A/N - Hey, everyone! Sorry about the delay again. Probably going to be several days for every chapter for a while. I'm moving =/ Anyway, I really had fun writing most of this chapter. Up until now it had been mostly Harry and Hermione, but I got more people into it now.
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Friday approached quickly, but not without several incidents. Harry sold a few of his pieces (for very handsome prices) and was able to pay Hermione back. Hermione badgered him into buying a bed, but he firmly refused to buy any other furniture.
"No, Hermione. I'll make it myself."
"But-"
"No."
"Oh, fine. But don't complain to me when you have no place to sit!"
That isn't to say that Hermione was given the slip that easily. She was bound and determined to be involved in Harry's life rebuilding effort. So Wednesday night she showed up with several buckets of paint and all the various accessories that accompany it.
"What-" began Harry, but Hermione rolled right over him like a runaway train.
"I think this green would look lovely here and this blue in your bedroom," she mused thoughtfully.
Ignoring a spluttering Harry, she waved her wand and the masking tape flew up and began applying itself. Two of the cans of paint popped up, mixing sticks stirred them vigorously and rollers assembled themselves. A minute later, the pans were filled and the rollers busy applying the first coat.
"Did you say something, Harry?" Hermione inquired innocently.
"Um... no, nothing," he muttered, turning back to the table he was working on where he kept chuntering under his breath. He planed the edge with a bit more force than necessary and swore darkly when he took too much off.
"Right," Hermione said brightly.
So now Harry's living room was a very light green color (which he had to admit brightened the room considerably) and his bedroom a pale indigo, dark enough to be relaxing when going to bed and bright enough to be suitable for daytime use.
Thursday afternoon Harry laid out the finished table in the spare bedroom with a fresh coat of varnish to dry. He had just started to sketch out a rough draft of the chairs to go with it when he heard Hermione call out from the living room.
"Why did I give her that key?" Harry wondered aloud. He wasn't really mad, just a bit irritated. The continuous work of building his own furniture had kept him so busy he hadn't even had time to slip into one of his dark moods.
"What? Did you say something?" Hermione asked as Harry strode out to meet her. She was dressed in patched old jeans and a faded gray sweatshirt, her voluminous brown hair pulled back into a messy but functional bun. There was still a green smudge on one cheek.
"Don't you have anything better to do than pester me?" Harry said peevishly, regretting it immediately as Hermione's warm brown eyes filled with hurt.
"Oh... I'll, um, just go then," she said quietly and turned to leave.
"Hermione, wait!" Harry leaped forward and grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Er- what was it that you had in mind?"
"It's nothing, Harry," she insisted, tugging her arm free.
"No, it isn't," Harry pointed at the door, causing it to lock. "You were checking to see if the walls needed another coat of paint, weren't you?"
"Why should I care about your walls?" Hermione said frostily, still facing away.
"Listen, Hermione, I'm sorry! I was being an ass!" Harry cast around for a new subject. "Um... have you ever painted anything by hand?"
"By hand?" repeated Hermione, finally facing Harry. There was a glint in her eye. She stood silent for a moment and Harry didn't see the can until it was too late.
"Why, no, I don't believe I have," she finally answered a very green Harry.
"Ok..." Harry said, paint dripping down his face and leaking off the end of one particularly thick clump of hair, "I may have deserved that."
"I feel better now," Hermione smirked. "Now, did you really mean that? Would you paint with me?"
"Er... as long as we're painting the walls." Harry wiped his face clean. Hermione smiled mischievously and mopped up the paint with her wand and dumped it back into the bucket, leaving the rug good as new. Harry remained green, though.
"Yeah..."
So Harry spent several minutes showing Hermione how to use the roller and then conjured a step stool for her.
"This is really fun!" Hermione enthused at one point. "Now I see why you do this without magic!"
"Yeah, it's relaxing," a newly clean Harry agreed, running his roller down Hermione's back. "Whoops."
"Hey!" squealed Hermione. A full flung paint war ensued, leaving them both breathless and multi-colored by the time a truce was agreed upon.
The next day was Friday and Hermione was working an early morning shift. She was due back at four, at which point she would undoubtedly want a good long kip. Harry prowled about restlessly; tonight he was supposed to join Ron and his friends for a drink. Ron, who was still under the impression that he was No One.
