up at him, laughed at her own metaphor and looked away again, embarrassed. "You know what I mean…"

"Do you resent me for it?"

"Harry, it's compli-"

"Do you resent me for it?"

She sighed. "I can't resent you for it, can I? I love you, and I promised I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, and I even said I loved loving you this way, but I suppose… well, everyone's beginning to see it, now, and it's beginning to undermine my authority. I have no idea where it's going to take me, but I hate it that I can't just sit back anymore and let you have it all. It didn't used to be this way. I used to be completely content to let you lead and tell me what to do, but now it's grating at my vampire instincts…"

Harry stamped down the swelling tide of anxiety her words brought him. "So what are we going to do about this? I don't want you to resent me, Hermione."

"I don't know what has to be done. It seems silly and petty to put boundaries on your authority…"

"It's not silly and petty. Not to an alpha vampire with Shadow Kin and a werewolf."

She groaned. "Please don't figure Remus into this."

"He's your werewolf, whether you want to accept it or not."

"Tonks will have my head for it."

"Tonks understands more about her husband's instincts than you give her credit for. She'll scratch the eyes out of a female who tries to get into Remus's pants, but she's not one to fight were-nature when it comes to his vamp master. She'll expect you to exercise your authority within reason, and I know you know what those boundaries are."

"Female?"

"That's what Tonks calls the lot of you. She tends to use were-lingo when it comes to Remus."

She smirked. "Does she call herself Remus's bitch?"

"I don't even want to know. So what do you think, Hermione? Do you want me to back off on your territory?"

Her smirk morphed into a frown. "I don't know, Harry. You shouldn't have to worry about my alpha issues."

"I will, anyway," he said gently. "We've learned from our mistakes, haven't we? Back then we thought our problems would sort themselves out because we were in love, and love could supposedly move mountains."

"Erm, yeah. That's… the theory…"

He grinned at that. Neither of them wanted to sound like the cynical one, but they weren't exactly a couple oozing sunshine and rainbows, either. "Well, we know better now. It won't fix itself, and if anyone could do anything about it, it's me. You're right; you can't ask me to set boundaries. I'm going to have to set them myself, and I'll know where those boundaries should be, given a situation. I'll be more careful."

She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but she hesitated and finally nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it, Harry. I appreciate it a lot."

"Good. Then we can talk about the second issue. It's a doozie."

She made a face. "That's not good. Anything that makes Harry Potter hesitate must be big."

Carefully, he took her hand.

"Oh, dear. Handholding…" she grumbled.

He laughed softly. "Shut it. This is serious. This is about me, you, and my over-protective tendencies."

The levity faded from her eyes and while she didn't frown, her lips did purse ever so slightly. "What about it?"

"I admit that I've overdone the protective bit in the past, and it was one of the biggest reasons our relationship fell apart before."

She gave a wary nod. "Yes, and we're fine about that now, aren't we? You've shown you can step back and let me fight, bear pain, and take a three-hundred pound werewolf solidly on the gut. Your development is, to say the least, revolutionary. Textbook punctuated equilibrium."

Harry sighed and made a gently halting gesture. "Alright, stop that. You're doing that misdirection thing again."

She reddened and had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry. What I mean to say is… I thought we were past this issue? Or rather, you were past this issue."

"I've been trying very hard," he said. "And it's not easy, Hermione. Whether you're a vampire or not, I think I'd go barmy if someone sliced your arm off before my eyes. I still can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you, whether the blow can kill you or not, and its difficult for me to stand by and watch. I managed to puzzle out the times when you truly need my help from when you don't; when helping you is necessary from when doing so would jeopardize those I have an immediate responsibility to protect. And so when Ron tells me something happened to you that time you touched Gryffindor's staff, I want to know, and the least you can do is tell me, and not shut me down."

For a moment, she looked like she was going to be horribly stubborn about it and simply clam up, but she glanced away with reluctant surrender. "When I shut you down, it's not because I think you have no right to be protective. I'm just-well, I don't want you to worry about me so much, that's all. You have loads of more important things to worry about and frankly, I feel like I should be the least of it. I'm immortal, for goodness' sake…"

"More important things to worry about? Least of my worries?" he asked in a tone of disbelief. "You're joking. Hermione, you're the most important person in my life, and you're always at the forefront of my mind. Do you think I can just set you aside in my thoughts and say, 'Oh, I'll worry about her later. She's not going anywhere. Besides, she's immortal?' It doesn't work that way. I know perfectly well that I've got responsibilities beyond you and me, but you're-Merlin, do I even have to explain this to you? I can't even explain it to myself! No bloke should ever have to be this gone on the woman he loves. Then again, all blokes should be this gone on the woman they love. Understand what I'm saying?"

