Laws of Motion

heather11483

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 03/10/2006
Last Updated: 09/11/2006
Status: in_progress

All Harry needed was a wake-up call. When he gets it, though, Hermione just might not know what hit her.EXCERPT: Chapter 5- Harry nearly snarled. It had been a long day already, and the last thing he’d ever expected was to find Draco-bleeding-Malfoy standing out here on the street. To think; not ten minutes ago, he’d been inside in the warmth, on the couch, about to ‘make up’ with Hermione. And now Malfoy was out here being cheeky? Forget it. R for sex and mild language.

Chapters

1. The Law of Inertia

2. The Law of Gravitation

3. The Law of Reciprocal Action

4. Change of Momentum

5. Cohesive Forces

1. The Law of Inertia

Chapter 1- The Law of Inertia

Every body perseveres in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight ahead, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by forces impressed.

-Newton’s First Law of Motion

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It had been a long day. The three of them had come home early that morning tired, dirty, but accomplished. Together they’d taken out Voldemort’s sixth horcrux, his pet snake Nagini. It had taken them three years since they’d left Hogwarts. But finally, Voldemort was now just as mortal, arguably moreso, than any of them.

But there was no time for celebration. There was now the question of how and when to engage Voldemort. They had spent the day strategizing with the rest of the Order and researching offensive and protective spells, anything that would help to prepare them for this last battle. It was almost over.

For the moment, though, they were emerging from the library at Grimmauld Place to have a quick dinner, then practice some of what they’d learned today. Ron made a beeline for the refrigerator and pulled out some pumpkin juice, chugging it straight from the jug while taking out a huge sandwich and placing it on the table. Hermione put on some water for tea, and Harry went to the cabinet for some butterbeer.

As the three of them puttered about, the flames in the fireplace roared to life. Ron froze, his hand still holding up the jug of juice, and swallowed. “What now?”

Hermione spared him an irritated glance.

“Hullo, Remus,” Harry said as the older man stepped out into the room.

“Good evening,” Remus Lupin said as he dusted off his robes, then offered a hand back into the flames to help his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, into the kitchen as well. She straightened and nodded at each of them in turn.

“Wotcher, Harry, Hermione, Ron,” Tonks greeted with little of her usual liveliness.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked without preamble. Tonks looked up at Remus, who gave her a nod.

“Horace Slughorn’s body was found this afternoon at a muggle residence in Kent ,” Tonks informed them. “The Dark Mark was over the house.”

“We’re fairly certain this means that-”

Harry interrupted Remus. “It means Voldemort knows that we’ve destroyed his horcruxes, now that Nagini’s gone, and he’s realized how we found out they existed in the first place.” He sat down, raking his hands through his hair and stared at the floor.

“Harry…” Hermione reached out for his hand but Harry shook her off, looking back up at Remus and Tonks. “It means that another innocent person is dead because of me.”

“It’s ridiculous that you would be blaming yourself for this,” Hermione said briskly. “Slughorn told Riddle about horcruxes decades before you were even thought of.”

“And if he’d never retrieved that memory for me, he might still be alive.”

“Hermione’s right, Harry,” Remus said. “Slughorn was murdered, unfortunately, only because he once had the information and gave it to Riddle. Voldemort lashing out now has less to do with what Slughorn told you than it has to do with the fact that he’s angry. His plan has failed, Harry. You three foiled it.”

“That’s another reason why we’re here,” Tonks put in. “At this point, we don’t know what Voldemort’s planning or where he is. But you need to be careful, because now that he knows his horcruxes have all been destroyed, he may be even more aggressive in his search for you, possibly even attack people close to you to try and smoke you out, get you to come to him, on his turf.”

Harry’s eyes went to Ron, then lingered on Hermione. His heart raced.

Remus studied the three of them , now arranged around the kitchen table. Ron was slouching, his long legs stretched off to the side in his chair with his arm haphazard across the table, staring into the empty fireplace. Harry’s hand moved periodically, repeatedly through his tousled hair, and his right knee bobbed up and down as he rested his elbow on it - the embodiment of stress. Remus felt the all-familiar pang of grief for his best friends son, and all that he was still dealing with at his age. Hermione’s eyes were on Harry, searching his face, with a worried frown furrowing her eyebrows. She looked about five seconds from either fleeing the room or throwing her arms around Harry.

A different type of stress altogether, Remus mused, as he and his wife shared a glance.

“It’s important that you not take action against Voldemort right away,” he went on. Hermione looked sharply back up at him, then back to Harry anxiously. “We’ll need to move on this sooner than later, but even with the horcruxes, Voldemort will have had plenty of reinforcements, and now…well, obviously we’ll want to have as many Aurors and Order members as possible mobilized and ready to stand with you. Right now, Tonks and I will call another Order meeting for tomorrow, if that works for you.” He paused and glanced at Harry, who nodded.

“Alright, then, we‘re going to go now, and you three get some rest. You‘ve had a long day.” He took some powder from the jar on the mantel and stepped through the flames after his wife.

“Good night,” Hermione said distractedly, even though Remus and Tonks had already left. They sat in silence for some time, then Hermione broke it.

“Well, this doesn‘t really have to change anything. We knew that Voldemort must have realized, now that his snake is gone. I mean, for all we know, he knew each time we destroyed a horcrux. This isn‘t exactly news, is it? I mean we know he knew when you destroyed the diary.”

“But he had no reason to believe I knew about horcruxes at twelve. He only knew because Lucius Malfoy told him I destroyed it. He didn‘t feel it or anything,” Harry said. “Obviously, I need to move in on him more quickly than we thought.”

Ron spoke up. “You mean, we do,” He said quietly. Harry looked gratefully up at his best mate, nodded.

Hermione looked as if she were seriously struggling not to say anything. She failed.

“Yes, but Professor Lupin just said we shouldn‘t do anything rash,” she said. “We need to be really prepared. I know that he’s just human now, but he’s still very powerful. We’ve gone a long way toward getting rid of some of his supporters, but he’ll still have plenty of reinforcements.”

Harry shook his head. “I only need to get rid of him, then his followers will fall apart.”

“You don’t know that, and even if you did, it’s too dangerous not to wait until we‘ve planned this out sufficiently. Merlin, Harry, we don‘t even know where he is! ”

Ron piped up again. “We‘ve got some idea, though. We should start at the Riddle House.”

“Yeah- yeah, we‘ll start there, we‘ll go to Little Hangleton,” Harry agreed. “Even if he‘s not there, we know there‘ll be people there who can lead us to him.”

“And have you any idea how heavily that place is warded?” Hermione said in response. “We need to do reconnaissance, we need to find out about any wards, any traps that may be in place, and figure out how to get past or neutralize them. We need to-”

Harry cut her off with a growl of frustration. “There is no time for that, Hermione.” his voice was still quiet, but insistent, his eyes intense on hers. “We‘re so close. I just want to finish this. If he wants me to come to him, then I‘ll oblige him. I don‘t want him coming after you - an-any of you,” he corrected hastily, “just to try and get to me.”

“Harry, I understand, but I just don‘t think it‘s wise for us to go charging off now, just because-” She broke off, sighed, changed tacks. “Look, I was just reading today about this really old detection charm that looks really promising. All it needs is-”

Ron didn‘t let her finish. “Look, Hermione, just drop it, alright?” Hermione turned to him agitatedly and opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. “It‘s like Harry said, it‘s almost over. Quit nagging, and let‘s just get it done.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright, then,” she said sarcastically. “I had no idea it was that simple. ‘Just get it done.’ Gee - I don‘t know what‘s been holding us up for nine years, when all we needed to do was just ‘get it done.’ ” She turned back to Harry.

“You understand what I‘m saying right, Harry?” Hermione pressed. “Just promise me you won‘t-”

“Look- Hermione, I‘m sorry, but we can‘t waste any more time.” Harry said.

“But Harry-” She pleaded, reaching for him.

“Hermione, I don’t want to hear it! ” Harry stopped her. “I‘m doing this tomorrow, and that‘s final. God- why do you always have to be so-” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Hermione froze.

“Fine,” she said, nodding. “Fine- do whatever you want. I‘m going to bed.” She got up so quickly from the table that the tops of her thighs bumped painfully against its edge. She blinked back tears and rushed upstairs.

“Shite,” Harry said.

Ron shrugged. “I agree with you, mate. She‘ll get over it, she always does.”

This didn’t sit well with Harry. He’d upset her, put tears in her eyes. He had to see if she was alright, and try to explain. He got up from the table

“I‘m just going to-” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the stairs.

“Yeah, rather you than me.” Ron said. “I don’t ever know what to say to her.”

Well, neither did Harry, really, he mused as he headed in the direction Hermione had gone. He just knew that his friend was upset, and that it was his fault. That’s right, Potter, he told himself. She’s your best friend. That’s it. Of course, telling himself that only confused him more, considering the whole “just friends” argument didn’t really explain why he’d been feeling like such a bumbling idiot lately.

He couldn’t very well tell her that the reason why he’d lashed out was that he’d been more deeply disturbed than perhaps he should have been by the thought of giving Voldemort any time to get to her. Certainly she’d be frightened if he told her that the thought of Voldemort even getting near her brought him to such a state of panic that it was all he could do not to scoop her up and whisk her somewhere far away, from all of it, from him. It definitely frightened Harry.

And, of course, he wasn’t about to let her know that the fact was that he couldn’t bloody well think when she got all close, so that he could smell her, and touched his arm or his hand in that concerned, comforting way she always did.

So, what the hell was he going to say to her? He knocked on her bedroom door.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione blew out a breath as she went into her bedroom and shut the door. She wasn’t crying. Not completely. She dashed away a few wayward tears.

But damn it, why was it that he could get to her like this? She and Ron had said horrible things to each other on numerous occasions, and she’d never come away feeling so badly. And Harry hadn’t even finished his sentence. It was infuriating, is what it was.

And anyway, all she’d been trying to do was make sure the stupid sod came out of this alive. If he didn’t want to listen to her, fine. What she really needed to do was learn how to take a step back. Not get so emotional about things that it was obvious she couldn’t control.

Right. She had to chuckle at that one herself.

Oh, but she hated the way they treated her sometimes, like she was this niggling pest, just because she liked to engage her brain before acting most of the time.

Or worse, like she was their bleeding mother or something.

But that was only part of it, she had to accept. What she hated the most was the thought that Harry would never see her as anything more than his slightly annoying but often useful other best friend.

Sad thing about it was that she would accept it regardless, because she needed so badly just to be in his life in any capacity. Of course, it didn’t in the slightest change the fact that she was in love with him.

Back when he’d been with Ginny, she’d wondered if she could be like that, if she could somehow just defer prettily to his heroism the way Ginny and the others did. Could she be that girl?

No, she’d known him too long and was way too familiar with his faults to be star-struck. But was that what he wanted? Apparently not; he and Ginny had played their relationship out. He still hadn’t looked twice at Hermione, though, and that had hurt. And when she had turned to Ron, well. It was a disaster, and ended mercifully quickly.

How pathetic was she, to be so desperately in love with someone who would never love her back?

When she heard the knock on her door, she sighed. As much as she wanted to avoid him altogether, she knew they’d have to have this out eventually. She went to the door, but when she saw him standing there, looking all sheepish and apologetic and ridiculously attractive, she lost her nerve.

“I can‘t talk to you right now, Harry.”

“Hermione, I‘m sorry.”

“Fine. You‘re sorry. If that‘s all…” Hermione moved to shut the door, but Harry pushed into the room.

“Hermione, I know you‘re upset, but I didn‘t- I just-”

“Just what, Harry?” Hermione demanded. If he’d been about to respond, though, she wasn’t hearing it. She stepped forward and poked a finger in his chest.

“You think I get some sort of charge out of this?” Again, no response. “You think ‘nagging‘ at you all day gives me orgasms or something?” Harry frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione kept going.

“Do you think I could stop, even if I wanted to?” her voice was quiet now, and fierce.

Harry felt like a asshole. “Look, I shouldn‘t have- I know that you care about me, and you‘re trying to be a good friend. And I appreciate it, but-”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Well, that‘s great. I‘m so glad my efforts are appreciated.” She threw her hands up and turned from him.