Harry stopped pacing to conjure a mirror. He examined himself closely; he was a bit healthier looking and not quite as gaunt. His white hair and the lack of a scar was probably still good enough to keep Ron off the trail, though. Just to be sure, he practiced roughening the tone of his voice.
As time has a habit of doing, it disappeared quite shockingly as the moment of truth approached. One minute the sun was just reaching its apex, the next Hermione was telling Harry she would only take an hour (an hour!) to get ready. Then she was knocking on his door.
"Wow, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "You look- you look... great!"
Her hair was sleek, two braids coiled around the top to join again in the back and fall straight down with the rest of her hair, which hung loose. Her face was also somehow different, fuller. She wore a tight-fighting pair of jeans and a low-cut sleeveless shirt that flared at the bottom. Over that was a white shrug, twisted into patterns which left more empty space than shirt. Harry had never realized she was so... shapely.
"Thanks," Hermione blushed. "I don't go out much..."
"So, where are we going?" Harry asked. "The Leaky Cauldron?"
"Oh, no. There's a little Muggle pub they like, right outside the city. We'll take a taxi there."
Hermione hailed a taxi once they reached the street and gave a location to the driver. He nodded and pulled out into the street. Harry didn't really have anything to say and Hermione was uncommonly quiet.
"Here ya are, folks," the driver said, pulling over. Harry slipped out the door and then held it open for Hermione. She fumbled for her purse, but Harry stopped her with a dirty look and fished some money out of his pocket.
"Here," he said uncaringly, handing it to the driver. "Keep the change."
The driver's eyes widened as he looked at the sheaf of bills in his hand.
"Thank you, sir!" he said fervently, inclining his head before driving off.
"Harry! You just gave that man a £50 tip!"
"Yeah, whatever," Harry said vaguely. "He has a family; I saw the pictures on the dashboard. He can buy his kids something nice. Is that the place?"
Harry pointed at a tiny little pub with a decrepit old sign bearing the legend "Who'd a Thowt It". But Hermione wasn't paying attention. Instead, she went up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"What was that for?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Hermione said offhandedly. "Yeah, that's the one. Come on, my philanthropic date. Let's go."
"Date?" Harry said, nonplussed. "Did you start drinking already when I wasn't looking?"
Hermione smiled and hooked her arm through Harry's.
"And what's philanthropic? Are you making fun of me?"
She just gave another tight-lipped smile and steered Harry towards the pub. Harry gave an approving nod as they pushed through the thick wooden door. The interior was far nicer than the exterior; all polished wood and clean lines.
"Oh, there they are!" cried Hermione, immediately releasing Harry's arm. A group of people had taken up two tables and were waving frantically at Hermione. Ron recognized Ron and Seamus, but the others were strangers.
"Hermione!" called Ron, leaping up and dashing over to meet them. Harry got a good look at him and noticed the changes five years had made. Ron was now noticeably heavier; not fat, but more like a tall version of the twins instead of Bill or Percy. His face was filled out and his eyes wiser. His hair was as vividly red as ever, though.
"Hey, No One!" Ron greeted cheerfully as he skidded to a halt. "Glad you could make it! I see you managed to get Hermione to come! Good job! And... blimey..."
Ron looked Hermione up and down.
"... you even got her to dress up!"
"Ron!" Hermione went crimson at his scrutiny.
"You didn't elope with her, did you?" Ron demanded suspiciously.
"Hmmmmm..." Harry considered. "Well..."
"You're awful! The both of you!" Hermione stormed away to join the rest of the group. Ron laughed delightedly.
"That was perfect, mate. You'll fit right in. Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
"No thanks," Harry declined politely as they walked over. "I don't drink."
"Oh, come on," Ron egged him. "Just one. It won't hurt."
"Well... ok. But just one. I'm not the nicest drunk."
They reached the table and Ron pulled up an empty chair for Harry and started making introductions.
"Hey, everyone!" Ron said loudly. "This is No One. Yeah, that's really his name. He was a patient of Hermione's at St. Mungo's and I ran into him there and invited him out tonight."
"No One, this is my girlfriend, Charlotte," a red-haired woman with his eyes waved at him;
"Seamus," sandy-haired and short, Seamus looked just as Harry remembered;
"Meg," Ron indicated a tiny black-haired girl sitting next to Seamus;
"Will," a medium height stocky fellow with a quick grin, short spiky brown hair and brown eyes;
"Travis," a tall burly man with thick straw colored hair and blue eyes;
"And Carolyn," a merry-eyed skinny brunette with short hair grinned at him.
