Author's notes: As you may have noticed, these chapters are particularly long. Truth is, I want to finish this story in as little chapters as possible. That's not a promise though, that's a dream. So it's not going to be over anytime soon. Also, for those of you who got used to my fast updates in "Hermione Full of Grace", I've explained to some of you how that can't happen for this fic, even if I prayed every night for the gift of Fast Writing. Let me explain again for the benefit of others. I finished writing all but the Epilogue of "Hermione Full of Grace" before I started posting it. I worked on it with my beta Aurabolt continuously, even while I was in the process of posting the chapters. So yes, HFoG is a child of Unending Revisions. This story, "Forever Knight", did not have the luxury of being finished before posting. This story came to me after I finished HFoG and it clawed its way out of my brain. I wrote it, and I used it to reapply for my Portkey authorship, an authorship which HFoG didn't exactly get me. FK was approved in a mere few hours, so this is my "application fic". Let it be said that if Portkey had waited another few months before approving FK, I would have finished this within that time as well, probably with another beta-reader who does NC-17 fics (Aurabolt doesn't beta NC-17 if he can help it.)
So in conclusion, you'll have to bear with me concerning updates. Lol. Hopefully, that's alright with you. ^_^
Standard disclaimers apply. Harry Potter is mine. Wait. That's not right. I dreamed Harry Potter was mine. He isn't. He's Hermione's. :P
Chapter rating: NC-17
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Fourth: Occasion
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two nights before Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ron said he had to go on ahead to the Burrow and help with the preparations.
"The tent won't go up by itself, you know," he said as he packed some of his belongings in a bag.
Hermione flopped on her stomach on his bed while Harry sat at the foot of it, both of them watching him move about the room.
"Mrs. Weasley must be beside herself with worry," she said, paddling her legs idly as she bent them at the knee.
Ron scowled. "Understatement of the year, that. She's biting everyone's head off, bossing us around. And that was last time I saw her, which was three weeks ago! She must be a monster now."
"Ron, don't talk about your mother that way!"
"Well, it's true!"
Harry smirked, making no comment. While he loved Molly Weasley, she wasn't exactly the sweetest of women when provoked, or when under pressure. Hermione knew this, as she had been the target of Molly's ire a few times in the past, but Harry knew what she meant, telling Ron to be respectful.
"I don't think we'd mind going over there first thing tomorrow to help," he said, leaning back on the bed on his elbows. "Remus said the soonest we'd get word from Azkaban was tomorrow evening, and I reckon all that waiting will drive Hermione and I nutters."
Ron looked relieved. "I'd really appreciate it if you come a day early to the Burrow…" he looked at Hermione and hesitated. "That is… if you're okay with it, Hermione."
Harry looked at her in surprise. He hadn't bothered to talk about it with her, but they'd been friends for so long that he always assumed they liked to do such things together. Maybe she didn't want to help with the wedding preparations.
She looked at them both sheepishly. "Of course I'm okay with it. I'd love to help. Harry and I will be there, Ron, bright and early."
Ron grinned. "Thanks."
Arthur arrived to pick up Ron and was immediately warm to the idea of having Hermione and Harry over a day early.
When they were gone, Hermione smiled up at Harry. "We should tell Remus of our plans."
She was just turning to go to Remus's study when Harry held her gently by the arm.
"What was that about, earlier?" He idly played with some strands of her hair. He meant the gesture to put her at ease, and that, with his gentle tone always did the trick. "Do you really want to go help at the Burrow? We don't have to, you know."
She reddened, looking embarrassed. "I do want to help over there, Harry. I mean, half the fun of family weddings is helping with the preparations, in spite of what Ron thinks, but you know you're going to have to deal with Ginny, right? I don't know if I should be there when you do."
He cocked a sheepish smile. "Yes, well, it might be awkward-"
"It will be."
He shrugged a shoulder. "Then I guess that's just the way it's supposed to be. I have no intention of hiding what I feel for you just to make others feel more comfortable. Ginny's… Ginny wasn't exactly overly disappointed when I broke up with her, so I suppose it won't be so bad."
"So long as she doesn't try bat-bogeying me, I can live with that," she muttered.
"She's going to have to grow up some time," he muttered back.
"D'you think Molly would hate me?"
The serious look in her gaze gave him pause. "I-I don't think so. Why would she?"
"Because you're with me, instead of with her daughter, and she's very protective of her children, particularly Ginny." Her voice was soft and her cheeks were red. "I mean, back in fourth year, she really had it in for me, and then-and then that comment Arthur made last week when he and Ron first arrived…"
Harry's brows knotted a bit. "About you having twins?"
"Yes. If Arthur had the notion that Ron and I should be together, then Molly is likely to have the same notion. Now I haven't just slighted her daughter, but her son as well."
"That's rubbish, Hermione. If she feels that way about you then she should feel that way about me, too."
She chuckled softly. "Oh, but she can never be angry at you, Harry. And really, it's only right. You've only saved most of her children's lives."
Harry frowned. "Doesn't give Molly the right to treat you badly, though."
She smiled. "It's not like I would hate her for it. I'm just expecting the worse, but I'm really hoping for the best. Anyway, Fred and George will be there to liven things up. Bound to be interesting, at any rate. Now, let's go see to Remus, shall we?"
Harry knew enough to know that she didn't want to talk about it anymore. It summoned a kind of protective instinct in him. She should never have reason to feel uncomfortable with the Weasleys, and he wasn't going to let Molly or Ginny scare him into it, either. He made a resolution that he won't let Hermione feel as if she had to deal with this by herself. He was going to be with her in this every step of the way.
They went to Remus in his study and found him reading some documents on his desk. They told him about their plans and he made no particular fuss about it. They were about to leave when Remus brought up Azkaban.
Harry felt Hermione's grip on his hand tighten with excitement and he saw that she was about to say something when Remus raised a hand to shush her.
"I just found out that approval for visits to Azakaban take longer than I initially thought," he said, lowering his eyes back to his documents. "We'll have to wait two or three more days."
Hermione sighed. He could hear the exasperation in it, but she made no complaints. There was nothing they could do. "Fine, then."
Remus nodded. "For the meantime, do what you have to do. Never hurt anyone to have a bit of fun."
From Harry's perspective, that meant escaping the reality of their lives by attending storybook weddings… well, as far as grooms with mauled faces could be considered storybook.
With Remus properly notified, Hermione declared she would retire for the night.
Harry talked a bit with Remus before he took his own leave.
Harry barely had his knuckle raised to knock on Hermione's bedroom door when it opened and he was pulled right in by the collar of his shirt.
Their lips crashed together and Harry welcomed that instant flare of heat that shot through his body, culminating in the hardness forming in his pants. Those first few seconds of kissing and grabbing her were a tangle of limbs, soft sounds of appreciation and breaths summoned laboriously through their lips. He was extremely delighted to note that she was in nothing but her knickers and he let his hands roam over her bare skin.
It took him about three seconds to lean back and pull off his shirt, then his lips were upon hers again, his breathing gone ragged, a slight moisture breaking out of his skin.
