Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N:

Ok, I tried my best to finish this story before putting up another chapter. However, a recent promotion, among other things, kept me from sitting down firmly and coming up with the climax and end of Caught in the Past.

I know that finishing this story is very vital to my aspiration as a writer. However, I also came to realize that compared to other things, this one is pretty trivial. Personal matters presented themselves and prevented inspiration to strike.

I've been toying with this chapter for a long, long time. Cutting out bits and pieces, rewriting and rephrasing. I think it's a bit overrated, and I would not condemn people if they would think so, but I've long since finished with the highlights of this story, and therefore, I can no longer change whatever it was I had in mind. I could only hope that during my hiatus, my ability to deliver did not wither.

I know you probably are tired of reading explanations and apologies, but I hope that my updating a chapter would be proof that I have no intention of becoming a writer who starts but never finishes her work.

Here's the next chapter. I hope you guys like it!

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At the sound of a door slamming, Hermione's lids fluttered open.

Darkness greeted her as eerie silence consumed her thoughts.

Tight and constricting against her eyes was a thick cloth that reeked with an inexplicable odor falling in between rust and iron. It was pressed just against the tip of her nose, she couldn't let air in without also breathing in the foul smell. She cringed, too, at the material tied around her hands, the dampness against her wrist too sticky for water or sweat.

A dull ache started to fully awaken her from her confusion. From a distance, there emerged faint sounds of laughter, busy movements, and profanities mixed with good-natured rallies. Slowly, she remembered standing on the street, seeing a friend, and then a hand clamping suddenly on her mouth, with another grabbing her arms and dragging her without a sound into a closed carriage. The smell of an intoxicating substance was the last thing she could recall before waking up.

Here.

In this filth-smelling place.

All alone, incapacitated, and with no chance of help.

Again.

"How bloody convenient," she interjected sarcastically.

Oh well, she realized with momentary relief, at least she could say something.

The mattress dipped beneath her weight as she struggled to get up. It creaked so heavily Hermione wondered whether it would break. The sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor, however, had her immobilized.

She realized then that she had made a premature conclusion.

Abducted, she was.

Alone, she was most definitely not.

She waited to find out whether the sound had been a figment of her imagination, but after a second or two, there it was again. Clearer and louder this time, almost as if she were meant to hear it.

Mustering up haughtiness that only a duchess could carry, Hermione tried to discover whether her companion had intimidation in his vocabulary.

"Identify yourself," she said.

A slight movement, perhaps a foot propping on a knee, was the only answer she received.

"What do you want?"

Another movement, but nothing else.

Irritation bubbled inside Hermione.

The man was not trying to disguise his presence at all. On the contrary, he seemed to be pronouncing it even, for neither was he still nor was his breathing low. It was clearly evident that her acknolwedgment of his proximity did not bother him. This man definitely had intimidation in mind, difference being, he was trying it on her!

Frustrated, more than fearful, she tried to adjust the tightness of the ropes around her wrist.

"A noble attempt," the man finally spoke. "Yet, I fear your efforts would go to waste."

There was a thud on the floor where his boots landed as he stood up, followed by a serial of them, getting closer.

"What do you plan on doing once you remove those bindings?" He scoffed. "I feel generous enough to warn you that I am armed, and would not hesitate for one moment to stop you in any way I can."

His voice was deep, smooth and had a hint of bitterness in its timbre. She tried to place it, familiar, but hard to place.

"You are warning me, sir?" Hermione said in a tone that she wished conveyed disbelief, still hoping to give out the act of a haughty duchess, not of a helpless woman. "My husband is the Duke of Gryffindor. He will not stop until he has found me, in whatever state that might be. Unless you desire to meet your end by his pistol, I demand you release me at once!"

Instead of the violent retort she would have expected from an abductor, his rebuff was calm and controlled. "I know you not to be so high in the instep, your grace. So do not pretend that position means anything to you, merely to get you somewhere else than here."

She heard the window open and felt the cold evening breeze sweep in the room. Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she momentarily dismissed any other thoughts other than the ones she found most disconcerting.

She would have never thought that her abductions could be caused by somebody else. Voldemort had always been behind the complications in her life. As his hatred for her was apparent, his greedy solutions were expected.

But with this man, it was not.

Oh, it was there, she could feel it right down to her bones.

But instead of flaunting it for the world to see, his animosity came from somewhere deeper.

