Shadows
Rating: R
Somewhere in Manchester…
The shadows moved slightly, and the cloaked man smiled. There you are. You're better than the last one, but unfortunately, if your leader is not willing to come out of hiding, I don't think any of you are going to score on me now. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure you've dropped into a wait and see stance…
Given what today is, and the information we have now. Two years of dancing with and in shadows, and I'm tired of it. Thank god it'll be over soon.
Goodbye, Death Eater. The aurors will find you. The cloak waved with the smallest motion of the man's hand, and a noise flickered in the distance. The shadow moved again, and a flare of red pierced the darkness. The shadow collapsed.
A whisper of a pop and the man in the cloak was gone…
Somewhere in Muggle London…
Damn it… The Cauldron should have been around this corner. The cloaked formed moved slightly more under the cover of the shadows. I'm already late, and I've missed the last two. I know he has other ways of checking, but…
There was no one else on the street. No one but the person in the cloak, and the shadow. The ones they're sending definitely keep getting better, or maybe the same one is actually learning… Now that's a scary thought. Later, though. I've got to lose this one, or I'll end up stunning him. And that ruins it completely.
I'm supposed to be smarter than they are, after all… If only we knew how they had figured out how to trace Apparition and Portkeys, even if they can only do it from up close. On the other hand… She felt her wand slip into her fingers, most of it still up her sleeve. She paused, looking at the street sign while her fingers sketched an invisible symbol onto the pavement. Cocking her head briefly, she moved, and slipped down the side road.
The shadow followed her… and avoided the ward-rune. Damn it. Time to do this the obvious way. She whirled, her cloak billowing out in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Snape had she thought about it, and her wand slid down into her fingers. Wordlessly, the spell shot straight at her pursuer.
A slight motion of the shadow sent her spell flickering off directly into her ward-rune on the sidewalk and they consumed each other in a ball of light. At the same time, a light-blue purple spell shot directly at her. She dodged it effortlessly, though her attacker's sudden movements had dislodged his cape's hood. "Come on now, Granger, we don't have time for games."
Malfoy? The silver blonde hair was a dead give away. But why is he showing himself to me?
"You were late," the figure continued, stepping towards her. He did not walk like Malfoy. His voice was wrong, too. Everything about him was familiar, and yet…
"How long have you been following me?" she challenged.
"Twelve ye… six blocks." The slip up gave him away. Twelve years was their safety code, to make sure neither one of them was not themselves. Of course he has his hair like that. He can't go around with everyone recognizing him. That would defeat the whole point of the exercise.
"Right," she replied carefully. "I don't want to be any later, of course. I'd better go." A smirk stole across her face as the shadow in front of her raised his hand.
"Her…" With an intentionally loud crack, she was gone.
Elsewhere…
When he got there, his gaze flickered about desperately for her. It had been three weeks since he had seen her properly, four since what the last time what he had planned for that night had occurred.
He knew she would not be hiding far. He allowed himself to briefly dip into the magic around them, and just used that to spot her, the waves of energy that flowed off her body, tinged with the odd pattern he only saw in her, and usually only around these times.
Her physical desire was affecting her magic.
"Hermione?" he called softly, playing her game for now, knowing she was unable to tell his eyes were fastened on her magical signature, watching as it rippled as she kept her amusement in the situation silent. She is good, I have to give her that. Maybe what we did for her and Ron's protection was unnecessary. Both of them have nearly gotten through my guard the last time they tried to hex me. But no, I'm just slow because I trust them.
He blinked once, bringing back his normal vision, Hermione all but vanishing, and then, only because he knew exactly where she was. Turning away from her deliberately, he began walking in the other direction, but not precisely with her perfectly behind him. That would have been as dead a give away to her as heading right at her.
He felt her begin to move slowly after him, her dark form silent and careful, still hiding. It was a game, after all. Harry grinned.