She pushed him to the bed and he was glad he only had his trousers to deal with. She climbed over him, knees to his side as she undid his belt.
He grinned through his swollen lips. "How did you know that was me? That could've been Remus, you know, and then where would you be?"
"Mortified and packing my things so I can leave and hide in some distant corner of the world where no one would find me," she muttered, expertly sliding the canvas belt from its buckle.
"You know I'll find you, don't you?" he murmured, kicking off his shoes and socks as she worked. He ran his hands up her thighs. He loved her legs. They were perfectly shaped and smooth to the touch.
She grinned. "You know I'll let you."
He reached for his wand and used it to cut through her under-things. He smiled when they came undone and he enjoyed the view.
She pouted. "You better repair them later, Potter."
Chuckling, he reached up and grabbed her, rolling her beneath him. His hands, lips and tongue began to take full advantage of her nakedness; running over the pleasant mounds and dipping into the hollows of her, coaxing her desire for him. The sounds she made when he touched her just right always made him want to abandon consideration so he could ravish her guiltlessly, but as always, he checked himself. Pleasuring her first always made the experience feel so much better.
His erection demanded to be noticed, and Hermione, ever the observant one, removed what clothing he had left, pleading him to take her already or she would go mad.
It was pure pleasure when he entered her, and moving inside her felt even better. They often found themselves caught in the drowning heat of it all, sweat beading out of them, their movements a torrid cadence. And when they said things to each other, gasping words of appreciation, Harry realized that he barely ever remembered what she said. He was sure it was the same for her. The only thing they knew for certain during these moments of sensual delirium was that they loved what they were doing to each other and that they had to keep doing it.
Harry felt a sense of urgency to this joining, like the fact that they might not be able to do this in the next two days was fueling some intense need to get all the sensations peaking. He wanted to be rougher, more dominating, and while these last few weeks with Hermione had taught them several things about what each other wanted, they, or at least he, had reached a point where he wanted to explore further into uncharted territory, but was still hesitant to express his desire to do so.
What if she hated it and complained? Or worse, what if she hated it and she said nothing? But then, Hermione had never been one to take things quietly, was she? She had a way of telling him that she liked something, and she had a way of doing things so that she didn't have to say she disliked it. Maybe it was that wordless communication they had going, how she'd simply find a better position and he'd realize that she probably didn't like the last one.
Oh, but this was different, wasn't it? This new thought in his head about silk tied around her wrists and attached to the wrought iron bed-frame. He wondered, and imagining it was enough to fuel the thick desire already pulsing in him.
He groaned as he kissed her, listening to her soft moans so he'd know when he was pushing into her just right. But as he pulled back from her kiss, thinking those almost-forbidden thoughts as he stared into her eyes, her gaze widened.
"Harry…" she breathed. "Is that what you want?"
It was difficult to make sense of her question when the sensations of being buried within her was immensely overpowering. But then she raised her arms over her head, placing her wrists just where the railing of the bed was. He thought surely he was dreaming. One of many he had of Hermione, but he figured he shouldn't waste time trying to figure that out.
He groped for a wand, probably it was hers, and managed to transfigure her torn bra into a silk scarf. She took the scarf herself, artfully looped it around the railing and positioned her wrists loosely within it.
"Nodare," she whispered in his ear.
He didn't even have to ask what it was. He muttered the spell, trying a basic swish and flick, and instantly, the scarf tied itself into a knot. And seeing her so bound drove him mad. He dropped the wand and sat up on his knees, his hands and fingers running over her as his hips moved roughly to meet hers. She was incapacitated, but she somehow managed to convey where she liked his touch best. She was responsive to this vigorous joining, encouraging the intensity of his thrusts. And when he pressed his thumb gently down on that exquisite bundle of nerves at the center of her, she gasped, bucked and tightened around him.
That was it. She let loose that cry he now knew well and it almost always pushed him to go right with her. This was one of those times and he just lost himself inside her, straining to savor every blessed second of his release.
When it was over, he fell upon her and kissed her. It was part reassurance that in spite of how different this time might have felt, it was still about loving her, and wanting her, and knowing her. While their lips were carefully joined, he undid the ties of the scarf, releasing her wrists.
Her arms promptly slid over his shoulders, staying there even when he rolled carefully to her side.
His own arms held her in his embrace and she snuggled. He saw her wrists. There were marks around them and he touched it gently.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"They don't hurt," she replied. "Probably be gone in the morning. If they're not, it's easy to put a concealment spell."
He ran the pad of his thumb gently on the red welts. "I shouldn't have-"
"Shut it, Harry. It felt amazing. We should do that again."
His eyebrow arched before he let the smile escape his lips. He pulled her closer. "How did you… know?"
"Know?"
"That I wanted to… try that."
She paused a moment before she chuckled. "I think you might have telepathically sent an image of it to me."
"I can do that?"
She shrugged. "Maybe it had something to do with your occlumency. I'm not sure, Harry, but the image was so clear… and so hot. No wonder I wanted to do it as much as you did."
And he thought he couldn't find her any sexier. This strange new connection deserved exploring as it certainly saved them a lot of awkwardness. Really, there was so little time to be awkward when caught in the throes of steamy, intense sex.
Something poked at his back and he gladly realized it was his wand. He used it to summon the blankets bunched at the foot of the bed. The sheet was neatly folded and he could only assume Hermione arranged it.
Nestled under the blanket, he put out the lights in the room and pulled her closer against him.
"Are you ready for tomorrow, Hermione?" he asked in a soft, undemanding tone.
She paused a moment and understood what he meant. Tomorrow, at the Burrow, they would be "coming out", and while he had his own insecurities about anyone but Ron and Remus knowing about how he felt for Hermione, the fear of Voldemort; that fear in him that seemed to rule his life, felt like a lame excuse to lose her. There would be no breaking up with her to protect her. That excuse seemed silly now compared to how much he cared for her.
"Yes, are you?" she replied.
He stared into her languorous eyes. "Never doubted it for a second. I do love you. Why is it that you can't seem to get that into your head?"
She seemed surprised by that, and he was a bit surprised he said it, but it was true, wasn't it? These last few weeks, in spite of the intimacy; in spite of what she felt for him, she seemed to have doubts about his feelings for her. It was like what she said the other day: She couldn't believe they were together, and even if he wasn't exactly the most self-assured bloke in the world, she was even worse about doubting herself.
He realized how harsh his question was and he squeezed her into his arms reassuringly. She didn't have to answer that. He shouldn't have asked it. He whispered more assurances in her ear, telling her to go to sleep already so that they could head out to the Burrow early the next morning.
Minutes later she seemed to relax, and soon, they were both asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry and Hermione arrived at the Burrow to the sight of Fred, George, Ron and Charlie Weasley struggling to magically transport what looked like a massive, rolled up tarp and several metal rods. It wasn't so much that the things were heavy, as magic had a tendency to lighten loads, but Fred and George were, as usual, making a joke of it, which resulted in a lot of dodging and yelling.
