Deadly Banishment

Title: Deadly Banishment

Author: diggingupophelia (PK)/sapphiretragedy (LJ)

Rating: Adult

Pairings/Characters: Harry/Hermione, Snape, Draco, Ron - and various other characters that make cameo appearances.

Summary: Caring for Hermione becomes more difficult. Harry's curiosity scares him. And, out of desperation, he turns to Snape and Malfoy for a cure.

Warnings: language, violence, character trauma, (implied) sexual situations, and angst - lots and lots of angst.

Notes: This story falls into the Exquisite Corpse story arc. This installment occurs after the events of MMM and prior to EC. There will be at least on more one-shot needed to complete this story arc. Feedback is never required. But, it is always appreciated. Thanks to my betas! You know who you are, kind friends.

RECOMMENDED READING ORDER FOR THE STORY ARC:

1. MEETING OF MEN AND MOUNTAINS

2. DEADLY BANISHMENT

3. EXQUISITE CORPSE

*All stories are archived here at Portkey and at my fic journal: community.livejournal.com/annettefanfic

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Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.

- William Shakespeare.

Deadly Banishment

~*~

“Harry! Harry, wake up!” Ron shook Harry. Harry snapped his eyes open and was confused by the unfamiliar ceiling - he wasn't in his bedroom.

“What's going on?” he asked groggily. “What time is it?”

“Hermione - she's awake, mate. She's up and asking for you!”

Harry shook his head. “What?” he was shocked. “Awake? Just like that … but even Snape said there was nothing that could be done.”

“It's a miracle. Just like Tonks said.”

Harry got up from where he was sitting. Apparently it was a wooden bench in the middle of the woods. “When did the forest get a ceiling?” he asked Ron.

Ron smiled at him. “You're so stupid. How could you think that Mudblood bitch would get better?” he sneered as his features mutated into those of Bellatrix Lestrange. “She's never going to be whole again.”

~*~

Harry woke with a start. He dropped the book that had been on his lap; the thud echoed through the room. “Fuck,” he whispered. His heart broke again - he had that dream three times in the past week.

He got up from his chair and walked to the other side of the room where Hermione slept. He ran a shaking hand through her hair. He frowned when he realized her hair was matted to her flesh, it was sweaty. Harry pushed her hair aside and felt her forehead with the back of his hand. Hermione was burning up.

Harry sighed. “Well, looks like neither of us are getting much sleep tonight,” he said. He noticed Hermione's eyes were wide open. She was staring ahead blankly. Harry waved his hand in front of her face, slowly, trying to get her to track his finger. He no longer expected anything. He was genuinely shocked when he saw her pupil move. He repeated the movement and Hermione's eye moved again. “That's it, love,” he encouraged. He took his hand away and set to the task of collecting items to bring her fever down.

Harry talked to her while he rummaged around the room. “First we need to get that fever down. I don't want to try potions if I don't have to. We remember what happened last time. You ended up in hospital for a week - I don't know everything you're allergic to.” He smirked and added wryly, “I must have misplaced that list.”

Harry fished out a pile of clean rags. He summoned a basin of ice water. He dipped the rags into the basin and carried the whole kit to Hermione's bedside. He banished her clothes away - like always - he couldn't bring himself to touch her. It felt wrong the one time he'd tried and so he'd never done it again.

He wasted little time transforming the mattress of her bed into a shallow tub that was impervious to water. He grimaced as he tested the temperature of the water in the bowl. He felt her forehead again. She was getting warmer by the second. He needed to do something. Harry dumped the icy water into the shallow tub. “Sorry. That had to be a shock.”

He remembered Molly saying something about charmed cooling blankets in the cupboard. He thought those would work better. He summoned them, but nothing came to him. He checked on Hermione - she was trembling; Harry wasn't sure if was the fever, the cold, or a combination of the two.

“Well, we'll do our best for a while longer and if I can't get this done, I'll have to call Molly. I'm getting better at this - but I'm no expert.”

Harry left her bedside and rummaged through cupboards, banging doors loudly and cursing when he banged his head on a low hanging, open door. He found the blankets in the last drawer, buried beneath the regular linens. “Why didn't I check here first?” he asked himself, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

He unfolded the blankets and spread them over her. He set a cold wet washcloth on her forehead. Now all he could do was wait. “I'll be right here, Hermione.”