She was staring up at him in wonder. "Not exactly, but goodness, please keep going. Right now I just want to shag your brains out and bear all twelve of your children… well, after a fashion, anyway..."

That disrupted his train of thought for a few seconds before he gave in to it and laughed softly. "The point being… I still worry about you, whether you want me to or not. I'm working on how I should react to it in each situation, but it doesn't mean I'll ever learn to worry less. So when I ask you about how things went, about what happened, I'd appreciate it if you tell me the truth."

She expelled a soft breath and she met his eyes again, but this time, the stubbornness was gone. She seemed resigned to giving him what he asked of her. "Fine. I'll be nicer about it. Old habits, I suppose. Nobody's had to worry about me for anything in the last five years. One gets used to toughing it."

"I bet. Now tell me what happened when you held the staff. Ron said you got sick."

She made a face, briefly, like a child being forced to admit that she'd aided and abetted the pranking of the crotchety old lady next door. "It was painful at first, but I ignored the pain and just shoved the staff into its case. I couldn't have held the staff for more than a few seconds, but I think it sort of… sort of left some residual traces of it in me because even after I closed it in its case, I felt like it was making me expel something… and I did expel it..."

Harry couldn't help it. He stared at her in horror, his anxiety getting the better of him. "Well, do you have any idea what it was?"

Her brows knotted. "No… yes… I'm not sure. It was something warm and-and life-giving, I suppose. Whatever it was, I just knew it wasn't the sort of thing that's supposed to come back up, you know? It came out of me and instead of feeling better, I felt worse. I had to take a breather, and that's saying something from someone who doesn't need air to live, you know…" If she was trying for levity, it didn't work. "When I gave Lucien blood, I was totally sapped. It's not usually like that when I give blood for healing. Solomon was relatively fine after he gave some to Lucien, and normally, I'd be just as well off, but I guess the staff had more of an effect on me than I wanted to admit."

He studied her intently, trying to see if maybe there were any residual effects from that time that he might have missed seeing. It was most troubling, because what could a vampire possibly do without if it wasn't blood? Strangest of all, the effect on Lucien hadn't been the same. The staff had sucked life from Lucien. It didn't make him expel anything, but then again, perhaps it was Lucien's prolonged contact that made the difference? Plausible, but as Harry recalled, the moment he took the staff from Lucien, all effects it had on Lucien ceased, and one would think Lucien would feel more of the so-called "residual magic". Perhaps it had to do with Lucien's Muggle origins.

I suppose that could be the determining factor…

Harry clung to that last conclusion, even if it did very little to appease his worry.

"I'm alright now, Harry," she said, probably understanding the look in his eyes. "I feel no lasting effects, so you can just stop thinking about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Are you-"

"Okay, Potter, now you're just annoying." She was smiling when she said it, but he got the hint.

"Right. Sorry. Got carried away there for a second."

"It's alright. Besides… I should be so lucky someone worries, eh? That's how I'm going to try to look at it, anyway."

"Thanks."

"So are we done?"

"God, I hope not."

She grinned and stood, draping her arms over his shoulders. "So… how long did you say Remus was going to wait? This office desk is just screaming to be defiled. Haha! Get it? Office desk, de-filed?"

He laughed, his hands sliding over her bum. "I get it. Boy, do I get it…"

They came together in a steamy kiss, and just when Harry was about to sweep everything off his desk to "defile" it, a knock sounded at the door.

Hermione was still planting kisses on his neck when he cried, "Who is it?"

Draco's voice began to drift through the thick mahogany door. "There are a bunch of vamps outside the house and they used me as their pager again with their funky mind-powers. I really, really hate it when they do that, Granger. This is the second time. I'm not a messenger boy! So maybe you can put off nookie with your Boy-Toy Who Lived for the meantime and tell your friends to please leave me the hell alone. Mmm-kay? Thanks."

Harry heard Malfoy's footsteps receding.

"Shit," Harry and Hermione hissed in unison as they scrambled to right themselves.

"Need company?" Harry asked.

She sighed. "No. It's probably just Keiko and her Kin. I owled her earlier this evening. Solomon and Lucien's company will do."