There…
Unmoving, the cloaked figured watched, a playful grin on her shadowed face as the darkness before her solidified without a sound. He's always so quiet now. Not at all like Ron. I know he can see me, though I'm not really sure how. One day, I'll have to get him to teach me, assuming it isn't like Parseltongue and can be taught.
Hearing him call her name as he pretended to look around for her was a treat, especially because she could feel his eyes burning on her, despite her inability to see them under his matching cloak, to which he had replaced the hood after her departure.
The movements were always just so, with him. So precise, so languidly perfect, as if, despite having the weight of the world on his shoulders, he bore no burden at all. She watched, fascinated, as he turned away, ostensibly seeking her. A game, just like Quidditch. If he seeks me out, we both win. As Harry walked away from her, she grinned even more. Too bad he's wearing that cloak. His arse is fantastic in those black pants.
Despite the heeled boots she wore, when she stepped forward, she was silent, brushing forward like the wind, her cloak silent around her form, incasing her in darkness.
All of a sudden, air rushed by her as she flew backwards, victim of a motion of Harry's hand, the wandless magic he had become so good at. Better than a month ago, apparently, she realized abruptly, feeling the bricks she pressed against melt around her upwardly stretched arms, trapping her against the wall.
He was there, his body, his presence, so strong, so masculine, towering over her helpless form as she felt the rush of heat tingling between her thighs. It isn't the helplessness, it's his magic. The power is such a turn on.
The blue-purple light shot at her again from his hand, and her eyes widened in surprise just as it struck her abdomen and she felt the familiar tingle. She blinked as he moved in closer, realizing that it was the same charm he had sent at her in the alleyway in London… the same charm they used three out of every four times they were together, on average. She never saw it cast from that far away.
A toss of the man's head and she shivered, gazing into his eyes. He didn't just go with Malfoy's hair. She opened her mouth to speak, but something caught her, his eyes linking to hers, silencing her long enough for his hands to be on her, brushing the front of her cloak open, caressing her stomach through the thin material of her black blouse. She struggled to free her hands, to push him away until he did something to fix his damn hair, or more importantly, his eyes, but she could not.
His hands reached her breasts, and Hermione sighed softly, then muttered, "Harry, did you have to pick Malfoy of all people to…" The blonde haired and grey eyed man cut her off with a hard kiss, his tongue moving hungrily past her open lips as instinct tried to carry on the rest of the sentence. Somehow, as sensation returned to her from the stars that burst in her eyes, she discovered his hands were inside her now open blouse, caressing her through the thin lace of her bra. She gave in to her feelings, and arched up to him, her tongue seeking out his in an ages old dance.
Finally, leaving her gasping for breath as his fingers unhooked the front closure of her bra, he pulled back, and the grey eyes flashed a reassuring green to her, before once more, his lips descended on hers. This time, though, there was absolutely no hesitation when Hermione returned his kiss, arching into the touch of his rough, warm hands on her breasts, tenderly squeezing and rubbing them, his thumbs circling her hardened nipples. She moaned softly into his mouth when he pinched them, twisting them ever so gently over his index fingers, before letting go.
She realized she wanted to touch him, to feel his body under her hands, but his damn wandless magic was keeping her from that. Groaning, she struggled against the bonds, but she could feel that was only making him want to play the game more…
Here…
Harry felt, more than heard, Hermione's groan of frustration, through his hands on her breasts and his mouth on hers. The fact that it was exactly what he had been hoping to hear did not make it any better for him, of course. The sound of her was delectable, and he finally broke away again, staring at her, his hands skimming down her torso, over her waist, and onto her thighs. He grabbed the leather and pulled on it, bunching the fabric about her hips as he crushed his hips against hers, pinning her more securely to the wall.
He could feel the smoothness of her skin under his touch, the shivering of her body as he raked his nails along the insides of her thighs, ever upward until he pressed firmly against the boiling heat of her desire, separated by a thin shred of fabric.