Harry cast an alarm charm to go off in fifteen minutes in case he dozed off. He watched the color of the blankets turn from blue to red - a sign that they'd warmed and the charms needed to be renewed. He checked her forehead. “Still warm, but not as bad. I should check your temperature.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to recall the incantation for the charm. It finally came to him - and he cast the spell. He was puzzled by the result. “Normal - but you feel hot to the touch. I must be doing it wrong.” Harry tried again. Still her temperature was normal.

Harry refreshed the temperature regulating charms on the blanket and set an alarm to wake him in half an hour. He kissed Hermione on her forehead. “Love you,” he said. Then he settled into his overstuffed recliner chair and closed his eyes.

He dreamt again. At the surface they were innocent dreams - common to any man - dreams of the flesh and what it would feel like (warm and supple under his fingers) and how Hermione would respond (moaning and writhing). Yes, common dreams. Nothing to worry about.

And at first Harry was able to shake the thoughts from his head before he got out of bed. Then, they followed him as he walked to the shower. And before he knew it, he was wanking while Hermione's name crossed his lips. It was disconcerting - but he couldn't help but wonder how life could have been.

But now he was awake and sitting at her bedside. There was no cascade of water to wash away the taint of those thoughts from his skin. There was only him and Hermione and the persistent presence of those dreams thrumming through his body.

“Hermione,” he whispered. His voice expressed all the longing he felt for her, the weight of his loss. “It's getting harder to do this.”

He was startled to hear Ron's voice. “You're still doing a great job, Mate. She appreciates it. I'm sure though she'd lecture you for leaving her like that.”

“She has a fever. I'm trying to bring it down,” Harry sighed. “Nothing I tried is working.”

“I see you've got the blankets. They work wonders. Did you try a cold water bath?”

“She's still lying in one.”

“Oh. That's why, Harry. You can't use both at the same time. Something about the charms getting mucked up.”

Ron leaned over Hermione and banished the water. He kissed her on the forehead. “She doesn't feel overly warm,” Ron said.

“That's good,” Harry replied. He was picking at his pajama bottoms, pulling at the loose threads. “Ron - do you … well, do you think … is it normal that I dream about Hermione?” Harry blurted.

Ron nodded. He conjured a chair and sat on the opposite side of Hermione's bed. “Sure. I dream about her all the time. Lecturing me about my rubbish essay, or, stealing my Extendable Ears. You know, old times.”

Harry gave a small laugh. “I miss that. Her lectures.”

“Me, too. But she'll give them again,” Ron said brightly. He turned away from Harry and stared at Hermione. “Mum said when she was here yesterday-” and then Ron cleared his throat.

“When your Mum was here yesterday what? When I was at Hogwarts?”

Ron nodded. “I promised I wouldn't tell. But it doesn't seem right. Not after all you've done. For as long as you've waited.”

“Well, go on then. Tell me!” Harry was growing impatient. He held back his anger at Molly for not telling him herself.

“Mum was talking to her - explaining where you went. Hermione blinked when Mum said your name. Three times, Harry. But then she wouldn't do it anymore.”

Harry smiled. “It's something.” He contemplated telling Ron about her eyes and how they'd tracked his finger. But he wanted to keep that bit of information to himself a while longer.

~*~

The next afternoon, when Ron had left and after Molly had checked on Hermione, Harry began to exercise his plan.

He carried Hermione into her chair - the one just in front of the fire, and covered her lap with a blanket. He pulled a stool close to her chair and sat nestled in between her knees, his hands resting gently on her hands.

“Hermione,” he called. His voice was stern.

There was no response.

“Right. You didn't respond to your name, did you? I suppose I should shout my name about then.” Harry cleared his throat. “Harry's right here, love. Harry.”

Harry saw Hermione's eyelid's flutter - not blink in that mechanical way he'd become used to seeing, but actually flutter.

Harry squeezed her hands and smiled.

“Harry,” he repeated again.

There was once more movement in her eyes.

“Fan-bloody-tastic,” Harry whispered, amazed. “Hermione, if you know I'm Harry blink your eyes for me.”

Hermione closed her eyes but did not open them back up.

Harry stood up and cupped Hermione's chin in his hand. “Harry,” he whispered. “Harry loves you.”

