Title: Lustratio
Author: Electric_blue
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Summary: Theories abound, and boundaries are broken...
Warnings: M/F, angst, dark themes
Disclaimer: This story is completely for fun and no money is being made off of it at all.
A/N: Thanks to everyone for all your great reviews! I just wanted to say that there are some scenes in this chapter that are among my favorite in the story. Hopefully you will feel the same. For those of you holding out for some Harry/Hermione action, I can only say this: soon :-)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Lustratio
Part III: Alone
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Come, let us take our fill of love until the morning: let us solace ourselves with loves. For the goodman is not at home, he is gone a long journey."
- Bible
Harry wasn't exactly sure what Mrs. Pearl was trying to tell him, but he knew that it was probably the most important thing he had heard about this particular case as of yet.
The woman could have been a model by muggle standards, and was definitely beautiful - by anyone's standards. Long blonde hair swept up in a neat braid that hung daintily over her shoulder. Glittering blue eyes. Absolutely flawless skin. And, why not? If Mr. Pearl had been as narcissistic as Harry had been told, then there was no way he would have settled for a wife any less gorgeous than the woman who stood silently in the door way of the office. Although, Harry knew that she probably wasn't looking her best at the moment. She looked tired - a look Harry knew well from looking in to the mirror (though not recently. Oddly enough, Harry had been sleeping like a baby for the last two weeks or so) - and she looked a little paler than was to be considered healthy. Thinner, too. All this was to be expected from a woman who had theoretically survived the Avada Kedavra... and whom had just lost her husband.
Lost... in the most literal sense of the word, of course.
"You've never met the man who's been sitting in your room before?" Harry asked with a very concerned crease in his forehead as he stood up from his desk. The woman took a small step further in to the office, and then looked around nervously.
"Never." She responded. Harry walked around his desk, and past Mrs. Pearl to the door. He shut it, and turned around to face the woman. She clasped her hands in front of her, and it reminded Harry so much of Hermione that he could actually feel his chest constrict. He shook the feeling off and knew now was not the time to think about that.
Mrs. Pearl looked around the office, and appeared to be a but surprised by what she saw.
There was a desk - a chair behind it, two in front - a sofa, and a cage. No other furniture.
"I would have though you'd have pictures of your friends plastered all over the walls." She said with a shrug. "You seemed like that kind of person." Harry looked around at the walls that, indeed, had no pictured of his friends - but rather of newspaper clippings and wanted posters. It had not always been that way. This room had started out filled with pictures of Ron and Hermione - and even of his parents... but slowly, picture by picture... he'd taken them down. He'd never really stopped to think about why.
Though, perhaps, it was because he wanted to keep his friends as far away as he could from the horrible things he dealt with here at work.
"Take a seat, Mrs. Pearl." Harry said as he gestured toward one of two comfortable looking chairs in front of his desk. The woman shook her head.
"No... I can't stay." She responded. "I just wanted to... to tell you what I know. I'm not sure if it will help you at all, but--"
"Any information would be helpful." He certainly meant it. After weeks of getting nowhere at a firebolt pace, this was almost like receiving a gift.
Mrs. Pearl nodded.
"The man who has been watching over me..." She took a deep breath. "I've never met him before in my life. At first I thought it was the amnesia... that I was just forgetting him, but that I would remember eventually. That's what he told me anyway."
Harry had a very horrible feeling that he had been a fool to trust the nameless man.
"But things have been coming back to me, Mr. Potter." Mrs. Pearl continued. Things from that day. I remember... what happened." It wasn't Harry's imagination when he saw that the blue eyes he had been very near admiring moments before... were now beginning to fill with tears. He did not remember the day his parents were stolen for him - the day he became "the boy who lived"... but he knew if he did, he might well have cried about it every night.
"It's all right, Mrs. Pearl. Take your time." Harry tried to sound comforting, but didn't know how well he was pulling it off. He just didn't know what to say to a person in this kind of a situation. Again, she shook her head.
"No... I have to say this now." She ran her hand over her hair, pushing up a loose tendril that had fallen over her eyes. "They... th-the death eaters... they broke through the enchantment in the downstairs hallway closet. You know the one." Harry did. The one that opened up in to the real house. The one that had impressed him so much. That magic had been among the most amazing he had experienced. He remembered how it had made him feel as though nothing could ever hurt him or anyone he loved ever again. It made him feel at home.
