-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
She yawned as her mind stirred from the somnambulant realms of unconsciousness, back into blurred and unfocused reality. She didn't open her eyes yet, not quite ready to face the world as she rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around her, revelling in the warmth of her bed, and the soft, comforting presence of Harry next to her.
Her eyes shot open.
HARRY! Her mind screamed, as her body seemed to suddenly come alive with awareness, the memories of last night flooding back to her along with a sore, dull ache in between her legs that was foreign and terrifying.
She had…they had…he'd…she'd…
Her mind was a mess of thoughts and emotions, as her head snapped to one side, taking in the sight before her. Harry was asleep on his front, the black locks on his forehead blowing gently with each deep breath he took and exhaled. He looks peaceful, she thought fondly for a moment, a smile curving the sides of her mouth but vanishing as quickly as it came when her situation forced her focus back to where she was.
Which was in his bed. Wearing no clothes.
And judging by his look of contentment, and bare upper body, he probably didn't have any on either. With a trembling hand, she reached forward, lifting the hem of the covers that obscured his lower half just a fraction, dropping them with a sudden jerk as she looked inside. No, definitely not. A stab of fear coursed through her like a current as she remembered everything that had happened last night. The feeling of sheer lust she'd experienced, the fiery kisses, the urgency in their movements against each other, the frenzied twisting and turning, knotting their limbs with a ferocity she'd not known she possessed, and never in her wildest dreams expected would be returned. Her eyes grew wide at her declaration that she loved him, just before they…
She looked over fearfully as he stirred slightly, but let out a sigh of relief as he settled back down again. Her senses were nearly fully awakened now, the dull white light from the overcast skies lending a sharp clarity to the room that sharpened jagged angles, bathing everything in a flat, grey tone. The room smelt stale, the air tasting of sweat and…herself? With another glance to the sleeping man next to her, she felt a familiar prickling in the corner of her eyes. What have I done? She thought fearfully. There was no question in her mind what had happened last night, no question at all why they'd gone as far as they had. The transference of emotions, the bleed from the both of them…she'd fed off of Ginny's interactions with Draco…and she'd kissed Harry. She'd kissed Harry.
The nascent smile faded again.
But she hadn't just kissed him. That wouldn't have been so bad; she'd wanted to do that anyway. No, that wasn't the worst of it. She'd carried on feeding and feeding, sucking Ginny's lust and emotion like a leech, letting it fill her nerve endings, electrify her very skin with its presence. She'd let herself become its instrument; she'd forced him down…
Oh god.
She'd slept with him. She'd slept with Harry. She'd lost her virginity to Harry in a blaze of passion. She shuddered involuntarily, not out of disgust, but fear, at how she'd allowed herself to let go of her control so easily. She'd never felt so dirty, so horrified at her own actions…so guilty…
She cast a last, sorrowful look at the man lying next to her, the man she'd wanted for so long now, as she bent over and pressed her lips gently to his temples, not daring to apply much pressure lest he wake up.
With gentle, halting movements, she slipped from between the sheets, gathered what items of clothing she could, and closed her door with a quiet click.
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
Ronald Bilius Weasley had faced some pretty terrible things in his life. He'd fought Death Eaters to a standstill, been tortured under banned and outlawed curses for longer than he'd care to remember. He'd been attacked by flying brains, been cornered by the hordes of the undead, been forced to watch as villages burned and finally faced one of the most evil wizards known to history on a lonely cliff top in Dover.
But nothing had prepared him for what he saw that Friday morning.
The day had started as normal, he'd woken up in a fairly chipper mood, truth be told. After washing and cleansing as per usual, he'd snatched up his robes and Quidditch gear, whistling to himself as he activated the charm he'd designed to wake up his players for their early-morning practices. As if by clockwork, a perfectly motionless torrent of ice-cold water appeared in mid-air over Seamus' bed, dousing the boy almost comically. Judging by the screams and threats issuing forth from the lower years' dormitories, he supposed it had been successful all over.
Without missing a note in his tune, he grinned at the sodden and furious Irishman, before nearly skipping out of the Gryffindor tower to find his seeker. His footsteps and whistling echoed off of the empty corridor walls as he progressed, stopping only briefly to glare at Mrs. Norris, who slinked off into the shadows before he could hit her with the toe of his boot. She hissed, seemingly melting into the surroundings like a small, scraggly orange chameleon. With a shrug, he pushed through the double doors that led to the Head Suites, eventually coming to a stop in front of the portrait door.
"Nim-bus." He announced tunefully, raising an eyebrow at the baleful stare he received in turn from Wendelina the Wise.
"Alright for some." She grumbled tiredly. "'Spose you got a decent night's sleep didn't you? Not like us poor souls, what with all the racket…" Her muttering was drowned out as Ron stepped through, a puzzled expression clouding his features. He hadn't heard anything last night, what was she…?
He trailed off as he reached Harry's (open) door, the horrifying sight of his friend lying on top of his covers, naked, his pale buttocks gleaming in the daylight searing itself onto the inside of his eyelids.
"OH SWEET MOTHER OF MERLIN!" Ron cried out, horrified, before turning to look away.
"Whuzat?" Harry suddenly jerked into consciousness, startled by the volume of Ron's shocked voice as he blinked around dozily. "H'rm'ne?" He managed, shaking his head as he grasped blindly for his glasses.
"NO YOU TOOL, IT'S RON, NOW COVER YOURSELF UP FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!" Ron shrieked; his hands planted firmly over his eyes as he shook his head vigorously.
"Oh," Harry replied, finally placing his glasses on his nose. He glanced down. "Oh." He hurriedly made to cover himself with the blanket. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked irritably at the still-hunched-over boy across the room from him. "I'm decent." He added, rolling his eyes.
