Disclaimer: Not mine; more's the pity.
Shadow Walks
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
--Green Day, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
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Chapter Eighteen:
Every now and then I know you'll always be the only boy that wanted me the way that I am.
--Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"
Hermione reappeared from around the corner, her arms piled full of various and sundry paraphernalia that Harry could not hope to identify. Her eyes appeared too-large in her thin, anxious face, and Harry said,
"Here, let me," and held his arms out. There was no need to speak, no time for even the barest of conversations, but they were working together seamlessly, as if this colossal miscalculation had been planned out in advance.
She had begun shucking off the knapsack the instant her arms were empty, flipping open the flap and casting Shrinking charms on everything Harry was carrying. The door rattled again, and a twisting vertical crack began to meander its way down the length of the heavy wood.
Harry cast a Cushioning charm, and Hermione turned around, as he closed the bag, and helped her put in on her shoulders, even as they began to move toward the back of the room, toward the grate - and escape.
A spell flashed through the ever-widening chink in the door, that Harry only saw in his peripheral vision as it flew past him, narrowly missing his ear, and hit Hermione in the shoulder.
"Hermione!" His cry blended with her own, and she staggered, but did not go down, turning and lunging unevenly toward him, her fingers biting into the fabric of his sleeves.
"I'm - I'm…all right," she said, though her pallor and unfocused eyes suggested otherwise.
"You're bleeding," he pointed out, and she looked down to where a patch of brilliant red began to bloom on the light material of her cotton shirt.
"Cutting curse," she said, wincing as she shifted her shoulder experimentally. "Hurts, but I'll be okay. They're trying to stop us, not kill us."
Harry deftly removed the knapsack straps from her shoulder, as gently as he knew how, and proceeded to load it onto his own shoulders.
"Get up in the vent," he ordered, and she did not argue with him, which he thought was a rather refreshing change. She Levitated herself upward, landing neatly within the confines of the duct, even as the door finally surrendered to the bombardment it had been withstanding.
"Harry!" She called hoarsely, and saw him jerk his head in the direction of the cracking wood, alarm widening his eyes.
"Go!" He called out, without looking at her. He raised his wand.
"Not without you!" She hollered back.
His reductor curse crashed impressively into the nearest shelving unit, causing it to explode in a generous spray of paper shreds, wood splinters and glass shards, as it toppled into the adjacent unit, creating a domino effect. The war cries of Malfoy's minions quickly changed to shouts of anger and dismay.
"Accio grate," Harry said, and caught the flat metal panel in one hand, as it surged toward him. He knew he had only bought himself and Hermione time, and he quickly soared upward, landing inside the vent, as Hermione scrambled out of his way. He replaced the covering, adding several layers of complicated Sticking charms as an extra measure of precaution.
"I thought I told you to go," he growled at Hermione, mostly serious. She glowered at him, even though she was visibly favoring her injured shoulder.
"I thought you'd understand by now that we're in this together," she said defiantly.
"Let me see your shoulder."
"It can wait," she insisted, though her left arm was all but useless at her side. "Let's get out of here first." Harry wanted to argue, but subsided, still able to hear the Death Eaters as they struggled to free themselves from the wreckage of the room.
They proceeded down the vent, crawling slowly - too slowly - with Hermione using an odd kind of gimpy gait, not putting any weight on her left hand at all. Harry crawled behind her, every sense on high alert, every nerve ending vibrating with the need to hurry. He was listening intently for any increase in noise from behind them.
He heard nothing, and when they reached the vertical shaft, he began to feel some measure of relief. Perhaps they had made it safely away.
"Can you go about halfway up and hold there?" he asked, allowing himself to be glad that the mishaps of the mission allowed them at least to use magic.
"Why?"
"Because I need to do something first, and I'm going to need you out of the way, but I don't want you going up to the roof alone - not while you're hurt." He eyed her shoulder in a practiced way; the blood had spread to cover most of the front of her shirt, but did not appear to be expanding at an alarming rate.
She nodded and sighed, pointing her wand at the floor of the duct, and rising upwards slowly. At some indeterminate point above his head, lost in darkness, he heard her say, "Arresto Momentum."
He too began to rise, and, as he did so, he took a coin from his pocket, and let it fall, transfiguring it in mid-flight to a large square sheet of metal that looked quite like that which lined the vents. Before it could fall to the bottom of the duct, he Sealed it carefully into place at the opening to the vertical shaft. Hopefully, if the Death Eaters made it this far, they would crawl on forward, and without the realization that there was access to the roof right above their heads.