The twins and Ron stopped arguing when they saw him and waved jovially at their approach. Charlie looked on with great interest. The last time Harry had spoken to Charlie, it was during the Triwizard Tournament, first task. Charlie had been one among many dragon keepers in the lot. His encounters with Charlie had been very brief, so Harry couldn't really say he knew Charlie all that much. He was still mostly a name to Harry, and a rather distinct name at that, what with his exciting job and stellar Hogwarts history.
Charlie wasn't as tall as his brothers, but he looked solid, and strong. There were parts of him obviously healed from burning, but there were no unsightly scars. His red hair was darker than his brothers and his blue eyes were as dark as Ron's, but just like most Weasley boys, he had a ready grin.
"Nice of you to join us, mate," said Ron with a lopsided smile.
Harry blushed, briefly exchanging sheepish looks with Hermione. They were a little bit late. They woke up on time but they… did unmentionable things that made them not on time.
So shoot me, he though morosely. I'm seventeen and I was in bed with a naked woman.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Clock didn't go off when it was supposed to. Er-good to see you again, Charlie."
Charlie nodded, flashing an even wider smile.
Ron's eyebrow arched slightly at Harry's excuse but he didn't seem upset. "Charlie, you remember Hermione?"
"Of course he does! But the question is, does Hermione remember him? He's crispier these days, what with all those dragons," said George.
Fred grinned. "He's not really lopsided, Hermione. He just lost an eyebrow to one Norwegian Ridgeback."
Ron ignored them.
Charlie cocked a smile. "Well, yes of course I remember Hermione. And how could I forget? I've heard naught but Hermione this and Hermione that from Ron, lately, haven't I?"
Hermione blushed becomingly while Ron cast Harry an apologetic look.
"Ron can't seem to shut up about you," Charlie went on, to Ron's obvious dismay. "Brightest of Hogwarts, I think, is what he keeps harping about, and I don't mind telling you that he's not immune to your other charms, either-"
"Charlie," interrupted Ron. "Mum told me to tell Hermione to go see her straightaway when she gets here. You don't want to keep mum waiting."
Charlie took Ron's words in stride. "Well, of course not."
"It was nice seeing you again, Charlie," Hermione said, hurrying away.
For some reason, the twins followed after her, catching her between them and practically dragging her the rest of the way to the front door. They were speaking to her conspiratorially and her gaze shifted from one twin to another, utterly perplexed.
Harry watched them go, wondering himself.
"I suppose I'll have to take care of this for the meantime," said Charlie, looking at the mess his siblings left.
"Harry and I will help you in a minute," said Ron. "Just take the rods for now."
Charlie nodded, grabbing what he can with a wave of his wand and going on ahead.
"Sorry about that," Ron said. "I haven't told them about you and Hermione. It hadn't come up."
Harry shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and going into his usual slouch. "That's fine. Hermione and I talked about it. There's no need for some big announcement. I think we'd be obvious enough once we get settled in."
"Right. I'd expect Ginny's going to be a bit testy about all this, even if you did break up with her last June."
Harry said nothing. He nudged his toe at the tarp lying on the grass. "We can haul this out back before I go in to see your mum."
"Leave it. Mum first. She'll have my head if I don't bring you in there to greet her."
Ron led the way across the front yard and through the door. When they got to the kitchen, Molly and Ginny's faces lit up.
Harry immediately caught Hermione's gaze and she smiled a bit, ignoring Fred and George who were prattling on both sides of her.
Ginny jumped up from the kitchen table and grabbed his arm, kissing his cheek as she grinned. "I'm so glad you're here today, Harry. You always put mum in a better mood and we can really use her good temper right now."
Molly cast her daughter a sidelong glance as she approached Harry to give him a warm hug. "How are you, dear? You still feel a bit thin, but not as bad as the past summers. Remus has been taking care of you, which is good."
"Actually…" he muttered. "You can thank Hermione for that. She sees to it that Remus, Ron and I are properly fed…"
He was hoping to get some kind of message across which he could tell Ginny seemed to catch on to and Molly didn't.
The matron smiled broadly. "That's Hermione for you, I suppose. Taking good care of my Ronnie."
Ron cast Harry another apologetic look.
The twins snickered something about ickle-Ronniekins which prompted Hermione to frown at them.
"Hasn't she grown lovely this summer?" Molly said, looking appreciatively at Hermione at the counter. "A bit taller, too." She glanced at Ron and gave her son a wink.
"Mum!" Ron cried, unable to keep quiet any longer.
Hermione looked like she was going to explode. "Mrs. Weasley, I think I'll help the twins out back with the flowers, may I?"
"Of course, love." She hustled Hermione and the twins out back. "George, don't let her carry the basket. It's a bit too much for her to manage, I think. Fred, go fetch the ladder for her and make sure she doesn't fall off it and break her neck."
Molly watched them go fondly. She grinned and turned to Ginny. "Ginny, dear, doesn't Hermione have a wonderful figure? Shed the baby fat, she did. I wager she'll look lovely in a gown, don't you think so, Ronald? Harry, have you had breakfast?"
"Y-Yes, Mrs. Weasley."
Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "C'mon, Harry. Let's see if we can help out back." He grabbed Harry and Hermione's rucksack and deposited it at the counter before dragging him out the back door.
"I'll go too," cried Ginny, bounding on after them.
Harry stifled a sigh. Every time he went to the Burrow, it felt like stepping into a whirlwind.
Charlie spotted them first, and this time, he had Bill and Arthur with him. The three elder Weasleys called them over to help with pitching the tent.
Harry sought Hermione and found her sitting on the grass with Fleur, sorting blooms from a huge, casket-size basket. He could hear snippets of their conversation and realized they were conversing in French. Fleur laughed at something Hermione said and held up a lily in Hermione's hair. They looked like they were getting along. The twins were hauling a crisscross wooden rail which they were just setting down flat beside the two women. It was a lovely enough picture, with Hermione and her backdrop of flowers. But when she looked up and smiled at him, he was hopelessly won. He almost forgot about helping with the tent and actually began to take tentative steps in Hermione's direction when Ginny's voice cut through his hypnosis.
"Ugh, Phlegm," said Ginny. "I don't know how Hermione can stand to speak with her."
"Fleur isn't bad," said Harry, his opinion immediately biased. Fleur seemed to like Hermione. Fleur was holding up flowers in Hermione's hair. Therefore he was going to like Fleur from now on, and not just because she was part Veela.
Ginny glowered at him, probably remembering the time he had so readily called Fleur ugly for Ginny's benefit.
Well, she should've known I was joking, Harry thought, pouting a bit.
Ron had him pulling his weight in the tent building while Ginny ran around handing out bolts and screws.
Fifteen minutes later, Arthur sighed. "Harry, be a good chap and go on over to Fred and George. Tell them they can stop having such a good time flirting with the girls and help us with this tent. Honestly, you're putting more work in than they are!"
Grateful for the chance to be near Hermione, he hurried on off his ladder and tried not to be so self-conscious about Ginny eyeing him.
When he got there, Fleur was decorating the railing with George while Hermione stood up on a ladder, attaching flowers to an arch with Fred handing her batches from the ground.
"Umm, George? Fred? Mr. Weasley wants you over there helping with the tent," he said.