"I don't believe you." Came the muffled reply. There was a few seconds pause, before Ron spoke again. "Hey, what's this?" His previous terror apparently forgotten, he moved forward suddenly, his arm outstretched towards something that was blocked from Harry's view by the doorframe.
"What's what?" Harry asked, confused, taking this opportunity to hurriedly pull on a pair of boxer shorts that had been so readily discarded last night.
Last night, his face flushed at the memory of what had happened, his smile returning full force as he remembered her kisses, her breathy, husky voice whispering words into his ear that excited him in ways he hadn't known possible. With a frown, he glanced over to where she'd eventually collapsed last night before they surrendered themselves to sleep. It was empty. She must have gone for a shower, he reasoned mentally. She'll be back soon. With a sudden start of clarity, and what that would look like if Ron saw her walking in, wearing (hopefully) nothing but a bathrobe, he looked up sharply.
"HARRY!" Ron's voice slapped him out of his reverie, drawing his gaze to what his best friend was holding on the end of a Quidditch shin pad, as if touching it himself might result in his hand falling off.
"Erm…yes?" Harry answered hesitantly, feeling his blush grow deeper. For at the end of the shinpad was a vaguely familiar, lacy black bra. Ron's eyes widened at his friend's blush.
"You didn't…" he trailed off faintly, the colour in his cheeks fleeing with celerity he'd not seen before.
"I um…" Harry managed to choke out, before having to avert his eyes, allowing himself to fall back onto the bed. Bollocks.
"Oh, my god." Ron walked in on autopilot, still holding the offending item in front of him either like something distasteful, or a protective talisman. "Harry, how could you do this to Hermione?" He asked faintly as he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes wide and unblinking.
"Me do this to her?" Harry asked incredulously, in a slightly higher pitched voice than normal.
"If she finds out you've shagged another girl, mate…" Ron trailed off as his fearful eyes locked with Harry.
"Ron, you big twat, it was Hermione!" Harry said sharply, then immediately winced. "Shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that."
"As long as it was, then," His friend replied dazedly, nodding vigorously before the words truly sunk in. "WHAT? YOU SLEPT WITH HERMIONE?"
"Would you like to shout it louder please, Ron? I think there's some Ravenclaws who didn't hear you!" Harry snapped viciously as he stepped out of bed, taking a severe pleasure in the flinch that passed through his friend as he discarded the coverings.
"Sorry," Ron mumbled apologetically, "S'just…wow Harry…you really take advice to heart sometimes don't you?" Harry had the good grace to blush and look away as he pulled his Quidditch jersey on. "I thought you'd only…"
"Alright!" The other boy exclaimed. "No more holier-than-thou speeches, let's just go!"
"You'll tell me about it on the way, right?"
"No."
"Are you lying?"
"…Yes."
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
The Great Hall was slightly quieter than usual this morning, the ever-present cacophony of cutlery clattering against ceramics, people talking loudly and softly to each other and assorted groans at the prospect of the first period were still there of course, but it seemed muted somehow, tempered this morning.
Or it could just have been that Hermione Granger was lost in her thoughts, picking idly at a cold piece of toast in front of her in a less-than-enthusiastic manner. She almost didn't notice as the volume increased with the entrance of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, looking dirty and bedraggled, but energised, filled with the sort of electricity that only a physical workout can provide. She almost didn't notice again as they fell into seats around her, feeling only a flicker of annoyance as her purposefully-induced calm and placidity was rudely interrupted when Ron reached over her plate for the bread rolls. But she did notice his scent. That familiar, damning scent that reminded her of grass and mud, of wind and the faintest touch of mahogany. Her eyes looked up almost hesitantly, and met their green counterparts.
"Hey," he half-whispered to her, a small smile itching to break free at the side of his mouth.
"Hello Harry," She managed, desperately trying not to blush and keep her voice at a steady level.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, his hand edging closer to hers. She moved it under the pretence of reaching for her glass of orange juice.
"Fine, fine," She said dismissively as she tore her gaze from his. She set the glass down and was moving her hand back when he suddenly took it in his own.
"Look," he began, "I just want…"
"Harry!" She hissed. "Can you not make it so bloody obvious first thing in the morning?" With a jerk that was slightly sharper than she intended, she wrenched her hand out of his. She didn't miss the look of hurt that flashed across his face as she picked up her bag and stood up, ignoring the aching that induced. "I'll see you in class." She said to her two friends as cheerfully as was feasible to manage, before walking swiftly out of the hall.
"Harry…" Ron began, a bacon roll halfway to his mouth. "What in the name of Merlin did you do to her last night?" Harry stared blankly at his plate, his head held slightly low as he pushed a piece off egg around it slowly.
"I don't know." He replied in a quiet voice, his brow furrowed in thought, and not a small degree of hurt.
"You alright?" Ron asked, catching the look and shifting up into Hermione's now vacant seat as he pulled his plate towards him.
"I don't know," Harry repeated honestly. Ron sighed, pocketing a couple more rolls before glancing at the hourglass on the wall.