Her legs were around him, pulling him into her, and he knew she could feel the bulge through all the layers that kept them apart. As he raked his nails in a line over the silky, wet fabric, she whimpered with pleasure, his name included somewhere in the incoherent sound, and he could stand it no longer. His hand, magically active, jerked downward, tearing Hermione's knickers open and opening his own clothing at the same time.
The next touch was one of him against her newly bared flesh, the throbbing, heated length of him burning against the soft wetness. Her next words prompted the release of the bindings on her wrists, and more, the movement of his hips, which in turn provoked an incoherent cry of pleasure from her lips.
Driving into her, slamming her against the wall, he felt her hands in his blonde hair pulling him into another desperate kiss. Her gloves I'm not wearing gloves, it's not cold, why is she? melded the only spot of light back with the shadows, and in the darkness, the muffled sounds of their enjoyment of each other, as mist rose up to hide them from prying eyes.
Then…
The sunlight had blared down on the tableau in front of Harry Potter, whose green eyes were blazing with fury at the sight in front of him. Betrayed by his best friends, here, in Diagon Alley, in front of the whole Wizarding world.
He had not spoken the words, his fury was so terrible. His wand had just come out, and Ron, currently kissing Hermione rather chastely on the lips, had gone flying backwards into a fortunately soft pile of rubbish located directly behind him. "How could you?" he had finally snarled at Hermione, sitting with a shocked look on her face, staring at the violence etched on his face, displayed for the entire world to see. He held his position long enough he knew someone would be getting a camera.
Hermione had slowly risen and moved to check on Ron, and then had given Harry the darkest look he had ever gotten from her. "He's not dead, if that's what you were intending."
Anger had crackled as static in the air around him. "I trusted you both. And you betrayed me, sneaking around behind my back with my best friend! I thought you loved me."
She had merely looked disgusted. "Loved you? Don't be silly. I love Ron." Hermione had stood slowly, and walked towards him, looking utterly confident that he would never touch her. He would not, of course. He could not. He had shivered slightly when she raked her fingernail along his chin, and Hermione grinned triumphantly. The smile was cold. "You still want me, even now, don't you?"
She had shaken her head sadly, and Harry's wand had drooped, hanging limp in his arm. "You're the bad boy, Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One. Did you really think I would pass up the chance to share your bed? I mean, honestly, a real celebrity? A plain mudblood girl like me? It did help that you were rich, too. All those nice things you bought me." The grin was colder than any grin Harry had ever seen from Voldemort himself. "And hell yes, you were fucking magnificent in bed." The grin transformed into one of pure wickedness. "And everywhere else. But even you, for all your charms, can't compete with love."
She had shrugged oh so elegantly, and trailed her fingers ever so gently on him as she walked in a complete circle around him. "I admit it freely, even to Ron, that you're so much better in bed, but girls don't marry the bad boy. They marry the nice boy they can take home to Mum. You're not him, Harry. Ron is. He just loved the thought of pulling this one over on you for as long as we could." The sickening thing was how brightly she had smiled at him.
Harry had been trembling with rage, sparks shooting into the cobbles of the Alley randomly. "I hate you," he had shouted, spitting at her. She had stepped nimbly aside. "I never want to see either of you again for the rest of my life!"
That had prompted a laugh from Hermione. "Well, fortunately, we shouldn't have to wait very long then. When you and your precious Order die taking out Voldemort, Ron and I will get along just fine without you. Goodbye, Harry Potter." That was when she had turned away from him and moved back to Ron, still unconscious in the rubbish heap.
A snarl crept onto Harry's face. "I'll survive, if only to spite you, because there are now four people on my list of people to kill. Don't let me see you again." Harry apparated away with a loud crack before he could cry.
Before…
"This is the third time they've gone after your parents in the month since we took out Nagini, Hermione. We're not going to keep being lucky, especially if they keep attacking Ron's parents at the same time too," Harry said with a sigh, looking at his two best friends, Hermione in his embrace on the couch in their flat, Ron in the seat opposite them.