"Was wondering when he'd catch on," said George, getting to his feet.
"Was fun while it lasted," said Fred, passing the bunch of flowers he had on hand to Harry.
Fleur chuckled, tossing her spectacularly beautiful tresses over her shoulder as she rose. "I sink I will zee if Bill needz me, no? 'Ermione, à tout à l'heure."
"A toute."
She left with the twins.
"You and she seem to be getting along," he said, looking up at her, his elbow on a ladder rung.
Hermione smiled. "She's more accommodating in French. And if you get past her fantastically inspired vanity, she's really quite sweet."
"And what were the twins bothering you about?"
"Spell theory. They needed my advice on a… particular invention of theirs. I think-I think they're pitching to make me a regular consultant for their business."
Harry's eyebrow arched.
"Harry, hand me some of those Lilies of the Valley, won't you?" she said, pointing to the basket. "They're the white ones that look like tiny bells. That's it."
He smirked, grabbing a bunch and standing beneath her as he looked up. "These?"
"Yes." She reached for them and as she did, he laced his fingers with hers beneath the bundle. He tugged her gently down to him.
"Harry…" she complained softly, turning a bit pink.
"Hush," he said in a low, gentle tone. "Just kiss me. I've been wanting to since we got here. Let the Weasleys know who got the girl…"
She reddened even more, but his words seemed to have convinced her and she bent over the ladder, letting her lips descend softly on his.
He tightened his grip on her hand, just so she wouldn't move away so quickly. If they were going to do this for show, they might as well enjoy it.
The kiss was gentle, but intimate, their tongues brushing languorously against each other. His breath hitched with desire in spite of the knowledge that they were doing this in plain view.
A door slammed in the background, something he was only vaguely aware of.
They separated slowly, and Hermione let a breath out through her red, swollen lips.
"That was lovely, Harry," she whispered.
He smiled fondly, running his thumb gently over her cheek before he finally let her get back to work.
Glancing nonchalantly to the tent area, he caught everyone looking. The men turned away immediately, getting back to their respective tasks. Fleur looked to be giggling but Ginny didn't seem the least bit pleased. She stalked off, back into the house, and that was when Harry spotted Molly at the door, blinking as she held a tray of pumpkin juice in her hands.
Ron immediately went to assist her.
Harry was well satisfied. That settles that, then.
"I hope you're happy, Mr. Potter," said Hermione from the corner of her mouth.
He shrugged. "Not nearly. Now I want you desperately."
"You'll just have to suffer that. Molly will probably post double wards around the bedroom doors now that she knows."
"Lots of woodland here…"
She shot a flower at him and grinned, though she said nothing in protest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was very little time for anything but working, eating and sleeping that eve of the wedding, and in a way, Harry was glad Molly made a fuss about him and Ron going with Bill, Charlie, Fred and George to that last bachelor's night out. He could tell Hermione wasn't all that thrilled about the idea of him joining the boys for a night of debauchery, though she said nothing. Even Ron noticed her unvoiced protest.
"I reckon we're better off staying home," Ron muttered to Harry aside.
Harry couldn't fathom how Hermione managed to whip both of them. Wasn't Ron supposed to be immune to that with her? Then again, Harry wasn't sure Ron had completely gotten over Hermione yet.
Those that stayed home went to bed relatively early, and when Harry kissed Hermione goodnight in the hallway, she whispered jokingly that if Ginny killed her in her sleep, her Hogwarts: A History would go to him, as per her last will and testament.
Whatever Hermione and Ginny talked about before they went to sleep didn't do much to improve things in the morning. They were visibly tense at breakfast and Ginny seemed to be ignoring both Hermione and Harry. Molly, thankfully, seemed to take it better, though she looked more confused than anything. Like she couldn't quite believe things weren't going to go according to plan.
Harry supposed Ron wasn't the only one hung up on the One Big Happy Weasley Family thing.
Fleur was the only woman acting normal through it all, and when Fleur's friends and sister arrived, Hermione was promptly pulled into her camp. Ginny glared and glowered but had little choice in the matter. She was a bridesmaid and had to be part of it all, as well.
The nighttime revelers lumbered into breakfast looking like hell. Thankfully, Bill already looked too much like hell for anyone to notice that he looked any worse.
Everything but the family were ready at midday, and the girls swept Fleur away to get ready with shrieks and sighs.
Hermione hung back a bit, watching the group of giggling French girls as they whisked Fleur to the drawing room that had been converted into her dressing area. She looked slightly overwhelmed.
Harry nudged her. "You alright?"
"I think I've been too long without female companionship. All that estrogen's exhausting me," she said, half-awed.
He smiled, taking her hand reassuringly. "You'll be fine."
She nodded, smiling back. She kissed him shyly and giggling erupted from the end of the hall.
The gaggle of girls sighed in chorus and cried "Ooh, la laa!"
Hermione looked like she was going to die.
Grinning, he pulled her again for a steamier kiss that had their audience properly shrieking in delight. She pulled away, breathless and he watched her retire to the dressing room. The girls grabbed her as one and sealed the doors.
The boys had more time to lounge around. The only problem Harry had was his hair, and since he knew no amount of gel could tame it, he let it run wild. There was no hope for it.
Ron got new dress robes for the occasion, thanks to Fred and George and it showed he was glad that for once, his Yule Ball Robes Days were over.
Fifteen minutes to show time, flower girls spilled into the hall laughing like wild fairies.
There was a distressed. "Oh, please, 'Ermione! 'Ou mus' catch them!"
Seconds later, a perfectly made-up woman in a strapless gown made of shimmering taupe tulle floated by, running with her skirts hitched so that she wouldn't trip over them in her three inch heels. The perfectly piled upsweep on her head was held up in what looked like crystalline string. It showed off the graceful line of her lovely neck. She had on an intricate arm band in white gold, shimmering against her coppery tan, and it matched the color of the thin sash cinched right beneath her breasts. She looked like some kind of Roman princess running free and Harry thought that just made Hermione look amazing.
Harry watched her go after the girls, leaving his seat in the parlor just to keep sight of her as she went. "Wow."
He didn't even notice Ron watching right behind him. "Was that just--?"
"Yeah."
"She looked-"
"You said it."
"Well, I didn't realize she could be so-"
Harry turned to frown at him. "Mr. Yule Ball talking, here."
Ron reddened. "Shut it. I knew she could look nice, but that…"
"Amazing, yeah. Come on. I think she needs help with the flower girls."
They followed after her and found her preventing the girls from tormenting the poodles tied to one of the many mysterious Burrow pegs.
"Amelie! Josette! Leave those poor beasts alone and go back to your Aunt Fleur," she pleaded as the girls giggled and threatened to fall on the ground in their immaculate finery.
Hermione looked up at Harry's and Ron's approach and sighed. "Help?"
There was no refusing her, especially now. Her understated make-up just made her look so much more glamorous.
Ron and Harry weren't as passive in their approach of the girls. They simply picked both up and took them without a fight.