"Come on, we've got a good half hour before class, let's go for a quick fly." He stood up, nudging his friend's shoulder, who simply shrugged dejectedly in response before standing up and following him out of the hall. They passed the minutes it took to get back down to the Quidditch changing rooms in silence, neither of them willing to be the first person to speak. Harry mounted his Firebolt, allowing it to rise gently before it sped off into the sky. Ron followed behind on his Nimbus 2001 (having bought it a few months previously when the handsome reward money from the Ministry came through for defeating Voldemort and capturing ten of his death eaters at that final battle. Harry had given his share to the Weasleys as well), careful to stay out of his friend's turbulent wake as he did so. After flying for a few moments, Harry slowed, before coming to a stop, hovering in the air and looking out over the lake. The morning fog had dissipated slightly, but the tops of the mountains were still obscured in thick, grey cloud. The pallor of a Scottish winter hung over the grounds, making them seem eerier, devoid of life slightly. Almost as if the colour had been sucked dry with the passing of autumn. He glanced to the side as Ron arrived silently, pulling on his broom sharply to stop adjacent to his friend.
"Looks a bit threatening, doesn't it?" Ron commented vaguely, not really expecting a reply as his eyes surveyed the landscape in front of them. Absent-mindedly, he pulled one of the rolls out of his robe pocket, throwing one to Harry who caught it without thinking. Ron sighed. "Look mate, I'm sure it doesn't mean anything…" He said, trailing off as Harry fixed him with his gaze.
"She wasn't there this morning." He said, looking back over the lake. "She hardly said anything to me at breakfast, and she left when I tried to touch her hand."
"I'm sure it doesn't…" He began, but was once again interrupted.
"What if she regrets it?" Harry said dejectedly. Ron bit his lip. The signs weren't that good, but Hermione wasn't the type to sleep around, he knew that. "What if she woke up and thought, 'Oh god'. What if…what if she made some giant mistake?" He said the last part in such a small voice that Ron glanced at his half-eaten roll for a moment, before discarding it and moving his broomstick closer to his friend. Laying what he hoped was a comforting hand on one shoulder, he sighed again.
"Mate, you know what sort of girl Hermione is." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully. Harry's volatile temper was easily roused, and difficult to calm once it was flared. "She wouldn't give herself up like that if she didn't mean it. I think she's just a bit freaked out, needs a bit of time to sort through what happened with you."
"But why?" Harry replied. "I thought she…you know…liked me that way. She certainly did last night."
"Undoubtedly." Ron replied dryly.
"You're not helping."
"Look," he said, correcting a worrying little judder on his broomstick as a gust of wind blew past them. "She just needs time. Hermione's probably compartmentalising what happened for further study. You know, putting it into nice little folders or whatever she does inside her mystery of a brain." At Harry's sigh, he rolled his eyes. "She'll be fine. You two have been pining after each other since what, fourth year?"
"Maybe before." Harry grudgingly admitted.
"Exactly," Ron smirked. "She's probably shocked it's finally happened, you know…and the way it did as well. So…explosive, so….violent, so…"
"Ron!"
"Yeah?"
"Stop…describing." They were quiet for a few moments then, but Ron could see the smile on his friends face begin to work its way back on. "I can't believe it happened either, really." He said wistfully, the grin now turning slightly goofy.
"Alright, fuck this, I'm off." Ron replied over-emphatically. "You're turning me sick."
"But I haven't told you what she did with her hips when we were…" Harry whined, following after him. Ron cried out, slamming one hand against his ear and using his shoulder to cover the other.
"I'm not listening!"
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
She received the note from Dumbledore halfway through Herbology in second period (the only lesson of the day which, thankfully, she didn't have to share with Harry). To say that the class was startled by the sudden appearance of a Phoenix whilst they were in the middle of pruning Persephone's Lament, a particularly vicious form of ivy whose defence mechanism was to throttle anyone who attempted to remove its medicinally potent leaves, was an understatement. The note had been simple, yet had caused her to worry her lip to the point where she'd started to notice a faint coppery taste when she swallowed.
Miss Granger,
Please meet Miss Weasley outside Greenhouse Five at five minutes to eleven this morning, and proceed directly to my office. Unspeakables Chang and Woodtree believe they may have made a breakthrough with your particular issue.
Yours always,
Albus Dumbledore.
After she had gone to show Professor Sprout the note, and simply received a nod before she reached her, it had incinerated itself, singing the end of her fingertips slightly as she dropped it with a yelp. She glanced up to see that the inquisitive glances of the seventh year Herbology B students were on her, in fact, she had provided enough of a distraction for one vine to stealthily wrap itself around Ernie Macmillan's jugular and begin squeezing. In the ensuing pandemonium, Hermione quietly packed her things away, and left the greenhouse, making her way through the maze of glass walls before she arrived outside number five. She felt Ginny before she saw her, their connection (that had been oddly distant all morning) growing in strength as they neared each other. As she arrived, Ginny looked up, then quickly back down as she pushed off the glass pane she'd been leaning against.
"Hey," She said softly, still looking at the dirt.
"Hey yourself." Hermione replied, a little rougher than she meant to. Ginny flinched. There was a moment of silence, before she spoke up.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night, okay…?" She began, only to be cut off with a dismissive wave of the older girl's hand.
"I don't want to talk about it right now, Ginny. Let's just go." Annoyance flashed through Hermione as they re-entered the castle. How dare she apologise, she knew about their connection, knew the risks and still she went for a quick fumble on the Tower with Draco.
"Calm down, okay? You need to keep things in perspective…" Ginny tried again, her own indignation rising, feeding the passive aggression her friend already felt towards her. In one, swift movement, Hermione had whirled around, eyes glittering dangerously as she walked right up to her.
"Keep things in perspective?" She hissed, "that's what you were doing last night was it?" With a surge of anger, she pushed her. "Because I didn't bloody well feel controlled!"
"Hey!" Ginny shouted. "Get your hands off me!"
"No, you rather like hands on you, by all accounts." Hermione snarled, closing in on her claustrophobically. "Did you not think, for one second, about me last night? About how that would feel on my end?"