And, he remembered thinking... at peace.
Harry nodded.
"After that, my husband and I hid in the nursery. We were planning on having a baby, you see..." Her eyes teared up some more. Harry felt only the deepest and sincerest sympathy for her, but knew she had to continue, and he had to hear it. "Frances had put... very strong barriers up over that room. He wanted to make sure the baby would be safe no matter what." She paused, attempting to swallow back her tears. "At first we thought we were going to be okay... but somehow they managed to break in. I had never wanted to believe that they were powerful. I had always told myself that they were just a band of idiots following you-know-who - doing his bidding out of fear. But they are powerful. The magic they broke through should have been near impenetrable. They got through like it was nothing. And they were laughing, Mr. Potter. They... enjoyed it." At this, the woman turned away from Harry completely.
There was only a brief silence.
"After that," She continued again. "One of them pointed a wand toward me - the other two held my husband. He looked so terrified, and he struggled so hard to get to me. I thought, `dear God... they're going to make him watch them kill me...'. The one holding the wand at me looked at Frances... and sneered. She said... she said, `this is where fame will get you...'" She paused. "'Make sure to pass the message on to Harry Potter'."
Harry felt numb for a moment... before the wretched feeling of guilt fell upon him. All this had happened to this couple because of him. He would never bring anything but pain to those around him. Even if he didn't know them.
One more reason to leave and never come back.
"I'm... sorry." He somehow managed to say - and even as he said it, he knew the word was completely trivial. It meant nothing. It would not get this woman her husband back, nor would it ever erase the memory of what had happened to her from her mind. In fact, there was nothing he could have said at that moment to make any of this easier or better.
"I don't blame you." Mrs. Pearl said quietly, and then turned back around to face Harry. "You're a good man, and a good wizard. My husband always said so. He always had a very deep respect for you. A man apart... someone who set himself aside to help the rest of us pitiful creatures." She took a deep breath. "He didn't speak that way of many people."
You're a good man, and a good wizard...
Something about that statement had rang very familiar in Harry's mind, though he wasn't quite sure why.
"After that..." The woman took a deep breath. "After she said that, I mean... she looked at me. Looked me right in the eyes. I've never seen evil before, but I knew that's what she was. She spoke the Avada... I remember it very clearly. I remember thinking that my husband would have to live with the memory of watching me die for as long as he lived." Tears finally fell from her eyes at that. "However long that might have been..."
"He's alive, Mrs. Pearl." Harry said firmly. He had already caused her so much pain just by being himself, and he couldn't stand her to feel any more. "We will find him."
Mrs. Pearl wiped her face. "When I woke up, he was gone... and that man was there, holding me to his chest. Crying. I've never heard a man cry so brokenly. I don't understand it. I know I've never met him... but I feel as though I know him. I trust him." She looked down, and folded her arms across her chest. "That's all. I... I don't know anything else."
Harry stood quite still for a few moments.
"Thank you." He said finally. And he meant it.
*****
"Your theory... out with it. Now." Harry said not a moment after Remus stepped in to his office. Remus chuckled a little himself as he shut the door.
"Hello to you, too, Harry." Was his response.
"You have a theory as to what happened to Mrs. Pearl. I have a theory as to what happened to her husband. I have a feeling that my theory is just as insane as yours, so we can't judge each other on them."
Remus was silent only for a few seconds as he placed his hands in his pockets and stared Harry in the eyes. He decided Harry was far too determined to hear what his theory was, and it was best just to tell him what he wanted to know. He sighed.
"I don't believe that Mrs. Pearl survived the Avada Kedavra as you did." He said evenly. Harry nodded. "That much is evident by the fact that the curse had not left her with a scar." He took a hand from his pocket and scratched the side of his nose. "I think what we have here is, perhaps, the first case of a person being brought back from the dead."
If Remus had expected a big response to that, he didn't get it.
"I agree." Was all Harry said. Remus shook his head and held out his hands as if surrendering.