"Hi everyone," Harry mumbled.
"Nice to meet you!" Will greeted.
"Is that you natural hair color?" asked Carolyn.
"Er- yeah," Harry answered.
"Cool!"
Harry plopped down on his chair and slumped a bit, trying to go unnoticed. Immediately, Hermione drew her chair next to his and hovered beside him protectively.
"Here ya go, mate," Ron thumped a pint down in front of Harry. "Try it, it's the house ale. You'll like it."
Harry sipped it cautiously. It was bitter and strong, but not unpleasant. Several conversations were springing up around Harry as the rest of the people split off into little groups; Hermione was engaged by Seamus and Meg. He tried to concentrate on some of the topics as he nursed his beer.
"So, No One," a booming voice made Harry jump, "what do you do for a living?"
Harry turned and saw he was being addressed by Travis, the large, blonde-headed man.
"I, er, make things," Harry said rather unhelpfully.
"Well, that really clears things up!" laughed Carolyn, and the others joined in. Harry was slightly disconcerted to see everyone focusing on him.
"Yeah, like furniture and instruments and stuff," he had a go anyway. "Some carving, too. Mostly stuff made from wood."
"Really?" Charlotte asked keenly. "How interesting!"
"Yeah, he's really good!" Hermione interjected. "Here, look at this that he made."
She pulled out her otter and handed it around. There was a great deal of oohing and ahhhing. Harry frowned; did she take the thing everywhere with her?
"Brilliant!" exclaimed Ron, handing it back to a watchful Hermione. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"I, uh, just sort of picked it up."
"So you must know all sorts of nifty, um," Seamus lowered his voice, "spells."
"No... I do it all by hand."
"By hand??" Will choked on his ale. "You're kidding!"
"Nope."
Everyone looked at Harry with a mixture of respect and the kind of look you give someone who's not quite all there. He shifted uncomfortably and attempted to change the subject.
"So, er, what do you do, Ron?" he asked.
"Well, I-" Ron started, but was interrupted by Charlotte.
"Nothing, if he can help it," she snorted. "Except Quidditch."
"I work at the Ministry," Ron said in a dignified voice, ignoring Charlotte. "My dad got me a position there in the Department of Experimental Charms."
"Yeah," Hermione giggled, "he's forever making up new spells. The problem is, he isn't trying to."
"Excuse me," Ron said stiffly as they all laughed uproariously. "It was only once."
"It's ok, sweetie," Charlotte patted him on the arm, "I still love you... even if you did turn yourself into a girl for a day."
Even Harry laughed at that.
"Hey, who's side are you on?" demanded Ron.
"Sorry," gasped Harry. "Er, you, um, play Quidditch?"
"Yeah... but just in an amateur league, nothing serious. Those gits are on the team too," Ron motioned at Will, Travis and Carolyn.
"Yeah, he's our fearless leader," Carolyn said in mock admiration, miming a very lifelike swoon. Charlotte pretended to slap her, then they collapsed into each other's arms in mirth.
"He's Keeper," Will whispered loudly, "but he gets nervous in front of people. Especially pretty girls. You should have seen him the first time Charlotte came to see a game..."
"Shut it!" Ron's ears turned red. But Will didn't. In stuttering bits, Harry gathered that Ron had fallen off his broom but somehow managed to hang on with his foot, of all things. But he'd banged his head on the goal post and managed to kick the loose Quaffle into his own goal while flailing around.
By the time the story was over Travis was clutching his sides and had tears running down his face he was laughing so hard. Ron wore a grumpy expression and stomped off to get another round.
"Oh dear," Charlotte mourned. "Now you've gone and upset him. You're going to make me work extra hard tonight to cheer him up."
Meg snickered and Charlotte gave her a wicked little grin. Ron returned in a slightly better humor, though he did manage to accidentally spill half a pint onto Will.
Harry, to his surprise, found himself enjoying the night a great deal. He was accepted almost immediately into the group; it was a situation he hadn't found himself in in more than five years and he rather enjoyed it. The night wore on with more of the same good humor.
"I think it's past my bedtime," Hermione said around 11:30. "I'm afraid I need to get going. No, you stay here, No One. I can find my own way home."
She pushed Harry back down; he had automatically started to rise.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm a big girl, I can handle it," Hermione said dryly, but smiled to take the sting out of it.