"You said to go and meet him!"
"Yes, meet him! Not go and fuck him!" She replied, her voice rising, "And I certainly didn't plan on fucking Harry as a…" She trailed off, eyes wide as she clamped a hand over her mouth. The shame rolled back in a tidal wave then, crushing the feeble barriers of anger she'd put up. She could feel the shock emanating from the other girl as she sank to her knees. Ginny cast her eyes around the corridor nervously. Luckily, there weren't any classrooms in this stretch, and the heavy doors to the outside were securely shut. With hesitant, slow movements, she crouched down next to the girl, laying a hand on the top of her head as the light reflected off of the glistening trails streaming down her face.
"Oh Merlin, Hermione, I had no idea…" She whispered, not exactly sure whether her words would help or just make her more angry.
"I didn't mean to, I swear…" Hermione whispered hoarsely. "I just…I couldn't control myself…" She sobbed slightly. "I wanted him so badly, and I took him, and it was all because of this stupid spell and now I feel so guilty…"
"Shh, honey…" Ginny cooed softly, pulling her into an embrace. "It's alright, it's alright…"
"It's not bloody alright, Ginny. It's pretty far from alright." Hermione replied muddily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I've ruined everything."
"Look…" She said softly, after a few moments. "I don't think this link can just create something that isn't there, you know?" She stroked the other girl's hair again, willing her to calm down. "I think the emotions you get from me just amplify what's already there in you…and if you're feeling it, then I'm feeling it, and it builds up and up." She trailed off. "D'you understand?"
"It's like momentum." Hermione said quietly, sniffing.
"What?"
"You know…if you roll a ball down a hill it picks up speed the further it goes down, it's like that with us. We keep feeding off each other and that emotion keeps increasing so we take more, up until the point where we have to do something about it or…"
"What? Or what?" Ginny asked, slightly frantically. Hermione simply looked at her in response. "Release?" She asked, coyly. Hermione blushed deeply, before slapping the other girl's forearm.
"Gin!" She cried, outraged.
"Sorry. Look, have you spoken to Harry this morning yet?" She replied, holding her hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
"I um…" Hermione said, looking down at her hands guiltily. "I left before he woke up."
"Hermione!"
"And I kind of left him at breakfast." At the shocked stare from her friend, she shook her head. "I know! I know, it was just…I was so confused…" She trailed off, hoping for some sympathy from the redhead. "It was my first time, you know, I mean for both of us…and it was so…"
"Hot?"
"For heaven's sake."
"Sorry." She stood up then, smoothing her skirt out as she offered a hand to the older girl, who took it graciously and did the same. "Look, we'll talk about this in a bit over some of Dobby's chocolate cake, okay?" Hermione smiled faintly. "There's my girl." Ginny placed a gentle, yet forceful hand on her back, steering her in the direction of the staircase. "But now, Dumbledore. And clear yourself up, woman, you look a state."
Hermione slapped her again.
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
The faint scent of log fire and cinnamon greeted the two girls as they stepped through the heavy oak door and into the office of their Headmaster. As Hermione cast about, she noticed Fawkes on his perch, trilling quietly in recognition as he stared at her through amber-coloured eyes, his plumage in full lustre and bloom at this time of the cycle. Dumbledore's silver instruments whirled and sputtered as usual, and the curious metallic rings situated on the shelf above circled each other lazily.
"Good afternoon Miss Granger, Miss Weasley." The soft, encouraging tones of the Headmaster drifted over to them from behind his desk. He was flanked on either side by two figures in deep midnight blue robes, cowls over their faces to ensure that their features were obscured from view. On each of their breasts, the ensign of the Department of Mysteries was subtly visible.
"Headmaster," They both replied, coming to a stop in front of his large mahogany work surface. At Hermione's questioning glance at the two people either side of him, Dumbledore smiled.
"Allow me to introduce Unspeakable Chang," The wizard to the left inclined his head, "And Unspeakable Woodtree."
"Miss Granger, Weasley," A husky, feminine voice came from the figure on the right.
"Please, sit down." Dumbledore prompted, flicking his wand casually as two chairs popped into existence behind them. Hermione and Ginny shared a look before taking their respective seats. Despite years of experience with the ancient wizard, his displays of incredible magical potency and skill were still, at times, slightly unsettling. As far as either girl knew, Ron still had trouble with teacups, let alone transconjuration. "As my note to the both of you indicated, we believe that we have made progress in understanding the root cause of the Severitus curse, and have theorised several methods which may be pursued in order to break the magical ties it has developed between the two of you."
"However," Unspeakable Woodtree broke in, "We wish for you to evaluate our hypotheses and draw a reasonable conclusion from them all, postulating upon an eventual amalgamation of theory and practice that may be used to break the casting, Head Granger." Hermione simply frowned in confusion, before glancing at Dumbledore.
"Headmaster?" She asked, slightly nervously. Despite the fact that she couldn't see inside the hoods of the Unspeakables, she had the unnerving and inexplicable feeling that they had been looking at her from the moment she'd entered.
"Despite my…protests." He replied, throwing a slightly stern look in the direction of the two people behind him, "Unspeakable Woodtree wishes to see how you handle this particular problem given the facts at hand." The twinkle in his eye returned briefly then, "it appears your request to intern at the Department of Mysteries following your Graduation made something of an impact, Hermione." The girl tried not to smile, but failed to avoid a blush.
"Regardless, we see this…unfortunate situation as a way to test your aptitude for the kind of work you would be required to undertake, and a way to gauge the analytical and extrapolative parts of your psyche." Woodtree broke in again. Hermione frowned.