“Hey, what do you want me to say to you, Hermione?” Harry demanded. “I‘m just trying to apologize here.”

“I just want you to understand, Harry,” Hermione said desperately. “I know that it annoys you. I wish-” She broke off. “I‘m scared all the time, Harry. I’m afraid that I won’t have the answers- if we go into this and there’s anything that I missed, then something will happen, and it’ll be my fault.

“I’m afraid that now Voldemort’s horcruxes are gone you’ll get it in your head to tear off and try to take him on without us, because I know you, Harry,” she insisted, “and you‘re tired and frustrated, and you just want this to be over, however it ends. But I can‘t let you- I can‘t leave anything to chance.

“You‘ve got to survive, Harry. I need you to. And what I fear more than anything else these days is that that‘s got nothing to do with friendship.”

Harry froze in his spot. Hermione slid her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to them, hating herself for bringing all this up with everything else that was going on.

“And…none of this is your problem,” she said wearily. “I‘m just tired. I’m going to get some air, and some sleep, and I’ll be fine tomorrow. Okay? Okay,” she answered herself, nodding, and left the room.

Harry stood there for a few moments, blinking. Had she just- was that- ? He was reeling a little bit. Did she mean that? “Hermione, wait.” He looked up and realized she was gone. He blinked again.

“Shite! ” He tore out after her.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione stepped out into the courtyard. It was raining, she noted. She would have welcomed a nice soaking thunderstorm, but this was just enough to frizz up her hair. Splendid.

Why couldn’t she ever just keep her stupid, sodding mouth shut? Now she’d put something out there that she couldn’t take back.

Damn it, he could have said something, though. She winced as she heard the door open and Harry stepped out.

“Harry, this really isn‘t necessary,” she said, not facing him. “It‘s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“It is necessary,” Harry said. “It‘s just, the thought of something happening to you makes me- I‘m really sorry.”

“Like I said, it‘s fine, Harry, you don‘t have to-”

“I need you, too.” Harry cut in quietly.

“Now you- you‘re just being nice,” she said, moving past him to go back inside.

“Hey.” He took her wrist gently, turned her so that she was finally facing him. “Funny thing, actually,” he said as he moved closer.

“I‘m not really that nice.”

Something in his voice -and in the way he was slowly trapping her between himself and the door- was making her increasingly nervous, and excited. Was that her pulse throbbing? It didn’t seem natural for it to be moving so fast.

Harry forgot his nerves and awkwardness. This was Hermione, he thought. This was easy. This was right. He dipped his head and closed the distance between them with the lightest of pressure against her lips with his. Just a sampling, really, but it was electric. He pulled back slightly, so slowly, the question in his eyes meeting the answer in hers. As he watched her catch her bottom lip with her teeth, imagined her tasting him there, he broke.

Harry crashed his mouth against hers, relishing in the way her lips softly yielded to his. His hands moved to her shoulders and up to frame her face. God, she’s sweet, was all he could think. She’s so sweet.

Hermione’s mind went supremely blank as he took possession of her mouth. The nerves that had already been so close to the surface now jittered along her skin, sensitizing her and rendering her powerless to a rush of raw need she’d never previously experienced. And when he cupped her face, changed his angle, and glided his tongue over her lips, she could only sigh as her lips parted to let him in.

She tasted like heaven. As Harry stroked her tongue with his he heard her moan, a low sound that threatened to sever the last tattered strands of his self control. He couldn’t stop a tremor from moving through him. He moved his hands back down to her shoulders, then down her sides in a possessive motion, and took a strong hold on her hips. He pulled her back off of the door and against him. Harry could all but hear the click as their bodies made contact. How was it that she fit so perfectly here?

Oh, his body, Hermione thought faintly. It was long, and lean, and rangy, and he felt like warm, tightly wrapped steel pressed against her. His hands were digging into her hips and she felt alive with need as her tongue wrestled with his. She trembled, her thighs going lax as her hands gripped his shoulders just so she could keep from sliding to the ground.

The way her body felt quaking against his was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced. It was all Harry could do not to drag her inside and gobble her up in slow, torturous bites. But he tore his mouth from hers on a groan and took in her face, all swollen lips and dreamy, drugged eyes, and he knew he should stop, before…he should just stop. But not before his touched his lips to hers once, twice more, and dipped his head to nip the tip of her chin.

Hermione let out a shaky breath and opened her mouth to speak. Harry just shook his head tersely and grabbed her hand, apparating them both to her bedroom door.

“Is there any point in us pretending that things are going to stop here?” he asked quietly.

Hermione gulped. “Erm…”

Harry let out a half-laugh, half groan as he pulled her to him again. “I don‘t mean tonight,” he said gruffly into her hair.

“Oh. Er, I- I don‘t suppose there‘d be a point in that, no.”

“Good,” Harry said shortly. “Good.” He reached behind her, pushed open the door, and nudged her inside.

“Lock your door” was all he said before he shut it smartly in his own face.

Harry let out a long, slow breath, rested his hand briefly against the door, and walked away.

Hermione did as Harry told her and flipped the lock on the door before leaning against it.

“Merlin, what was that?”

-==-==-==-==-

To be continued with Law # 2 - The law of Gravitation.

Thanks so much for reading. It’s my first HP fanfic ever. Is it good so far? Bad?

If you have the time or the inclination, couldja let me know either way? Thanks.

-Heather

2. The Law of Gravitation

Quick a/n- I’ve realized I forgot to add a disclaimer in the first chapter. Y’all know I’m not JKR, right? So, not one of these characters is mine. Should be pretty obvious from my writing, lol.

Thank you, to everyone who read, and especially reviewed, Chapter 1. It was more than I ever would have hoped for, my first time around writing hp. So, to show my appreciation, I have but two words: Afternoon Delight. Hehe.

Chapter 2: The Law of Gravitation

Hermione opened her bedroom door the next morning to find Harry, again, on the other side of it. She started.

“Harry! You scared me.”

“Hey.” He grinned. God. “I think we should talk.”

“Erm, sure. Come in.”

Harry eyed her up and down. “Actually, I think we should probably just take a walk.”

Hermione reddened. “Of course. I’ll just get a jacket.” She turned back into her room, and stopped, laughing nervously. “You know, I actually don’t need a jacket. It’s not really cold.” They headed downstairs. “I guess, because it was raining last night, I thought- but it’s actually quite nice today, so…” she trailed off as they went out the front door.

“Hermione. You’re rambling.” Harry glanced sidelong at her. Hermione tutted.

“Yes, I know, but I’m really terribly nervous, Harry,” she said agitatedly.

“Why? I thought you’d want to talk about it. You want to talk about everything.”

Hermione looked at him. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about last night. It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

“Do you?” He asked. “Want it to mean anything?”

Hermione made it a few more steps before she realized he had stopped. She turned.

“Harry…to me, it already means-” she broke off. “I’ve waited a long time for that to happen,” she said quietly.

“I understand, though, if you want to- I was upset last night; perhaps you were just-”

“Hermione.” Harry took her hand. “Stop. I love you.”

She couldn‘t breathe. “Oh, no. No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?” Harry said evenly, tilting his head.

“Harry, I’ve seen the women you go for.”

“Really? What sort of women are those, then?” Harry asked, amused now.

“Ginny!” she exclaimed. “And Cho. And- and whatever that other one’s name was, and- are you laughing at me?” she asked, unnecessarily, as he most definitely was.

Harry got close to her. “If I really went for those women, I’d still be with them. And none of them,” he said as he tilted her chin up, “has ever kissed me the way you did last night. I’d rather like to do it again.”

“Y-You would?” Hermione squeaked, again unnecessarily.

“I would.” Harry watched her wet her lips as he leaned in.

“Aah!” He sprung back from her suddenly, clapping his hands to his forehead before giving a great shudder and passing out.

“Harry?” Hermione fell to the ground beside him, looked around frantically. They were well within the wards. She pulled out her wand and sent her otter up to the house ahead of her own yells.

“Ron!” She screamed. “Ron!” She levitated Harry’s limp form and carried him in front of her as she ran.

Ron ran out of the house and met her halfway. “What’s happened?” He looked from Harry to Hermione, who was shaking.

“We-we were talking, and he just- It was his scar, I think, but…then he passed out. It was so quick, I didn’t-”

“Hermione, look at me. Are you alright?” Ron asked her.

She looked up at him as if she’d just noticed that he was there, met his eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s take him inside; someone from the Order will be here soon.” He took over carrying Harry with his own wand. When they got inside, Ron set Harry down on the living room rug.

“He’s dreaming, or something,” she said. “Look at his eyes.” They were moving very rapidly beneath his closed lids.

Hermione moved her hands and wand over him urgently, muttering every awakening spell or charm she knew, and her eyes roved over his body anxiously. Ron sat back on his haunches and studied her, and understood.

Oh.

Before he could really process it, Harry stirred.

“Harry?” Hermione’s eyes searched his. Harry looked at her.

“H-How did we get in here?”

“You passed out when we were outside. You were clutching your forehead; are you alright?”

“I- need to think,” Harry muttered, trying to sit up.

“Harry, you should lie back down.”

“No, I saw- I think I know where he is.”

“You Know- I mean, Voldemort?” Ron asked. “You know where he is? How?”

“I just saw him.”

-==-==-==-==-

Remus came in through the front door, having apparated to the yard. “I got your patronus, Hermione; what‘s happened?”

“Harry‘s had a vision. He may have seen Voldemort‘s location.”

“No, I did see it, Hermione. I just need to figure out where it is.”

“Harry, your Occlumency is superb at this point. You haven‘t had an episode like this in years,” Hermione replied. “And never while you were awake.”

“I know, but this was just like it used to be, Hermione. It was like I was there.”

“Just like when we were in school? When we were in fifth year?” Hermione asked pointedly.

Before Harry could respond, Lupin cut in. “Back up for a moment, please. What did you see, Harry?”

“I was- he was in a room, an office…or a sitting room, or both. It was in London, I‘m sure of it. There was something familiar about the view from the window. I think I‘ve been there before. And there was covered up furniture, all around, and dust.

“Voldemort was talking to a man...I‘ve never seen him before.”

“Harry, before we worry about what he was doing, did you see anything else that may show where he is?” Lupin asked.

“Erm, he was sitting at a desk, an old desk.” And the last time Harry had seen it, he realized, Dumbledore had been sitting in front of it, and he’d been wearing a lurid purple suit.

“The orphanage. The muggle orphanage that Dumbledore showed me in his memory all those years ago, where Riddle used to live. He’s there.” He stood up.

“We don‘t know how much longer he‘ll be there; we should move.”

Lupin stopped him. “We need to alert the rest of the order, who should be here soon for the meeting. We‘ll not move until we discuss this further. I want to send some members ahead to verify that someone is indeed there, or at least to look for any concealment wards that would indicate same. It‘s just common sense, Harry,” he said as Harry moved to object.

When the rest of the Order arrived, they discussed plans to use this new information. Hermione was uncharacteristically quiet as the meeting stretched into the afternoon. She was working out in her head how Harry came to have this vision in the first place, especially when he hadn’t even been asleep, and she doubted that it was just because Voldemort was angry that his Horcuxes were gone. Could Voldemort be setting another trap? Why would he want to lure Harry to the old orphanage? Did he honestly think Harry would come alone, or with five teenagers, like last time?

No, that didn’t add up; she thought. But neither does this. Something was telling her that there was more to Harry’s ‘vision’ than it seemed.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione caught up with Harry in the hallway at the top of the stairs after everyone had left, with the intention of discussing her worries further, away from the others. She touched his shoulder tentatively, feeling taut muscles coiled with tension. And in that moment, she couldn’t think past making that tension go away, if she could.

“Are you alright?”

Harry turned, just looked at her for a moment. He wanted, badly, to be with her now. She was the only one that could ease his mind, push any and everything to the back, so that there was only her. He thought of their kiss the night before, and their almost-moment this morning, and he nearly gave in as her arms came around him now.

Nearly. “Hermione…” Harry extricated himself from her hold. “Not now.” He turned and continued down the hall and into his room at a much faster speed than could have been construed as natural.

Hermione stood for a moment or two. She hadn’t mistaken what she’d seen in his eyes just now. Had she?