It was subtle; therefore, much, much more dangerous.

"Your independence is well-renowned," he said from across the room. "Such a disappointment that you now easily use your duke to instigate fear. I expected more from your reputation. And while we are in the subject of positions, might I point out that your husband's matter to me like mud on my boots?"

Hermione kept silent.

"You see, we do not exactly move in the same circle. I grew up in a world where mud is not dirt, but a reminder of where I came from. A place where I learned people like you are all the same: greedy liars. Abducting you may have been initated by---shall we say---a mutual friend---but I do this for myself."

Her head turned sharply as she sensed his presence on her right.

"I have been waiting for a long time to meet you, Hermione. Shall I call you Hermione?" He added as an afterthought, then laughed. "You must be getting weary, so let's speak in plain terms, shall we?"

Without waiting for her answer, he said. "Riddle wants you---"

"I am married already." Hermione gritted out.

"Tut, tut." He whispered. "No interruptions, please. But in light of what you said, are you with child?"

Hermione's heart thudded against her chest, his implication plain and simple.

Riddle would never stop until she produced a son.

And even then, he would surely plot to kill him.

Her mind reeled and her stomach lurched with fear and protectiveness for a child that had yet to be conceived.

"Well, that old git is a pillock, if I do say so myself. Still chasing after you, even now, is a waste of time." Then he gave a long suffering sigh, "He is greedy, however, and so he thinks you owe him the bloody treasure. I could care less whether he succeeds or not. His delusions are his own. However, your debt to me is greater. I would have never desired to have our lives cross, but now that they have, I intend to collect before I hand you over."

Hermione struggled in her seat, suddenly angry and, at the same time, helpless to do anything else. "You have lost your mind. I have never done anything to you."

"You may not know me, my dear, but you have cost me greatly."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Regardless of our acquaintance, if it does exist at all, I have never done anybody harm in my entire life. So it is not right to accuse me of anything. You have a maggot in your head to believe I shall recall anything when there is not a thing to recall!"

There was silence for a long time. Even without seeing him, she could feel his stare. The nerves at the back of her neck were driving her mad, making her jittery.

"Of course you don't," he said almost in a patronizing way.

He now seemed like a mad man, but sanity was there, evident in the straight line of his thinking. Only his reasoning was difficult to understand. His innuendos taunted her, urging her to recall a moment wherein she caused him hatred.

But none came back, and she felt desperate.

"It's a bother, actually," he muttered after a while, "I would have liked you in any other circumstance. Females of my acquaintance have more hair than wit. You are a bluestocking, but hidden beneath is a fighter. However, like I said, the situation is different."."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "What have I done to you? If you could just tell me what you think I did, I might be able to remember."

"Do not insult me, madam! I am not some cork-brained dandy you can degrade. I know what you did, and it sickens me you had not cared enough to remember!"

Tired of persuading him to realize how hard it was to remember what she knew didn't happen, Hermione kept her mouth shut.

Undoubtedly, he began to explain.

"Not too long ago, you hurt somebody I care about. You cruelty towards him was beyond words, my lady." He paused, as if thinking of his next words. "He would have never approved of this, but it matters no longer."

"He?"

"My brother," his savage tone caused the hair on her arm to rise. "Lucas Evan Kerrington, Lord Colbrid of Slytherin."

Hermione shook her head violently. "I know no one who goes by that name!"

"Went, my darling chit, went."

"Pardon me?" Hermione paled. "Went? Is he---"

"Dead?" He asked. "Yes."

Hermione shook her head.

Things started to get even more confusing.

"And you believe that I---"

"Killed him?" He interrupted again, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Yes, very much so."

"No," she denied instantly.

Despite her disbelief in being falsely accused, Hermione could hear the anguish in his voice, the pain behind the anger, and for a moment, she couldn't help but sympathize with him.

She'd lost someone she cared for and had falsely accused a man who neither had the responsibility nor the desire to help her. She'd been in both sides of his situation, and now that she was in the receiving end of his wrath, just as Harry had been of hers, she couldn't point fingers.

"I did not kill anybody," she stated calmly. "Your brother's death has nothing to do with me. I would never commit murder."

He laughed, a bitter one, an exhausted laugh that came from despair. Then his hands wound painfully around her arms like a vise. He shook her hard. "You do not need to just to say you've killed. You pushed him to his death."