Sighing in relief, Hermione held the door open for them as they hauled the wayward flower girls back to the bride's room. There was a strict "Girls Only" rule at the door so they had to deposit Amelie and Josette at the threshold. Hermione did not follow them, opting to stay with the boys.
"Goodness," she breathed, leading them back to the parlor. Once there, she sought a mirror and tried to regain her poise. Satisfied, she held her hands out without the slightest bit of dramatic relish. "Well? How do I look?"
Harry exchanged glances with Ron. Would you believe this woman?
"Perfect," they said together.
Harry shot him a scowl and Ron scowled back, though he had the grace to look away a few seconds later.
"Thank you," she said, smiling and oblivious, if not blatantly ignoring their wordless exchange. "And you boys look splendid. We ought to go out, already. Sit with the guests."
They did. Ron was whisked away a few more times to do some last minute things while Harry and Hermione sat among the many chairs beneath the tent.
The garden itself looked beautiful with flowers decorating the bushes and the many elegantly set tables throughout the lawn. But underneath the tent it was a virtual fantasy, with candles charmed to light but not burn and flowers spelled to stay fresh. The treatment of gossamer drapes softened the rigid lines of the tent and the pathway for the bridal march had been magically paved all the way to the altar.
The tent was filled with waiting guests who chattered among themselves.
Remus arrived looking rather dapper in fresh new robes and Tonks, at his arm, looked predictably quirky with orange hair to match her orange gown. Harry and Hermione waved to them but reserved talk for later. Besides, they lived with Remus. Not like they had much catching up to do.
Harry could feel a few eyes on him and he couldn't tell if their gossip about him was favorable or not. He didn't much care, and Hermione's presence was reassuring. He took her hand and let his gaze rest on her face. She was such a pleasure to look at.
"Alright, Harry?" she whispered, covering his hand with her own.
He nodded, drinking in the details of her. "You're beautiful."
A deep flush rose in her face. His compliment now was apparently better received than his earlier one. "Th-Thanks." She placed a demure kiss on his cheek for it.
He smiled. Loving how unpretentious she was.
Minutes later, Bill stood at the front with Charlie at his side. His other brothers, save Percy, stood behind them. Ron looked uncomfortable. He apparently hadn't expected to be standing where everyone would see him, and he stuck out. Fred and George were tall, but he was taller.
The bridesmaids soon walked down the aisle. Ginny was predictably gorgeous, smiling in spite of the disagreeable mood she'd exhibited all day and yesterday. She was followed by two girls who winked flirtatiously at their corresponding groomsmen. Fred and George basked at their attentions. Ron looked like he was going to explode with embarrassment when the second of the two gave him a coquettish wave.
The Maid of Honor followed. It was Gabrielle. She was so pretty, even so young. She lit up the room with her promise of beauty.
When the bride arrived, it was as if everyone stopped breathing. There were absolutely no words to describe how ethereal Fleur Delacour looked. She was the epitome of magic; some kind of goddess in rich, white robes. She shimmered and glowed, and her face mirrored that of angels. The flower girls scattered petals at her feet, so much behaved than they were earlier.
The two bridesmaids and Gabrielle burst in perfect song; voices like heavenly hosts as Fleur glided to the altar.
"Wow," whispered Hermione.
He looked at her, cocking a smile. "I said the same thing about you, earlier."
She chuckled softly. "Flatterer."
"Gryffindor's honor," he said seriously.
She caught his gaze and truly looked into it. The smile and blush that spread on her face told him she was grateful for the compliment, whether or not she believed him, and this time, she pecked a kiss on his lips.
Harry thought it was worth the wave of gossip he was sure it generated.
The rest of the ceremony took place and it was a romantic, solemn affair with lots of sniffling and sighing.
Harry glanced briefly at Hermione and saw that she was dry eyed, though the serene look on her face spoke of her feelings of the occasion. For all the times he and Hermione had looked at one another and knew exactly what the other was thinking, it occurred to him that she was a being of control; that she was almost always mind before heart, and again, it made him wonder if he had been special enough to turn that order around for her or whether, like most things about her, kissing him that night in Privet Drive had been a "logical" thing rather than an emotional one.
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She had certainly turned things around for him. Only a few weeks ago, he truly believed that there were some people meant to be alone; that there were those, like him, who simply weren't allowed to love, or be loved, and that doing either had grave consequences. Now it was different. Now it was all about loving her and letting her love him in spite of everything that was happening; in spite of the responsibilities and the danger. And he wasn't alone anymore.
The whole audience had stood, erupting in loud clapping and cheers, because Bill and Fleur were married, and it was a wonderful day when an unattainably beautiful woman like Fluer married an unspeakably mauled man for love and loyalty, but Harry wasn't paying attention to this miracle. He was seeing to one of his own. He was kissing Hermione, and she was kissing back, neither of them caring if anyone saw, because as far as they were concerned, they were the only two people in the world.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wedding had been a long, successful but tiring affair. Bill and Fleur had left the party hours ago for their honeymoon, but it was a bit past dark before the last of the guests left. The gibbous moon was up and the tents, tables and chairs had been left for packing up the following day.
Hermione and Harry had decided to stay until the next day to help put it all away. After which they would head on back to Grimmauld Place and try to get some research done.
In the meantime, Hermione sat out by herself in one of their favorite Burrow woodland haunts, tucking her dress around her as she sat on a log, staring out of the trees to look at the Burrow from a distance. It was quite a way by foot, but not much a problem by broom.
Yes, contrary to popular belief, she used a broom when she had to, and sometimes she even preferred it to apparating. So long as the distance was short and the flying was low, a broom, for her, was manageable. Let it never be said that Hermione Granger was not practical. Besides, she had used one of the older Cleansweeps, which was nowhere near as fast and dangerous as Harry's devil-cursed Firebolt.
The house was alive, with shadows crossing brightly lit windows and distant sounds managing to filter its way across the fields.
There was nothing melancholic about her mood. She was, in fact, deliriously happy (Dark Lords obsessing to kill her boyfriend aside). She just couldn't help but think…
What was that saying, again?
"The Gods could bear not too happy a mortal," she whispered. She couldn't even remember where she heard that. All she knew was that it was Greek and mythological.
There was a crack behind her, like apparition and she turned on her log, wand out and ready to strike.
"Easy there," said a familiar voice. It was Remus, and Harry was with him. They were still in their wedding finery but they had loosened their bowties and taken off their dinner jackets, though Remus had his coat in his hand. They still looked dapper in their laid back couture. She hadn't changed out of her gown either, and she still had her hair up, but she had taken off her shoes. Her feet were killing her.
She lowered her wand and smiled as Harry sat beside her, facing her on the log.
"What are you doing out here, all alone?" he asked, shadows of his worry evident.
On any other day she might have rolled her eyes at his paranoia, but he had been wonderfully attentive since they arrived at the Burrow; so lovingly considerate of her needs, that really, he didn't deserve her flippancy. Kissing her in front of everyone; holding her hand in plain view; keeping her close when strangers approached her asking her questions; complimenting the way she looked… he had been a regular Romeo. A moody Romeo, yes, but she'd be wondering if she'd unwittingly bespelled him in some unnatural fashion if he wasn't moody, so she supposed that was good.