"Harry, I know it's hard to..." He paused. "Pardon me? You agree?" And Remus looked quite confused.
Harry shrugged. "Well... yeah. Like you said, there was no scar... and after the conversation I had with her, I was more than sure she had been hit with the curse. The only explanation was that she hadn't survived it, but had been brought back after being killed by it."
"You do understand this wont go over well with the ministry."
"I know."
Remus nodded.
"Well... I suppose it's time to reveal your theory, then."
Harry nodded and took a seat behind his desk. "What if... Mr. Pearl hasn't disappeared?" Remus took a seat as well - the same one Mrs. Pearl had been sitting at earlier. "What if he's still here? Only we didn't know it, because... he's sort of hiding."
"Hiding? Why would he do--"
"I don't think he has a choice." Harry interrupted. "Two weeks ago, when we brought Nameless in for questioning, he had called the Pearls' home his home. He also called me a good man, and a good wizard."
"Well I don't see what that tells us other than the man's possessive and a good judge of character."
"But then today... Mrs. Pearl said those same words to me. That I'm a good man, and a good wizard. She said her husband always said so. At first I didn't remember why it sounded so familiar. When I realized why... well, everything seemed to make sense. A mad sort of sense, but sense none the less. It explains why Mrs. Pearl feels like she knows Nameless and why he called her home his home."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying... I think Mr. Nameless is really Mr. Pearl." Remus opened his mouth to speak, but Harry held up his hand and continued. "I know it sounds like I've lost my mind on this one, but think about it. Mr. Pearl disappears, and this guy just appears? Mr. Pearl was - is - a very powerful wizard. We felt his magic ourselves at his house. The spell that lifted once you told the person about it. He's obviously very good with those types of spells. That would explain why Nameless can't tell us anything, and why he told me it was a matter of life death. If he did, the spell he used to bring back his wife would be reversed, and she would die. It would explain why he told me we would never find Mr. Pearl. It would explain why Nameless knows their safe. It explains everything."
By now, Remus had a very deep furrow in his forehead.
"But why would he change his appearance? Why not just stay the way he was?"
Harry sighed. "That's the only part that I haven't figured out. I don't know why... but there must be a reason."
"But, Harry... if what you're saying is true, then our just speaking about it would reverse the spell."
Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. I think Mr. Pearl was smart enough to make sure that it couldn't be reversed that way. I think he, himself, would have to tell us what happened in order for it to come undone."
Remus still didn't look quite convinced.
"I'm not sure." He said. "It's shaky reasoning."
"But a sound theory."
"That contradicts what I just said."
"Yeah, well... what I just said makes more sense."
The room was quiet for many minutes as Harry allowed Remus to think it all over. It certainly was crazy... but no more crazy than Mrs. Pearl having been raised from the dead. When Harry had first apparated on to the scene of this attack and they had told him this was a strange case... he didn't think any of them really knew just how true that was going to turn out to be.
"All right..." Remus said finally as he stood up. "I'll think your theory over. It's a bit too much to process at the moment." Harry stood up as well - and in his eyes was something that Remus might have never seen in them before. It worried him, and he hoped to God he didn't know what was coming.
"You know what this could mean."
"It could mean a great many things, Harry." He answered with just a slight shake of his head, and his next words were said cautiously. "But none of them good."
"All this time, Remus..." Harry started, and his words sounded just a little too excited. "All this time, it's been possible to bring people back. We just never knew how."
That had been exactly what Remus had been afraid of.
"Now, Harry--"
"Remus, my parents--"
"Are dead. Have been for quite some time. It's something we've all had to deal with."
"But if I'm right, we might have finally found a way--"
Remus slammed his fist on the desk and Harry was silent. Remus stared at him with the most intense gaze Harry had ever seen come from his eyes, and then stood up straight.
"You listen to me now, Harry... because this might very well be the most important thing I ever tell you in your life." He said very sternly, and for a moment Harry was taken back to third year when the professor had found him with the Marauder's map. "Your mother and father gave up their lives for you." If Harry had felt that he was back in third year before, he really felt so now. "Their love for you created the strongest magic imaginable, and you were spared. Their death was the consequence of that. I'm sorry, but it was. I'm sorry for you because you never got to know them, and I'm sorry for me because I was their friend...
but all magic has it's consequence." He took a deep breath, and by now Harry was staring down at his desk.