"Surely a less life threatening situation would be more, I don't know, humane?" Ginny said coldly. Hermione had looked over the second she'd felt the slight spike of indignation. The redhead was sitting with a glare affixed to her face, staring Woodtree down with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Both Unspeakables' heads turned to her with an eerie synchronisation of movement.
"I trust you have heard of the phrase "trial by fire", Miss Weasley?" Chang replied with an equal frigidity to his voice.
"I trust you've heard the phrase "human experimentation is illegal", Mr. Chang?" Ginny shot back. For his part, Dumbledore seemed faintly amused.
"Enough," He said, a light edge to his voice that somehow still managed to ring with authority, despite any hint of sternness. "Ethics aside, I believe it is in both your best interests to listen to what they have to say. They are, after all, the experts."
"Quite right, Professor." Chang answered, the shadows of his hood focusing in on Ginny for a moment longer before turning back to Hermione. "Before we proceed, I would ask for your permission to run several tests to determine the strength of your connection." He paused, "If little else than to convince Miss Weasley that we do not intend to treat you as human versions of Pavlov's dog." If Ginny understood the reference, she betrayed no outward sign of it, merely nodding her assent.
"Of course," Hermione replied. "What do you-?"
"Just sit, and allow us to work." Woodtree replied, beginning to move her wand in a series of intricate movements over the two, as Chang muttered a string of Latin under his breath, mirroring her gestures with his own wand. A variety of sparks and flashes issued forth, but the room remained strangely silent as the Unspeakables continued their work. Dumbledore merely stood to one side, his hands clasped over his front with his wand held lightly in his left, ready to intervene should it prove necessary. Hermione had the distinct impression that he did not trust the pair much in the slightest. After several minutes, however, the incantation was ceased, with a final, dim glow that emanated from the two girls' chests, before fading into nothingness again.
"Curious," Dumbledore commented softly, as Chang and Woodtree moved swiftly to converse in one corner. Their whispered voices shed no light on what it was that they were discussing, however Hermione saw flashes of gold in the air as Chang drew out what looked to be an inordinately complicated arithmantic equation in the air. She glanced over at Ginny, who had turned slightly pale at the sight. With a start, and a sudden recognition that the uneasy feeling that she had sensed deep in the pit of her stomach was the girl's fear, she reached over and squeezed her hand gently. She remembered Harry's story of how the memory of Tom Riddle had written his name in the air with fire, in the Chamber of Secrets five years ago. Although Ginny had appeared unconscious at the time, she'd admitted later that she'd been experiencing a sort of ex corpus sensation. She'd been able to see and hear everything, but it had been distant somehow, as if viewed through a lens…
"This is most unexpected." Chang started, the huddle in the corner having apparently separated for now.
"Highly unanticipated." Woodtree echoed. Dumbledore nodded sagely, as if he understood their puzzlement.
"Indeed," He agreed quietly. "It appears that the curse ties which bind you two together have been assaulted at the basest level. Might I surmise you have been…testing…your hypothesis, ladies?" He smiled, the twinkle in his eye gleaming at them as Hermione's eyes widened and Ginny suppressed a squeak.
"Professor?" Woodtree asked. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"No, I believe it is Miss Granger's prerogative to explain her own brilliant theorisation." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as the head girl turned an abnormal shade of crimson. Ginny, on the other hand, was sinking into her chair as if she wished nothing more than to vanish right there and then. Damn the Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards, damn them to hell.
"I um…" Hermione began, as the two Unspeakables peered at her intently. "You see, when the nature of the Severitus curse was explained, I began with a dissection of its simple components. The Cruciatus and Imperius curses, the Proximus charm and the Incumbo curse." She paused then, regaining her breath slightly as the conversation moved into a more academic sphere. "I then analysed what base emotions and powers fuelled the primary agitators. In the case of the Cruciatus, anger. The Imperius, a will to dominate, to possess."
"And of the Incumbo and Proximus?" Chang asked slowly, stepping forward.
"They're minor charms and curses, and simply augment the spell itself, not form the ties between the magic and person. Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore proved that when they were able to alter the distance we could be from each other without the effects of the Cruciatus being felt." Chang nodded. After another moment of silence, Hermione took the lack of speech to mean she had permission to continue. "Now, as the Separatus curse does not require constant contact from the Source to the Object, in this case both Objects, it would imply that the power behind it is finite. I therefore hypothesised that the amount of potency that is required to cast the spell, drawn from the very magical essence of the witch or wizard who performs it, their soul, is used to rebuff and maintain the ties that exist between the spell and those who find themselves under it." She paused again, not really sure whether she was rambling or making sense.
"Go on," Woodtree encouraged, albeit in her husky, flat tone of voice.
"The um, the condition of the spell that you aren't able to tell the object of your…your heart's affection of its effect on you would symbolise a magical contract of some kind, that the spell's permanency upon the breaking of this rule would transfer the power Source from its reserve, taken from the caster's soul, to both your own."
"Those were Professor Snape's thoughts, also." Dumbledore agreed. "The key to unravelling the curse though, I believe, lay in the next part of your reasoning."
"You theorised that the process of nullification lay in attacking its power base through maintaining its ties." Woodtree stated. Hermione nodded in response.
"Yes, my idea was that if base emotions such as anger and hatred were the founding blocks of the Cruciatus curse, and selfishness the Imperius, then assaulting them with a combination of Occlumentic meditation techniques to dull the flow of emotions between the two of us, and focusing on emotions such as affection…and um…love…and selflessness would force the spell to use its reserves on bolstering its hold and fighting the erosion of its foundation in our magical essences."