"I just needed a breather," she explained with an apologetic smile. "I kept well within the wards." She tapped the tip of her wand to her temple, as if to remind him that she was still using the brains she was so known for.
He smiled at that, and seeing that she had eased him, she turned her attention to Remus.
"Hullo, Professor," she said. She still called him Professor from time to time, more out of affection than any kind of formal address. "Needed a breather, too?"
Remus smiled that warm, kind grin of his that she found so comforting. "Actually, I rather intruded upon Harry to take me with him when he went looking for you. But I'll only be a minute, really."
Harry exchanged a quiet laugh with her.
"Don't be silly, Remus," she said. "You're never a bother. Harry and I love your company, don't we Harry?"
"Always," said Harry with a grin.
This prompted a soft laugh from Remus. "Nevertheless, I have no intention of sticking around, as I have my own witch to look for. She has gone missing since she left with Fred and George about thirty minutes ago."
"Uh-oh," she chimed.
Harry took her hand and idly laced his fingers through hers. "I'm sure Fred and George will give her back."
Hermione observed that while he was talking to Remus, his gaze never wavered from her face. She knew Harry was no ladies' man, so it gave her fluttery feelings in her stomach, knowing that he was doing all this out of some kind of instinct; guileless and free of affectation. She cast him a pretty smile. It held promises of more, later.
She looked to Remus. "So what brings you here if you don't need a breather and if you'd rather be with Tonks?"
Remus dug into his coat pocket and held up a small package. "This. It came from Azkaban this morning."
She stared up at him, jaw dropping. Harry was quiet, as well. He was just as surprised as she was.
"Is that-" she began, her voice rising slightly in a squeak. "Are you telling me-"
Remus tossed it at Harry and Harry caught it with fluid grace. Seeker instincts did that. "I took the liberty of corresponding with the Prison Keepers. Asked them what they got off Mundungus when he was brought in for incarceration. I had Tonks' endorsement, of course, in her capacity as Auror. That's the only locket they found on Mundungus when they caught him. I have no way of knowing if it's the locket you are looking for, but if it's the locket you want, it saves you a trip to Azkaban, doesn't it?"
Harry was already ripping the package open. "You're brilliant, Remus."
"Don't thank me just yet."
Harry tossed the brown paper wrapper aside and opened the box. Hermione peered in and saw it; Slytherin's locket. Or what they thought was Slytherin's locket. She couldn't really remember it all that much in detail, but peering at it, she knew it was the locket they couldn't open. She watched Harry turn the box in his palm, letting the locket drop in his hand. For a moment, she was afraid his touching it would do him harm, but she remembered how they had all tried to pry the locket open and nothing really bad happened.
"Well, it's this, isn't it?" Harry said.
She nodded and held her hand out for it. He hesitated before placing it in her palm. She realized that he probably had the same initial reservations about it that she did and she stifled a grin. She examined the etched silver, marveling at how it hadn't blackened through the years. She felt around it for magic and detected a bit, but it could have been a de-oxidizing charm. A lot of wizarding silverware had it. There was nothing to indicate that it was a horcrux. It would have to be researched a bit more thoroughly, but she knew she had some material to confirm it, and she had plans of requesting some records from the Ministry. Arthur may be able to help in that aspect. She wished she knew more about horcruxes and wondered if she could actually get Slughorn to tell her a few things now that it was a life and death situation. She also wondered whether talking to Dumbledore's portrait would be able to give them some information about destroying it. Harry's destruction of Tom Riddle's diary had been organic; instinctual, but Harry almost had to pray its price with his life. If Fawkes hadn't come along, he would have died. And judging by what Harry told her about Dumbledore and his ruined hand, horcruxes did demand a price for its destruction.
She felt Harry's eyes on her and she looked up. He was smirking.
"What?" she asked.
"You're thinking," he replied.
He really did know her so well.
Remus chuckled. "Best I leave you to that for the meantime. I've got to find Tonks. I'm feeling a bit knackered… full moon's coming up soon, you know."
Hermione knew. Remus had explained to them that nearing the full moon, he surrendered himself to the dungeons of Grimmauld Place while Tonks took care of "certain matters". She didn't need to ask what those "certain matters" were. Ron asked, of course, and Remus cryptically (or perhaps not cryptically enough) replied, "I can't exactly stroll on over to the local butcher's for lamb chops as a wolf, you see."
Wolfsbane Potion was generally good for controlling lycanthropy, particularly for Bill who hadn't been completely affected. On a full moon night, it was certainly good enough to help Remus prevent transformation so long as the rays of the moon did not touch him, but the potion had a broader effect than that. Lycanthropy, just like any other disease, progressed through the years if left untreated. Werewolves who chose not to treat their condition would find themselves, in later years, more and more subject to the moon's mercy, whatever its phase. The full moon would still remain a powerful catalyst, as it will always effect change in the lycanthrope whether it wants it to or not, but an untreated werewolf would discover that transformation, so long as there was a moon to look to, could eventually be summoned at will as the disease progressed. Of course, the stage of the moon affected the degree of transformation, so a werewolf was less wolf with a crescent moon than he would be with a gibbous moon, but it was a transformation nonetheless. Wolfsbane Potion prevented that progression of the disease, so those like Remus wouldn't have to worry about transforming if he happened to stroll out of doors while the crescent moon was up.
So it would seem that Tonks took care of him while he was in the dungeons as well as his other affairs during those critical days of transition and transformation. Who took care of him before Tonks, or even Sirius, came around, was a mystery, and it made Hermione's heart wrench at how alone he must have felt when there was no one.
"Take care, Remus," she said. "Thank you for saving us that trip to Azkaban."
He smiled. "Well, I'm good for something, aren't I? I'll see you two in a bit… or maybe not."
Before Hermione could be mortified by the implications, Remus had disapparated.
Harry closed his hand over hers. "Moonlit night… stars… horcrux… romantic, innit?"
She laughed and held the locket up in the light. "I really do think this is the locket, Harry, but… we've a long way to go, don't we?"
"Yes, which is why we gave up school for it…"
She stifled a sigh. She had willingly given up Hogwarts, there was no doubt about it, but it didn't mean she wouldn't long for it. Hogwarts was a dream now; a pleasant one, where the walls and lessons kept them sheltered from reality, if not to hold them safe from it. Hogwarts was an illusion, perhaps a welcome one, but she meant what she said during Dumbledore's funeral. The time for turning back was past. No more fun and games.
"McGonagall has replied," he said, pulling an envelope from his trouser pocket.
This caught her attention and her stomach clenched, seeing that what he held wasn't as thick as she expected. If it was McGonagall's letter to her, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be that sparse. A curt, unfeeling reply from McGonagall would hurt her more than rolls of bitter disappointment.
He handed it to her. "At least it's not a howler."
"She wouldn't-" She stopped as a thought occurred to her, however unlikely it was. "Harry, did she give you-"
He chuckled. "No. No howler for me, or for Ron. She's disappointed, but she did say that she understood what I had to do. I was half certain she would hate me for getting you in on it, but she said you and Ron had minds of your own; that she couldn't blame me for getting you two to help me, even if she did want to blame me. She mentioned something else about you, though… she asked me to take care of you…"
Hermione was touched by McGonagall's concern. She wondered if McGonagall asked the same thing of Ron.