"We don't know," Remus continued. "How Nameless performed the spell - or even if your theory is correct. And if it is... we don't even know if what he did was right. There are reasons why reanimation spells aren't recorded."
After a moment, Harry nodded.
"I understand."
Remus didn't even blink.
"Do you?"
Harry looked up at him and nodded again. The truth of the matter was, he did understand. He understood everything Remus was saying. Pretty little letters and vowel sounds tied together to make words. Harry had been speaking the English language for quite some time now, and he liked to think he understood it very well.
"I should hope so." Remus responded. "You're an old enough man and and an experienced enough wizard to know that it's wrong, and against the laws of nature... not to mention the laws of our world. If the ministry catches wind of this--"
"Remus..." Harry interrupted. "I understand."
Remus was still as he stared in to Harry's eyes, and then he nodded. He took a deep breath, and then turned to go. Harry stayed where he was - the slightest bit tired from the conversation. Remus opened the office door, and Harry was about to sit again - when Remus turned back around to face him.
"By the way," he started. "We may have found the last horcrux."
*****
Harry walked in to his kitchen, his spirits down even further than they had already been lately. Which was odd, really. He should have been a little on the happy side that he and Remus had cracked the un crackable code. Solved the insolvable mystery. Almost, anyway. They were still just "theorizing" at this point. But Harry was more or less convinced that they were right...
And then there was the horcrux. The last horcrux.
Pulling up his sleeves, Harry observed the scars slashing every which way over his arms. A souvenir from the previous horcrux. Mostly, they had healed - leaving the skin white. Marked. That would never go away. He supposed he had gotten off easy as he remembered the way Dumbledore's hand looked before he died. The one that remained forever burned, and never seemed to heal. Only get worse.
Harry would leave in the morning to go follow up on this latest lead. Who knew how long he would be gone this time. If it ended up being true - that they actually had located the last horcrux... Harry didn't know what he thought.
Ron sat glumly at the table, a plate of cold food only getting colder in front of him. That's when Harry knew Ron was upset. What a sad lot they all made.
"Ron...?" Harry started from just inside the kitchen. Ron didn't even look at him.
"Yeah?" He asked forlornly.
"Let's go get really... really drunk."
A beat.
"Okay."
*****
Harry and Ron had only been here once before... neither of them really remembered when it was. Some time after they had destroyed the second to last horcrux. They hadn't been themselves for weeks, and finally decided to do the very muggle thing and drink away their problems. When they woke up the next day with roaring headaches that Hermione's pain relieving spell only took the edge off of... they more or less decided drinking wasn't their thing.
This night, however, drinking was their thing. If they remembered one thing from their previous night of drunken foolery... it was that, at least for a few hours, they hadn't been bogged down from the depression of every day life.
Harry sloshed back another shot of whisky as a group of tipsy university students sang very out of tune karaoke, and slammed the empty glass back down on the bar. Ron giggled as though something was extremely funny. Nothing was. Not really, anyway. The two had been playing a relatively ridiculous drinking game where Harry would take a shot when a brunette walked in to the bar, and Ron would take one when a blonde came in. It wasn't the most genius game given the fact that they had come up with it it when they were already drunk.
"I say," Harry started, imitating a snotty upper class man - no one in particular. "I do believe that was my twenteenth shot."
Ron burst in to another unfounded fit of laughter.
"You're completely zonked!" He exclaimed, then proceeded to fall out of his stool. Harry didn't even spare him a glance as he beat on the bar a couple times.
"Bar keep! Another round for me and my mate, directly, sir!" He said - a subtle slur in his words.
In typical bartender fashion, the tall and lean man was busy wiping out the inside of a beer bug with a white rag. He set it down next to others, placed the rag over his shoulders, and leaned on the counter in front of Harry.
"I think you and your mate have had enough." He said, casting his eyes at Ron who was climbing back to his seat. Harry laughed.
"No... no, you see..." He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it on the counter. "I have money... and you have the lovely alcohol. We exchange one for the other. That's what we do."
The bartender glanced down at the money very pointedly, then back at Harry.
