Harry was just setting Hermione down on her bed when the door burst open and three professors came in; wands held aloft. Professor Dumbledore swept the scene with his steely gaze, looking more like the slayer of Grindelwald than the kindly Headmaster. McGonagall flanked his left hand side and gave Harry a stern glare, while Flitwick, as Head of House and former dueling champion stood dwarfed on Dumbledore's right. Harry smoothed the comforter down over Hermione before stepping back.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said indicating with his wand. "Hand over your wand."
"Just what on earth did you think you were doing?" McGonagall snapped as Harry handed his holly and phoenix feather wand over to the Headmaster.
"Why doing was Professor Dumbledore said for me to do," Harry retorted. "You'll find, Headmaster," he said turning away from McGonagall. "That your Headgirl will be drastically improving to her old state."
Dumbledore frowned and cast prior incantato at his wand. Two ghastly hissing spells erupted from the tip of his wand. Harry remembered the urgency and power he put behind those parseltongue killing and locking spells. For only a few minutes ago it seemed like ages. Riddle had been finalizing the killing curse and only Myrtle's intervention had kept him alive.
"What is this?" Flitwick asked startled as a third hissing spell released translucent insubstantial fig marigolds. "Mr. Potter are you a Parselmouth?"
"Yes," Harry replied nonchalantly. "No, I wasn't the heir of Slytherin before you ask, but I was able to open the sink in the girls' bathroom. I'm sure Dumbledore can tell you exactly what happened between myself, my brother, Ron and Ginny Weasley in the Chamber."
Flitwick looked in askance towards the Headmaster who simply murmured, "Later Filius."
A fourth Parseltounge spell left the wand as an unlocked locket followed by series of five different Latin unsuccessful unlocking charms. Then a silent shield charm and then nothing. Dumbledore tried to put more power into the wand to reveal a few more spells but ten spells was the limit that the charm could do. The Headmaster handed the wand reluctantly back to Harry.
"Tell me what happened, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore requested.
Harry feigned a look of surprise. "Who me? Surely Daniel's story of what happened would better serve you, Professor," he mocked.
"Do not speak to the Headmaster in that tone," McGonagall snapped, angrily motioning with her wand.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, gently pushing McGonagall's wand down. Disgruntled, she put it away and settled back into staring down her nose primly. Flitwick followed form as repeated the Headmaster's request for an explanation.
"The Headmaster pointed out just how far gone our Hermione was going. Her grades were dropping and it couldn't all be blamed on her dating my brother or lack of sleep. Everything was suspicious to me from the start, but with the threat of expulsion on my head I had to get to the bottom of it or be blamed unceremoniously for it."
"Professor?" Flitwick asked, shooting the Headmaster a glance. "You threatened Mr. Potter for Miss Granger's falling performance?"
Dumbledore had the grace to look embarrassed. "I thought he was behind the string of new and cruel pranks plaguing Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. As Harry had been dating Miss Granger before that I assumed it was him acting rashly and jealously to the situation."
"Quite," Harry retorted coldly, ignoring the fact that it was true at the time.
"Go on, Harry," Flitwick encourage lightly.
"The Headgirl was not acting under her own influence. Daniel sent her a charmed locket giving it to her underhandedly, using my owl and signing my name. The locket was a artifact of Tom Riddle's, so on top of Riddle's charms were Daniel's compulsion charms. Hermione only started to date him under the influence of wearing the blasted jewelry piece. I've destroyed it and right now she is sleeping. Madam Promfrey might want to come in and see her. I'm staying until she awakes."
---
Harry watched her sleep, not touching her. Looking at her caused his heart to ache and bitter reminders of the past two months to well up. He loved her in spite of everything, but he did not know if he could forget or forgive.
Everything felt so unreal to him now. The relief he felt at her survival diminished under the new weight placed on his mind. Where could they go from here? Harry didn't know. He didn't have answers. He was hollow, as if every part of him had been drained dry.