Ron nodded slowly. "All that's left is V- Vol- Voldemort himself now." He looked brightly at Harry. "How do we do it?
Hermione sighed, and cuddled closer against Harry. "I don't think we can, Ron. Both Snape and Malfoy can't tell us where he is, and he's in hiding, trying to regain the strength he's lost from the destruction of most of his soul. It'll come back eventually, and Harry has to," her voice caught briefly, "face him and destroy him before then. He just knows too much magic for Harry to ever catch up." She looked at him apologetically.
Harry shook his head. "I accepted that a long time ago, Hermione. Only with all three of us are we going to beat him. Love… friendship… that is the Power He Knows Not. Which is why I can't afford to lose either of you, especially now that we have him right where we want him."
"Except we don't know where that is either," Ron quipped, earning him a glare from Hermione and a chuckle from Harry.
"True. Which is why, until we find him, I need to make you two and your families not targets."
"That's impossible, mate," Ron began hotly, but cut off when Hermione sat up abruptly.
"There's only one way to do that," she said, "and I don't know how we could ever accomplish it believably."
"Can you kiss him?" Harry asked her, and Ron's eyes got wide as Hermione's glare returned full force.
"You're not serious."
"Was I that bad a kisser?" Ron enquired, but Harry overrode him.
"Perfectly serious, love. It has to be done like this. No one would believe it otherwise."
Ron glared fiercely at both of them, and shouted loud enough to break in. "You're doing it again, that communicating without words thing. Let me in on the plan, if you don't mind, since I presume my part in this involves kissing Hermione?"
Harry sat back, and Hermione moved away from him, tears welling up in her eyes. "Harry and I have to break up, publicly, in a way that puts you on my side, Ron. A way in which neither one of us would ever speak to him again. A way that disassociates us with the Order as well."
Ron gaped at her, and blinking, turned to Harry for confirmation, who nodded. "But you were gonna ask her to…" The snarl that formed on Harry's face was enough to shut Ron up, demonstrating that he did not like this any better than the two of them. "But that still won't protect my family, or even Hermione's family in the long run."
Harry shook his head. "It's not a perfect plan, obviously. The Weasleys are too involved in the Order for a spat between us three to withdraw them from it. Even if they did, it would look suspicious, and Voldemort is smart enough to smell a rat like that. Breaking the two of you from contact with me will at least protect Hermione's family to an extent. I can't save both families again like I did today with any real chance of success, especially given their separation. I got lucky."
"Yeah, that Apparition hopping back and forth was brilliant, mate. I don't know how you did it, though, that many, so close together."
"As I said, lucky. Besides, the Death Eaters will set wards next time. They're not idiots, unfortunately. We've got to remove the threat as much as possible from Hermione's family. After the break up, they go into hiding."
Hermione nodded. "They'll understand."
Ron looked puzzled, and Harry waited for it. It was not long in coming. "I still don't get how people are going to believe Hermione and you broke up, Harry. And what my kissing Hermione has anything to do with this."
Hermione sighed, the tears were running silently down her cheeks. "You and I have to have an affair, Ron."
"A WHAT?"
The grin which crossed Hermione's face was slight, but noticeable. "Well, Harry has to catch us having an affair in public, anyway. And then the three of us have to be extremely nasty to each other."
"Oh. Can we actually be that nasty to each other?"
"Well, Ron," Harry began, with a significant glance at his lover, but Ron cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"Okay, what I actually meant was can either of us be that nasty to you?"
Hermione bit her bottom lip. "We'll just have to find out, won't we?"