"I do not know what you are talking about, but killing me would not bring him back!"

"My dear," he drawled out, "Who ever said anything about killing you?"

Fear clamored through her entire body as she realized he had no intention of actually releasing her. Then he let go of her abruptly, distracted for some reason. There had been a certain amount of noise from below that had started increasing during the past few minutes. Hermione had barely noticed until her captor momentarily forgot his tirade of accusations.

Hope bubbled in her chest when, in the prolonged moment of silence, her name rang out above the commotion.

"Bloody timing." She suddenly heard him mutter.

Up until this point, she'd made no move to disentangle herself, but as she felt him move away, she began struggling to free herself. But the rope was tied securely, and all she managed to do was twist it abrasively against her skin.

"Do not get your hopes up, my dear. They may have found you, but it will be an effort not worth furthering."

"Hermione!" She could hear from a distance, the sound getting closer, yet muffled by the closed door. Then her captor's footsteps, light and quick, faded, and then she heard a door creak open, and then shut.

It was long time before she heard anything else, but what she did hear was nothing close to reassuring. There were two men fighting, she could hear it in the grunts and the sounds of fists connecting with flesh. And then suddenly, there was a thud against the heavy door.

She called out with all the breath she could force out. She tried bouncing off the bed, but in her desperation, she merely stumbled onto the side. When she finally got herself upright, she found herself merely inching, not running, towards the door, not being able to see a bloody damn thing.

Then she stilled when the door creaked open once more.

Her head turned sharply to the side, a hand connecting violently against her cheek. Her heart thumped madly as she straightened, only to be shoved back onto the bed, with a force that had her head colliding against the wall. Then, she tasted metal, and realized her bottom lip was bleeding.

"I'm not an imbecile." Her captor's voice said, breathing hard, his voice unusually low. "I know how to defend myself."

Despite the pain that she felt with the hard and unexpected blow, Hermione couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of satisfaction at hearing him wheezing hard.

Then the worst occurred to her.

"What did you do to him?" She whispered savagely.

Ignoring her question, he merely stated. "What an easy quest your knight was."

Hermione struggled angrily against the sudden vise-like grip he had on her. "You bastard! What have you done with him?"

"Ah," he said still trying to keep her still. "Do not fret, he may still be alive."

Then he chuckled as Hermione froze in place.

No.

No, it wasn't Harry outside. She realized with certainty. With firm resolve and trust, she knew it couldn't be him. He would have never allowed this man to win. Yet, why wasn't he here? Was he trying to find her at all?

Something was wrong.

Hermione knew it, or else Harry would have come instead.

Oh, God.

What if they'd killed him?

To assure themselves that no one would come to rescue her...

No.

"Now, my dear, would you like me to tell you in detail how I'd exact my revenge on you?" He brought her back to reality.

She froze, all thoughts suspended in her mind, when a hand suddenly grazed her thigh. And for the first time since she'd discovered herself in this room, she felt real fear.

The man before her had changed.

"Or better yet, I'll show you. But first, I'll remove this." He said yanking down her blindfold. She blinked at the sudden light, however dim it was. It took a while for her to have a clear sight, and then her captor became more than a voice.

He was freakishly tall, his face a mass of scar and violence. His eyes, they burned with something else. Not anger, but an inner tumult.

"That's better, ain't it? I want you to see my face clearly, when I bury myself in you, so you won't forget this night as long as you live."

His words made her forget everything else, and she felt like throwing up.

"Don't touch me!"

Ignoring her, he kept his hands on her body, his fingers tracing her limbs. He utilized a slow excruciating move, unquestionably to make her suffer more. To make her shiver in disgust. Hermione bit back a sob, refusing to succumb to weakness.

"You and I are going to play a little game," he whispered moving closer.

But when he started to peel off the gown on her shoulders, she managed to kick him in between his legs. In a forceful, and violent move, she was able to push him away and scramble towards the door.

She didn't know how she managed to get out, only that the door had been left ajar. But she didn't get very far, as she stumbled on a body slumped on the floor.

Her body gave away in shock as she realized who had been her rescuer.

"William!" She shouted, using her shoulders to bump him out of his stupor. Any moment now, she knew her captor would recover and come after her. She only had seconds to bring some sense into her friend.

"You bitch!"