"Right… I have to go to Remus's study, anyway. You're distracting as hell, witch."

She shot him a parting wink just before she sailed out of his study.

He left his office and went to Remus's study.

Remus was speaking to Kingsley through the floo when Harry arrived. He joined in on the discussion. Several minutes later, Shacklebolt was already agreeing that he would floo McGonagall and that Remus would floo Arthur when a knock sounded on the door.

The visitor was called in and it was Lucien.

"Harry, Hermione told me to tell you that her initial estimate of vampires in attendance outside appeared to be off."

Harry's eyebrow arched. "By how much?"

"Oh… by about eight vamps."

Harry winced. So less Lucien, there were about thirteen vamps standing on the front lawn.

"I expect we'll need Obliviators," Remus said.

"Yes, I'd expect so," muttered Harry. "Any hostiles?"

Lucien hesitated. "Well, they're not looking to slice our heads off now if that's what you mean."

Harry pondered this a moment. "Does Hermione want me to go out there?"

"She'd rather you didn't, you understand, but the others want to meet you and Hermione doesn't want them coming into the house. I really wouldn't recommend them coming in here either. Those McLeods always make me nervous."

"McLeods?"

"Of the clan McLeod. Oldest living Scottish clan there is upon which the fictional immortals of 'Highlander' were based. Of course, in the story, they weren't vampires…"

Harry wasn't sure he understood what Lucien was talking about, but he knew about the McLeods from their human history. He hadn't realized that they had a whole vampire side to their clan. "Remus, I better go…"

Remus gestured for him to go ahead. "I'll call for the Obliviators."

Harry followed Lucien to the front of the house and sure enough, the large group stood clustered in the middle of the lawn.

He could tell that Hermione was the focal point in the group. He recognized Keiko among them, two other women and curiously, a child. Apart from Solomon, Harry recognized none of the men.

He didn't like the idea of going into that group without knowing a blessed thing. Eyeing the group from the window, he spoke to Lucien. "Think you can brief me about them? Swiftly, please."

"Absolutely. You know Keiko. She brought her kin with her. That huge, blonde barbarian is Lars. The trendy one with the faux-hawk is Michael."

"Faux-hawk?"

"Fake Mohawk. Now, that tall Mediterranean featured bloke is Ambrose. He represents the Brotherhood of Osiris. He's the S.O. of the Brotherhood's master vamp Gabriel."

"S.O.?"

"Significant Other. They've been together for more than a hundred years now. It's true love. Ambrose brought his kin, Blythe and Caitlin. Blythe's the dark one with the hot blonde highlights in her hair. Caitlin's the one with the sexy bob."

"Got it. Is that a child they have there? I thought child-vamps were an aberration?"

"Yes, but Poppy managed to live four hundred years without anyone accounting for her head. Even Silvia couldn't touch her. Besides, if Silvia even tries, Cecil will have the murdering of her. Cecil's that tall bloke with the long red hair. Blind as a bat, but he can see things no one else can and he's second to Basil Sigismund, Vamp Master of the Blood-Kin of Ramses."

"And those men in kilts are the McLeods?"

"Right. Duffy McLeod's one of the youngest of the vamp-side of the clan, but he's gained a respectable reputation as an ambassador. Those blokes with him are Ronan McLeod-Brodie and Nes McLeod-McGowan, both cousins of his. Ronan's older than Duffy by about seventy-five years. Nes is practically newly-turned. Two years. Eager little bugger…"

Harry nodded, taking careful note. "Alright. Anything else?"

"'Bout covers it."

"Then let's go."

When Harry emerged with Lucien, all eyes turned to Harry, their vampiric gazes sizing him up. He imagined he wasn't a very imposing sight. Sometimes, especially in a fight, he liked being underestimated. Right now, he could tell, even without reading their minds, that they were thinking along the lines of, "Thought he'd be taller, by the stories," or "Bit scrawny, isn't he?" He shrugged it off. He was used to that sort of thing.

One of his shoelaces was untied and he had a neurotic urge to drop down and tie it.

Stifling the itch, he approached the group and looked back at them all with casual ease. "Evening."

He probably could have thought of something better to say, but well…

Hermione didn't seem to mind it in the least. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter."

There was a ripple of murmured greetings. They were all probably a bit too fascinated by the swotty-looking human with the glasses.