Of course I didn’t, she thought, and there’s no way he’s getting away with this. Not with me.

Harry closed the door to his bedroom. He could smell her still, he thought. She was on his jumper. She’d been touching him, in some way, all day. It wasn’t helping. He pulled it off and went to the closet for another.

But when he came out with the fresh laundry-scented sweater in his hands, Hermione erupted into the room.

“You seriously think I’m falling for that?” she demanded.

“I don’t want you to fall for anything.”

“Bullshit. You think Voldemort may know what’s happened between us, and now you think you can go back on what you said to me this morning. That if you pretend nothing happened maybe Voldemort”- she spat out the name like an expletive- “will think he was seeing things, or something. Well, Harry, I. Don’t. Care! I don’t care if he sees us. I hope he does. I hope he knows that if he puts a hand on you I’ll bloody well kill him myself! He’s not taking you away from me, and you aren’t backing out. Got it?”

Harry looked at her, loving her, and fought down his inexplicable urge to both burst out laughing and throw her onto the bed. “Hermione, calm down. I just think maybe this isn’t the time.”

“Calm down?” Hermione shrilled. “ ‘Calm down’, he tells me,” she said to the room at large, before she spun around, without warning, grabbed his face, and kissed him, urgently.

And how could he resist the sheer heat of it? He swung her around so that she was up against the wall and wrapped around him like a vine. He took control of the kiss, plundering her mouth as she opened it willingly for him. He groaned as her hands fisted in his hair. But even still…

“Hermione,” he panted, as she broke the kiss to run her lips along his jaw.

“Yes…” she sighed. “I mean- yes?” she corrected weakly.

“Er,” Harry stalled as he tried to stop hearing her sigh like that. “Um, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Well spotted, Harry.” Hermione said, barely breaking her rhythm. She was still hitched up around his waist. Maybe if he set her down he could concentrate. He did.

“Look, maybe we should wait.”

“Wait for what? Harry, we’ve waited entirely too long. I love you. I want you. And I want it to be now.”

I love you. I want you. I love you. I want you. Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, at all.”

Hermione‘s smile bloomed slowly, beautifully. “That’s sweet, Harry. But there is pressure,” she murmured. “There’s tremendous pressure, inside me.”

Overcome, Harry touched his brow to hers. “Hermione.” His hands were already digging into her waist, dragging her against him. His blood hadn’t moved like this in…since…Hell. It had never been like this.

He pulled her top over her head, turning her around, backing her up to the bed, nearly tripping over his long-forgotten jumper on the floor. The next few moments undressing her were a blur as he felt his control slipping, as he felt more and more of her skin, as her hands roamed over his torso, and moved trembling to the button on his jeans. They tumbled onto the mattress.

Finally, Hermione thought. At last. She could feel him; the hands, and the lips that had heated her dreams for years were on her, for real, raising goosebumps and awakening the aching needs and fears that she didn’t yet have a name for. She didn’t have the experience to know what she wanted, but she knew, for sure, that whatever it was, it was wrapped up in him.

Harry knew just what he wanted. She was here, surrendering herself completely to him, and the feel of her arching against him was more than he could take. He was urgent, and impatient, as he reached down to feel more of her. He was ravenous, his lips, teeth, tongue, feasting on her breasts, his fingers exploring the rest of her.

Hermione was towering over that first peak so fast her mind had no hope of catching up. Her breath was sobbing out of her lungs and her heart racing with the release, and still she wanted….just….more.

“Harry…” she breathed, pleading.

His mind, his senses were lost; he couldn’t wait. He drove into her, fast, plunging, deep.

And froze when she cried out, stiffened. Oh, god.

“Hermione- Oh, Merlin, I‘m- wait.” Harry desperately tried to clear his head. A virgin. And he’d taken her with all the finesse of a speeding locomotive. He tried to slow down, to stop.

There was pain, and it flashed through her, white-hot in its intensity. But even as Hermione braced against the next onslaught, it began to fade, replaced by a soft, deep, aching pleasure. She instinctively moved her hips upward to prevent Harry’s retreat.

“Don‘t stop.” Her whisper was urgent in his ear, and he could only bury his face in her curls as she pulled him under.

-==-==-==-==-

It had actually been pretty quick, Hermione mused, as she lay beneath him, heart still beating out of time, and hearing the answering rhythm in his chest. And she’d certainly enjoyed it; parts of it had even been amazing.

Oh, but she loved this part. This was wonderful, this peaceful entanglement, this absolute stillness. Listening to his heart, to his breathing, she’d never felt closer to him.

“I‘m sorry,” she heard him say. What?

“Whatever for?”

“I don‘t know why I didn‘t think about- you’re the one person who really matters, and I- I should‘ve- I didn‘t mean to hurt you,” Harry finished lamely.

“Harry, you are seriously ruining the moment, here.”

But the moment was already gone, as was evident by the knock on the door.

“Harry.” Ron popped in. “Come on, mate, Shacklebolt‘s here. Something‘s happened.” He froze when he found Harry hastily buttoning up his jeans and Hermione sitting up in Harry’s bed, looking flushed, with the sheets up around her.

Ron floundered visibly, but recovered. “Bit early in the day for that, innit?”

He turned abruptly and headed back out the door.

“Fuck.” Harry shrugged on a t-shirt. He couldn’t deal with this right now. “Damn it, is it too much to ask to enjoy what just happened without having to deal with all this shite?”

Hermione felt his frustration. “Harry. There‘s time. We‘ll make time. Later.”

They went downstairs to find a very shaken Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting in the parlor. with Remus next to him. Tonks was perched on the arm of the sofa. Ron was up and pacing, and determinedly avoiding their eyes.

This caused Harry real concern; The Auror and key Order member within the Ministry had always seemed so unflappable, so sure and steady. Now, he stared at Harry as he came in with a look of abject shame on his face.

“Harry, I‘m extremely sorry.”

Remus put a hand on Shacklebolt’s shoulder. “Kingsley, calm down, and just tell us what happened.”

“You had a…vision this morning, of Voldemort, at the old Muggle orphanage.”

“Yes,” Harry replied warily, but Hermione was looking at the others in the room, and a feeling of dread came over her.

“How did you know that, Kingsley?” she asked him.

The older man hung his head. “Because Rufus Scrimgeour has seen it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded. The rest of the room was shocked silent. Ron had stopped pacing. Hermione was starting to redden in increasing anger as it dawned on her.

Not Voldemort. Not this time.

Shacklebolt moved a hand over his smooth head. “It was my job…I’m so sorry that I didn‘t realize…he‘s been watching you all this time.”

Remus straightened. “Kingsley, you need to get a grip on yourself and explain what you mean.”

“As you know, the Ministry‘s made no progress tracking down Voldemort. And even though you‘ve cut off all communication with them over all this time, they know you‘ve made headway. I overheard Scrimgeour in discussion with Dawlish, and your name came up. I eavesdropped, and it looks like they’ve been monitoring you- the three of you,” he looked to Hermione and Ron as well, “to see what progress you‘ve been making. There are spies assigned to each of you.”

Tonks broke in. “How much have they found out?”

“I don‘t know for sure. I had to leave or risk getting caught. But they were talking about what you saw this morning.”

“They must be using Leglilimens to break into your mind, Harry,” Hermione said. “Project images. It could have been anyone’s eyes you were seeing through.

“How is it that you can block out Voldemort and not them? And what else have they seen?” She looked from Harry to Ron.

Even after all this time, only Remus, Tonks, and the Weasleys knew that Voldemort had made horcruxes, and that the three of them had been destroying them. If that information were now in the hands of the Ministry, then the information could spread like wildfire, not to mention what Scrimgeour would do with it. It would be disastrous.

Blood pounded in Harry’s ears. “So, they‘ve been watching us all this time, so they could, what- piggyback off everything we‘ve done? Take credit? Were they ever going to- I don‘t know, step in and help at all?” He leapt up, incensed.

“Well, of course they were- at the last possible moment, I‘m sure- just in time to take a few pictures for the Daily Prophet.” Tonks was utterly disgusted with the whole situation- and herself. She worked for the Ministry, as well, and hadn’t suspected a thing.

Ron squinted. “Wait, so- how does that fit in with what Harry saw? Is it real, or not?”

Kingsley shook his head. “It‘s unclear to me whether or not the images were fabricated, or what Scrimgeour was planning to make you do. First order of business would be to check out that orphanage.”

“I say we go to the Ministry, right now. I‘ll get that bastard to talk to me.” Harry was still up, and stalking the room.

“No, Harry, the absolute last thing we need is for you to give them any reason to lock you up and start trying to get any deeper into your head. You aren’t going anywhere near that place.” Hermione was emphatic.

Lupin agreed. “We still have no idea what‘s going on, Harry, and it would be playing into their hands at this point to go to them now. For all we know, that could be exactly what they‘re hoping for.”

Harry felt impotence clawing at his sanity. There had to be something he could do, now. It had shaken him to hear that his best friend and the woman he’d just realized was so much more were also being monitored by the Ministry.

-==-==-==-==-

Much later, when it was just the three of them again, Hermione was the one pacing.

“I can‘t believe this. I cannot believe this. This is unbelievable. I mean, we knew something was horribly wrong in that - that organization,” she said with distaste.

She began to mutter things like “ineffectual dunderheads” and “control of the press” and “questionable interrogation tactics” and “self-interested sycophants”.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

“But resorting to petty subterfuge, and Legilimency, no less, which is definitely of questionable legality in and of itself. Honestly!” she huffed.

She hadn’t been this pissed off since house elves.

“Well, I think that‘s my cue,” Ron said, feeling awkward. “I can‘t take it when she starts in with all the big words.” He stretched.

“Ron.” Hermione said quietly as he started to leave. He turned. “Thank you, for…this morning, for helping me with Harry. You were very considerate.” She nearly winced. Did that have to sound so patronizing?

Ron only nodded. “It‘s nothing.”

“Ron-” Harry started to say. Hermione shook her head.

“It‘s fine, guys. I‘m fine. ‘Night.” He went up the stairs.

Harry slumped back onto the sofa. He let out a deep breath. There was guilt, anger, frustration, warring inside him. He felt like he might explode.

Hermione went to him, sat and placed a hand on his arm. Harry reached out and pulled her onto his lap. He turned his face into her neck and just breathed in.

“Harry,” she sighed as she felt Harry tightening his hold. Maybe this wasn’t the time. Perhaps they were selfish to even be thinking about it with all that was going on. Certainly, they should be focusing their energy on other things.

But it was still so new. And when they were together, like this…God, it was so hard to worry about anything else. So they took their escape.

And when Harry carried her upstairs, set her on her feet, there was no rush, no particular urgency. He kissed her, languidly.

“I didn‘t do it right, earlier.” Harry murmured. He nibbled on her earlobe gently. Hermione shivered.

“It‘s okay, Harry,” she whispered. The pain had been so brief, after all.

“No, it isn‘t. I won‘t hurt you again.”

Hermione was prepared to feel the rough, racing hands, the scorching kisses of this afternoon. Instead, she was met with whisper soft caresses. Her head fell back on a moan as he trailed his lips down the column of her throat. Helpless to him now, her mouth fell open and her breath shuddered out.

She didn’t have a memory of Harry taking off their clothes, and she didn’t know if Harry had placed her onto the bed or if she’d simply floated there. But he was on top of her, now, and taking her to magical places with his fingers, teasing her with his mouth.

“Tell me what you like,” he murmured.

“I…c-can‘t.” She didn’t know where to begin. “I don‘t…just…” Her moan was low and throaty as his mouth closed over her breast. She didn’t have to tell him.

Still patient, even as his blood leapt, Harry continued in his slow exploration of her body until Hermione thought he would die from the throbbing pleasure. Harry’s tongue glided up her thigh and she knew that she would deny him nothing as she opened for him.

She felt the explosion wash over her, fire spreading throughout her body, and she fell bonelessly back against the pillows. She could only hope he was doing it right this time. If it got any “righter”, she was going to lose it.

This time, when he took her, it was painless; it was perfect. He touched her face with a tremulous hand.

“Look at me.”