He continued his ascent, which was brought to an abrupt halt, when he found himself pinned between a hovering Hermione and the wall.
"You'll have played hell with the ventilation system now," she said, but it was in a husky and admiring sort of way. Harry hitched in a breath that he hoped could be construed as a chuckle, and quickly propelled himself upward, inwardly cursing himself for noticing and enjoying the way his body slid past hers in the tube.
Cautiously, he poked his head up from the duct entrance, grateful for the hooded cover, still propped against the vent opening, with a straggly end of rope tied to it. It was entirely possible that Death Eaters had deduced how they exited the multiverse room, and had headed to the roof to cut them off.
The roof was silent, the indigo sky studded with diamond-chip stars, the faintest of glows beginning to form on the edge of the eastern horizon.
"It's clear," he whispered to Hermione, and clambered the rest of the way out. He leaned down to give her a hand up, and she staggered out clumsily, using only one hand, and nearly tripping over the edge of the vent where it protruded from the roof.
She used his chest to give herself leverage, bracing herself against him until she was sure she wasn't going to fall. There was a jolt through both of them as if one had touched a live wire.
"Harry?" She sounded breathless.
"What?" His voice appeared as if he too had suffered from a sudden lack of oxygen.
There was a sudden upswell of noise behind the lone door at the other end of the roof, and they exchanged alarmed glances. Somebody clattered noisily against the crash bar, and the door began to open. A solitary beam of light spilled out from the stairwell.
Harry and Hermione looked first at their discarded brooms, barely visible as an indistinct outline in their Disillusioned state, then at the still open vent.
"If we go back down the duct, they'll know exactly where we are," Harry said. "We'll be cut off." He didn't relish the idea of playing hide-and-seek with Death Eaters in the Ministry ventilation system.
"If we leave on brooms, they'll be sure to spot us. We haven't enough time to get far enough away. We'll be tracked," Hermione added, then gasped, as Harry threw an arm around her ribs, catching her up under the arms, and pulling her flush against him, while trying not to jar her shoulder overmuch. "What on earth - ?"
"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking as intently into her eyes as he could. Even as he did, Malfoy's henchmen had arrived onto the rooftop, and she could hear the exclamations as they were spotted.
Only an instant, a heartbeat, a breath, before curses began to fly.
"Of course I do," she answered, and he brought his wand arm down, pointing it at the roof, hurtling them into the sky.
He felt her arms tighten frantically around him, as the shouts of the Death Eaters dwindled away. There were a few curses lobbed at them, but they missed widely. Harry was waiting for it - and there it was - a shivering sensation like radiant electricity, as they passed through the Ministry's anti-Apparation wards. When they were sufficiently above them, Harry released the Levitation spell.
Hermione's shrill yell of terror spiraled above them as they plummeted for only an instant before he Apparated them away.
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Harry did not truly relax until they had entered the house, and descended to Hermione's secret room.
"Will they look here?" he asked, watching her with a concerned gaze, as she moved mechanically to the small curtained loo.
"They know I was here once," she replied, her voice made slightly indistinct when she moved behind the flimsy barrier. "They sweep it every now and then, but they've never found me. Anti-Apparation wards only allow me in and out - that's why we ended up in the garden." There was a rustle of fabric, and Harry saw her bloody shirt hit the floor. A moment later, she came out in a fresh shirt, twisting her arm experimentally.
"I've had the Auror training in field medicine. Mind if I have a look at that?" Harry asked casually. Hermione's arched brows clearly said, Actually, I do.
"I'm perfectly capable of casting a healing spell on myself, thank you," she said stiffly.
There was a long, awkward silence, in which Harry tried vainly to think of something else besides kissing her, and the million reasons it would be wrong - and right - if he did.
"So what happens now?" Hermione ventured after a moment, not meeting his eyes.
"What?" Harry had the sudden panicked thought that she was reading his mind.
"What are you going to do…with that?" She cocked her head toward the knapsack that Harry had deposited on the sofa.
"Well, I … guess - if I can figure out how, that is - then I'll use my - my magical signature to calibrate a new crystal. Unless I'm closer to home than to her - which I doubt - that should lead me straight to her - or - or, at least, the universe where she is."
"So, after it's calibrated, you'll cast the incantation and you'll…go?" The last word was faint, and she pressed her lips together tightly. She still wouldn't look at him.
Harry swallowed noisily, finding that it didn't do much to ease the ache in his chest.