Cecil, whose smoky eyes seemed to look past him, cocked a smile. There were strange tattoos on the back of his hands, and they were wrapped lightly around swords hung at his hips. He turned in the general direction of Poppy and nodded.

At this, Poppy, the child, approached Harry and held out her hand. "How do you do, Mr. Potter? My name is Poppy. Were it not for your rather impressive reputation and Hermione Granger's endorsement, my alpha and I would not have come here."

Harry took her hand and shook it. Her hand was tiny. She could not have been more than seven years old when she was turned, yet her child-like voice spoke adult words with adult intonations. Her eyes were ancient.

One by one, the vampires introduced themselves. The hulking McLeods practically crushed his hand in their firm grips.

With introductions done, Hermione arched her eyebrow expectantly. "Well, you've met him. What now?"

The vamps looked at one another before they turned their gazes at Cecil.

"He's strong," Cecil simply said.

Harry hadn't quite expected that.

"He killed Edward," Lars said, nodding. "Convincingly. He can move as fast as us. Saw it with my own eyes."

Ronan frowned. "Edward's twa bubbles aff the center."

"Wit are ye haiverin aboot?" said Duffy. "Ha many humans d'ye ken wid take on a vamp. Lad's got stones lak bludgers, even if I'd norm'ly say it wis a right stupid thing fer him tae dae..."

Ronan scowled.

Harry hadn't understood any of that in the least.

"He's killed six others before that," Ambrose said gravely.

"Awa ye go," gasped Nes. He grinned and pounded Harry on the back. "Haud up yer heid like a thistle! Six! Nae bat fera human!"

Harry was completely lost. "Had up my what?"

"It's not just his killing abilities that recommend him, you know," Hermione said haughtily.

Poppy eyed Harry intently.

"What else recommends him?" asked Caitlin in a cheerful, air-headed manner.

Blythe grinned. "Yes. We'd like to know."

Hermione glared at them.

"He's not afraid of us," said Keiko. "And he leads his humans well."

Harry was getting a little tired of everyone talking about him like he wasn't there. "He is wondering what the hell this is all about."

"Their masters are considering allying themselves with the Coven for this war," said Hermione, looking at him as if he should have known this. "Ambrose, Cecil and Duffy have come here to-well, assess you themselves. They will return to their masters with their recommendations."

Harry wasn't sure if he was overly excited by this tidbit. "Yeah, one moment… Lucien?"

Lucien flushed and tried to get behind Solomon. Solomon shoved him away.

Finally, Lucien replied. "Yes?"

"I reckon that might have been useful information earlier. No, wait… I'm pretty positive it would have been useful information earlier."

"Sorry," muttered Lucien, shamefaced.

Harry sighed. There was nothing to be done for it. He turned to the other vampires. "Look, as far as incentives for you to join the cause go, I'm not at liberty to give more than what the Coven negotiated. At any rate, I think the Coven's demands covered vamp-kind in general, so at least in that sense, the Coven wasn't just thinking of themselves, but I'm telling you… whatever Voldemort promised Janus, and the vamps that joined him, is a lie. Voldemort doesn't believe that anyone but human wizards have the right to live. If he wins this war, you and your kind are sooner or later going to find yourselves being summarily exterminated while you sleep. He's going to find your hives and covens and resting places and he'll burn you in your coffins. It's a fact. He'll kill you all. I always said this wasn't just a war for humans anymore. The werewolves have acknowledged this; now you have to understand that Voldemort doesn't like sharing his spoils. I'm not just asking you to stay away from him, I'm telling you helping us win against him is vital to your survival and everyone's way of life. Tell that to your masters and then decide if you'll join us."

Eyebrows arched all at once.

Ronan nodded gravely. "There's aye a somethin'."

Harry looked at him in frustration, "I'm sorry but… I can't understand what you and your clansmen are saying!"

Duffy smirked. "Least someone fina'ly admits it. Ronan, Nes, we'd best go."

The two clansmen nodded.

Duffy looked to Harry. "May yer lums reek lang and weil." After which Duffy and his clansmen bled back into the dark and disappeared.

Harry didn't even ask. Duffy could have been cursing him to eternal damnation and Harry never would have known.

"He said that on purpose to confuse you," said Ambrose with a disapproving shake of his head. "He didn't even need to say it! But be that as it may, they're dependable allies, those McLeods. If they ever get the notion of giving their loyalty to this cause, your Order will be well tended. I will bring your message to my master, Harry Potter, and you will know our decision in a night or two."