Hermione sharply turned her head around, and lost her breath. He was already coming up behind her, a murderous look in his eyes. Praying to God she would manage to outrun him, Hermione stood up and did as she dared.

She didn't get very far, with her hands tied behind her and her head throbbing with pain. His hand had clamped around her arm, and he pulled her, almost tearing it out of its socket.

She yelped in surprise and hurt. "Let go of me!" she shouted. "I didn't kill anybody!

"Shut up!"

She screamed as he dragged her across the hallway.

Why wasn't anybody helping her?!

"Harry!!!" She shouted with all her might as her mind and body threatened to give away with exhaustion. She could feel her energy slipping, and all she could do was cry and scream.

No, she thought. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knew she could still fight. Harry was not going to be around all the time to rescue her.

She should do this on her own.

She could do this.

She had been independent once, had not needed a husband before. She sure as hell couldn't afford to wait for him now.

Back in the room once more, Hermione did her best to keep a clear mind and looked around before he tossed her on the bed. Reaching over on the table, he took a long swig of brandy and as soon as it was empty, he tossed the bottle onto the wall where each shard came crashing down with a piercing sound.

Hermione scooted herself at the farthest corner of the bed, unsure of what to do, her hand grazing something solid.

"No use, my dear. Even if you scream, no one's going to mind. They're all out of their wits tonight, what with the free drinks that came with some shillings I tossed into the innkeeper's hands." Then he chuckled. "They'll only think you were screaming in pleasure."

Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and came towards her, obviously more drunk than he'd been earlier.

"Which you will be if you stop protesting."

He swaggered and reached the end of the bed.

Hermione kept herself still until he started crawling towards her. Her heart was beating wildly, but she knew she had to be strong. When he was merely a foot apart from her, she screamed at the top of her lungs, distracting him, and then hit his head with a loose pole that had probably been laid forgotten by the side of the bed.

She'd managed to get his temporal, and as he howled in pain, she hit him again, only this time, on a more vulnerable spot.

"Bloody bitch!" He shouted, but Hermione was already bolting for the door.

Then from the corner of her eye, she saw him slide sideways in an effort to control the pain. A flash of metal stilled her for a moment.

Her heart was racing and everything seemed to go slower than normal as she saw the open doorway. She heard a click, and knew only two things could happen.

She would escape or she would die.

She closed her eyes and ran towards the door as fast as she could.

"Please," she whispered in prayer, and collided with something hard as a gun shot reverberated in the room.

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It was all a dream.

Hermione couldn't help but think as her eyes opened, and the surroundings that greeted her were completely different from the one she had awakened to last time.

It wasn't as if she thought she were in heaven. She knew better than to entertain the foolish notion that she was already a spirit hovering over the living. Neither did she believe the pain she was feeling was due to the fact that she was in hell. She'd never done anything to merit such punishment.

Yet, how could it not be, when even the slightest move caused her entire body to protest in pain? With each sharp twinge and relentless pounding, she was reminded of her abduction and the attempt on her virtue.

That was the second time she'd gotten close to losing it, and it was also the second time she'd been rescued.

Her rescuer, still unnamed, was somebody who'd cared enough to listen to the plea in her tone, if not her words.

She winced as she tried to get up.

"It is about time, your grace." Someone said from across the room.

She squinted, her eyes unaccustomed to being used. "Poppy?"

A relieved laugh and then. "Yes, my dear. How are you feeling?" The former nurse of Hogwarts inquired.

Now that she had asked, Hermione suddenly felt sick, as if something was boiling in her stomach, sending an acidic taste in her mouth.

Other than that, however, she felt quite fine. Although her mind was starting to reel with the questions that suddenly started flooding her head.

"Where are we?"

Poppy sat down on the chair just beside her bed. "At Godric's Hollow, my dear."

"We are?" She asked in confusion. "We were in London. Harry and I. I was---abducted---in London---"

"Harry---"

"Oh!" A sharp cry came before Poppy could finish.

It was Eloise.

Turning, she met her maid 's greeting face, which was beaming with surprise but obvious delight. She was carrying some blankets into the room, presumably to change the ones on Hermione's bed.

"Good morning, Eloise." Hermione cleared her throat. "It is morning, is it not?"

"Why, yes, madam!" She said, rushing over to open the curtains on Hermione's window. Sure enough, the sun was up and about, beaming brightly at her as well.