Dawn was breaking through the tower windows, basking the room in pale gray. It fit his somber reflections as he watched and waited. The light only seemed to make Hermione more lovely. Her frizzy hair, unchecked against the white of the pillows, looked warm and alive. Her pale cheeks had a rosy flush and the dark circles under her eyes only made her more delicate and fragile. Her dusky-rose lips parted sweetly in her slumber.
He longed to touch her, to reclaim her as his own, but even as the light was driving away the shadows, it reminded him of the harshness he had had to face. He remembered how lonely his days had been and lonelier still the nights. Harry tried to hold Luna's words in his heart, to look forward instead of remembering the past, but the image of Daniel touching his Hermione made him sick with dread.
Now it was over, the duplicity of the Horcrux was revealed and subsequently destroyed, Harry couldn't help but wonder just how far it had gone. The enchantments of the locket were not unlike the diary, which if he recalled, Ginny said grew tougher to fight the more she wrote in it. Perhaps, the same could be said for Hermione for the longer she wore it, and Hermione must have worn it continuously.
It wasn't fair of him to ask of her the strength to overcome the compulsions of the darkest and most vile warlock since Grindelwald. He knew it in his mind, but his heart couldn't help but wish she had been able to--to fight a little harder. Harry hung his head, wishing he could stop thinking all together because then maybe it would hurt less.
A flutter of wings broke the silence of the suite as Hedwig soared into the room, landing lightly on Harry's knee. The tiny pricks of her talons roused Harry from his reflections and he dug his hand into his pocket pulling out the folded letter that had started this mess. He unfolded it and carefully smoothed it out.
"How girl, did you not immediately know the difference?" he asked, showing her the scrawled text. "I know you could not read the words as it was rolled up, but the spell residue had to have been there to hide his aura and the handwriting."
Hedwig hooted mortified. She clicked her beak regularly, ruffling her wings in agitation.
"I know. Believe me I know," he sighed. "Daniel never tried something so underhanded before and you were out when he came through my wards and I was out when you came back and saw the letter. You had no reason to think it wasn't from me, but I wish you had waited. What a difference that would have made."
Hedwig hooted mournfully and Harry nodded, ripping up the appalling excuse for a love letter. The shredded pieces drifted to the floor between his feet. Hedwig nudged his arm with her head, nudging it again when he didn't look up. She chattered at him indignantly until he calmed her with a hand on her head and stroke of her feathers.
"Don't worry. I still think you're the smartest most wonderful of owls. We'll know better in case of a next time." His expression darkened, his eyes flashing brightly. "There won't be a next time," he said darkly. "We have everything do we not? Of Daniel's duplicity and crime against another student--the Headgirl no less?"
Hedwig clicked her beak, flying off his knee and onto the floor. She picked up a torn piece of the letter Harry had ripped. He smiled grimly and waved his wand silently. The pieces knitted themselves back together, reforming the love note. Harry pocketed it, and called to him the smoldering remains of the Horcrux. He bagged the ashes and placed the clear bag into his pocket with the letter. With proof and Hermione's recollection of the events as she knew them, Daniel would be toast. There would be no wriggle room for the flubberworm when he gave Dumbledore the evidence to support his earlier story.
He reflected then on the battle with Voldemort's soul and his conversation with Myrtle right before. She had had to fight back against the boy who rid her of her life, not Olive Hornby who had made a ruin of it while living. He gave her the opportunity with the expressed hope she would help him.
She did and in that same bathroom all those years ago when she had found him as a young crying eleven year old Myrtle had confessed to Harry that she loved him as well as any ghost could. He thought he would have been horrified upon hearing that but a part of him was grateful for the pureness of her offering. While he couldn't tell her he felt the same, because he didn't, he did tell her she was one of the truest and most loyal of friends; he was glad to have her by his side.
Now Myrtle was gone, another friend lost to the battle against Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Harry wondered just how many more were going to have to die. Fighting the evil wizard when he was younger hadn't had nearly so many permanent deaths--just some particularly serious mishaps that landed him in the hospital. He looked over again at Hermione, that especially nauseous feeling welling up inside him once more. It could have been her. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take again.