Her heavy, glazed eyes met his as he took them both over the edge.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione was still asleep when Harry woke early the next morning. He took the moment just to look at her. She looked utterly content, thoroughly used, and unbelievably tempting. He let out an unsteady breath.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it was like to be with Hermione. His attraction to her was absolute, he loved her completely, and the lengths to which he would go to hold onto her frightened him.

He thought of the risk that she faced just by standing beside him, and he knew what he would risk to keep her safe.

-==-==-==-==-

By the time Hermione awoke, tousled and floating on air, Harry was gone.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A/N- So, what just happened? Where’d Harry go? What is the deal with the Ministry? Did Harry really see what he thought he did?

I hope you come back to find out in Chapter 3- the Law of Reciprocal Action.

Thanks for reading. Also, I tried to not go into too much detail with the love scenes; I never know where that line exists between R and NC17. If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll up the rating. If it’s not enough…um, sorry.

Please review, if you feel like it; I really appreciate every one and I’d love to know what you think. Cheers!

-Heather

3. The Law of Reciprocal Action

Disclaimer: Yeah, they’re not mine. But you know that. Here’s

Chapter 3- The Law of Reciprocal Action

Harry had intended to be calm. He’d meant to go in calmly, coolly, rationally.

That lasted about as long as it took for him to apparate from Grimmauld Place to the alley in London.

He was tense as he made his way around the overflowing dumpster. His hands moved restlessly open and shut at his sides as he walked.

Clench, flex. Clench, flex. Clench, flex. Clench, flex, as he walked. Breathing, remembering to breathe. He stepped into the little box and waited. Clench, flex, Clench, flex. Breathe. Breathe and remember the numbers.

2-4-4-2.

Minutes later, Harry stalked into the Atrium. The whiskery bloke at the counter looked up irritably from his copy of the Daily Prophet. He did a double take when he looked up and saw the badge tacked haphazardly to Harry’s black t-shirt.

Harry Potter, Mad as Hell.

Harry tossed his wand onto the brass scale with a clatter, and tapped his fingers against his thigh as he waited for the little slip of parchment. He didn’t hesitate as he made a beeline for Level 3.

The plump strawberry-blonde receptionist at the entrance looked up, eyed Harry with a mix of trepidation and excitement. Finally, something interesting to tell the girls at the knitting bee.

“What can I do, for you, luv?”

“I want to speak to Scrimgeour.”

“Certainly, luv, and what time was your appointment?”

“I don‘t have an appointment,” Harry said tightly. “But I need to speak with him, and I need you to go and get him for me.”

“Well, the only thing I can do for you, I‘m afraid, is put you down for the earliest time he‘s got, which would be…let me see…” She peered at a roll of parchment.

Harry reached over the desk and placed his hand carefully on the parchment.

“You are not listening to me.” Harry’s voice was dangerously quiet, now, but even so, he was starting to attract the attention of a tall, thin wizard in black robes in the corner.

“You get Scrimgeour out here, now. I don‘t care where he is, I don‘t care if he‘s on the toilet. You get him, and you tell him that he‘s going to want to speak to me.”

At this point, the tall wizard made his way over. “Is there something you need, sir?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I need to speak with your Minister. Is he free? Would you get him for me?” Harry’s voice was becoming louder in his frustration.

“Sir, I think the lady has already told you that the Minister isn‘t available at this time. Now, you‘re free to leave; I‘ll be sure to tell him you were here.”

“Yeah, you tell him that. And while you‘re at it, you can tell him I don‘t fucking appreciate what he did. What he‘s doing!” Harry was full out yelling, now. Two more wizards came in, bigger ones, and Harry began to charge in the direction of the offices.

“You tell him he’s to stay away from me and mine! Tell him, and his men to stay the hell away from my FAMILY! ” The two large men took Harry by the arms. A camera flashed from somewhere in his periphery.

“Tell him I know what he’s doing, and if I catch anyone, ANYWHERE near them he’ll pay for it!

“Do you hear me?! Did you HEAR that, you bastard?!” The men dragged him backward without a word.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione didn’t have the longest fuse, to begin with.

So, as far as words went, ‘angry’….didn’t quite say it.

Of course, she knew where Harry had gone. It was painfully obvious after all that they had found out yesterday. But honestly, if this was the way he was going to react to things from here on out, they were going to need to have a talk.

For all her anger and annoyance at him when Harry got this way, the worst and most debilitating feeling had been the acute panic Hermione had felt at waking up to find that he wasn’t there.

If there’d been time, she probably would have worried about the implications of this, considering the fact that they’d been ‘together’ barely thirty six hours.

But there wasn’t time now. Hermione knocked on Ron’s bedroom door.

“Ron!” Three more rapid knocks. “Ron, get up, we have to go to the Ministry. Harry’s left.”

Ron opened his door. His hair was plastered to his head on one side. “Hermione, what’re you yelling for…what about the Ministry?” He gave her an owlish stare and a wide yawn.

“I am not yelling, Ronald, but that may change if you don’t look alive and listen to me. Harry has left. I’m more than positive he’s at the Ministry, and we need to go there, now, before he does something stupid. I’m going to go to the kitchen, and floo Professor Lupin, let him know what’s happened. You should be ready to leave by the time I’m finished. Alright? Great.” She stalked downstairs, leaving Ron grumbling and still adjusting his eyes.

Even so, he was waiting for her at the front door when she was finished.

-==-==-==-==-

Harry struggled against his captors, cursing, arms flailing as he tried to shake them off.

“Get off me! Don’t touch me!”

“I think you can let Mr. Potter go, Reaney, Wilson.”

The men immediately released Harry, who nearly lost his footing, but straightened and turned to face Rufus Scrimgeour, who addressed him, now.

“Mr. Potter. Obviously you’ve a rather…urgent need to speak with me.” Scrimgeour said with an unreadable expression on his face. “I think you should calm down and follow me.” He turned without another word and head down the hall toward his office. Harry followed with a dirty look at the two guards.

“Sorry I was rude.” He said shortly to the flustered receptionist.

She craned her neck to follow Harry as he walked down the hall.

“You’ll find I don’t really mind at all, luv,” she sighed.

Harry entered the office behind the Minister to find it spacious but sparsely decorated; moreso than Harry would have expected, anyway. There were many filing cabinets lining one wall, which were actually more like cubbies, filled with rolls of parchment facing out lengthwise. The large desk was meticulously neat on one side, and covered with piles of parchment on the other.

Harry wondered which of those was a file on Ron, on Hermione, and stifled the urge to tear through the pile, to set it on fire.

He looked up as he heard Scrimgeour mutter the incantation.

“A silencing charm?” Harry asked, nodding, with eyebrows raised. “Good to see the public can rely on transparency and full disclosure in its leader,” he commented.

If he was irritated, Scrimgeour didn’t show it. “Have a seat, Mr. Potter.” He gestured to a stiff-looking chair that looked little used. Harry took the seat, wasting no more time.

“I know that you’ve been monitoring me and my family and I want it to stop.”

The Minister looked inclined his head. “And how would you have come across information like that? That’s quite an accusation.”

“It’s not important how I know. I know, and I want it to stop. And you can deny it if you like,” Harry continued as Scrimgeour began to do just that, “but just know that if I get even a whiff of someone tracking me or anyone I care about, there isn’t a measure of the degree to which you’ll regret it.”

Scrimgeour leaned back in his seat, eyeing Harry consideringly. The angry young man in front of him would make a formidable Auror, if he would only focus some of that crackling energy. Perhaps, after all….

“Mr. Potter- may I call you Harry?”

“No.”

“Very well. Mr. Potter, I’m going to level with you.”

Harry said nothing.

“Over the years since you and I last talked, we at the Ministry have been relentlessly searching for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Oh, please. “You mean you’ve been going on the wild goose chases that Voldemort’s deep-pocketed plants have been feeding you.”

Scrimgeour sighed. “Have you any idea the tremendous pressure I am under, here?” he asked. “The public likes to see a decisive and action-oriented leader in these dangerous times, and frankly, they’re becoming restless. It is my job to do whatever it takes to ensure their safety.”

“And that includes monitoring people without their consent? Spying? ”

“I believe that people will fully understand all that I’m doing, and will continue to do, with their best interests at heart,” Scrimgeour said unflappably.

“The fact is, though you and your friends have kept well under the radar these past years, you’ve left quite a mark behind. We know, of course, that it was you all who stopped the attack at King’s Cross two years ago. And the summer before that, the skirmish in Knockturn Alley. I’m fully aware that my Aurors were too late to stop it, and we had a good idea who was there before us.”

“Did you? Then why was it all over the Daily Prophet that it was you?” Harry asked scornfully.

The older man was unapologetic. “You made your position clear years ago when it comes to your involvement with Ministry and leaving your name out of things,” he replied smoothly.

“What really baffled me, though,” the Minister continued, “were the unexplained ‘incidents’ that popped up over the region. The ostensibly random explosion in Amersham, not to mention that mysterious crater that opened up in Bishop‘s Waltham.”

Harry remembered that crater well, the one resulting from the spell they’d used to destroy Hufflepuff’s cup. There had been so much energy released when they’d buried it that the ground had sort of bubbled up and imploded. At the very least, he thought, it didn’t seem like Scrimgeour was aware of the horcruxes.

He also remembered that Hermione had broken her leg in the explosion in Amersham, after they’d destroyed Slytherin’s locket. She’d been scrambling to get away before the blast hit, and he was too far from her. He’d had to watch as she went flying through the air. Thinking about it now, Harry’s anger flared.

“Were your men there, then?” he asked carefully, spacing the words.

“No, they showed up afterwards, when reports came in. There was never any evidence of…anything, though. You covered your tracks well.”

Harry had Remus and the Order to thank for that.

“I could only assume these occurrences had something to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I couldn’t figure out what it was or how much headway you were really making. It was about eighteen months ago that I made the order for some of my best SS agents-“

“I’m sorry, SS?” Harry cut in incredulously.

“Stealth Specialists,” Scrimgeour said swiftly, a bit annoyed at the unnecessary interruption. “As I was saying, I put my SS agents onto you, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger- their families, too, of course, in the interest of determining where your efforts were leading. In this way, we’ve been able to draw a map of your apparent progress, as far as we could determine-“

“And report it to the Daily Prophet as your own, no doubt,” Harry said loudly. “I don’t suppose you could have been bothered to help us. At what point did it become ‘necessary’ to poke around in my head, Minister?”

“So you’ve been made aware of that, somehow,” Scrimgeour commented. “Using Legilimency was…troublesome, for quite awhile, actually. I took us months to even realize that we needed more than one legilimens at a time. It took us four in the end. You’re quite an accomplished Occlumens, Mr. Potter.”

Clench, flex, Clench, flex.

“Yesterday morning was the first successful attempt. More intriguingly, it seems to have coincided with an intrusion from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps that’s why we were able to see at all,” he said thoughtfully.

Harry shook his head, breathing deeply.

“The point in my revealing this to you, Mr. Potter, is that I believe the time has come for us to join forces. With the resources at my disposal-”

“With the resources at your disposal, you could have been helping us all along, you bastard,” Harry cut in. “You‘ve got to be kidding. I want you to take your men off my family. That‘s all I came here to say.”

He started to rise, but then, unable to stop himself added, “Furthermore, the only reason the ‘time‘s come’ now, is because I‘ve found you out, and you don‘t want me to blow this operation wide open.

“I won’t say anything. I don’t give a damn what the public thinks of you, or me. But you don’t want to help me, and you won’t get in my way, not now. We’re so close, and by God, you aren’t going to fuck this up.”

Shite.

Scrimgeour’s flinty eyes took on an avaricious glint. “How close are you? Who have you been working with? With whom are you in contact here; who in my employ has been feeding you information?” The questions came out, rapid fire.

“I’m not giving you any information, and I’ve said all I came to say.” Too much. Heart pounding, Harry started to get up, to leave. He made to the door and with a flick of Scrimgeour’s wand he could go no further. He whipped around.

“You think you can keep me here?” Harry asked dangerously, green eyes flashing. A ripple of energy came from him, rattling the ancient portraits on the walls.

“I daresay you’ll find I can, Mr. Potter,” Scrimgeour said confidently. “I wonder if your…cohorts…know that you are here.” He summoned the tall, thin wizard in the black robes.