"Oh. Right, then," Harry said awkwardly, watching her leave. She was walking differently somehow... something about her hips that made him pay more attention. Ron gave him a considering look, then leaned in close.
"Pretty, isn't she?"
"What?" Harry said, distracted.
"She's pretty, Hermione. She should take the time to make herself up more often," Ron said offhandedly, eying Harry beadily.
"Um, yeah..." Harry said, at a loss.
"You know, she and I had a thing for a bit. Didn't take us very long to figure out we weren't meant for each other, though. We were always fighting over one little thing or another."
Harry didn't say anything. He knew perfectly well that Ron and Hermione had a brief fling. Almost in the literal sense of the word.
"Funny thing is, we got on much better afterwards. We stopped fighting all the time. She said I grew up. I think maybe she was right."
"Er- right." Harry was starting to feel distinctly uneasy; he was gripped by a strong sense of urgency, like there was something wrong.
"You know," Ron was saying, giving Harry a measuring look, "she's been acting awful funny lately, Hermione. I reckon she fancies you, which must make you quite the guy. I would have sworn she was still in love with Harry."
"What?" Harry said sharply, focusing back on Ron. "Harry?"
"Yeah, Harry Potter... you know, she and I were his best mates at Hogwarts."
"Hermione was in love with Harry Potter?" Harry demanded. "She told you that?"
"Well, no... but I'm pretty sure she was," Ron frowned at Harry's insistence. "She looks for him every day, you know. Every single day since he disappeared."
"Nonsense," Harry muttered to himself. "We're just friends. You never could see what was in front of your nose anyway."
"What was that you said?" Ron asked, his eyes suddenly sharp.
"I said, 'We're just friends'," Harry said louder. "I mean, she was my healer."
"Yeah, well," Ron said, still staring hard at Harry, "Hermione's a pretty special person. If I was you, I'd mull things over a bit. Just my two cents, mate."
Harry stood up abruptly and the conversation cut off as everywhere looked at him in surprise. The feeling of unease was greater than ever.
"I'm... not feeling well," Harry said unsteadily. "I don't think I'm completely better yet. I'd better go. Thanks for inviting me."
"That's the ticket," Ron said with a wink.
"No, no, that's not it at all," Harry murmured, rubbing his forehead. "Something isn't right... I've gotta go..."
"Hey, No One, it was nice to meet you!" Carolyn said boldly, and the rest joined in.
"Yeah... nice to meet you too... I'll see you later," Harry said vaguely then turned and half ran out the door.
* * *
Hermione was humming merrily as she stepped out of the bar and across the street. Tonight had been better than she had dared hope; Harry had taken immediately to Ron and his friends, looking happier than she had seen him in ages.
"Hello there, little lady," a coarse voice called from behind Hermione. She whipped around to see a squat little man behind her. He was fat and bald with a small, squeezed in face and wearing black robes.
"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" he leered.
"Stop playing with her, you disgusting toad," another voice, much deeper, commanded from the shadows. "Just stun her and get it over with."
Hermione tried to pull out her wand and scream, but the toadlike little man was too quick.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Hermione was instantly frozen and toppled forward. The man scurried forward and lifted her onto his shoulder. He could have easily moved her with magic, but obviously enjoyed it this way more.
"Yes, sir, coming right along," he wheezed, carrying Hermione, whose inner voice was gibbering with terror, over towards a shadowy alley.
"You thought you were all safe, didn't you my little morsel," the fat man whispered furiously. "Thought we were all gone now that the Dark Lord is no more. Oh no, no, no. We are still carrying on his glorious work. And you, you filthy little mudblood, you were with Potter when the Dark Lord met his downfall."
"I'm going to have such fun with you before we kill you. You're dressed up so pretty," the man giggled grotesquely. "But first, you're going to lead us to Potter. We know he's not dead. Oh yes."
They had reached the the alley and the fat man dumped her on the ground roughly, back propped up against the wall.
"Here she is, sir," he said obsequiously. "What are we going to do to her?"
"You're not going to do anything, you foul little man," the other, a very tall man completely swathed in black, said contemptuously. "Just stand over there and be quiet."
The toadlike man looked murderous for a moment, but bowed and scurried away.
"Now, my dear," the man with the deep voice said, "you are going to tell us where Harry Potter is."
He waved a wand and Hermione suddenly had control of her head again. She immediately screamed, but nothing more than a hoarse whisper came out.
"Don't waste your time. Just go ahead and talk to us. It'll be easier that way. You'll get a quick, painless death that way."