Hedwig chattered at him and took flight, circling the room and managing a spot for herself one top of the bedpost. Harry glanced up at her curiously before his attention was called back down at a slight snuffling noise. He found himself out of his seat and on the bed just seconds before her eyes fluttered open. She gave him a tiny half smile that was almost immediately replaced by a moue of consternation which turned into a horrified gasp.
"Harry?" she asked tremulously, extending a shaking hand in his direction.
He took her hand, held it loosely in his, observing her. Tears glistened on her lashes and he found a few of the shattered pieces of his heart. "How are you feeling?"
She wet her lips, her free hand touching her temple absently. "I feel woozy," she told him, dropping her hand. "I think," she puzzled aloud, "I think that Vv-Voldemort possessed me." She gave him a look then and said earnestly, "I wasn't myself, Harry."
"Can you tell me what happened?" he invited, needing to know.
Hermione pulled her hand back and ran them nervously over the bedspread. Her gaze focused over his right shoulder as she sorted through the double memories and overlapping thoughts.
"Hedwig delivered the locket to me about midway through the break. I was ecstatic that you had sent your present to me early, as I had done for you. I remember opening the letter with giddiness and reading what you wrote--it was so romantic--I took the locket out of the pouch and put it on immediately…" she paused, worrying her lip back and forth between her teeth. "You didn't give me the locket did you? Or the note?"
Harry shook his head and leant back toward the chair he'd been sitting at previously and pluck up a small brown package. "I got you this. I found the locket at Uncle Sirius' place with the help of the house elf. My room was broken into Christmas Eve when I was downstairs. Hedwig found the letter addressed to you after she got back from her hunt and without a reason to suspect otherwise she took it to you thinking it was my present for you. And how could you find that letter appealing it was so appalling awful?"
"I--" she floundered helplessly. "I--"
"Never mind," he interrupted. "What happened next? Can you recall?"
"I started having brownouts. My parents thought it was because of the heat. We're just not use to it here in England--the hot suns of India." Hermione shook her head, and restlessly picked at a sagging thread on the bedspread. "Then one day I woke up with a voice in my head."
"Voldemort."
Hermione looked up at him then, meeting his eyes. Tears leaked from the corners of her own and she snuffled loudly. "Yes. He was frightful, Harry. The first day I laid there in bed struggling against him. He stopped me from telling my parents when they came to check up on me what was happening and they left me alone thinking I was sick. I stopped him however from making me move or speak any of the nasty things he wanted me to…"
"What changed?"
She shook her head mutely, her hair falling in front of her face, hiding her from him. He reached out, sweeping back the bushy locks grazing her cheek accidentally. He pulled back as if burned. The tingle of awareness remained with him though and he resisted the urge to wipe his hand against his leg.
"Hermione?"
She took a deep fortifying breath and let it out shakily. "He won. I think I grew tired and fell asleep, though it felt like hours even days that I had been up struggling against his will. The next day he was having me tell my parents it had been a bug and that I was fine. I wasn't though and I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell them, Harry!"
He ached to comfort her, but he stayed where he was beside her. Fresh tears were squeezed out as her face grew blotchy and red. He desperately wanted to give into his desire to offer her reassurance. Instead he settled for clutching her hand and giving her a small squeeze.
"Then he started pulling at my memories, sinking into what made me who I was to easily fool others and he found Daniel and what I thought of him before this year and before I knew it I was writing love letters to him and telling him that dating you was all this master plan to get near him.
"He seemed to like that pretty well and wrote me in a letter not to write or speak with you anymore not that Voldemort would have let me…" she broke down sobbing into her hands. "Th-that day on the train… the look on your face… it'll haunt me forever Harry. I wanted to push away from Daniel, beat him up, run to you, anything, anything! But I was trapped--trapped inside of myself and nothing--nothing could break his hold on me."
Harry smiled bitterly. "Me too," he said softly. "And all the times after that I found you with him in broom cupboards."
She pulled her hand away from him and wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face against them. Her whole body shook. "I felt so dirty, Harry."
"That's something I don't get--why all the--that--with Daniel? Why did Voldemort… make you do that?"