"Yes," he finally managed. Hermione nodded matter-of-factly, but Harry could read her tumultuous emotions in her pained eyes and the hammering of her pulse in the slender column of her neck.
"Well, then, I suppose we should …" she began, going back into Professional Mode, reaching for the knapsack with one hand.
"Hermione!" The word burst from between his lips before he could call it back. Her head jerked up toward him, as if it had been attached to a whipcord.
"What?" She let the word slink from between her teeth, barely moving her mouth. "What is there to say? We should get to work."
"I - I don't want to leave you here like this," he said feebly. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
"Then take me with you," she said briskly, retrieving items from the depths of the sack, and setting them carefully on the flimsy card table.
"I … can't," he said slowly. "I was hoping you'd understand."
"Understand what? I'm Hermione Granger, your best friend, genetically identical to whoever it is you're looking for! Have I really changed that much in the few years where our universes diverged? Why can't you - why can't I - ?" She exhaled a shuddering breath, and clamped her mouth shut, her pride nearly shattered beyond repair at her outburst.
"Why can't I what?" Harry retorted. "Why can't I love you? You think I don't? Let me tell you something right now, Hermione - I love you with all my soul. Is that what you want to hear? I always have and I've never stopped. And I'll never forgive myself for not telling her - you - when I had the chance. You are every bit as much Hermione as the girl who was taken from me. But it's not about that."
"Then what is it about?" She asked shakily, heightened color flooding her face at his emotional words.
"It's about doing what's right. It's about restoring Hermione to a universe from which she was stolen, taken against her will. It's not fair to leave her there. And if I took you both, one of you would be forced out of phase."
"You might not ever find her," she said, feeling like she was begging, and hating herself for it.
"I have to try," he answered stolidly, knowing what she was trying to convey. I'm a sure thing. You have me right here. "Besides, you would forever be fighting the pull of your own universe. I don't know what we'd have to do to keep you there. This is your universe, where you belong…"
Hermione stopped her busy work, and sank down onto the sofa, as if all the bones had been melted from her legs.
"Where I belong…" she echoed in a broken voice. "Oh, God."
He watched her impassively for a moment, inwardly aghast, but moved to sit at her side, wrapping one arm around her when she finally began to cry.
"Leave this place, Hermione," he said. "Go to Australia, America, anywhere away from here. There's nothing to hold you here anymore. We lost. Harry - I failed. It's over. You should go - try to make a life for yourself somewhere else."
"I could never imagine a life without you," she said dully. "As long as I was fighting Death Eaters, standing up for what was right - it - it felt like I was keeping you alive… like I was still fighting for you. If - if I go - then you really are dead."
"Maybe…" Harry hedged, feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite. "Maybe it's time you accept that."
"Like you did?" She retorted, but without the heat of anger.
"My journey isn't over yet," was all he said, simply. They sat silently for a moment, Harry enjoying the feel of her against his side, as his fingers trailed down to the end of her plait, winding it around his fingers. His desire had been tamped somewhat, replaced instead with compassion, that familiar love for Hermione as a friend, as someone about whom he cared deeply. He clung to that feeling; the other was dangerous.
He felt her heave a wistful sigh, and straighten up.
"Then I'd best help you on your way," she said in a carefully measured tone. He looked up at her, and the guarded look in her eyes warned him to say nothing else.
Allow me my dignity at least, she seemed to be saying, as she moved to the small table and began rifling over its contents. After a moment, she said,
"I don't even know where to begin. I'm not that well-versed on these theories…"
One of Harry's hands shot up to make contact with his forehead.
"I completely forgot!" he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a miniature book. In his hurry to enlarge it, he sent a few leaves of parchment wafting in all directions. He triumphantly presented it to Hermione, and her eyes sparked with interest when she saw the title.
"You lifted this?" She asked, though it was not really a question.
"You think Lucius Malfoy will be pissed?" There was unabashed glee in his voice, and Hermione laughed - the first real laugh he'd heard from her since he'd been there. It did funny things to his chest.
Her brow furrowed in that heartrendingly familiar way, as she flipped open the book and began to scan over the knowledge contained therein. Harry yawned so widely that he thought he might dislocate his lower jaw, and the movement caught Hermione's attention.
"How long has it been since you've slept?" she asked, almost accusingly. Harry shrugged, blinking eyes that were watery from the yawn.
"Luna said I wouldn't tire while I was out of phase. This is the first time I've been in phase for any extended period of time, but I was up for over twenty-four hours just before I left. I'm not even sure how much time has passed now - or how much passed while I was moving between universes."