Caitlin pouted, twirling a finger in a lock of hair as she stamped her foot lightly on the lawn. "But it's Gabriel's birthday tomorrow and stuff like that always puts him in a funk! He's no fun when he's moody and angsty."

Ambrose smiled, tolerating her dramatics. He gave an unhurried gesture, waving off Caitlin's protests. "I rather like it when Gabriel is moody and angsty."

Blythe rolled her eyes. "We're at the cusp of war and all you can think of is buggering. Good show, Ambrose."

Ambrose shrugged lightly. "I have my priorities straight." His voice was quiet and unperturbed. He was grinning, but he meant what he said.

Well, my priorities are pretty damn well in perfect order, too, Harry thought mischievously, his eyes roving briefly to Hermione.

"In the words of John…" continued Ambrose.

Blythe's eyebrow arched. "From the Bible?"

"No, from the Beatles: All you need is love."

The man makes worthy points. Harry didn't even know he was smirking until Hermione nudged him.

"We'll get back to you, Harry Potter," said Ambrose before turning to Hermione. "Remember what John said."

She gave him a questioning stare. "All you need is love?"

"No, not that John. Elton John. 'People should be free to engage in any sexual practices they choose,'" He gave Harry a pointed glance. "Man, woman, vamp or human." He left, giving Hermione a wink.

With that, an SUV pulled up in the curb. Ambrose and his kin slipped into it and the SUV drove off.

Harry looked expectantly at Cecil and said, "Any parting words, Cecil?"

"Yes, actually." Cecil held his hand out to the little girl. "Poppy, I'm hungry. We should go."

Poppy smirked and took her alpha's hand.

They simply walked off and Poppy waved goodbye to them over her shoulder just before the mist swallowed them whole.

"And you?" Harry asked Keiko. "What's your dramatic exit going to be?"

Keiko exchanged looks with her kin.

Michael shrugged. "I hadn't given it any thought. I've been thinking about that candy shop we passed on our way here and I'm desperately craving for some chocolate."

Keiko's brows knotted. "We have no time for stopovers after this. We have to escort The King back in his cave, remember? Another tabloid reported a sighting, which means he got past the wards again. Honestly…"

Harry's eyed widened in wonder. "The King? Which king got turned?"

Solomon laughed. "The one of rock and roll."

"No."

"Yes."

"Wicked."

Keiko frowned. "Not wicked. I don't know why he moved to England in the first place. They were perfectly happy to have him in Memphis, but no… he had to come here and now I have to baby sit him. But, that's neither here nor there. As the king says: A little less conversation, a little more action, please." She handed over scrolls of parchment, first to Hermione, then to Harry. "Our reports, complete and unabridged."

"What is it with tonight and famous people quotes?" Hermione muttered, taking the offered scrolls. "Listen, I'd like Yasmin updated about what happened tonight. I'm a little confused as to why the Brotherhood, the Blood-Kin and the McLeods came to me instead of her, but if she finds out from someone else that they did, she'll throw a hissy fit-"

"They came to you, Hermione, because Yasmin couldn't be found."

Harry was mildly surprised by this news.

Hermione looked baffled. "What do you mean by that? Yasmin keeps her own schedule, I know, but she can always be found through Henry, and she would always make time for the three biggies, especially the Brotherhood."

"Yes, but she didn't this time. Nobody knows where she is. Not even Henry."

"Well, that's just ridiculous. Henry's lying. He always knows where she is."

Harry's eyebrow arched. Always?

"He doesn't, this time," said Keiko. "He's the one who started asking around in the first place. He hasn't heard from her since six days ago. The man's a nervous wreck, and Henry's not pretty when he's nervous."

Hermione began to look pissed. "Well, that's just perfect, isn't it? What'll the Coven do if this war goes down and she's not around? I can't believe this! That stupid bitch is doing this on purpose! She's punishing me, is what!"

"Or," said Keiko calmly. "She really is just missing. Maybe someone finally decided to do her in. It was only a matter of time. The woman's not exactly a crowd favorite, if you know what I mean."

Hermione exchanged incredulous looks with Harry.

He shrugged.

Hermione turned her gaze back to Keiko. "How can you just stand there and say that calmly? Do you even comprehend the repercussions of her death? Who's going to run the coven? Has anyone even bothered to consult with the Oracle keepers?"

Keiko scowled. "Well, of course. They said the Oracle hasn't said anything, ergo, it isn't worried."