"A curious strategy, Head Granger." Chang replied, after a few moments. Hermione tried not to be thrilled with the slight note of respect in his voice, and the use of her title did not go unnoticed. Apparently she couldn't hide it from Ginny however, who smiled at her proudly. "You chose to actually assault the power base of an Unforgivable curse, as opposed to finding a workaround? I must admit; I am in awe of your audacity." Hermione blushed.
"It doesn't appear to have worked, though. I can still feel Ginny's emotions, even from a distance. Although they do feel slightly muted, but I put that down to the natural erosion of the spell anyway."
"On the contrary." Woodtree replied. "Our scans show that the curse has expended significant amounts of energy in maintaining its hold upon you." She regarded the two then. "My apologies if these questions now seem personal, but they are essential in understanding what has occurred to weaken the base so." Hermione felt a lump in her throat form, and her slight level of panic was only amplified by Ginny's in return. "Firstly," She began, "I assume it is safe to say that of the two of you, Miss Weasley has the more…shall we say…apparent temperament?" Ginny snorted in response. "I see, and I assume that the majority of noticeable emotional bursts have been from her in origin, Miss Granger?" Hermione coloured deeply, mumbling a response in the affirmative as her mind flashed back to an image of her lying on her back, Harry's weight pressed on top of her, pushing her into the mattress as her legs wrapped around him…
"Therefore," Chang broke in, as if Hermione's reaction were not obvious, "I must ask you, Miss Weasley, if you have noticed any variance in your temperament over the last few days?"
"Mine?" Ginny asked, at the same time the other girl said 'Hers?'.
"Surely, Unspeakable Chang, a better test of whether my hypothesis is workable would be the dulling of extreme emotions?" Hermione said, her brow furrowed with the turn of questioning, thankfully providing a distraction from the image of those beautiful viridian eyes boring into her.
"On the contrary, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied. "I think you'll find that your particular temperament, being of thoughtful and deep nature, is the dominant role in this connection. No offence intended, Miss Weasley." He added, at Ginny's shocked face. "Passion has its place, and a very important one it is, but it is meditative and measured thought that is often the key behind inner peace. You will have found yourself more patient no doubt, more focused in lessons, these past few days? The usual distractions aside, of course." He said the last part with a slight smirk, the sight of which forced Hermione to stifle a grin.
"Come to think of it," Ginny admitted grudgingly. "I haven't been as energetic as usual lately. And I've had an odd compulsion to sleep with an encyclopaedia under my pillow." She winked at Hermione, who wore a look of deepest indignation on her face.
"I do not sleep with a-"
"Miss Grangers…sleeping habits…aside," Woodtree interjected, the disdainful way in which she spoke causing a stab of baseless panic to flash through the girl. "We believe that an erosion in the connection has occurred, but with the dominant personality. In this case, Miss Granger's." There were a few moments pause then as the Unspeakables looked at each other. Even though she couldn't see their faces, she could sense the unease in the air.
"What is it?" Ginny asked, also interpreting the tense atmosphere in the way Hermione had.
"There was…something else, that we found in our scans." Chang said slowly, as if measuring his words. Hermione noticed that the pair had Dumbledore's rapt attention at this point. As wise as he was, he seemed to have apparently missed this.
"I wonder, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley…have you ever heard of the Amortensus charm?"
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
'Subdued' didn't begin to cover the mood of the two girls as they left Dumbledore's office in the early evening, just as the last period of the week was finishing. They were still reeling from the implications of having yet another spell put on them by persons unknown, and from having their personal, and in Hermione's case, intimate lives dissected by two Ministry officials and their Headmaster. Hermione in particular had said nothing since the subject of her whereabouts during the attack on Ginny had arisen. She had sat in her chair, head downcast and mouth sealed as she was asked. When she had finally looked up, her eyes red and small tears threatening to escape, Dumbledore had simply sighed, his gaze almost burning her, as it seemed to pierce into her soul.
"I see," He'd said sadly, those two words forever seared onto her consciousness there and then. "I feel I must summon Mr. Potter, in that case. Miss Weasley, if you would be so kind as to take Miss Granger to her room." The Unspeakables had been silent then, Woodtree seemed to want to protest, but a furious glance from Dumbledore had silenced her immediately. Hermione felt as if she were on autopilot until they made it back to the Head Suites, Harry having apparently already left to go see the Headmaster. She didn't know how long she'd sobbed into her pillow when they finally reached her room, Ginny rubbing her back in an abortive attempt to be comforting, when the girl had finally spoken.
"Come on, Hermione." She said softly, her hand coming to a stop on her friend's shoulder blade. "You have to eat something."
"I can't," She replied, unmoving. "He'll be there."
"You have to see him some time." Ginny pointed out, apparently brokering no argument with the way in which she took Hermione's hand, pulling her up and tidying her appearance with several cosmetic spells. A short while later, they'd entered the Great Hall, the older girl trying desperately to summon some small measure of Gryffindor courage that still lay within her. However, whatever slight amount she gleaned was dashed when she saw him. He was bent over his food, head leaning against a propped up elbow on the table whilst his free hand stirred his mashed potato absently with a fork. He didn't look up as she entered, unlike Ron, whose face visibly darkened as Ginny branched off from Hermione to go to him, giving her one, last burst of support through their cursed connection. She could hear their frantic whispering, feel the rising anger from her friend as they began their battle of words and temper, but in all honesty she didn't actually care at that point. She didn't care about Ginny's spats with Ron, she didn't care about any connection, she didn't care about a curse that had put her in this situation, as she quietly took a seat next to Harry, folding her hands in her lap as she did so. He didn't respond to her presence, didn't even look up as she felt a wave of trepidation course through her. It was at that point she realised the full extent of what she'd said to him the night before with those three words. 'I love you', three syllables, quite heavy on the vowels, but no amount of linguistic interpretation could even hold a candle to the emotional gravity of what they represented. She loved Harry, she just….knew she did. She'd known it for years, really, but both of them had just been too scared to acknowledge it, to allow themselves to fully comprehend what it would mean between them. The prospect was terrifying, but it paled in comparison to the terror that Hermione felt now, now that she might have lost it forever for the sake of one misguided night.