"Go to sleep," she said perfunctorily. "I'll work on this." She waved her wand at the sofa, causing it to widen, and nodded toward the folded bedding over the arm.
"Hermione, this is my - " He tried to protest.
"When have I ever not helped you when you needed it? Besides, you won't be able to find her if you're dead on your feet, now will you?" She was trying very hard to keep her voice brisk, almost flippant, and it was nearly convincing.
"I could help you…" he offered, but the thought of repose was intoxicating, and he yawned again. Another snap of her wand caused the pillows and linens to fly up and arrange themselves around him properly. The fluffy softness smelled like her, and he inhaled a deep breath, his eyes sliding closed of their own accord.
"With any luck, I'll have this all sussed out by morning," she said.
"'Night, H'mione," he mumbled, already all but gone. His breathing became even and slow.
"Good night, Harry," she returned, almost primly, as her gaze traveled over his weary face hungrily and with sorrowful eyes.
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Ron felt shaky as he strode into the subterranean courtroom, which managed to feel both cavernously intimidating and oppressively dark at the same time. The courtroom was closed, with only a score or two of members of the media and "connected" public allowed to sit in on the proceedings. There was a low murmur of voices that indicated that the scheduled event had not yet begun.
Draco Malfoy sat at a low polished table with a rather dapperly dressed man that was obviously his solicitor. His eyes met Ron's with all the friendly openness of a great white shark.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Ron read his lips more than actually heard the words he spoke. The solicitor leaned over and whispered something in Malfoy's ear. The cold, cutting glance was replaced with a smirk.
"You've got to be joking," he exclaimed with mock mirth, his voice louder now, though still all but indistinguishable among the swirling conversations in the room. "The esteemed Harry Potter couldn't find anyone to show up in his stead besides a blood-traitor drunk?"
The solicitor seemed to blanch at the phrase "blood traitor", now indelibly tainted by its narrow-minded association with the erstwhile Dark Lord, and whispered something else in Malfoy's ear. The courtroom had noticed the exchange, and a thunderous silence had descended.
"Just where is Potter anyway?" The Slytherin asked, affecting a casually curious air. Ron shoved a trembling hand into a pocket, noting with faint disgust that Malfoy seemed to have noticed the movement.
"He went to find Hermione," Ron said, in as distinct a voice as he could muster. The murmur in the room swelled to a new crescendo. Malfoy's eyes went flat, though his face was carefully composed.
"Granger is dead," he responded. "And everyone without their head up their arse - or in a bottle of Ogden's - knows that."
Ron let his lips twitch upward in a knowing smirk, but moved toward the visitor's gallery, as Head Auror Shacklebolt and the Ministry Prosecutor took seats at the other front table. Ron noticed Percy sitting in the gallery as well, and gave him a wide berth, sitting as far away from him as he could get.
The judge came in, resplendent in swirling indigo robes and conical hat, and brought the court into session.
"This is to determine whether the charges brought up against Lord Draco Malfoy are worthy to stand trial under Wizarding Law, as per Ministry Amendment 17.3, Code 031-84A," droned some sort of Ministry Under-official.
Malfoy's solicitor stood immediately.
"I submit that all charges against my client are without merit, and move that they be dropped forthwith."
"On what grounds?" the judge asked, sounding bored - or more accurately, Ron realized - as if he'd been expecting that very statement.
"The arresting Auror has failed to show up at all. Any evidence presented will be removed from direct testimony. Such a distillation of the facts is hardly judicious to my client."
"The arrest can be corroborated by the Aurors on duty at the Level Four facility," the prosecutor pointed out quietly, "as well as the Parisian unit. We also have the testimony of two Ministry Unspeakables, upon whose word Auror Potter made the arrest in the first place, as well as pensieve testimony from Auror Potter himself."
"Pensieve testimony is only admissible on a case by case basis," the defense counsel said, sounding almost triumphant. "It can be too easily tampered with or falsified."
By whom? Ron wanted to snort, remembering Harry's account of Slughorn's edited memory regarding his Horcrux conversation with young Tom Riddle.
"The memories were retrieved from Auror Potter under his own power, in the presence of other Aurors as witnesses, as well as the Minister's Assistant, Percy Weasley, and were placed into a Ministry-standard pensieve for storage and perusal." This time, it was Kingsley Shacklebolt who spoke.
"The pensieve testimony will be admitted into evidence, in accordance with the Ministry standards," the judge said in a monotone.