With steady determination, she opened her envelope. It was certainly not twenty pages long, but it was ten personal pages. McGonagall was very disappointed, telling Hermione that she had such high hopes for her star student. McGonagall went on and on about how much good she could have done, finishing her studies and attaining her full potential as a student, and further still as a professional. Hermione felt a certain sting in her eyes, reading McGonagall's lament. To someone who didn't know McGonagall, it would read like a poor review of her performance at work, but to someone like her who perhaps knew the brilliant Headmistress more than any student in Hogwarts, this was as heartfelt as McGonagall had ever been. By the ninth page, Hermione felt wretched, and if wasn't so embarrassing, she might have broken down in tears.
But Hermione came towards the end of the letter, and the temptation to weep weakened. What she read next meant so much to her. McGonagall said that for all that shall remain unfulfilled, she believed that ultimately, the heart's convictions made more sense than what the mind dictated, and perhaps McGonagall was proud that the Gryffindor in her had prevailed. There was, after all, more to life than school and career. McGonagall confessed that after all that was said and done, she would rather Hermione held true to the principles of what was righteous responsibility, rather than what was academically excellent. This quest she chose to take up with Harry would be something Minerva McGonagall could look back on and say, "Hermione Granger, brightest witch I had the honor of teaching, learned in Hogwarts something that many wizards and witches with her brilliance notoriously never come to realize in their lifetimes: that the most important library in the world could only be found outside of one, where lessons were tomes bound by experience, and where knowledge was the liberating power of truth."
When Hermione was done, she let the letter fall on her lap as she took deep breaths of the clean night air.
"Alright?" Harry asked. "How bad was it?"
"N-Not bad, actually. She sucked my soul out in the first nine pages, but this last part… I think I'll love her forever for it." She gave him the last page for him to read.
The corner of his mouth crinkled as he did. When he was done, he chuckled. "I think I would have fancied McGonagall when she was your age, eh? I've a thing for intelligent, adventurous women, see."
"Thank you for sharing that, Harry. I've been wanting to have nightmares these past few nights but I couldn't seem to induce them. Now I'll have no problem."
He grinned, moving closer so he could scoop her to his lap. "I bet McGonagall never looked as good as you do, now."
She felt his hand run up her leg and the familiar rush of yearning instantly clustered in the pit of her stomach. It still appalled her how Harry can turn it on so instantly, like he laced his touch with something, activating these sensations within her whenever he wanted.
"We'll stop all talk of McGonagall now, please?" she whispered, her breath catching as his hands crept higher, catching at her garter belt.
He gave a soft groan. "Unbelievable… could you be any sexier?"
Her stomach fluttered. "I'm glad you're pleased."
They kissed, and Harry was already fiddling with the strings holding her knickers up, whilst she tried to undo his cummerbund when a crack cut through the haze of their foreplay.
Breathing raggedly, they pulled apart and whipped out their wands towards the sound, only to discover that it was Remus again, except this time he looked deathly pale under the moonlight.
"Listen to me," said Remus without the slightest indication that he noticed how Hermione's skirt was a bit hitched. His gaze was set on her face, and immediately, she knew that Remus hadn't come for them, he had come for her. "Hermione, you must listen."
Her gaze widened and panic suffused her. "What-Remus, what is it?"
"There's been an attack," he said urgently. "At your parents house-"
Something in her chest constricted and Remus's next words became some sort of muffled tirade; like one of those Charlie Brown cartoons where the adults spoke with unintelligible murmurs. She caught snippets, about how the aurors protecting them were massacred and how her parents hadn't been found.
"I have to go," she said nonsensically, fighting to summon her senses. "I have to go now."
She felt Harry's strong arms around her and suddenly her whirl of thoughts stopped, aligning themselves so they can be coherent.
"Remus, what's happening now?" came Harry's steady voice.
"We've sent back-up, and the attackers seem to be gone. The area is clear of Death Eaters, as far as we know, but you can't-"
"You know I'll go whether you let me or not," she said, feeling her convictions, or maybe her emotions, steeling her voice. She turned to Harry for confirmation and realized, to her surprise, that though Harry turned pleading eyes at Remus, it didn't look as if he was supporting what she wanted to do. If the tightening of his grip on her shoulders was any indication, it felt almost as if Harry himself was holding her back. Anger began to take root and she started to struggle. "Let me go, Harry!"
He didn't.
"Let me go!" she screamed, and he could only hold her tighter. "I'll apparate! I swear!"
"Remus!" Harry cried.
"Don't let her!"
And that one warning of Remus went straight to her nerves, piercing her sensibilities.
Something terrible has happened. Remus doesn't want me to see!
She struggled a bit harder.
"Hermione!" Remus cried. "Listen! There are-there are things about this attack… it's not like any we've seen-"
"Please, Remus," she said, the terror in his eyes clutching her insides. What can scare a werewolf? She realized that the more she panicked, the tighter Harry would hold her. She had to calm down, or appear as if she was. She took deep breaths to loosen her muscles. "Please… Harry, I won't apparate. I promise." She turned pleading eyes at him and his gaze softened. He let her go.
She stepped away from him calmly.
Remus's gaze stayed on her. "Right now, we're trying to find your parents. We're afraid they might have been-"
"They haven't been taken," she said resolutely. "There's no reason for the Death Eaters to do that. They're still in the house. I know it! I know where to look for them. You must let me go. I'm the only one who could find them. I put wards-"
Remus sighed. "Then we must wait here for aurors. I can't let you go without an escort-"
Anger suffused her again. It was her house, and her parents! How can they expect her to stand back and wait around for an escort? She simply won't do such a thing. She simply had to go.
"No. I will not wait around!" And without further argument, she raised her wand and apparated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry swore viciously, her quick disappearance raising his panic. Whatever it was Remus didn't want her to see, she probably shouldn't see it. "Remus-"
Remus was beside him in an instant. "Grab hold then, Harry."
Harry put his hand on Remus's shoulder and Remus took him on a side-along. The tug on his navel came and went.
The next thing he saw was Hermione cutting across the front lawn strewn with dead aurors and those who have come to collect them. The dark mark hung stark above the house, shimmering its ghastly green of skull and snake.
Hermione disappeared into the house.
Harry shot off after her, Remus close by to tell those who tried to stop them that they were there to retrieve the girl.
It took them another minute to get through.
When they crossed the threshold, Harry saw overturned furniture, ruined book shelves, shattered glass and blood everywhere. There were bodies; mangled with missing limbs. Some of them looked like they had been thrown against the walls with considerable force. It was a massacre; carnage. This looked nothing like a Death Eater attack. Death Eaters left bodies, yes, but there was as little blood as possible. The deadliest curses didn't ask blood from its victims.
"Good lord," Harry breathed. None of these were Hermione's parents, because if it was, Hermione would be right there. She was searching for them. He turned determined eyes at the back up aurors. "Where is she? The girl that came through here-"
"Up the stairs," said someone.