"Harry, I…" She began, her heart breaking as his eyes met hers. She saw everything there, hurt, betrayal, guilt, anger, sadness, and despite all that, his love for her. How she'd been so stupid all these years, she'd never know. How could she have been so afraid to give voice to something they both knew was between them?
"Not now, Hermione." He replied in a quiet voice. "Finish your dinner, and we'll talk." She glanced down, and saw that her plate had been filled while she'd been looking at Harry. Willing the encroaching tears that threatened to spill from her eyes back, she picked up a fork, not entirely oblivious to the worried looks that her fellow Gryffindors were shooting in their direction, as well as the look of pure anger Ron was sending her. She could feel his gaze on her, its intensity prickling the hairs at the back of her neck like a cold winter's breeze, but she didn't dare to meet his eyes. He was justified in his anger, and Hermione didn't think that her fragile grip on her composure could be maintained if she saw his disdain for her on top of Harry's broken appearance. Mechanically, she raised her fork to her mouth, feeling the shepherd's pie and peas, but not really tasting it. They sat in silence, the tension thick enough to slowly suffocate those around them. Even the seventh years, veterans of many a feud between members of the Trio, hadn't witnessed anything like this before, and the glances they exchanged were telling.
It seemed to take forever, but dinner eventually ended, Harry's eyes having never left his plate, not even to take a slice of treacle tart from the platter that appeared (rather conveniently, Hermione thought) in front of him. Her worry and guilt grew ever larger inside of her as the other students began to rise; she wasn't even able to hide her start as she felt Harry's fingers lightly graze her shoulder. She glanced up, to find him stood and ready to go. Around her, the other Gryffindors had mostly filtered out of the hall, a few stray Hufflepuffs lingered, conversing with some Ravenclaws. Nobody noticed the lone Slytherin girl at the table on the far right, her focus not on her Defence text in front of her, opened at page 213 (Protective Charms for the Ridiculously Overzealous), but on the byplay unfolding on the other side of the room.
"Walk with me?" Harry asked. It wasn't a demand, it was a genuine question, and it was said with such quietness and hesitation that Hermione nearly shrunk into herself with self-recrimination and shame. She managed to stand up, her hand unsteady and shaking visibly as she shouldered her bag, before walking slowly out of the Hall. They kept pace with each other, but Hermione was merely following his lead as he steered them towards the Entrance Doors, slipping into the cold night air outside of the Warming Charms that kept the Castle in such moderate climate throughout the biting winters. She gasped involuntarily, and pulled her robe more tightly around her to ward off the chill. Noticing her reaction, Harry reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of material that, with a simple Engorgio, grew into her autumn cloak. He passed it to her, his eyes not meeting hers as they began to stray from the main path. Whether it was conscious or not, she'd never know. Their legs seemed to be steering them towards the Lake, following the circuit they'd travelled so many times before, albeit under (sometimes) happier circumstances. There were long minutes of silence as they simply walked with each other, taking in their surroundings. The skeletal branches of the deciduous trees planted along the edges of the water were framed against the sapphire, almost negrous depths of the water. The sky itself was black, the cloud cover obscuring any chance of a starry night, but the lights of the castle seemed to cause the surface of the lake to almost glitter as they began to circumnavigate it. Their breath came out in short puffs, visible, if inaudible. Hermione chanced a look over to her companion, his cheeks ruddy with the cold. She couldn't help but feel her heart melt at the sight of him, her attraction not even slightly dulled, despite all that had happened. She'd been staring so long, she hadn't noticed he'd caught her until she realised they'd stopped and her eyes were locked with his.
"I spoke to Dumbledore earlier." He said quietly. Hermione nodded.
"I know." She replied, tearing her eyes away from his and looking down at her feet, a feeling of dejection suddenly washing over her, mixed in with the usual self-deprecation.
"He told me about…well…about the curse." Harry pressed on, still in that maddening tone of voice.
"I know," She repeated, unable to hide the flinch as the rough skin of Harry's fingertips gently pulled her chin up so that her gaze was at eye level again. She tried to look away once more, but he simply repeated the gesture.
"Hermione, look at me. Hermione…" He said, his words cutting through her. Couldn't he see how sorry she was? How much she didn't want to hurt him? Why couldn't he just let her go, why did she have to look at him? It hurt her too much, although she supposed it was the least that she deserved. With a sniff, and a few blinks of her eyes she felt the familiar trail of warmth flow down one of her cheeks, turning icily cold as the tear almost froze on contact with the outside air. "I need to know." He said simply.
"You…you need to know?" Hermione asked hesitantly, her voice sounding choked and hoarse as another tear rolled down her cheek. He still hadn't let go of her chin. In fact, he was wiping the moisture on her face away. Damn it, she didn't deserve his touch, why did he have to do that? It was just making things harder, and harder, and harder with every caress, every light scrape of skin against skin. It made her legs feel weak, and it made her hate herself even more for what she'd done, what she must be putting him through.