"My client's villa was illegally breached," the solicitor tried again. "Any and all evidence found therein should be dismissed."
"Unspeakable testimony will show that Auror Potter had clear reason to enter the building and detain the inhabitants. The prosecution can demonstrate this clearly."
"Any information that Auror Potter received from his unauthorized Legilimency on my client should also be stricken," the solicitor tacked onto the end. There was a gasp from the visitor's gallery, and Kingsley looked pained.
"Information found under forced Legilimency will not be admissible in trial…Where exactly is Auror Potter, Mr. Shacklebolt?" the judge asked.
"He is - he is investigating something directly related to the apprehension and arrest of both Draco Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Would this have anything to do with the alleged kidnapping of one Hermione Granger?"
The outburst in the courtroom was loud enough this time for the judge to use an Amplification spell on his wand and tap it briskly on his podium.
"Yes, sir, it would."
Triumph flashed in Malfoy's eyes, and Ron felt a sinking sensation in his gut that had nothing to do with his recent alcohol withdrawal. He's gonna walk, he thought glumly. Harry's not here, and the ferrety little bastard is going to get off scot-free.
"It is the determination of this court that the charge of kidnapping Hermione Granger with the intent of conspiracy against Auror Harry Potter be dropped, due to lack of eyewitness testimony and evidence. Since Miss Granger was declared dead long ago, and is not present to speak for herself, this court has no choice."
Ron's head tilted forward into his cupped hands. The tantalizing thought of amber liquid scorching its way down his throat wafted through his mind.
"However, there are enough grounds for a trial regarding the charge of aiding and abetting a fugitive from justice, a known Death Eater, one Bellatrix Lestrange. There is also a charge of Use of an Unforgivable Curse."
"That wasn't me. That was - " Draco shrieked, cut off abruptly as his solicitor tugged him into his seat and gave him strict orders to shut up. Ron grinned.
"This court agrees that a trial regarding these charges is reasonable. Due to Lord Malfoy's wealth and influence, he is deemed a high-flight risk, and will not be released from Ministry custody prior to trial." Another tap of the Amplified wand. "This court is adjourned."
Cameras flashed, as the buzz filled the room once again. Malfoy was sitting in his chair, utterly still, as if he'd been carved from marble. Ron glanced at Percy, but the taut lines of his brother's face gave away little. He wondered again about the last minute order Harry had been shouting into the Floo, right before they left for the Department of Mysteries.
As people began to slowly filter from the courtroom, Ron strolled casually past Malfoy, not meeting his eyes, but allowing himself to smile almost beatifically. Hope you enjoy the Dementors, Malfoy, he allowed himself to think gleefully, even though he knew that Malfoy wouldn't set foot on Azkaban unless he was actually convicted.
When he exited the courtroom, he was immediately smothered in a cloud of smooth arms and shiny pale hair.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Hello, love," Ron said, wiping the tresses away from his mouth. Luna eyed him expectantly, her blue gaze wide, and she said nothing, waiting. He stood still, while people filtered around them, until he could no longer keep the grin from his face.
"They're charging him," he said. "Couldn't make the one about Hermione stick, not without Harry or Hermione present, but they've bloody well got enough about Bellatrix." Luna felt her eyes slide closed, even as she reached out in vain for Harry, feeling his absence the way one would achingly miss a severed limb.
"Thank Merlin," she said, more reverently that she usually did. Ron looked at her with some surprise.
"Did you think they wouldn't?" he asked. "I'll admit I was worried there for a bit, but they found the witch in his bloody house. She cast a bloody Unforgivable from her own bloody registered wand. It's an open and shut case! Reckon Scrimgeour wouldn't dare fire Harry now."
A wistful smile flitted ethereally across Luna's face.
"Shall we celebrate then? Perhaps with something non-alcoholic?"
Ron appeared to contemplate this cheerfully for a while, but then something shadowed in his eyes, and his face fell. He shook his head.
"No," he said. "Not yet. Not until…"
Luna understood what he did not have to say.
Not until they're back. Not until we're all together again.
There was a hole in the universe where Harry had been, and all Luna had was her fragile, clinging belief in equilibrium that he would return. It had been nearly one week, and there was no way to communicate with him, no way to know anything for sure…
Come home soon, Harry…
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AN: Hope you enjoy! For all those who've read and reviewed "Resistance", my heartiest thanks to all your sweet wishes of congratulations! We are expecting an addition to the family this summer, and are quite excited. Hopefully, my energyless-ness won't interfere too terribly much with updates!
You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.
lorien
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