"It's time for you to go." He said flatly.
"Do you know who I am?" He asked incredulously as he pulled Ron to him by the shoulder. "Who we am?"
"I really don't care..." And by now, the bartender was looking extremely annoyed.
"We're wizards. Powerful wizards who could turn you in to something very unpleasant with only the flick of a wand."
"Like a tampon." Ron interjected. Harry looked at him, and began to laugh.
"Ron, you said tampon."
"All right, boys... that's it." The bartender said as he gestured to a particularly large man who was dressed in black, standing in the corner of the room. Harry nor Ron noticed.
"I know!" Ron exclaimed through his own laughter. "I couldn't think of anything worse to be turned in to." Moments later the big man dressed in black was behind the two of them.
"Get these two out of here." The bartender said. The man pulled Ron and Harry up by their shirts very easily, and escorted them through the crowded bar to the doors. The two wizards found the whole thing very humorous, indeed.
"This guy would be a big tampon." Harry giggled out.
Then Harry was thrown out - Ron right behind him.
When the two boys had calmed down enough to think straight - or as straight as they could as they were both appallingly drunk - they began walking down the sidewalk.
"What now?" Ron asked.
"Dunno..." Harry said as he looked around. "Do you suppose we should get home before Herminnoney starts to worry?"
"Yeah, we were very irresponsible not leaving her a note."
For some reason, they laughed at this. Actually, there really was no reason to laugh.
Harry and Ron started home. Since their sense of direction was extremely impaired... it would be another hour and a half before they got there. Many funny things would happen to them a long the way, but they would wake up the next morning and remember none of them.
*****
Harry burst through the front door first, and then looked around.
"Coast is clear!" He stage whispered behind to Ron. Ron pushed forward, and Harry stumbled in the house. Considering how agile they were not being, they weren't really making that much noise. Harry looked at his watch. It was 3 in the morning. Hermione was definitely asleep. Because that's what people did late at night and early in the morning. Even Harry. Recently anyway. Because his mother was watching over him at night now. He wondered why she hadn't started earlier.
Oh well.
"Ron, we should be quite going up the..." He turned around with a crease in his forehead. Ron was already slumped over the couch and very much asleep. An hour or so before, Harry might have started laughing at this... but the effects of the alcohol had worn off enough for him not to think that absolutely everything was hilarious. He looked at Ron for a few moments, then shrugged... and began his ascent up the stairs.
Harry stopped at the end of the hallway that led to his room. He would have to pass Hermione's to get to it. Though when he found himself walking past her door, he also found that he wasn't walking past it. He was walking through it.
There she was.
God, she was beautiful. All she had to do was lay there and be asleep, and Harry couldn't get over how he had never seen anything more perfect or gorgeous. She was like... some kind of angel or something. Some wonderful creature that had no place on earth except to make it a better place to live in. Who would ever want to hurt her? What bastard had broken her heart? Merlin, he could kill him! Harry knew heart break well and Hermione didn't deserve that kind of pain. She didn't deserve any kind of pain.
With that thought in mind, Harry walked slowly over to Hermione's bed and sat down beside her. He ran his hand through her hair softly.
"I love you, Hermione..." He whispered. "Even if that other bloke doesn't."
Hermione stirred. Harry pulled his hand back suddenly.
"... Harry?" Hermione asked drowsily as she opened her eyes.
Harry swallowed, and just knew this was a bad situation to have put himself in. He just wasn't in the right state of mind to think of a good excuse for being there. So he did the only thing he could think of to do at the moment... and it wasn't exactly to improve the situation.
Harry's lips were upon Hermione's in an instant. No, this certainly wouldn't improve the situation. It would more than likely prove to worsen the situation... but it felt so damn good that Harry couldn't really force himself to care. This is what he wanted. This is what he needed... he loved Hermione so much, and for once he was going to do something for himself.
He put his arms under Hermione's torso, and pulled her up toward him in a very firm embrace. The soft cottony material of her sleep shirt felt nice against his skin. At some point when Harry somehow managed to break through the haze of pleasure Hermione's tongue was causing... he realized that her arms were around him as well. He pulled away from her mouth and began trailing kisses down her neck and over her collar bone. She smelled subtly of fresh fruit and flowers, and tasted just as sweet. It was so wonderful.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped as she clutched a handful of his hair, and his lips were back on hers. He laid Hermione back down and followed her, gently laying his weight on top of her. Hermione groaned in to the kiss, and her hands roamed all over Harry's back, through his hair, holding him down to her.