Hermione's eyes opened. And for a split second it seemed that Hermione wasn't staring through him or simply not seeing him; it seemed that she was looking at him.

Harry kissed her softy on her lips - they were warm and wet and unresponsive. It was a chaste kiss - but images of his dreams flashed through his mind. He reddened and pulled away. He stood up and tucked the blanket around her lap.

He left her in front of the fire and went in search of parchment and ink - he had a letter to write!

~*~

The owl tapped on the window - repeatedly. Severus Snape found the noise to be quite annoying and disruptive to his reading. He glanced up at the clock on the fireplace mantel; it wasn't even noon. Everyone knew he did not receive owls before noon. The bird would have to wait.

Snape turned his attention back to his book. He'd only read three sentences when the Floo began to hiss.

Snape gave an irritated sigh and snapped his book shut.

“Potter,” he greeted dryly. “What. Is. It?”

“Did you read my letter? I sent Hedwig hours ago.”

“It would be your infernal bird,” Snape muttered beneath his breath. “Come on through, then. And don't get soot on the ground. I just cleaned.”

As Harry came through into the dismal surroundings of Snape's flat, Snape went to retrieve the owl. He detached the scroll and read quickly. He quirked an eyebrow at Potter who stood nervously picking at his robes near the chair Snape had previously occupied.

“Well?” Harry asked, expectantly. “Is this what you told me about last time we discussed the problem?”

“This could be involuntary eye movement,” Snape explained. His voice was soft. He watched as Potter's shoulders slumped. “But then again - it could also be that it isn't. The problem is, of course, the same. We don't understand enough about dementors. No one's ever been able to get close enough to understand how their particular brand of magic works.”

Harry nodded. “Is it possible - in some of the books I've studied, they've mentioned things about soul fragments being left behind. Could part of her still be in there somewhere?”

“Anything is possible. As I said, Potter, we don't know.”

“It was so strange to see her there again. Even if it was for a second. Do you think maybe you could try Legilimency again? I know it didn't work before. But there's been a change. And you did offer.”

Snape folded the parchment and tossed it onto a growing pile on his desk. “Why do you ask, Potter? You know I'm not allowed to refuse you. Part of the requirements of my release.”

“I'm not your master, Snape. I'm your sponsor. You still have freedom. And I know how taxing it is. I wouldn't force you to do that.”

Snape broke his gaze away from Harry. “Day after tomorrow, then. I'd come sooner but I'm brewing for Lupin. The Wolfsbane cannot be interrupted.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled appreciatively at the news. “I know Remus is very grateful for the potion. No one else will bother to brew it for him.”

“It's not for him, Potter. You know that,” Snape replied, smirking. “Make sure she's already eaten before I get there. It will require a lot of energy from the both of us. And I'd prefer if you were the only other person present. Weasley's pestering and nattering breaks my concentration.”

~*~

Harry laughed and pulled back from the hair tickling his chest. He tried to move to brush it away, but Hermione pinned his hands back. “I don't think so, Harry,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

Harry lifted his head to catch her lips in a kiss; his tongue trailing over her lips and her tongue darting out to meet his. “You taste delicious,” he whispered into her mouth. “So sweet.”

Hermione laughed against his lips.

Harry gasped as she kissed at his neck.

“I love you, Harry.” The words vibrated into his flesh, glistening in a fine sheen of sweat and needy for her touch alone.

He tried to move his hands. He tried to touch her, too. But her grip was firm and he couldn't move.

Harry turned away from the hands shaking him. “I'll be up in a minute,” he groaned. “Sun's not even up yet,” he complained.

“Well, Snape's not going to care for that excuse, Mate.”

It was then that Harry realized it was Ron who'd come to wake him. “Bugger! Snape's visit.” Harry rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his eyes. Ron sat on the edge of the bed. He was staring at Harry, the corner of his mouth raised into a smirk, and mischief glinting in his eye.

“What?” Harry asked as he reached for his glasses.

Ron bit his lips together, presumably to repress a giggle. Harry noted the tips of Ron's ears were turning pink. “'S nothing, Harry. Nothing at all,” he lied. Then he started to giggle.

Harry threw back the duvet, exasperated. “Fine! Don't tell me. Probably turned puce in my sleep from that potion your brothers brought me so I could sleep!”