"I don't know," Hermione lied hoarsely.
The man clucked disapprovingly and raised his wand. Hermione was gripped in the most intense pain she had ever felt; every part of her body was screaming in agony. She tried to scream again, but it was no use. The other man licked his lips and had a sick hunger in his eyes.
"Now, would you like to try again? Where is Harry Potter?" the tall man asked pleasantly, lowering his wand. Oh, Harry... Hermione thought, tears rolling down her face.
"I. Don't. Know." She gritted her teeth. The man sighed and raised his wand again. At that moment a shocking, savage animal growl rang out in the night.
"You want me?" growled a voice as the two men whirled. "You've got me."
The two man were hurled back by a roaring gust of wind, slamming into the wall with sickening thuds and pinned there. Hermione clearly heard the sound of bones snapping as the paralysis dropped from her. She couldn't do more than twitch uncontrollably and raise her head. Harry stood not ten feet away, his face twisted madly into a grimace of hate and rage. He was barely recognizable, but the aura of power beating on the air around him was every bit as strong as that which had accompanied Dumbledore or Voldemort.
"Harry," she whispered weakly, but he didn't seem to hear.
Pain clouded her assailant's faces; they were fading out of consciousness quickly.
"Oh, no," Harry whispered terribly. "You're not getting away so easily."
He waved his wand again and the film cleared from their eyes; vertebrae popped as they were healed. Their wands floated up in front of them and they were released.
"Take them," Harry said in a deadly voice. "Take them and attack me." The men stood very still then, as one, snatched at the wands. It was to no avail. Before they could so much as raise them, Harry blasted them into dust.
"Now, run, you bastards. RUN!"
They didn't need any more prompting; they turned tail and fled. But Harry was too far gone into madness. They didn't make it three steps before they collapsed on the ground, shrieking in agony. Harry cut their voices off so they writhed silently. Hermione watched in horror as huge gaping wounds appeared and then healed themselves instantly, over and over.
"Harry, stop," she struggled to her feet and stumbled towards him.
"Please, stop!" she cried, leaning on him. He staggered back a step. A glimmer of reason returned to his eyes as he saw Hermione and he lowered his wand.
"Harry, what was that? Was it... Crucio?"
"Crucio?" Harry laughed bitterly. "No, that's for amateurs. This one hurts just as much, but it's much more damaging psychologically to see your body torn apart."
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, shocked.
"They deserved it! You can't feel bad for them!" Harry yelled.
"I don't care about them!" Hermione yelled back, tears streaming down her face. "I hate what it's doing to you!"
Harry stared at her like he'd never seen her. The madness faded from his eyes and he wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her.
"Please.. take me home," Hermione begged, leaning gratefully against him.
"They have to die," Harry said flatly. "They're Death Eaters. And they know who I am."
"No more killing, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "Haven't you seen enough?"
Harry didn't say anything for a long time. He seemed to be struggling against himself. Finally, he raised his wand and Hermione tensed. But all that happened was cords flew out the end and bound the two men.
"Oblivio," Harry muttered. Another wave after that and the bodies disappeared with a pop.
"What did you do?" Hermione asked tremulously. Harry laughed humorlessly.
"They're sitting in the Ministry of Magic. When they wake up in the morning they'll find themselves surrounded by Ministry of Magic officials and have an intense urge to confess their crimes, plus a few extras I planted in their minds. And they'll remember none of this. Not even Voldemort could have broken this Memory Charm."
"Harry..." Hermione whispered, her eyes shining. "I'm really proud of you. Take me home now. Please..."
Harry picked her up effortlessly and disapparated back to their flats. He kicked the door to Hermione's flat open, not even bothering with the key, and carried her to her room. Her arms were curled around his neck and head rested on his chest.
"Here was are, Hermione," he said quietly, attempting to lay her down in her bed, but she wouldn't let go.
"Don't leave me alone. I'm scared."
Harry said nothing, but gently disentangled her arms and tucked her into her bed. She cried out and felt his weight settle on the bed beside her and his hand reach out to grip hers reassuringly. Comforted by his presence, feeling safe, she fell into a deep sleep.
When she awoke, he was gone. His door was locked and no spell or amount of pounding or shouting could rouse him.
(Quick A/N. Just so there is no confusion here, there is nothing sexual about the scene with Hermione being captured. Her antagonists get a rise out of hurting people.)
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