"Of course it isn't worried! It's an Oracle! It doesn't have any feelings! God, have you all gone daft?"

Keiko cast her a dry look. "At the very least, the Oracle would say something like, 'Hey, here's your new Master,' or something like that. It won't let the Coven go to hell, you know. Honestly, Hermione, the way you talk, you'd think you were worried about her."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "You don't even want to know the things I'm worried about. Look, if you can, have a team try to find her. Get Diana and Sergio to lead. They're our best trackers, after all. Goodness, I can't deal with this right now. I've too many things on my plate."

"Fine. Tatiana said someone was going to come up with the brilliant idea of organizing a search party for Yasmin sooner or later. She didn't think it would be you, though. One would think you'd be glad to rid yourself of the bitch."

Hermione glared at her. "Just do it."

Keiko expelled a breath, probably to keep her patience.

Harry realized that Hermione hadn't lost her bossy touch in the least.

Keiko turned to Lars and Michael. "Ladies, let's go." She stomped off and her kin followed. They trudged down the sidewalk with no mist, no dark, no car, no nothing. They simply disappeared around the corner.

Hermione growled and headed straight for the house. "Unbe-fucking-lievable! Can you believe Yasmin? First she dumps this mission on me, then she fucks with my Shadow Kin, then she disappears!"

"Ouch," Harry said. "Surely getting 'dumped' with this mission isn't all that bad, is it?"

She had the grace to blush. "Well, of course not. The good things that came out of this mission far outweigh the bad, but you know what I mean, Harry. The Brotherhood, the Blood-Kin of Ramses and the McLeods could very well decide to ally themselves with the Order, but we'll still need Yasmin to control them. Without her, things can go from bad to worst!"

Lucien and Solomon winced. She had squeaked. Squeaking from Hermione was bad.

Harry held her by the shoulders to calm her. "Relax. Maybe she is avoiding all of them. Maybe if it's you that summons her, she'll respond."

She did seem to calm down in his gentle grip. "Maybe. I can try emailing her… find a Starbucks and connect from there… owl, perhaps. God, she's such a bitch…"

"I know. It's going to be alright. One question, though. I never bothered to ask because… well, I suppose the bits and pieces you've said had an explanation or two that made me shrug them off… it didn't all actually click together until now."

Her eyebrow arched. "What is it?"

"Remember that time Lucien went missing? We went to Henry, because you said Solomon and Lucien go to him when they need their shit cleaned up. Does that mean you've been to London in the last five years?"

Hermione frowned. "No. It means Lucien and Solomon have been to London in the last five years. Why?"

Harry felt anger boiling inside him, not at Hermione, but at Henry. "I thought so. See, that's the thing. It occurred to me a while ago that you referred to Henry as some kind of confidante to Yasmin, the way you said that he always knows where she is…"

"Well, yes. Of course he would. Henry's Yasmin's Shadow Kin, and she based him in London."

Harry was hitting bursting point. "Shadow Kin? How long's that been so?"

"Oh, almost five years now."

"Almost five years. Right. That's just fantastic, isn't it? Because it means that Henry's known your whereabouts for-oh, the whole time you were gone!"

She thought about it briefly. "Well… I wouldn't say he knew the whole time. Yasmin moved us around a lot, and most of the time, Henry didn't know exactly where we were."

"But he could contact you if he needed to?"

"Basically."

Harry took deep, calming breaths. He let go of Hermione and turned away from her to try and control his rage.

It was no use. Porcelain and crystal décor began exploding all around and Hermione had to yell over the din for Harry to reel in his magic. Lucien and Solomon ducked for cover.

"Harry! What the hell-"

"He knew! All this time, he knew! He'd been playing me for years! He could have just told me where you were, but no! He had to send me on wild goose chases-I'm going to kill that bugger if it's the last thing I do! No wonder I couldn't find you! He's been pointing me in the wrong direction the whole time! That buggering, good for nothing, son of a-" The chandelier above them blew and most of the candles toppled to their waxy demise as pieces of crystal and bronze showered them like fairy crap.

"Harry calm down!" She shrieked. "Look, Henry couldn't wank off if Yasmin didn't tell him to! He does what he's told, Harry. He only played you because Yasmin probably told him to! Harry, for God's sake! Settle down!"

Harry heard footsteps, and moments later, Remus and Draco were there demanding what the hell was happening.