“No. You aren't puce. You're … well, Harry-colored, mate. It's just that - well, when I came in to wake you,” Ron stopped to laugh. “To wake you up, you were hiccough making some very interesting noises.”

Harry felt himself blush. Then he released a breath and flopped back down on the bed. “Buggering bloody hell!” Harry threw his hands over his eyes.

“Well, it's alright. I'm just glad I got to you before the sheets got all sticky,” Ron teased.

“Shut up, Ron. Please. If you're any kind of friend-,” Harry stopped talking. Ron had started laughing again.

“I didn't know you fancied being tied up 's all.”

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. He adjusted his glasses and turned toward Ron. He took great care to school his expression into one of seriousness. “I keep having these dreams. About Hermione.”

“Oh,” Ron said, morosely. “I - it's normal, Harry. You miss her,” he reassured, albeit dismissively.

“I can't stop thinking about what it would have been like to,” he blushed, “you know.”

Ron looked at Harry wide-eyed. “You two never? But I thought … Ginny said that Hermione asked for potions!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, she did. But, we never got around to that part. You'd have thought we would have. But we knew we were winning at that point and you know how she was - is - about details.”

Ron nodded. “Don't remind me about that. I'll have nightmares!”

“I'm a pervert. I'm dreaming about having sex with a soulless person who can't even do anything on her own. Much less that!”

“Harry. You aren't a pervert. You'd be a pervert if you were touching her.” Ron hesitated and then asked: “You aren't are you? Touching her like that?”

“No!” Harry shouted. “Never - I wouldn't.”

“Calm down. I was just asking. I never thought you would.” Ron cleared his throat. “Right - go get ready so you can get Hermione situated. Me? I'm out of here before Snape arrives.”

~*~

Harry sat in a chair at the point furthest from Snape and Hermione in the room watching. He tried to stay still and wait patiently - but that was easier said than done. If he tried to close his eyes his mind wandered to the dream. If he didn't pay attention to his own body he started tapping his foot, which in turn, caused Snape to curse under his breath while glaring at Harry.

He jumped out of his chair when Snape sat back in his own.

“Anything?” Harry asked.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back heavily into the chair. “Chocolate first, Potter.”

Harry summoned the tray of hot chocolate and plate of chocolate biscuits from the kitchen. He set it down gently in front of Snape. Snape sipped at the contents of his mug silently for a moment. He looked quizzically at Harry. “Don't you think she needs this too?”

“Right.” He brought a mug of chocolate to Hermione's chair. He sat on the arm, held it to her lips and tipped the cup. It took her longer to finish her drink; but Snape didn't speak another word until he had Harry's full attention.

“What did you - or didn't you find, Severus?”

Snape glared. He hated when Harry used his first name. “There are memories now. Complete ones, I assume, as they are not unrelated fragments. The ones I saw most of were from what was presumably your first year at Hogwarts.”

Harry smiled. “That's wonderful news. There was simply nothing before.”

“There's more, Potter. Are you going to let me finish my report or are you going to comment incessantly at every finding?”

“Sorry. Go on,” Harry apologized. He was impatient in his request.

“As you know, as part of my research into this matter, I have attempted Legilimency on multiple Kiss victims,” he paused. “None of them have ever shown me memories before. And it seemed as though she was pushing certain memories forward. All of them had one thing in common: you in danger. Furthermore, unlike the others, Miss Granger here seems to have pieces of her soul in tact.”

“I was right then,” Harry offered. Although he didn't sound as happy as he should have at the prospect.

“Yes,” Snape admitted, grudgingly. “The problem is, however, there is not enough soul present to comprise a sufficient life force.”

“How do we fix that?”

“That, Mr. Potter, I do not know,” Snape replied silkily. “However, I intend to find out.”

~*~

Harry sat with Hermione on the sofa a long time that night. He'd told her, again, about Snape's news.

“And then, we can have that life I promised you,” Harry whispered. He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead.

Hermione blinked. She'd been doing more of that since Snape's visit; but only when Harry spoke to her or his name was spoken.

Harry took Hermione's hand in his. He stroked soothing circles into her palm with his thumb as he spoke. “Severus tells me you're remembering when I was in danger. You don't have to worry about that now, love. We're safe. All of us. I killed that ruddy bastard. And when we catch her, I'm going to kill her too.”