"I need to know if you meant what you said last night." He replied simply, his questioning of her revelation needing no further explanation. His eyes still held hurt inside them, yes, and there was something else now. He seemed hardened, as if prepared to accept a strong blow, but as she gazed into them, she could also see…no…feel hope there. Behind his words, behind his gaze, behind the touch of his thumb on her jaw that was idly tracing the line of her chin. She didn't say anything for a few moments, as they stood there and communicated without words, in the strange way they'd always been able to. Eventually, however, she closed her eyes, allowing another few tears to escape from the pooled water on her lashes as she nodded falteringly.
"Y-yes." She managed to whisper. They were silent again for a few moments, the girl desperately trying to control the sobs that threatened to manifest themselves physically as Harry removed his hand from her face. She squeezed her eyes tightly, attempting to draw in deep breaths even as her airways felt like they were closing. After long seconds of silence, she forced herself to open them again, and through blurry vision, she made out Harry's mouth quirked in…a smile?
"I love you too." He replied simply, before taking her chin in his hand again and tilting her head upwards as he leant in, closing the distance between them with unnatural speed. She thought their lips would crush together painfully, but was shocked when Harry's met hers with a delicacy and gentleness she hadn't thought him capable of, that temporarily annihilated what she was feeling, ceased the flow of tears from her eyes as she leant into his kiss, feeling the hardness of his lips give way slightly under the caress of her softness.
"I…I…love…NO!" She cried out suddenly, snapping awake and pushing him away forcefully, registering the bewildered look in his eyes but ignoring it as she buried her face in her hands. "YOU CAN'T LOVE ME!" She shouted, not caring if every person in the castle heard her now.
"Why can't I?" He asked gently, taking a step towards her but stopping as she back-pedalled in response. "I've loved you for years, Hermione."
"Because I USED YOU!" She cried, the sobs coming unbidden now, making her back heave under their pressure. "Because I couldn't control myself around YOU! The ONE PERSON I had to!" She sank to her knees then. "I don't deserve your love, it was supposed to be perfect, it was supposed to be special..."
"Hermione," Harry said gently. "I'm not angry, and I'm not upset."
"WHY AREN'T YOU?" She cried, "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO BLOODY CALM ABOUT IT?" He was mere feet away from her now.
"Because it doesn't matter." He replied quietly, crouching down so that they were on the same level. "Because I've learned some things about life…listen to me." He pulled her chin up again. "I've learned that nothing in life is as perfect, or as planned, or as logical as you want it to be. I've learned that you take what you can from it, and you treasure what you have, because you could lose it any second."
"Oh, Harry…" She replied sadly in a hoarse voice, but he held up a hand to stop her.
"No," He said simply. "I've known all this, and I've still waited too long for you. I've stalled and I've lied to myself and I've tried to feel something else, and you know what? It hasn't worked." His hands slipped from her face to intertwine with her fingers. "What happened last night, happened. There isn't any changing that, and I wouldn't want to even if we could." She looked at him through troubled eyes, her mouth open and drawing halting, quiet breaths that produced small, faintly white clouds of condensation as they were expelled from her lungs.
"It wasn't us, Harry, the curse…"
"The curse can be damned." Harry replied, his eyes flashing with a flicker of anger for the first time since she'd seen him this evening. "I don't care about any curse, or any connection to Ginny you may have. I don't care what happened to make you the way you were last night because there had to be something there to start with!"
"I…"
"No, Hermione. Stop it, just stop." He let go of her hands then, moving his upwards to frame her face once more. "If you're going to tell me it was a mistake, then tell me as you look at me, tell me so I know beyond doubt that you never want it to happen again. Tell me you feel nothing for me, because that's the only way this can't work."
"Harry, I…" She repeated, gazing into her eyes. But in that instant, like in the Great Hall, something pierced the fog of melancholy and guilt that had settled over her like a shroud. It clicked with her; his words resonated inside her very bones.
"I meant every word." She whispered finally, with a slight tremble to her voice; before she pulled him to her, locking her lips with his in a searing, fiery kiss that made their frantic joining last night seem like a hand holding in comparison. And finally, as they tasted each other again, but for the first time really, arms wrapped around each other, warming against the chill and freeze of the night air, she thought everything might just work out.
-=-=-=-*-=-=-=-
Author's Note:
Hello again all, sorry for the delay in this chapter, but it's a bit longer than the others to make up for it.
First of all, I'd just like to say sorry to Heather11483 - I forgot to e-Mail you the chapter for your input, sorry! Blame the pub, I do. I wasn't sure if the offer was still open, so I stuck it up and hoped for the best. Thanks so much for offering to help, though :D
Secondly, to clear up a few things that may be slightly fuzzy from this chapter. I think the caveat in the curse that Hermione couldn't tell Harry about it doesn't apply to others telling others, or finding out for themselves. Dumbledore couldn't have discussed it with them otherwise, nor brought in the Unspeakables to assist. As for his intervention with Harry, Hermione was obviously not capable, so he stepped in as a part of his duty of pastoral care for his students.
Thirdly, I know Pansy didn't feature that heavily in this one like I said she wouldn, but she will next chapter, speaking of which, in chapter five:
Tough questions are asked, curses are broken, Harry gets angry, Pansy gets angry, Luna gets weird, a penny drops and Wendelina the Wise requests a transfer while Potions becomes a battleground.
Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, especially the following people:Tank03, Heather11483, lorien829, katediggory, Violet Kefira, grookill, KirstiR, and Alaitoc. Thanks for asking intelligent questions, giving kind words, and for following Ties :)
Oh, I'm sorry about the formatting problems, with the indents and the like. I really don't know why it does it, but try as I might I can't fix it :(
Lastly, feel free to check me out on Livejournal, http://castledown.livejournal.com - I'm thinking of posting snippets and stuff up there in the future.
Take care,
Castledown.