Poppy helped Hermione sit up. And as she did so, Hermione noticed for the first time the numbing of her face, and the raw color her wrists sported where the rope had been securely tied. Her neck was stiff and her thighs throbbed.

"It is good to know you are all right, your grace." Eloise whispered, approaching the bed, the folded linens on her arms forgotten. "You had the entire staff worried over you. You were asleep for three days."

Had she been? She couldn't remember. Her thoughts were still hazy, although some of them formed visions of a man holding her hand or touching her cheek.

Hermione felt weary all of a sudden.

"Where is Harry?" She forced out the question.

Eloise gave her a sly smile, one that was too informal for someone of her status, but Hermione didn't mind at all, she was too busy wondering where her husband was.

"He is with Lord Black and Sir Lupin. They arrived just this morning. Lord and Lady Ronald Weasley are expected to arrive soon."

The answer was nothing of importance to her.

What she cared about was if Harry had even stayed with her for the last three days she had been sleeping, unaware of any activity. She felt tired, but she wanted to exercise her muscles, knowing that activity would help her recovery.

"I should like to greet them, Eloise. Would you help me with my bath and my clothes?"

"Oh, I do not know about that, your grace." Poppy intervened before the maid protested the same. "His grace ordered me not to let you do anything for a while after you wake up."

"I am fine."

"But still."

"Eloise," she said in authority, attempting to get out of bed. "You may have been his to command when I was asleep. But now that I am fully conscious, you do not have to answer to him anymore." As her foot settled on the solid ground, she clutched Poppy's arm to support herself. She sat down as quickly as she had stood, cursing over the sudden spinning that consumed her vision.

"Hermione?" Poppy whispered. "Are you all right?"

Hermione held up her hand to wave her concern away. "I am quite fine, I assure you. It's merely a spell."

Poppy shook her head. "This is the first time in three days your body is being put to work. You should not overtax yourself by moving so quickly and so unnecessarily. I suggest you rest."

Hermione dared to look at the nurse. "I need to see my husband."

Poppy and Eloise exchanged a look. "For whatever reason, dear? He will come to you when he is informed of your conscious state."

The look of determination on both their faces was not enough to deter Hermione, but the unstopping motion of everything around her was her undoing. Sighing inwardly, she settled back on the bed, with the assistance of Poppy, but purposely refrained from lying down.

"Thank you for your concern, Madam Pomfrey," she whispered in consent. "Eloise, if you would be so kind as to tell his grace that I am awake, I would greatly appreciate it."

Eloise still looked unsure if it were right to leave her mistress alone, but she conceded as she went out to do as she was bidden.

"While your maid is making her way towards Harry, I suggest you rest your eyes, my dear, for I am certain once he knows you are awake, he won't keep himself away."

Hermione swallowed the contradiction her mouth wanted to voice out and yawned instead. "I shall wait for him."

But those words were her last for the hour, for as soon as she made the mistake of settling her head on the pillow, her mind instantly put the rest of her to sleep.

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"It will never stop, Harry, if you, yourself, do not ensure that it does."

Despite her exhaustion, Sirius' low and rouch voice managed to ring in her head. It was soft, but it was there, clear and distinguishable. It came from the drawing room just outside her bedchamber.

How long had she been asleep and what was Sirius doing in there?

She had not long to ponder for another voice soon joined in, one that was not so difficult to realize as Lupin's. "This was not the first time, nor the second time there has been an attempt on your wife's well-being. Will you wait for one more before you act, Harry?"

Hermione could almost see Harry rubbing his forehead.

"I merely do not see the reason why retrieving this key is important. It is better off left alone. Obtaining it poses even more danger to us, and you know that well, Sirius."

He sounded so tired and very much defeated that Hermione wanted to comfort him. It took her a few minutes to gather enough strength to sit up during which the conversation had gone further, and what Hermione heard next was another point Sirius was trying to make.

"...with or without it, Voldemort is still very much willing to endanger you both." Sirius snapped.

A long pause, giving Hermione ample time to maneuver off the bed and put on her robe. Slowly, she made her way to the door, which had been left slightly ajar, explaining how the voices had drifted from the other room to hers.

From the opening, all she could see was Lupin's profile.

About to push open the door wide, she stilled as Sirius's back came into view.

"Do you not care for your wife?"

She stopped in her tracks, sudden erratic heartbeats filling her chest.