His eyes were on Harry, though, as he gave the man the order to detain Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger if they set a foot inside the Ministry today.

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione hit the ground running as she and Ron reached the same alleyway to which Harry had apparated this earlier. Ron had to take extra long steps to keep up with her.

“What was the number Harry dialed back then, Ron? 2-4-4-2?” She asked as they crowded into the red telephone booth together. Ron was pressed against the glass wall of the booth and had to duck his head. As he did, he found himself closer to Hermione than he’d been in a long time.

Not as close as Harry had been, apparently.

He started to say something, but the badges rattled into the coin slot, breaking him from his reverie. Funny; he hadn’t heard her say anything, but now she was handing him the silver badge that read, Ronald Weasley. Looking for Someone.

Hermione looked at him strangely as the box closed in and transported them to their destination.

“Ron”-

But the doors opened to the Atrium, and there were three large, black-clad Aurors advancing on them.

“We need you to come with us,” one of them said. Hermione looked at Ron fretfully.

Damn it, Harry...

-==-==-==-==-

Harry and Scrimgeour were both standing now, and facing each other in the big office. Anyone watching would scarcely have been surprised if they’d started circling each other.

Harry’s hair began to blow, and the air began to spark with his magic. “If you harm them…”

“Mr. Potter, please, save your breath,” Scrimgeour said. “Who do you think you’re dealing with, here? We’re all civilized people. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement reserves the right to question and/or detain individuals, always humanely of course, especially if it seems that they would have information that would aid in the fight against a threat of this magnitude.”

“How is Stan Shunpike, by the way?” Harry smiled thinly.

“You know perfectly well how he’s doing, as you took the liberty of breaking him out of Azkaban two years ago,” the minister snapped.

Harry couldn’t argue with that. His face revealed nothing as he inclined his head.

“How many others have you ‘lawfully detained’, by now?”

“Never mind that, Potter,” Scrimgeour said. He was growing impatient. “We’ve been able to discern the location of the building you saw in your vision. It’s an abandoned orphanage, apparently. I’ve made the order for the entire Auror department to move on the building immediately.”

Harry licked his lips. “You don’t know what you’re doing. He‘ll walk all over you.”

“Really, Harry, I’ve been at this for decades longer than you’ve been alive.” Scrimgeour waved him off.

Harry thought worriedly of Tonks, of Shacklebolt, and the opportunity that was about to be missed for him to end this sooner than later.

Fuck. “Let me help.”

###########

A/N- Ya’ll still there? I hope so… I’m cliffing it here, so as not to have it drag. So, what’s next? Are Harry et al going to be okay? More to the point, will Harry survive when Hermione gets through with him? (No, she hasn’t forgotten this morning, and neither have I. -_-)

Will the Minister get over his complex? Are they going to be able to work together this once, or is Rufus just going to further impede Harry‘s progress? Do you really think I’m going to tell you now?

So… this isn’t over, even though I projected three chapters…sorry about that. I just felt like I couldn’t resolve everything so quickly. If you like, you can chalk it up to the “learning curve”. (Personally, I much prefer that term to “dirty liar.” ‘^_^)

I hope to see you again for Chapter 4- Change in Momentum.

So, what did you think of this one? Angry!Harry, exposition, and no sex. Lol. I guess that’s the real test, yes? I tried to keep the dialogue sharp throughout. I hope you enjoyed it and weren’t bored.

Once again, thanks to everyone who read/reviewed Chapters 1 and 2. I’m incredibly humbled by all your comments. You make my day.

Special thanks to those who went above and beyond - tome raider and alphamatrix, who both recommended me, and to castledown(RiXX) and annearchy, who’ve been really supportive reviewing here and at LJ. They’re both kick-ass writers, too. If for some ungodly reason you aren’t reading their work you should be. ^_^

Thanks for reading,

-Heather

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4. Change of Momentum

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. I’m just holding onto them for a little bit. Worry not; I’ll give them back.

Moving right along. Bit longer this time. ;)

Chapter 4- Change of Momentum

Lucius Malfoy was seething.

This had been his idea, after all. He’d made a hard sell to the Dark Lord to try this again. It would have worked, after all these years; he was sure of it. The boy had never gotten over his foolish need to run blindly into dangerous situations.

And after all the gold I’ve poured into the Ministry’s coffers, he thought irritably. Of course the blundering fools had been the ones to ruin everything.

Lucius looked around at the gloomy and dust covered furniture of the little office with distaste. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. But the Dark Lord’s instructions were clear, and he was in absolutely no position to argue. He sat up a little straighter as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Well, Father, you should be feeling awfully smug about now.” Draco Malfoy smiled thinly. “Your scheme couldn’t have gone more smoothly if the Dark Lord had planned it himself.”

Lucius swore viciously under his breath as his son came to the door of the office and leaned casually against the jamb. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, boy.”

“Oh, now really, Father. Of course it does.” Draco straightened and walked into the room, carelessly flicking dust off his shoulder where it had touched the doorway. He leaned over the desk toward his father. “Now, how are you going to get yourself out of this one?” He said softly.

“What do you want, Draco? I’m rather preoccupied, at the moment.” Lucius put on an air of boredom as his mind raced with possible solutions.

The Dark Lord was long gone, of course. He’d known the second he’d breached Potter’s mind that someone else had been watching. And he’d left Lucius and the other Death Eaters here at the orphanage to deal with the impending fallout.

“You’ve caused me an annoyance today, Malfoy.” Lucius had still been twitching from the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but the coldness of the Dark Lord’s voice had come across clearly. “I shall deal with you later. For now, you will create a…diversion, which will allow me to find a suitable place to take up headquarters. I shall know if you have not dealt with them. Your ‘friends’ at the Ministry had better not be a problem after today.”

I shall deal with you later. It was only a result of years of experience that Lucius could stop himself from shuddering with fear now, as he remembered the Dark Lord’s words. He looked up at his son, who was currently regarding him with a most infuriating smugness. “I’m not in the mood for your cheek, son. Unless you’ve something useful to contribute…” Lucius gestured to the door.

Draco scoffed as he skirted the desk and rested a hip against it. “You think I’d help you in any way?” He leaned in close to his father. “After everything you’ve done, after what you did to my mother, I’ve half a mind to save the Dark Lord the trouble and kill you, myself.”

Lucius scowled. “We both know that if you had the nerve, dear boy, you’d have tried it long ago. And we both know that if you could, you’d be a much better Death Eater.” He stood. “Get out of my sight.”

Draco straightened. “Don’t worry, Father. I wouldn’t dream of sticking around for this show. They’ll be here soon, and he’ll kill you if you don’t deal with them. And that’s what I’d pay money- good money- to witness.” He swept from the room, robes billowing.

But he didn’t leave, as he’d said. Draco was calm and calculating as he Disillusioned himself.

-==-==-==-==-

Ron sat across the table in Interview #3 at on the lower level of the Ministry and glared mutinously at Dawlish, Scrimgeour’s right hand man.

“You don’t know anything. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mr. Weasley, if you don’t give me the information I need, then I’m afraid I’ll have to keep you here until you do,” Dawlish told him. “I can assure you, I have nothing but time. Now. Who is helping you get information from the Ministry, and what more have you found out?”

Ron only ignored the question as he tapped his foot against the cold metal legs of the table. “You might want to go get some coffee or something, then.” Ron leaned back in his seat, stretched out his legs. “It’s going to be a long day.”

-==-==-==-==-

Hermione paced anxiously, wringing her hands. The Aurors that had met them in the Atrium had escorted her to this room, empty except for a cold chair and smooth metal table, at least twenty minutes ago, and she’d been by herself the whole time, long enough for her to check and be sure that there wasn’t a way for her to escape. Without her wand, it was impossible.

What on earth was going on? Where was Harry; where was Ron?

And how much longer could she maintain her sanity not knowing anything?

She looked up as the door finally opened. When she saw who it was, she nearly collapsed with relief. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Tonks shook her head subtly, indicating that they were likely being watched. Hermione stayed silent, but her eyes were pleading.

“Ms. - Granger, is it?” Tonks feigned. “Why did you come here today? Who are you looking for?”

“I only came with my friend to- to meet Harry- erm, Harry Potter; he came to speak with the Minister, and we were just going to meet him, when he was finished. Do you- er- do you know where he is?” Hermione tried to keep the desperate note out of her voice.

Tonks wished she could say something to the younger woman to reassure her that Harry was indeed alright, but her voice was impassive.

“Yes, Mr. Potter made quite a fuss today, upstairs, with the Minister,” she commented as she walked round the table toward Hermione. “Perhaps you could tell me how he found out so soon that we’d obtained information about the muggle orphanage. Who here in the Ministry is spying for the three of you?” Tonks moved close to Hermione, ostensibly to scrutinize the young woman’s face.

If anyone was watching, she felt confident that they wouldn’t have noticed the pass.

As she backed up, Hermione felt the weight of something light and long in the pockets of her robes and her heart raced as she looked at the older woman. Before she could process it, the door opened again, and Dawlish came in, looking agitated and more than a little frustrated.

“Tonks, what are you doing in this room? You aren’t assigned to this case. You’re to go with the others on the new assignment.” He regarded her suspiciously.

“You’re right, of course, Dawlish. I must’ve been confused. I’ll just get out of your way,” Tonks said, and with a meaningful glance at Hermione, she moved past him and headed out of the room, too quickly for him to stop her.

Dawlish didn’t take the time to worry about Tonks as he turned to Hermione.

Her heart thumped, but Hermione’s hand was steady as it went to the pocket of her robes.

-==-==-==-==-

Tonks waited five minutes before doubling back towards the interrogation rooms.

She went back into Interview #2, and found Dawlish sitting at the table, softly tapping his fingers on the cool metal surface. He was very much alone.

“Where’s the girl?” she asked him.

“What girl?” Dawlish looked up at Tonks through unfocused eyes. “Did those cauldron reports come in yet?”

Tonks raised her eyebrows as she headed back out of the room. Good luck, Hermione, she thought with a chuckle and a welling of pride.

The girl had always been handy with a Confundus charm.

-==-==-==-==-

Ron waited in Interview #3, where Dawlish had left him a bit ago.

He figured he could sit here at least all day without going crazy. If they found anything out, he wasn’t going to be the one to tell them. They’d just have to- well, they’d just have to torture him, or something. Use Veritaserum, Legilimency, or the like. He wasn’t going to budge. Maybe they’d start breaking his fingers, like he’d seen in Muggle movies. Maybe there’d be some big brute of a guy coming in a few minutes to bust his kneecaps.

Not that he was worried about it, or anything. He could take it. He was a big guy, himself.

He sprang up and began to pace. Check the door. Maybe they’d left it unlocked. He stalked over to it, and yanked. Not only did it open, surprisingly, but then he found himself being pushed back into the room by someone he couldn’t see.

“Shh!” the person hissed as she shut the door.

“Hermione?” He hissed back. “What’re you-“

“Don’t make a sound, Ron.” Hermione passed him his wand, and he felt the liquid sensation of the Disillusionment charm. “I’ll explain later. We need to get Harry; I think he’s with the Minister.”

She opened the door a crack, looked round. She only saw Tonks heading down towards the far end of the long hall, chuckling. Hermione slipped out, pulling Ron with her. Together they headed for Level Three.

-==-==-==-==-

“Let me help.”

Scrimgeour let out a dry laugh. “You’ve made yourself quite clear, Mr. Potter. I offered you the chance to join me, and you declined, once again.”

The Minister thought he saw a flicker of movement on the fringes of his vision, but he dismissed it. No one could get in here; he was sure of it.

“Perhaps you’ve been starved for attention the past few years,” he said idly, steepling his fingers as he took his seat again. “That isn’t my concern.”

“Yeah, because we all know how much of a publicity-whore I am,” Harry said sardonically. “Look, this may be hard for you to accept, but this is actually bigger than you, or me. You need to let me go, so that I can help you. This is important, and we’re wasting time.”

The older man eyed Harry dispassionately for a few moments, thinking. He’d made a mistake, offering to join forces with Potter. The boy was too unpredictable and a much less malleable sort than he was used to dealing with. But he’d known that.