Harry pulled away again... only this time it was to pull off his shirt. When he returned to Hermione it was to begin kissing her neck again. He had realized he hadn't spent nearly enough time doing that. And, oh, did she have the most beautiful neck imaginable! He was so overjoyed. He had the whole night to kiss that neck. To kiss that mouth. To love Hermione. To make love to Hermione.
The whole night.
*****
Harry woke up to a sunlit room that was not his, and headache that was what he deserved...
What happened last night?...
Oh yeah... Hermione happened last night...
...
Oh, God! Hermione happened last night!
Harry shot up in Hermione's bed and looked around. Even though everything was blurred, he could see that Hermione was not in the room with him. He searched around frantically for his glasses, and when he found them on the night stand next to the bed, he put them on quickly and got up. Trying to head out the door, he had to stop and lean against Hermione's dresser for a few moments as he clenched his eyes shut to the headache, and then left the room.
How could he have done this? What kind of a man was he? He had gotten drunk and allowed his emotions to take over. Poor Hermione! Had he forced her to kiss him the way she had? Oh, God... what else had they done? He couldn't bloody remember! He remembered kissing her for a good long time, and then nothing.
Ah... kissing her. Kissing Hermione. She has such a warm soft mouth...
Focus, Harry!
Nothing after that. Everything went black. Had he slept with her? Had he slept with Hermione while he had been drunk? That was horrible. Too horrible. Completely and utterly wrong.
Another reason to leave.
This was not the way to convince himself or anyone else that he wasn't in love with her. Merlin, what the hell happened last night? How was he ever going to be able to explain himself? How was anything ever going to be all right again? He never thought he would be the kind of man to do something like this. He hated himself.
Harry hurried down the stairs as fast as he could and searched around the house for the woman he hoped so whole heartedly did not hate him. Finally, he ended in the kitchen, where Ron sat in quite the same position he had the night before when Harry had come home.
"Have you seen, Hermione?" Harry asked, not even bothering with a good morning. It wasn't a good morning. Ron immediately held a piece of paper out toward him. Harry furrowed his forehead and took it. He read:
Ron and Harry,
I am spending the weekend with my parents. No need to worry.
- Hermione
That was all it said. Very short and to the point. Harry felt his heart crack right down the middle. She had left because of him - he was sure of it. She hated him. And she had every right to, didn't she? Of course, she did!
"Oh." Was all Harry could say as he handed the paper back to Ron.
"She hates me." Ron responded miserably. Harry was surprised by this.
"... Why do you think that?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, dropping his head on to the table. "She knew I was going to finally tell her how I felt about her, and she went and left on me. She's using her parents as an excuse to get of the house."
Harry sat down across from Ron and could only sigh. He had nothing to say. Except... he did. He did have something to say, and it had nothing to do with Ron or Hermione. He wasn't going to put it off or wait for Hermione to get back.
"I'll be gone for a while, too." Harry said. Ron looked at him with confusion plastered over his face.
"What--"
"We've got a lead..." Harry said, and then took a deep breath. "We may know where the last horcrux is, and I've got to go." Ron stood up.
"Not alone!" He exclaimed. Harry stayed where he was and shook his head.
"I've got to do this alone, Ron."
"Since when did the battle against evil become a one man show?"
"Listen, Ron..." He paused. "If this lead turns out to be a good one, and we've actually found it... it could mean the end of the war. I'll need your help to destroy it, but I've got to look for it on my own. It's my job, and I wont drag you away from your life to help me."
And for being hung over, Harry managed a very determined expression. One that Ron, in his state of being hung over, could not match. He looked down.
"Fine." He said, then made a point of showing Harry that it really wasn't fine by leaving the room. Not that he had to make that clear. Harry knew it was dangerous going by himself, and he knew this was just pushing Ron further away...
And he knew that his best friends felt exactly the way he did.
Alone.
*****
-->