It wasn't clear where she stood in Harry's life. The past few weeks had proven her to be more of a liability than an asset in his existence. But for her, he was more than a husband now. He was her companion, one with whom she was destined to share her life.

When she was little, she didn't have the time to fantasize about making the right match. She had been too busy seeking her stepmother's attention and drinking in her father's love, that getting married had been trivial. Only when Voldemort started pushing his heir into her life that she began to think of what her future would lead to.

Not once had she dreamt either of loving the man she married or marrying the man she loved.

Then how could it be possible to have both happen with the same man?

"I care," Harry finally whispered, "for her safety."

Her heart floundered.

"Our vows spoke clearly for themselves," he continued amidst everybody's silent vigil. "I promised to protect her, and I shall."

"Then protect her," Sirius said. "Voldemort is still trying to find ways to obtain Hermione. Which only tells us that he either believes your marriage is still unconsummated, which I doubt, or she knows the location of the Key."

There was that key again.

"Again," Harry breathed in impatience. "I do not see the point why I have to get the Key. The less we know of its whereabouts, the better. Voldemort would definitely pursue us if he finds out we are after it."

"Voldemort already owns two pieces, dear boy." Lupin added. "If he manages to get a third, there would be no stopping him from obtaining the last using whatever means to get it. If you have two..."

"He still would not stop with his attempts on Hermione's life." Harry finished.

"And yours, Harry," Lupin reminded. "Without you, Hermione is vulnerable. She cannot defeat him all by herself. Scotland had been a temporary sanctuary, but even there, she still could not get away."

"Ensuring that the Keys are in the right hand would be the best step, should either of you..."

"That will not happen, Sirius." Harry cut off savagely. "I will see to it that it doesn't."

It was Sirius' turn for frustration. His godson's stubbornnes was going too far. "You are not a seer, Harry. And you are most definitely not the strongest man in the world. You may think you are strong enough to fend off a whole army, but you are not."

Looking at him with extreme patience, Lupin took the reins in persuading him. "Now, if you stir Voldemort in the wrong direction, he will follow it. He is desperate enough to overanalyze and he will believe that once you have both Keys, you will ensure its safety by sending it off somewhere else. He will not bother you as much for he will be too busy searching for them to do so."

Harry raked a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the same time. "No." He looked directly as Sirius, meeting his gaze with defiance. "That answer is final."

"What key?"

Every head turned towards her as she pushed open the door to reveal her presence.

"Good afternoon," she greeted, having decided she'd had enough. She hoped everyone was too surprised to notice the perspiration forming on the side of her forehead. It took a great deal more energy to cross the room than what she had originally thought.

The sound of her voice seemed to have snapped Harry out of his shock. And he immediately abandoned formalities as he strode over to Hermione's side.

"You are awake," he commented quite stupidly.

"Your observational skills are quite remarkable, my lord." Hermione said, disappointment affecting her disposition. She longed to take back the words she spoke, but the darkening in his eyes prevented her.

"You must keep yourself in bed." Harry whispered in clipped bits.

She searched for concern in his eyes and was awarded by profound sincerity. In her earlier concern, however, she failed to realize its burning intensity. She sensed something else in them, too, as she continued to look. It had been a long time since he'd given her this kind of perusal, this wariness.

Hermione tore her gaze away from his and regarded the other occupants in the room.

She'd met Remus Lupin quite a few times before and was fond of Sirius' friend, but they had never really talked much. The gentlemen all looked so somber, both seniors appearing as if they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. Harry seemed a bit indifferent as he led her to the sofa.

"May I ask what Key you are referring to?" she asked as soon as her nerves calmed a bit at Harry's unexpected choice of seat.

"It is of no consequence," Harry said from beside her, his tone taut.

"Of no consequence? Then how is it that it has gotten all of you appearing so burdened---" she but all began to voice when she was silenced by Harry's frown.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius thought to ask, the edginess in his voice was meant for Harry, but his look of discomfort mixed with pity was meant for Hermione.

She was no stranger to her bruises, for even if she had yet to see how she looked like, she knew she was not a sight to behold. As she had felt earlier, her cheek still stung from the wound her captor somehow inflicted and the other side still felt swollen from where he'd slapped her.

Expecting his query, Hermione politely inclined her head to the side. "To say that I am physically fine would be as confounding as it was misleading, for as you can see, I still sport bruises from my---encounter. But you need not tax yourself over my appearance, uncle. They must look worse than they feel."