“The only one wasting time, here, Mr. Potter, is you. You wasted your time coming here, and you are wasting it now thinking I’m going to allow you to leave here without giving me the information I asked for. You may as well make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the chair. Harry didn’t move.

Come to think of it, Harry hadn’t moved, or said anything, for over a minute.

Scrimgeour began to hear a buzzing in his ears. “Mr. Potter.”

No answer. He got up, walked around his desk and across the rug, and stood inches away from Harry. Not a flicker, not a blink.

He reached out, and his hands passed right through the image of the young man.

By this time, of course, Harry was too far down the hall to hear the clatter of Scrimgeour’s walking stick against the wall.

-==-==-==-==-

Harry sprinted down the hall behind Hermione and Ron. When they dipped into an alcove near the stairs, he was reeling.

“How did you- what was that?” He panted.

Ron was pale. “I can’t believe he didn’t notice us sneaking in there,” he marveled. “You must’ve really got under his skin, mate.”

“That really was close, wasn’t it?” Hermione said breathlessly. She looked at Harry. “We only had a second or two, but I sort of- projected an image of you standing there, sort of like a hologram, so that we’d have enough time to get you out without him noticing you. Merlin, I’ve never done that before.” She let out a shaky breath.

Harry looked at her. “You- you’re brilliant.”

“That’s what I always said.” Ron moved a hand over his face, chuckling weakly with relief.

Hermione’s eyes met Harry’s. They didn’t have anywhere near enough time to go into this, she knew.

“We need to move” was all she said as she peeked out from the alcove to check if the coast was clear.

Ron led them towards the employee exit, and as they reached the eerily quiet street outside, Harry turned to them.

“We need to go to the orphanage, now. Scrimgeour’s sent Aurors there to attack. Tonks, and Shacklebolt, and the others. They don’t know what they’re dealing with, what they’re walking into.”

Ron looked at Harry. “So that vision, or whatever- that was real?”

“Yeah. Scrimgeour thought it was. He didn’t put it in my head, so it must be.” Harry avoided Hermione’s eyes.

“And if- if it isn’t, then this is my fault,” he said. “If it’s a trap, it was meant for me. I have to do something; I have to try to help. You two can go home if you want, but-“

Hermione cut him off with a sigh. “We’re with you, Harry. I don’t know what happened to make you forget that.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, grabbed Ron’s, and looked at Harry expectantly.

“We don’t know where this place is, Harry. You’re going to have to Apparate us.”

Harry met her eyes, and with nothing else to say, he did.

-==-==-==-==-

Shacklebolt had decided to use Portkeys to get his team to the scene. They were transported to a side street behind the building, and he was looking at it now, at the high wrought iron gates. Disuse had vines climbing unchecked over the brick and rusty metal, and the whole place looked deserted. Come to think of it, the entire street was quiet.

Too quiet. He glanced behind him. Tonks was there; a few Aurors were between them. He looked over and proceeded carefully around the perimeter of the building with the rest of his team in tow, and as he tried to enter the back yard, he detected the first ward.

He breached it, and that instant, all hell broke loose.

The first wave of Reductor curses showered on them, obliterating the overgrown hedges and the already crumbly stone plaque in the front of the building.

Tonks dove for cover behind one of the still-intact bushes, fired off a hex. The yard was alive and glowing with shooting spells and through the thick of them, she could see the black-cloaked Death Eaters, all of them masked, of course. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Need a hand?” Remus whispered, and Tonks was ridiculously reassured by the resolute and faintly feral look in his eyes. She couldn’t control a reckless grin.

“Who says we don‘t get out enough?” she returned with a wink, as they headed together into the fray.

Remus covered her as they headed toward the entrance, ducking hexes and sending out their own. They were trying to get closer. “So you do realize that he‘s likely not here anymore?” he called back to her.

“Yeah, probably not,” Tonks agreed. “But we damn sure are.”

She barely dodged another Reducto, cringing as it blasted a hole into the ground and dirt flew into her purple hair.

-==-==-==-==-

Inside the building, Draco watched from a safe distance off of the foyer as his fellow Death Eaters fought, and fell. They were losing, he thought idly. It probably wouldn’t be long before the Aurors moved into the building. Whatever.

He was more than over this shit. Three years of servitude to Voldemort (as if he’d be afraid to say his name), and for what? All he had to show for it was a tattoo.

And a dead mother. The only one in the world who had loved him without an agenda. That had been the last straw.

He could see his own future if he kept on this track, even if his dear father couldn’t.

Old Lucius had always been pathetic. So cool and secure throwing their money around, but ready to piss his pants if the Dark Arsehole even looked at him sideways. Now he’d cooked up some ridiculous plan to lure Potter here into this trap. Now that it had failed, and the Ministry was on his arse, he was running scared. Draco was damned if he would ever end up like that.

And, to Draco’s way of thinking, there was only one way to get himself out of this royal mess.

He searched the thinning crowd of his comrades, who were running around in their masks, panicking like decapitated chickens. Idiots. Some of them, he noticed, were already apparating away. If he was going to do this, it should be now. He waited until he recognized his father’s long-legged gait before he stepped forward.

“Father.” Draco’s voice projected over the din as he lifted his Disillusionment charm.

Lucius turned at the sound of his son’s voice. “What are you doing here?” He hissed through his mask.

“Thought I’d enjoy the festivities, after all.”

Lucius looked around. “You should leave; come with me. I have a place for us to hide, where it will be safe.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Concern? Well, Dad, it’s nice to hear, even if it is a bit late.” He approached his father, backing him up to the front door. “Unfortunately, the days of my following you- or anyone- are over.”

Lucius regarded his son with increasing trepidation as he moved closer. “What are you doing, boy?”

“You should actually be thanking me,” Draco said nonchalantly. “I’m sure this is preferable to what Voldemort’s got planned for you.”

Lucius was so startled to hear the Dark Lord’s name out of his son’s mouth that he barely had time to react as Draco drew his wand, removed his father’s mask, and opened the front door in one swift motion.

Before he knew it, he was falling down the short stretch of stairs and onto his back, right at Kingsley Shacklebolt’s feet.

-==-==-==-==-

Harry let go of his friends as they popped up on the old-fashioned street that Harry had recalled from Dumbledore’s memory. Things were seemingly quiet, both on the street and in front of the old brick building.

“It‘s likely warded. We need to be careful. By the looks of things at the Ministry, they should already be here.”

They approached the building carefully from the side, trying to prevent the people they couldn’t yet see from seeing them.

As they creeped into the courtyard and the scene materialized before them, Harry’s stomach clenched. It looked as though the fight had been going on for a while, and he couldn’t yet tell if the black robed figures on the ground were Aurors or Death Eaters.

He must have frozen for a moment, because the next thing he knew, Ron was clapping him on the back. He pitched forward.

“Harry, look!”

Remus and Tonks were hurrying over to them from around the front of the building. His relief at seeing them whole and relatively safe was palpable.

Hermione approached Tonks. “What’s happened? Is it over?”

“It’s under control, at this point.” Tonks scooped back her hair, dull with dirt, as it fell into her eyes. “Shacklebolt’s leading the rest of the team and rounding up the few death eaters who haven’t escaped.”

“Voldemort’s not here. It’s doubtful that he ever was,” Lupin told them. “The Ministry have regained custody of Lucius Malfoy.”

“What?” Harry looked from the bodies on the ground and up at Remus.

“Someone- we believe it was a Death Eater, because we never actually entered the building- practically hand delivered him to them. Perhaps there’s some divisiveness within the ranks.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

-==-==-==-==-

They spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the scene and helping tend to the wounded. Harry felt utterly useless and unbearably guilty.

Many of the Death Eaters had escaped, and he was no closer to Voldemort than he’d ever been. Harry was sure that before all this crap with the Ministry, he’d been using the orphanage as headquarters. They’d been so close to him, and now Voldemort might has well be in Siberia.

He hadn’t been of any help today, either. By the time his friends had gotten out of the Ministry, the fighting was almost over. At least they were safe, and few on their side had been hurt.

She’d barely spoken to him all day.

Harry watched Hermione on and off (mostly on) for the rest of the evening as they finished up. She was angry, he knew. He’d left her and gone to the Ministry without either of them. He’d lost complete control with Scrimgeour, and his friends had been apprehended because of it. And without Tonks’ help, they’d probably still be somewhere within the bowels of the Ministry.

But he couldn’t help it. Inexplicably, leaving her home this morning was one thing today that Harry would not have done differently, given the chance.

-==-==-==-==-

When they got home, Hermione entered the parlor ahead of Harry and Ron. She dropped her wand onto the little coffee table, shrugged out of her cloak, and turned around.

"Ronald, could you leave us alone, for a moment?" She was staring at Harry.

‘Ronald’ was already hustling up the stairs.

Harry watched his best mate until he disappeared around the corner at the landing, before he turned to see Hermione waiting, and watching him. The little wooden coffee table stood between them as they faced each other.

"Hermione…"

She shook her head, held up a finger as Harry fell silent.

"This isn‘t going to be an issue again." The statement was unqualified.

"I had to do something. I had to find out what he knew, and it’s really a good thing I did, otherwise I wouldn’t have known Scrimgeour’s plans and-”

“And what, Harry? Gotten yourself nearly locked up? Dragged off to St. Mungos in a Full-Body-Bind? What?”

"Look, I didn’t mean to scare you."

"Oh, just a happy accident, then." Hermione stopped herself. That wasn’t really what she was angry about. Harry had gone off half-cocked like this many a time. But she was infuriated that he hadn’t said anything to her. And the thought of how much worse things could have been today…

"I don’t suppose it occurred to you to wake me up."

It hadn’t, not for a moment. "Hermione, I did what I thought I had to do."

"You always do," Hermione said thoughtfully. "You always do, Harry. But when are you going to realize that you aren‘t the only one who has to do this?"

Harry sighed. "I‘m sorry that I didn‘t wake you this morning. It‘s just, you-"

Hermione cut him off, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Harry, if you‘re going to tell me how peaceful I looked and how you didn‘t want to disturb me, you can stop right there."

She skirted the table and got closer to him. "How can I make you get that it‘s not okay for me to sleep untroubled when you put yourself in danger? If you think that I could stand by and- just hope you make it back in one piece, then you don‘t understand how much I love you."

Moved, Harry reached for her now, but she backed up. "I love you, too, Hermione. So much. That’s why I don’t want to keep putting you in danger, when this is my responsibility. Especially now." Harry sighed. "You and Ron have been with me from the start, and it means more to me than I can say. But we always knew that it had to be me in the end." He turned from her now.

Hermione looked up sharply. "So- what? ‘Thanks for the help, but I’ll take it from here‘ ? Fuck that, Harry." She stepped toward him.

"I’m putting it like this. You don’t get to shag me senseless, then roll out of bed in the morning to go handle ‘man stuff‘. And if that’s what you think, then this isn’t going to work! "

"That’s not what this is about, Hermione! " Harry shouted as he turned back around to face her. "I can’t do what I’m supposed to do when I’m worrying about you! "

"Do you think it’s any easier for me? " Hermione shot back. "You think it isn’t hard for me to watch you risk your life?

"When I woke up this morning and you were gone-" she broke off, her voice breaking. Harry nearly went to his knees.

"Sometimes, Harry, I can’t think for worrying over you. You’ll get one of your ideas, and I can’t think past wanting to lock you up in this house and never let you leave. But I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. W-well, I would, I have, plenty of times, but I wouldn’t actually do it.

"I know this is what you need to do. What you have to understand is that what I need is to be able to stand with you in this. All of this."

Harry lowered himself to the arm of the couch, sighing. "I want you with me, Hermione. You know I do. But if I lose you…then none of it means anything."

Hermione went to him, now. She reached up and touched his face, waited until his eyes met hers. "I understand that, Harry. I do. But my heart…my sanity, can‘t handle another morning like I had today. Alright? " She threaded her hands through his hair as she laid her forehead on his. "I need you to promise me."

She touched her lips to the spot just behind his jaw line. Harry’s hands came up now, and he took her by the waist, pulled her onto his lap. She shook against him, and clung tightly. The stress and the fear she’d been holding in all day, only thinly veiled by her anger, was coming loose now. Harry only held her, riding out his own storm of emotions.