Harry didn't bother to give thanks. He found the stairs and took two steps up at a time.
It took Harry another moment to realize that though the Granger home was no mansion, it wasn't exactly small, either. It was bigger than average, as was expected from two working parents with a lucrative profession. It didn't make things any easier at the moment.
Remus seemed to have similar thoughts. "You go down that hall and I'll take this one here."
They separated and Harry frantically searched the rooms. He called her name and prayed that when he found her, he would find her parents, too, hopefully alive and well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione pulled down the attic stairs with her eyes blinded by tears.
I told them to hide in the attic, she thought desperately. Magic protected. Spells and such… they should be safe. They should be safe. Please let them be safe!
Since third year, she had worked on warding the attic with charms she had created in school. It was a game to her, really, claiming the attic as her "laboratory" of sorts, and while she had childishly protected it with magic because it was her "high security work area", she had actually put up formidable warding charms to keep magical intruders from penetrating its doors. When she turned seventeen, she strengthened the wards with spoken spells. It was a virtual fortress now. When she learned from Arthur that her parents were being protected by the order, she immediately told her father that if there was anything to indicate that their house was under attack, they were to immediately hide in the attic. She told them the attic would keep them safe. She was so sure it would.
But after having seen the horror that was her front lawn and living room, she felt bile rising in her throat at the fear that had so potently crept on her.
Frantically, she scrambled up the stairs in the darkness of the attic. "Mum! Dad! Are you here?"
There was no reply and she pulled herself up, ripping some of her skirt at the stairs as she rose. Her struggles pulled the stairs up with her and it cut her off from the light downstairs. She was sealed in and she desperately searched for the light switch. She found it and flicked it on.
"Mum? Da-"
Something dripped on her cheek, and then her fingers. She looked. It was blood. The floor was covered with it, making it slippery as it soiled the hem of her gown and the soles of her stocking-clad feet. Her heart hammered, threatening to break through her ribcage.
She turned her gaze up and found herself looking into the ghastly dead eyes of her parents. They hung from the ceiling, as if they had been pinned there by some invisible force and their throats were slit open from ear to ear. Blood poured, raining down on her face and body. The horror of it slammed into her system and all she could see was gruesome red.
She screamed. That was all she could do. Hysteria clouded her mind. She didn't even realize their bodies were falling until her father's face closed in on her. She stumbled back, barely missing the collision, and their bodies hit the floor with a sickening thud and splat. There was more blood just as the lights overhead shattered.
Darkness bathed her, but she saw two pinpricks of gold coming at her: Eyes. Slanted; demonic.
She screamed a second time before a body slammed her to the far wall and she felt teeth sinking savagely into her neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The blood curdling scream that pierced the house struck Harry like ice. He followed the sound without thinking and almost collided with Remus down one hallway.
"Hermione!" Harry cried. "Where are you?"
There was a thud, right above them, followed by breaking glass. Harry looked up and saw the gossamer material of her gown dangling from a groove cut into the ceiling.
"Attic!" Harry cried, grabbing the chain to pull down the doors. It wouldn't budge. "Remus!"
Remus pulled with him just as she screamed a second time. The scream was filled with pure terror and it was followed by a crash and clatter. Her screaming stopped, and the silence, he realized, was so much worse.
Harry couldn't think. There was so much emotion running through him right now, and the thought that they couldn't pull the attic door open made him yell in frustration. "Remus, apparate us, now!"
"I can't! It's warded! She warded the attic!"
Aurors were pouring into the hallway and Harry felt rage clawing at him from all sides. He wanted to scream, "Somebody do something!" as more breaking glass and clattering came from above.
He desperately wanted to hear her voice again; anything that would tell him she was well enough to cry for help.
Blinded by fury, he stepped back and gathered his magic. He shot a reductor hex at the door and it bounded right back. Everyone had to scramble to get away. It caught the hallway door behind Harry and it was wholly reduced to bits, wood chips flying in all directions.
"Don't do that again!" Remus said sternly as he brought his wand up for a second try.
"Hermione!" Remus cried. "If you're in there, lower the wards! Do it now, Hermione!"
There was an explosion from above, like someone had blown through something; a wall maybe. The sound reverberated through the house and it prompted every able-bodied man in the hall to grab the chain and pull. Harry was among them, and it was through sheer will that he didn't break out in tears at the apparent impossibility of the task.
And then Harry felt magic waning.
"The wards," said Remus. "They're going-"
The attic door yawned open and the entire group tumbled back as the springs gave way.
The shriek of hinges only made the sight that followed all the more horrific.
Bodies; two of them, stumbled down the stairs, trailing blood in their wake from their open throats.
Oh God.
Harry didn't even bother to find out if these were Hermione's parents. He needed to get to her. He needed-
There were shouts from the attic, and he realized a moment later that it came from the huge hole that punctured the outmost wall. Moonlight streamed through the opening, illuminating the room.
Harry pushed up the stairs, stumbling and slipping on the blood.
He heard someone cough and he turned at the sound.
There was no thinking at what he saw. His emotions took over, and instinct propelled him.
All he comprehended was that he crashed to his knees beside her as she lay on the floor in her gossamer gown.
Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him and her breathing became labored.
Blood stained the front of her dress and blossomed continuously. There was a wound beneath it, but he couldn't see. There was a steady flow of blood coming from her neck as well, and her mouth was soiled red.
His tears came unbidden as he took her in his arms and held her. Trembling, he muttered a charm to staunch the wound on her midsection. She cried out as the wound hissed, but it didn't seem to be working. Blood continued to soak the front while more was seeping from beneath her and Harry stared at the creeping pool in horror.
"Sword," she gurgled, flecks of red splattering out of her mouth.
God, no…
He pulled at his shirt and wiped the blood from her mouth. He was screaming for help and immediately heard people scrambling behind him.
"Hermione, you have to hold on," he said. "You have to. Don't-don't die on me-"
Her eyes grew glassy with tears. "S-Sorry…"
"No," he choked. "Don't say sorry. No! Help is on the way. Hold-"
"Harry…" she whispered as another pulse of blood overflowed from her lips. "Dying…"
"Oh, God." He held her closer, feeling himself beginning to rock back and forth. Helplessly, he pressed his hand to the wound. Her blood continued to stain his fingers and his gaze grew liquid with tears. "Hermione, please-"
He was pleading for her to hold on. Stay alive. Help would come. She had to stay alive until then.
She kept his gaze as her breath trembled. And then the tension in her brows eased, tears spilling from her eyes as she grew absolutely and utterly still.
Her brown gaze stared blankly up at him.
His breath hitched. "H-Hermione?"
She made no reply. No response.
He shook her and she didn't even blink.
She can't be dead. She can't be dead!
Harry pressed his ear to her chest; praying, pleading to hear the beating of her heart.
There was nothing but utter silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I hope that wasn't very shocking. I wanted a… delirious happiness crashing and burning straight to hell kind of feel…
Mel Granger, thankfully, solved the mystery of the Charlie and Hermione acquaintance. Thanks, Mel!