She hiccupped. "Because the more romantically involved I was with the person who sent me the locket, the more control he gained over me, and the closer he was to his final goal. I was dying inside… fading away into nothing…"
He wrapped his arms around her then, unable to help himself and clutched her to him. She unwound her tightly curled body and threw herself against him wracking sobs pouring from her, soaking his robes. He rocked her a little, closing his eyes against her pain.
"How far?" he croaked his emotions raw like hers. He couldn't bear the thought of his brother touching her like he had. The idea only made him want to curse something into oblivion.
Hermione buried her face deeper into his shoulder. "He touched me; he touched me and I was forced to moan like it was something I wanted instead of making my skin crawl… he…"
Harry felt his insides twist. It was true then, the worst thing imaginable had happened. He was going to tear his brother apart; rip him limb from limb.
He tried to speak and had to clear his throat. "You're saying you and Daniel slept together?" he asked, desperately needing her to deny the inevitable.
"NO!" she cried out fiercely, pulling back, her watery brown eyes reflecting back up to him. "Voldemort learned early on I came back with a vengeance when he tried. He stopped trying to make it happen the way he wanted it too."
"But how? You said--"
"I didn't sleep with Daniel," she said fervently. "I couldn't. I loved you too strongly for Voldemort to push me to that final barrier. Instead he made me do other things…" she grew meeker again and turned away from him. "Those things I couldn't stop. I tried but… he was stronger and I--"
"Stop," he commanded, feeling nauseated, perversely needing to know what happened in detail, but he couldn't stomach anymore. He couldn't handle it now and neither could she. He touched her shoulder. "Stop. Please. No more. I can't listen to anymore."
"Harry…" Hermione pleaded, facing him again, touching his knee. "You believe me don't you?"
"Yes," he whispered, desperately shoving the wounded feeling aside. "I don't blame you… not anymore… how can I?" he shook his head. "But I can't help it if all I see is you and him together… and feel the betrayal all over again."
"Harry," she pleaded, "Harry, I love you."
"It physically hurt me to see you with him," Harry told her, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, in a gesture so tenderly familiar and yet foreign to him. "I--I care for you deeply. I'm sorry the locket was ever sent to you."
"Harry--"
He pressed a finger against her lips. "Please," he begged, "let me finish. I want us to be together like before, but I know it can't be that way. It'll never be like it was before. We've changed. I thought you had betrayed me like everyone else. I've never been so out of sorts. I'm not ready yet. I can't forget everything that went on. I need time to sort myself out before we can try this again."
"Harry," Hermione cried out softly, leaning into him. "Don't leave me. Please, please, I need you."
"Likewise," he answered steadily, "but I need space too. Give me time, Hermione."
"I won't survive this without you!"
He sighed sadly. "Somehow I think you'll find a way. You're strong; stronger than you think. We both need to heal."
"We can heal each other!"
He shook his head. "I can't see how. I don't want to hurt you, it's the last thing I want to do, but I need to think of myself first, just for now."
"Can't we try first?" she entreated, clutching at his forearms, her eyes wild and desperate.
"Hermione--"
"Don't do this, don't walk away. We can make it work! I know we can!"
He looked away, over her shoulder, trying to steel himself against the turmoil that rose inside of him at her words.
"Kiss me, Harry," she implored. "Love me. Let yourself love me."
Involuntarily, he cupped her face, his gaze sweeping over her large soft brown eyes down to her sweet honeyed lips. Her lashes fluttered down as he leaned in to taste them. A hair's breadth away he paused holding still as emotion swept him; then in the selfsame movement he pulled back.
She opened her eyes and he saw a deep hurt reflecting in them nearly equaling the heartsore feeling building inside his chest. He smoothed his hands down her arms and squeezed her fingers, feeling the icy coldness of them, at once certain and unsure.
"I can't do this," Harry murmured, letting go of her. "I'm sorry; I just can't."
He removed himself from the bed and walked to the door. She called his name as he reached it in desperation. Reluctantly he paused, a part of himself wanting a sign that he was wrong, that they could be as they were. Hermione bit her lip and said nothing and he offered up a sad smile before departing. Hedwig fluttered after him hooting a sorrow filled farewell to Hermione.
There was nothing left to say.
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 32º«««º»»»º