He kissed her hand.

“That I promise.”

Harry pulled Hermione close to him -- her back against his chest, her wild hair in his face, the two of them sharing their warmth. He couldn't wait to feel her wrap her arms around him - or move toward him of her own volition. Soon, he thought, soon.

~*~

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned into one month, and then five before Harry heard any news of progress from Snape.

“Seriously, Severus. That's not even remotely funny,” Harry bit out. He slammed the dusty tome shut and slid it violently across the table.

Snape caught the book under his hand. He glared at Potter exasperatedly as he spoke. “Potter, do I look like the sort of person who jokes?”

Harry sighed. “No. But this seems very dangerous. And there's such a slim hope of it happening regardless,” he protested. Harry took off his glasses and tossed them onto the table. “This isn't even a guaranteed success.”

“I said I'd figure out the method to solve the problem. And I have.”

“But if we fail - she dies.”

“If we can't help her, Potter. If we can't cure this, she's better off dead.”

There was a long silence. “I hate it when you're right,” Harry admitted.

“Regardless. Time is running out.”

Harry nodded. “I'll pull whatever strings I can.”

Snape laughed. “You run the puppet show, Potter. Just get it done.”

Harry glared. “But, do we really need Malfoy? We have Tonks.”

“Draco is better suited for the task,” Snape reaffirmed. “I know how you feel about him. But, he's paid his dues, Potter.”

“Fine. I'll collect him fro Azkaban tonight. But, he stays with you.”

“And he'll remain free? Even if this doesn't work?”

Harry gave a small nod. “A deal's a deal, Snape. Anything for Hermione - you've always known that. I'd die for her myself if I had to.”

“How stupidly romantic, Potter. But Shakespeare's already written that story: star-crossed lovers and all that rot. No, I think you'll get to be miserably married to her. You deserve it.” Snape had tried to sound disdainful - but much to his dismay, failed.

“Why, Severus, I never knew you cared,” Harry said dryly.

~*~

“Why is it every time I make a decision you lot try to talk me out of it?” Harry asked harshly. “This could make her better.”

Remus smiled gently at Harry. “We know how you feel about her, Harry. But you said it yourself: this could kill her.”

“She's not really living anyway, Remus,” Harry protested. “She drools all over herself, can't read on her own, and Severus says all her memories are unpleasant.”

“Here we go with that git again,” Ron chimed in. “He wasn't any help a year ago. And he isn't any help now, Harry.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Tonks stopped him.

“You know I've always supported you,” she began. “And even if you do this, I will support you. However - this is dangerous magic Harry. Not only to Hermione but also to yourself.”

“I've already considered that. I'd rather she were living - really living, and not simply alive,” he muttered. “No matter what happens to me.”

~*~

Harry was genuinely startled by the noise - a throaty, animalistic moan, coming from Hermione's body. He'd never heard anything so frighteningly beautiful in his entire life.

He'd been stroking her hair while explaining the ritual to her - telling her the risks and asking her if he should take the chance. And then, she'd made that noise.

“Can you do it again?”

Hermione's eyelids fluttered twice in rapid succession. But she remained silent. Harry stared into her eyes - they still weren't Hermione's eyes, but something had changed.

“Do you understand me? Blink once if you understand me.”

Harry stared at Hermione's unmoving face for a long time. There was no fluttering movement of her eyelids. His heart sank into his chest.

“Potter,” a voice called from the Floo.

“Fuck,” Harry cursed. He turned away from Hermione and called for Malfoy to come through over his shoulder. When the blond man walked into the sitting room Harry scowled. “You're early.”

“Sorry. Severus said you were very particular about punctuality. I didn't want to be late.”

“I need to keep Hermione on a schedule. You've interrupted our conversation,” he replied. Harry was clearly annoyed by the other man's presence. “Don't put you sooty boots on my sofa, Malfoy!”

Draco took his feet down. He pulled out his wand and charmed the soot away. He stared at the wand in awe. “I've really missed that.”

“You're welcome,” Harry replied. Sarcasm managed to wheedle its way into his voice. Although, if pressed, he couldn't admit it wasn't partially genuine.