Now…
They had moved inside after their quick coupling in the shadows outside the little Muggle hostel. Curled up in the bed, naked, they were talking, both of them having completely done away with the concealing and glamour charms they had been wearing, as no one could see them now. Even still, it was dangerous to their charade that they had maintained for two years. Harry missed Ron desperately, and knew his oldest friend missed him just as much, but the once a week contacts with Hermione were all they dared chance, probably more than was smart, and Ron had understood why she was the contact and not him.
After all, Ron knew who he would rather shag, given the option of Harry or Hermione.
Well, they were not talking any more. Now it was that kind of heavy snogging that leads up to more coital activities, but Harry broke it off suddenly. After the second time, we always leave. I don't want to go yet. So I probably ought to go ahead and tell her.
Hermione looked at him questioningly. "What's wrong, Harry?" Her brown eyes were filled with concern quickly replacing the desire that had deepened them a mere moment before.
"We found him, Hermione." Harry could see her brain working quickly behind her eyes, but the intensity of their earlier activities and the late hour had obviously left Hermione a little slower than normal. "We've found Voldemort. This may be our only chance. We're going tomorrow. Apparently he's stuck for at least a day making some sort of replenishing potion that's helping him get his strength back more quickly, and it can't be moved." His green eyes clouded over, and he squeezed Hermione a little tighter. "That was the last thing Snape said to us before he died. He splinched himself on the way out, slashed open by his own curse, used by Voldemort. Malfoy never made it out, as far as we can tell. Tomorrow night we throw everything to the wind, and the final battle will begin. The Wizarding world lives or dies with me, I suppose."
Hermione's expression was shocked, and slowly her brain wore through it. Well, slowly for Hermione anyway. Lightning fast for anyone else. "You're not going to die, Harry. Ron and I won't let that happen."
Harry smiled fondly at the brown haired witch in his arms. "I know that, Hermione. As long as I have you by my side, I can do anything."
"And Ron," she reminded him.
"I most certainly cannot do Ron," Harry said with an affronted look, deliberately misinterpreting her, and Hermione giggled. It had been ages since Harry had heard such a sweet sound, and he kissed her soundly, though swiftly. "Also, I burned all your books and most of your other things, since you weren't coming back." The deadpan voice gave away his joke, though, and the struggle he was going through to keep emotion from entering in. "Had to make it look good for the Death Eaters who were watching us."
Hermione grinned. "No, really, Harry, what did you actually burn?"
He chuckled. "Daily Prophets and condolence letters from my adoring public that I transfigured into books."
Hermione kissed him softly. "Wonderful. You know, I didn't actually get as much hate mail as I expected."
Harry smiled. "I managed to have it blocked, through a variety of cutouts." She grinned at him, and then it fell away as he continued. "Maybe we should go and rest for the battle, instead of…" A finger to his lips shushed him.
"No, Harry." Hermione grabbed Harry's magic wand, as his was closer than hers, and she just had to drag her lithe body across Harry's chest to get to it, rather than the other side of the bed. Pressing the tip to her abdomen, she murmured, "Finite. Conceptus."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Hermione, what are you doing?" But before he could ask any more, she silenced him with a kiss.
"Just in case, Harry. Just in case," she whispered, her lips moving along his jaw.
Harry fought the sensation as long as he could, trying to stay coherent. "After the battle, Hermione?" She made a soft sound of encouragement, knowing instinctively he was not questioning her motives. "Will you marry me, Hermione Jane Granger?"
"Of course I will, you dolt," she whispered in his ear. "I love you more than life itself."
"I love you too, Hermione," Harry said, grinning, pulling her into a proper kiss, not that he minded what she was doing to his ear, if the growing pressure between their bodies was any indication.
"Where's my ring?" she asked playfully as she slid into a position straddling his hips.
Harry grinned. "You'll have it before we go tomorrow night."
"I should think so. Two years is more than long enough after you bought it," she grinned at his shocked expression, then ground her hips against his, and the expression became one of pleasure. Leaning forward, she captured his lips with her own, and murmured, "Make love to me, Harry, for the last time in the shadows."
And so he did.
The End