In retrospect, his anger was useless. Everything was done and over with. He had Hermione back, they were together, he had Gryffindor's staff, and he had vampires fighting on the side of the Order.

Oh, but what I would give to whoop Henry's sorry arse!

Harry kicked at the debris around him and sent a few other cut crystals exploding with residual magic.

"Arthur fucking Pendragon! Potter's finally gone mad!" Draco cried. "Granger, control your human!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. "Harry, listen to me. You should just calm down now. There's nothing we can do about all of it. It's done and you can't turn things back. I always thought Yasmin had an agenda, but I couldn't begin to measure the extent of it yet, and now she's gone missing when she knows we might need her. There's a reason for everything she does, and usually it's for the good of vamp-kind, but I have to admit that lately, I don't know which interest-or whose interest-she's protecting, anymore. This is why I'm freaked out about finding her, Harry. We need answers, and that's just one issue. There are a bunch of other things we have to deal with in the meantime. We have to concentrate on what we can do right now. Harry, are you listening to me?"

"YES! God, yes! Can you just PLEASE-"

"Don't yell at me."

He stopped, pursing his lips before letting go of the tension in his shoulders. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Everyone seemed to release a breath after that.

"It's alright," Hermione muttered, approaching him cautiously.

He saw her eyes rove to the mess around him and he actually mustered a laugh. "I'll fix it all later, I promise."

"I wasn't thinking that… well, yes, I was, but I wasn't going to nag you about it…"

"Stop the presses," Draco muttered audibly to Remus.

Hermione planted a hand on her hip and eyed Draco with furrowed brows. "I don't get that. What do you mean by that?"

Draco actually looked stunned for a moment and looked to everyone in the room.

Lucien was idly pushing around some bits of porcelain with his toe and Solomon was suddenly so very interested in the pile of melting candles nearby.

Harry said nothing, waiting and wondering if Draco dared.

"Well, you said-then I said…" began Draco, but perhaps thinking better of it, he threw up his hands and sighed exasperatedly. "Forget it. It doesn't sound as clever anymore." He left.

When he was gone, Hermione smirked triumphantly. "Ha! I so had him!"

Harry should've known, but even Solomon and Lucien looked surprised. They laughed for a bit, but Harry thought they sounded more relieved than tickled. He supposed they'd been on the receiving end of Hermione's wrath enough times to know what it really entailed.

Remus shook his head, smiling with mild acquiescence. "I'll be in my study if anyone needs me." He disappeared through the arch and Harry heard Remus's footsteps as he ascended the stairs.

"So how about it, Potter?" Hermione asked. "Ready to be productive? I don't know about you, but I want to get to the bottom of all this right quick. If I'm going to be Yasmin's and Snape's pawn, I can either take it sitting down or I can give them hell for it. And as Duffy McLeod would say, 'Mak a kirk or a mill o' it."

Harry laughed at her Scottish burr. "And that means what, again?"

She grinned. "It means the choice is yours. The choice is always yours. Don't you ever forget that."

He smiled, because of course, she was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Some references where references are due:

Props to John Travolta and William Hurt for their conversation in the movie Michael (yes, I was one of the 15 people in the world who saw it).

Michael: Remember what John and Paul said.

Frank Quinland: The apostles?

Michael: No, the Beatles. All you need is love.

Elton John did say, "People should be free to engage in any sexual practices they choose. They should draw the line at goats, though."

Elvis Presley did sing, "A little less conversation. A little more action, please."

Mae West did point out that, "When women go wrong, men go right after them."

But Seamus took his cues from me when he said, "The tragedy of a single man is losing a woman to death and marriage, especially if the marriage is his."

Deciphering those impossibly Scottish terminologies and burr:

Twa bubbles aff the center - Means someone who is stupid or simple.

Wit are ye haiverin aboot? - "What are you haiverin about?" Haiverin means talking nonsense.

Ha many humans d'ye ken wid take on a vamp - "How many humans do you know would take on a vamp?"

Awa ye go - Expressing disbelief. Like "Get outta here!"

Haud up yer heid like a thistle! - "Hold up your head like a thistle!" Be proud!

Nae bat fera human! - "Not bad for a human!"

There's aye a somethin' - When there's talk of disaster, tragedy or adversity, this is the response.

May yer lums reek lang and weil - "May your chimneys smoke long and well." It's like wishing someone good fortune instead of saying goodbye.

Mak a kirk or a mill o' it - "Make a church or a mill of it." It does mean, "The choice is yours."