Draco merely shrugged. “I put the Pensieve on the desk in the room you call a study. It's on loan from Hogwarts, so, Severus said not to destroy it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I'll do my best. Now did you br-,” Hermione making that noise again cut off Harry's question. This time, the pitch was shrill, the tone desperate.

Draco clapped his hands over his ears. “Sounds like a mandrake root!” he yelled. “What's wrong with her?”

Harry didn't bother to respond. He turned back toward Hermione. Her body was shaking, her limbs were flailing about and she fell from her perch in her chair, directly on to Harry - who had been squatting at her feet. Harry gently pushed her off, rolling her on to her back. “She's having some kind of fit,” Harry yelled. He was panicking. She'd never done that before.

All the while she was shaking, the noises emitting from her throat grew louder, more painful sounding, and more insistent of something Harry couldn't understand. Harry tried to pin Hermione's body to the floor, holding her shoulders first and then using his own body as a weight. She pushed him off with her thrashing.

He turned to Draco. “Floo the healer! Name's on the parchment - first one.”

Draco ran to Floo the healer, his wand dropping to the ground with a clatter. Harry tried to speak soothingly to Hermione.

Nothing helped.

He knew he would never forget the sound of her shrieking. He hoped she wasn't reliving her encounter with the dementor.

Draco poked his head into the room. “Potter her healer's not there.”

“Call Severus. I think - the dementor, hurry!”

~*~

Harry sat with his head resting against the surface of Hermione's bed. He held her hand tightly. Every few moments her body would shake involuntarily and she would try to scream out. Her throat was raw from her continuous efforts during the day.

Harry rolled his head toward the door when he heard footsteps.

“Mrs. Weasley's gone. She left shepherd's pie and a jug of pumpkin juice.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

“I know you're particular about who goes around her. But you've been with her all day. And you need to eat. I'll watch her. I promise not to touch,” he added. He held his hands up in front of him. “Wand's with Severus, too.”

Harry pulled himself straight in his chair. He reached for the cool flannel and stood up before wiping Hermione's face with it. “I don't know if this is good or bad. Her screaming fits.”

“Severus thinks it's good,” Draco offered.

“I wish she'd calm down enough for him to try Legilimency.” Harry tossed the wet cloth back into the basin with a wet plop.

“I doubt these memories are going anywhere. They must be strong to produce a reaction like that. Father doesn't even move.”

Harry bowed his head. “That wasn't supposed to happen either. No one told me. I'm sorry about that. It went against our bargain.”

“Water under the bridge, Potter. You couldn't have known what they had planned. Just as well. It's better he doesn't know what's become of his money or his house.”

Draco sat down in the chair Harry had vacated. He nodded his head toward the door. “We'll have plenty of time to talk after you eat.”

Harry reluctantly left the room. When he was a quarter of the way down the hallway, Hermione started to fuss again. Harry leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. As he exhaled he slid down the wall, allowing his head to be cradled in his knees. Then, he started to cry. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to save her.

~*~

“What did Snape say?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head sadly. He pulled the stopper from the bottle of Firewhisky and poured two shots before he allowed himself to speak. “Her soul - well, what's left of it, anyway - is dying. If we don't find either that bloody dementor or the fucking bitch who did this to her, she's going to die.”

“Are you sure he's right?”

Harry downed his shot of whisky and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared at Ron. “Do you know any other Legilmens? Do you know anyone else who knows Dark Arts as well as he does?” Harry snapped.

“No,” Ron whispered. “This is the worst news we've gotten since it all started.”

“Well, it always gets better before it gets worse. At least in my life. Can't just have things go right. Life has to take me down the bumpiest roads.”

Ron pushed his own empty glass toward Harry. “Fill `er up. Better yet - let's just pass the bottle back and forth.”

“He says the most we've got is a year - give or take a month or so,” Harry said as he passed Ron the bottle.

“You better get that ferret going on that spell, then.” Ron shuddered. “The very idea of Blood Rites makes me nervous.”

“They should. Let's just hope he knows what he's doing.”

Ron raised the bottle of Firewhisky. “To the ferret, then,” he toasted.

“To Malfoy,” Harry echoed.

Harry grabbed the bottle from Ron and took a deep drink. Until Bellatrix was found there was nothing he could do but wait. Wait and watch Hermione die a little more every day.

It was all in Malfoy's hands now.

~*~

-Fin-

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