When they came apart, Hermione touched her lips to his. "I didn‘t mean to lose it on you, earlier," she murmured.

"Yeah, well. I deserved it."

"Yes, you did," Hermione agreed. Harry chuckled. He breathed in her scent as one of his hands moved up, the other, down. Hermione shivered.

"What if I‘m still angry with you? " she whispered.

"Well, then, you should punish me." Harry began to undo the buttons on her blouse, his hands seeking warm, flushed skin.

"Maybe I will…" Hermione began to suck on Harry’s throat. He groaned, and let her start to push him backward onto the couch.

"Well, that‘s telling him, Hermione," Ron commented as he walked in. They sprang apart.

"Erm. Ron-"

"Guys, don’t bother explaining," Ron said in the would-be casual tone he’d adopted over the last few days. "I wouldn‘t have interrupted, only I thought you should know. Draco Malfoy‘s outside on the street."

A/N- Thanks for reading. Sorry about the cliffhanger, but you know I won’t make you wait too long. By the way, I was looking at the author’s note for Chapter 3, and damn. I didn’t mean for it to be so long, guys. ^_^’

With that said, I hope you enjoyed this one, and I do hope you come back for Chapter 5- Cohesive Forces. (I’ll follow through on the tease, don’t worry. Lol.)

Thanks to everyone for your support.

Cheers,

Heather

5. Cohesive Forces

Disclaimer: Not one of these characters is mine. At least, not while I’m awake.

Chapter 5- Cohesive Forces

It was becoming increasingly cooler on the sidewalk in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but Draco Malfoy resisted the urge to hunch his shoulders against it. It was bad enough that the breeze had picked up and begun to blow his meticulously styled hair into his eyes. He didn’t want to look like some street hood, even if he had been holding down this piece of sidewalk for the past forty-five minutes.

Of course, Draco had no idea how close he was actually standing to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, as he couldn’t see the house. Indeed, he wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was looking for. All he knew was that the goons in the Ministry who’d been following Harry and his happy band of do-gooders had told him they’d been able to localize them to somewhere around this spot. He had, of course, paid good money for the information, and therefore understood it to be true.

Well. Now that Draco had set the ball into motion, he couldn’t very well wait anymore for those cads to come up with more information. As always, when something had to be done right, you had to do it yourself. That was fine, as far as he was concerned. It was clear to him that he could only trust himself, anyway. Merlin knew he wouldn’t make it very far relying on anyone else.

And it was likely a very short time before Voldemort realized what he’d done.

It made a sort of sense, anyway, he mused. It tickled a vague and distant memory from his childhood. After all, there were no coincidences, and hadn’t there been someone in his family who had lived on this street? When he had gone back and scoured records of his family’s various properties and holdings, there had been no information, naturally. But if Draco was not mistaken, which- let’s face it, he rarely was, he was willing to bet that his worthless blood traitor of a cousin had been assisting the light side even from behind the veil. Yes, they were here. He was sure of it.

For the twentieth time, Draco put his wand hand directly out in front of him. As he wind picked up and swirled his long, dark coat around his legs, he once again felt the telltale ripple of a magical ward. Likely more than one. They were damned good, as far as he could tell. But he would disable them. All he needed was-

“Why are you here, Malfoy?”

Draco jolted gracelessly and turned around at the all-too-familiar voice of his childhood nemesis.

“Oh, you know,” Draco drawled with a smirk. “Just having a stroll in the autumn breeze, and all that. Thought I‘d look you up, and wax nostalgic about our glory days, at Hogwarts.”

Harry nearly snarled. It had been a long day already, and the last thing he’d ever expected was to find Draco-bleeding-Malfoy standing out here on the street. To think; not ten minutes ago, he’d been inside in the warmth, on the couch, about to ‘make up’ with Hermione. And now Malfoy was out here being cheeky? Forget it. He flipped up the collar of his jacket as the wind set his hair to blowing.

“Malfoy, I find it strange that you’re out here snarking at me, as if you weren’t, I don’t know, a known Death Eater, or anything. Tell me why I shouldn‘t have you arrested here and now. Right along with your no-good father.”

On principle, Draco’s eyes went to slits. “Look here, Potter, you”-

“You can start,” Harry interrupted, stepping forward, “by telling me how the hell you ended up on this street to begin with. And you have ten seconds.” Harry’s wand hand flexed, more than ready to pull his wand down from inside his sleeve.

Draco scoffed. “There’s no information that can’t be bought, Potter, and you’d be surprised where I got it.” He wondered if Potter knew that the ministry was following him. He hoped not; that was his largest bargaining chip, and the main reason he’d come to him.

He continued, wanting to shiver in the growing chill, but not wanting to give any indication that he may be at all intimidated.

“Think we might be able to discuss this inside?” Draco asked with a derisive snort. “I’m not exactly used to standing on the street like some bum.”

“You think I’d let the likes of you into my house?” Harry gave his own snort of derision. “You keep on, Malfoy, and I’ll stop wondering why you aren’t in Azkaban and drop you off at the Ministry right now. I believe they’d be quite pleased to see you – and I’d imagine the Dementors would rather like the family set.”

“You’d help the Ministry do anything?” Draco asked shrewdly, with an arch of his elegant eyebrow.

Something about the way he said it made Harry look up sharply. Did this bastard know anything? “What do you know about it?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“I know a lot of things. And I’d be happy to share. I only need a…favor.”

Fuck it. Harry moved; lightning quick, to Draco’s side, and facing him he got close in to his ear. “You cross me right now, Malfoy, and I’ll make you beg for the Dementors; d’you understand me?”

Without warning, he grabbed Draco’s arm and Disapparated.

-==-==-==-==-

As soon as Harry had Apparated out onto the sidewalk, Hermione and Ron made their way over to the window. Hermione craned her neck anxiously and looked out, her head tilted upward to see around the small tree in the front yard.

Ron studied her profile. Her hair was tousled, and she was just the tiniest bit flushed, he guessed from the episode he’d walked in on between her and Harry only a few minutes ago. He turned resolutely to the window. Best not to think about it now.

“Do you think we should go out there with him?” Hermione asked him anxiously. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

“Nah, I don‘t think so,” Ron drew the curtain, wider so that he didn’t have to stand so close to her. “It’s only the ferret, remember? Nothing to be afraid of.”

“But he’s a Death Eater now, Ron,” Hermione frowned as she took in Malfoy’s malevolent eyes, currently trained on Harry. “Who knows what he’s seen and done in the past three years? We’re none of us the same people we were when we were children,” she added, glancing at him.

It was hard to disagree with that, Ron mused. In that moment, even though it was hardly the time, Ron just had to say something. Maybe he’d been waiting for a good time, but with everything that was happening, it was possible that it wasn’t ever going to come.

“So, ah…you and Harry, eh?” He asked quietly. It wasn’t anger in his voice, but maybe just the tiniest bit of wonder, and hurt.

Hermione’s racing heart thudded an extra beat. She knew it was cowardly, but she kept her eyes trained on the exchange happening outside. “Ron…maybe this isn’t the right time to be discussing that.”

“Guess timing seems like something we’ve all got problems with, then. When would have been the proper time to let me know you two were shagging?”

Hermione slid her eyes shut. Seriously? “Ron, we only just- it’s happened so quickly; we didn’t mean to”-

“I’m not”- Ron cut in, only to stumble over his own words. How could he explain? “I don’t like being treated like- like I’m just decoration in this house, or something. Just background. I’m not just background, Hermione.”

Hermione turned to him fully now, meeting his eyes and placing a hand on his arm. “Ron”-

But the movement from outside had them both turning back to the window. Harry had lurched forward and grabbed Malfoy, whispering something to him. Ron and Hermione both gasped as the two men disappeared from the sidewalk.

“Oh, god.” Hermione indulged in a moment of blind panic before mentally kicking herself for not going out there with Harry. “Where did they go? What do we do?” She lunged for the front door.

“Potty, if you don’t take your grimy, half-blood hands off me, I swear to Merlin, I’ll”-

“Shut up,” Harry said tersely. Hermione whirled, to find Harry shoving Malfoy back from him roughly. He’d brought him through the wards?

“Harry, what are you doing?” she hissed. “What is he doing here?”

“Relax, Hermione,” Harry said. “He still won’t know where he is or how to get back inside. Besides, it may not be an issue, once the Ministry carts his arse off to Azkaban,” he added, loudly, for Draco’s benefit.

“Yes, yes, scary Dementors, and all that,” Draco drawled.

“So, this is it,” he commented, beginning to take a turn around the parlor, looking around. “The inner sanctum of the illustrious Order of the Phoenix.”

Ron stepped forward. “Don’t get used to it. And don’t touch anything, ferret. I’d love a reason to hex you to bits.”

“Don’t worry, Weasel. Merlin knows, you’ve not got much to spare,” Draco sneered.

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Why don’t you have a seat, Malfoy?” She conjured a chair right behind where Draco stood.

“You don’t get to order me around, Mudblood.” But under Harry’s baleful glare, he sat.

“Incarcerous.” Hermione waved her wand as chains bound Draco to the chair before he could say another word, and then summoned his wand.

She took Harry’s arm and led him over to the corner with Ron in tow. She kept her voice low and looked back at Draco, who was tethered to his chair, glaring at them. “Harry.”

“What? Don’t look at me like that; I had to. It was either that, or”-

“Hex him into the middle of next week?” Ron offered. “That’s an option I would have considered.”

“I wanted to,” Harry agreed vehemently, albeit quietly. “Still do. But something he said out there about the Ministry. I want to know what he’s after, and we couldn’t just stand on the street, outside the wards, indefinitely.”

Hermione sighed. “Let’s just get rid of him quickly, yeah?” She reached for Harry’s hand and squeezed it, before she turned back to Draco.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him. “And I need you to get to the point, because we’re losing patience. Why shouldn’t we have you sent to Azkaban, again?”

Draco regarded her with utmost contempt, hating that things had come to this. “What if I told you that I’m the one who gave my father up to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and that I’ve left the Death Eaters?”

“I’d say you were a bloody liar.” Ron moved forward. “You expect us to believe that load of dragon dung?”

“Believe what you will, Weasley,” Draco sneered. “I’ve nothing to prove to you. Any of you,” he added, raking his wintry gaze over each them in turn.”

“Actually, you do,” Hermione said coldly. “You’ve everything to prove to us, because if what you said is true, then it means that you have made us the only thing standing between yourself and the Dementors.” She narrowed her eyes, and leaned forward as she perched onto the arm of the sofa.

“Why would you do that?”

That was the right question, Draco thought. Why, indeed? What the hell had become of his life that he was now coming to Potty, Weasley, and this insipid Mudblood to make a deal for his own protection?

Draco sighed (inwardly, of course). “I did my father a favor. He deserves a hell of a lot more than Azkaban after selling my mother out to Voldemort. And likely, Voldemort will break him out again, just so he can kill him personally.”

“What do you mean; he sold out your mum?” Ron asked. “Last I heard she was”-

“Yes, what was the Daily Prophet’s line on that one?” Draco snorted, and shifted within the confines of his chair. “Oh, yes- she was killed when a school of crazed grindylows attacked her in our backyard pool, or something, wasn’t it?”

“Er- yeah, something like that,” Ron conceded.

“Well, that was a load of shite. Voldemort killed her, and my father may as well have been holding his wand.” Draco looked away. “She- after the incident at Hogwarts three years ago, my father was still in jail. I went into hiding. My mother thought it would be safer than facing Voldemort…after”-

“After you weren’t able to kill Dumbledore,” Harry finished. “She figured you were a dead man if you faced him after that.”

“Well, yes,” Draco replied grudgingly, “Though I wouldn’t have phrased it quite that way. Anyhow, when my father was broken out of Azkaban, he pressured my mother into telling Voldemort where I was. He thought if he could deliver me he could escape the bastard’s wrath, himself. He was a coward, and in the end, he gave me up without telling her,” he spat. “He was pathetic, and I’ll never be that way. Never.”

“So Voldemort killed your mother for hiding you.” Hermione concluded.

“You’d have thought he’d kill me, instead. But he said I’d be more useful.” He looked away. He wasn’t here to make a big deal out of it, or anything.

“Malfoy, that was a year and half ago, last I read. Why did you wait until now to leave the Death Eaters?” Harry frowned.

“More to the point, what does any of this have to do with us? You want to, what? Join our side? Fight Voldemort?” He regarded Draco skeptically.

Draco stared at Harry for three full seconds of genuine confusion before he laughed.

“Heavens, no,” he scoffed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re fighting a losing battle. I’ve been in his circle. He knows things you wouldn’t comprehend; done things none of you could even imagine. And unless you’re willing to learn his methods, he’ll swallow you whole when you meet him.”

“Yeah? Then why doesn’t he ever want to stand and fight me? Why does he run? You tell your Dark Lord that”-

“You weren’t listening, Potty. Try to follow. I don’t have a side anymore. No one’s but my own, and that’s all I need. I’m no longer taking orders from him, and I’m sure as hell not joining your self-righteous brigade.”

“But you need us,” Hermione murmured, crossing her legs on the arm of the couch. “You’ve no longer got Voldemort to keep the Ministry off your scent. In fact, you’re marked by both sides. You want to go back into hiding, and what I don’t understand is why you think we’d help you.”

Draco straightened. “As it happens, I have some information regarding your situation with the Ministry.”

“And what do you know about any of it?” Harry demanded.

“I know they’ve been having you followed for the past year and a half.” He noted that they didn’t seem at all surprised about that fact. “And I’ve some information about it that you could use, to our mutual benefit.”

“How?”

Draco paused- for effect, to be sure; not because he was at all nervous.

“Well, a shake-up at the ministry would mean that they’re not so concerned about locating me,” he explained. “That’s one house elf off my back, so to speak.”

Hermione let out a tiny little growl, but made no comment on the analogy.

“We’re still waiting for that information,” she said waspishly.

Draco glared on principle, but continued. “My family’s Gringotts accounts were frozen when my father was imprisoned,” he began.

“When he was broken out, naturally he couldn’t just stroll in and open them back up, and we certainly weren’t about to go without. So my father decided to contact one of his old plants within the Ministry. Three guesses as to who that was.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hermione said incredulously. “Rufus Scrimgeour takes bribes from Death Eaters?”

“Oh, not now,” Draco conceded. “Old Rufus is squeaky clean, these days. But back when he was head of the Auror Department? You bet. Granted, he used the money mainly for department expansion, hiring staff, new quills or whatever, but in exchange, he was ignoring small pockets of Death Eater activity at my father’s behest.”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged glances.

“Anyway, my father persuaded Scrimgeour to unfreeze our accounts in exchange for him keeping his mouth shut to the press. I think such information, if it were ever made public, might lead to all manner of investigations that would make it easier for me to slip away unnoticed.”

“And what about Voldemort? How will you deal with him?”

Draco was more worried than he was willing to admit, even to himself. But this had been the right decision. Self doubt was not a part of his vocabulary. Never mind the fact that Potter already seemed to know about what the Ministry had been doing. That had been a miscalculation on his part, but it was easy to underestimate other people when he held himself in such high esteem by comparison.

Whatever. May as well see it through now.

“I stay off his radar my way, just like I did before. This will just be one less headache. Incidentally, I heard about your little outburst today. Perhaps you could do with an extra bargaining chip of your own?”

-==-==-==-==-

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had retired to their corner again to talk. They stood close, Ron ducking his head to avoid the light fixture against the wall. All three of them whispered at once.

“We don’t know if he’s even telling the truth, Harry. In all actuality, we could use the information and still turn him in.”

“He’s a liar, Harry. You don’t honestly believe that shite, do you? He’s a Death Eater.”

“I think we should let him go.”

Hermione and Ron paused. “What?”

Harry sighed wearily. He was so tired of this. All of it; the strategizing, the fighting, always being on the goddamn defensive. “I- What’s the point, you know? We’re no safer if he goes to jail. The Death Eaters and Voldemort will still thrive. Besides, if he is telling the truth, then he’s done us a favor of sorts. He chose to come here when he could have taken his chances without us.” He paused then, looking at both of them in turn.

“Let’s just let him go, guys.”

His friends were silent for a moment before they nodded in tacit agreement.

“Getting a bit of a cramp, over here,” Draco called from his chair.

“Malfoy, fuck off,” Ron said grumpily as they went back over. Hermione drew her wand and lifted Draco’s chains. Harry kept his own wand trained on him as he stood, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake and wondering why he was suddenly much too tired to care if he was.

This time, all three of them Apparated out onto the empty and unlit street with Malfoy.

“We’d better not regret this, Ferret.” Ron was still unsure whether this was a good idea. He’d never trusted Malfoy and he never would.

Draco moved an elegant shoulder. “Weasley, I don’t care whether you regret it or not. And I can’t promise you that you won’t. But suffice it to say that I’ve got rather more to deal with than you three at this point. I’ll be leaving now.”

He turned around, hunching his shoulders against the chill.

“Draco.” Harry’s voice was quiet, but the fair-haired man turned back all the same. Harry handed him his wand.

“I’m sorry. About your mum.”

Draco faltered almost imperceptibly, and his eyes changed for a millisecond before they frosted over again. He recovered with a sneer as he shot his cuffs through the sleeves of his dark and painfully expensive coat and pulled on his gloves.

“The last thing I need is pity from someone like you, Potter. You won’t see me again. But don’t pretend to know how I feel.” He started to walk away, and then turned back.

“I actually got to know my mother.”

Harry felt a buzzing in his ears as he watched Draco disappear. His hands clenched at his sides. He Disapparated without a word to either of his friends as he left them standing on the sidewalk, looking at each other.

Ron and Hermione joined Harry in the parlor, where they were met with silence.

“Fucking ferret,” Ron commented. “If he ever comes back around here, we’ll deal with him, mate. That was below the belt.”

Harry only nodded tightly.

“Harry, he’s not worth you getting upset.” Hermione reached for him. He moved away, jerking his shoulder from her touch.

“Malfoy’s an arse. We always knew that, right?” He pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

As Harry made his way upstairs, Hermione released a breath and fidgeted for a moment. She took her time removing her coat and hanging it up in the foyer closet. Then she went to the couch and carefully lifted Harry’s jacket and folded it over her arm.

Ron watched her go back over to the closet again and neatly hang the jacket next to hers. She may as well have been pacing and twisting her hands, he mused. But when she began to move past him to take up his coat, now strewn across the back of an armchair, he stopped her, taking her arm.

“Hermione. It’ll keep.”

“Ron, I’ve got it.”

“I said, it can wait.”

“Just give me the coat, Ronald! Okay?” Hermione pushed her hands through her hair, and huffed out a breath. “Just- let me hang it up, alright?”

She hated that she sounded so neurotic and irrational. She hated even more that she couldn’t seem to stop, even knowing that she did. It was just that she felt so out of her element. How did they deal with this now? How did she deal with Harry?

Ron waited for her to calm down. However he felt about the whole situation, Harry and Hermione were his best friends. If they needed each other for…whatever it was they needed, then he’d never begrudge them that.

“You should go and see if he’s alright,” he said quietly. He could see it all over her face. “When he gets like this, he- you know, that’s when he needs someone the most. When he doesn’t think he does.”

Hermione looked up at Ron. He was right, of course. Sometimes it was easy to forget that in his way, he often was. Before she headed up, she turned to him. “We’ll talk, alright?”

He nodded, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. Hermione grabbed Ron’s wrist and looked him straight in the eye. “We’ll talk,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Go.”

-==-==-==-==-

Harry paced his bedroom. He felt agitated, useless and ineffectual. This had been a day for the books, he thought. He’d gone off half-cocked, completely flown off the handle at the Ministry, and gotten his friends into trouble. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Hermione, Harry would likely still be there.

He’d let a known Death Eater escape because- Because what? He’d felt sorry for him?

Harry looked up as the door swung open and Hermione came in, closing it at her back with a quiet click.

He sighed. “I’m not upset, Hermione. You didn’t have to come check on me.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Good. So long as you‘re not upset.” But she moved to stand next to him anyway as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Harry took her by the waist and pressed his face into her belly. “I really bollocksed everything up today, didn’t I?” he murmured. “With you, with the Ministry…and now with Malfoy. I don’t think I could have handled things any worse.”

Hermione’s hands moved through his hair, front to back. “We do the best we can, Harry,” she said slowly. “No one expects you to know exactly what to do, all the time, and you’re much too hard on yourself.”

Harry didn’t think so, but in that moment, it really wasn’t something he wanted to discuss anymore. He pulled away and scooted back on the bed, pulling Hermione with him so that she was on her knees on the mattress. He cupped her face and kissed her slowly, letting the heat sort of build on its own, pooling in both their bellies. Hermione’s hands were at his waist, and gripping the fabric of his jumper ever more tightly while he deepened the kiss. When he pulled back breathlessly, she yanked the top over his head, just dropping it on the bed, much too preoccupied to expend the energy of tossing it on the floor. Harry’s hand shot up to grip the back of her neck and pulled her to him for another, rougher kiss that made them both want to sink through the floor.

Hermione sighed as Harry continued his ministrations of the afternoon, busying his hands with the buttons of her blouse and shivering as they found the skin underneath, and he spread them over her abdomen and around to her back. When he parted the fabric and bared her shoulders, he dropped his head to her shoulder and trailed kisses along her collarbone, loving the way she pressed herself closer to him in response.

Hermione moved her hands over the tight skin on Harry’s shoulders, chest and down his abdomen, needing to touch and needing his warmth. The way the muscle quivered under her fingertips made her feel powerful, and she felt like there was more of a balance now, than before. Like she could make him feel as completely open as she’d been to him last night. She brought her head forward and kissed the spot right at the base of his neck. Harry’s hand went through her hair, sweeping it back in an urgent gesture that made Hermione shiver with anticipation.

For the second time this night, Harry felt the crazed buzzing in his ears, but this time, in this case he welcomed it, needed it, and as he molded her shape under his hands, feeling the soft skin and the fascinatingly tensile muscle underneath, he thought he’d die if he didn’t have her, now.

Enjoying the new sensations and this new position, Hermione gave Harry the tiniest shove backward, and since he was holding her so tightly, she fell forward on top of him. When her lips found his again her tongue dipped into his mouth almost immediately, and as they sank into each other, Harry felt a sort of tangible vulnerability that he’d never expected to experience.

From that point they fought with the rest of their clothes, pulling, dragging, shoving. Hermione slid over him, feeling his rough hands and moaning as his fingers skimmed, then pressed, and then skimmed again. Unable now, to wait, she gave herself over to the urgency and let herself be guided by instinct and Harry’s grip on her hips. She completed their rushed and heated joining, and now there was nothing but pleasure, enervating and rhythmic. They frantically sped over that crest together and Harry’s hands trembled and she shuddered, shuddered.

Hermione’s head fell to his shoulder, her face burrowing into his neck where his pulse throbbed, thick and steady. It was a long while, or maybe not, before either of them spoke.

“Are we always going to do this at the most inappropriate times?” Hermione lifted her head.

Harry kept his eyes closed, but he quirked up the corner of his mouth. “There’s no such thing as an inappropriate time. The word ‘inappropriate’ really doesn’t apply at all in this case.”

Hermione lowered her head. “You could be right.”

“I definitely am. First time today, actually.” He frowned. “What’s next, Hermione? What do we do?”

She could be sure that he wasn’t talking about another round. “How about we deal with that in the morning, yeah? I mean, assuming you’ll actually be here when I wake up, of course,” she said lightly.

“Never going to live that one down, am I?”

“Probably not,” Hermione said as she pressed a kiss to his throat.

a/n: Thanks for reading. This is my first Beta-ed chapter. Which can only be good, as far as I’m concerned. Say hello to Castledown. He’s RiXX here on PK, and I know many of my reviewers read his stories. I think they’re wonderful.

I need to point out that if there’s anything you liked about this chapter, nine chances out of ten it’s because of his help with the phrasing, and Brit-picking, and stylistics. If there’s anything you don’t like, it’s likely because it was much too far gone for him to do anything. Don’t blame him. ^_^

Feedback on this chapter would be especially appreciated, as I’ve had the most trouble with it so far.

Cheers,

Heather