"It was kind of you to ask Sirius." Harry offered, not bothering to conceal his annoyance. It was frustrating enough that he couldn't voice out his concern for his wife's well-being, but to have an old man do it for him and then rub it in his face, well...that was just wrong.

"It appears to me that matters were being settled before I came in. Do carry on with your conversation, please. I shouldn't want to be the cause of its delay," Hermione said after a minute or two's unnecessary silence.

Sirius and Lupin looked at Harry, undoubtedly asking for permission. The look he gave them was clear enough.

No.

They were all saved from replying when the footman suddenly knocked, announcing the arrival of two of Harry and Hermione's close friends.

Luna was beside herself as she abandoned all the proprieties of a young matron and rushed forward to envelope Hermione in a bone-crushing hug. Hermione winced as her friend, who was quite a ball of energy, collided with her with a resonating 'oof'.

"Hermione!" She bellowed. "Oh, Hermione! We were so worried about you." Still not letting go, Luna kept saying.

Finally, Ron had the sense to pry her loose.

After greetings, more formal this time, had been exchanged, each occupant took their own places and sat down. Their conversation from before Hermione had arrived was not brought into subject again, and soon Hermione found herself more than willing to go back to bed. Much as she was happy that friends had come to visit, fatigue came back.

As the hostess of that particular gathering, she couldn't summon herself to leave yet, without seeing to their visitors' comfort.

Harry must have felt her motive to stand, for no sooner than she could position herself to stand when he reached over to catch her hand.

"What are you about?" he asked softly. Sirius was currently telling a story of his escapades with Harry's father, Remus and Peter Pettrigrew (Hermione nearly keeled over just by the sound of his name, recalling who he was and for whom he was working), when they were still in training at Hogwart's School of Wisecraft and Weaponry.

"I would like to summon Eloise for tea," Hermione whispered back.

Harry firmly held his grip. "We have a bell pull for such tasks. Do not tire yourself, please."

"I am aware of that, my lord, that is why I should like to get up---to pull on the bell."

Harry sighed, and then wordlessly got up, took the few strides that was required to get to the other side of the room, and gave three mighty tugs at the bell pull by the door.

No sooner than they could discern what had transpired when a maid came knocking on the door.

"Tea," Harry said as soon as she got inside. "Send it in the drawing room right by the Rose Salon, please."

The maid curtsied and went about her task.

Harry returned to Hermione's side and took her hand without another glance, a gesture that went unnoticed only by him.

"This may seem ungallant of us, but as you are all well aware, Hermione needs rest." He shook his head at Hermione as she made a sound of protest. To the new arrivals, he inclined his head. "Ron, Luna, we shall be happy to accommodate your stay for as long as you want. You are welcome to my game room, if you feel like entertaining yourselves before supper. Remus, Lupin, my invitation extends to both of you, but I should like to discuss something with you, if you do no mind waiting for me in my study. I shall just see to my wife's welfare for a moment."

"Take your time, dear boy," Sirius said, standing up.

'Take forever,' Hermione thought, as she swallowed her protests and allowed Harry to guide her as the rest went out in pairs.

As she was being tucked in deafening silence, she resisted the urge to ask Harry to stay. His actions were brisk and controlled, indicating that once he was done, he'd leave without another word. They were also very impersonal, almost as if touching her was the last thing he wanted, a complete contradiction to what he'd displayed moments ago.

She couldn't fathom why he felt the need to pretend now, if he'd only been playing for the crowd then. She would understand more if they'd been strangers, but in front of friends and family? It was absurd. If that were not enough reason to be concerned, she didn't know what was.

She was surprised that he chose to sat down instead.

He looked so vulnerable her heart ached just looking at him.

She remembered hearing exhaustion in his voice when she'd woken up, seeing it on his face up close made her want to comfort him. She sat up, almost expecting him to forbid her, but he did not. Twiddling her thumbs, she gazed about the room, having been here only a week after their marriage.

"What Key, Harry?" Hermione asked when it appeared he would not start a conversation.

Harry sighed after looking at her for a painfully long time. "That is not exactly an appropriate bed time tale, my dear."

"It is not in my intention to sleep."

"It is not a relaxing story, then."

"I have been asleep for three days, how much more rest would you like me to take before I shrink like a vegetable on this bed?"

"Until you glow like one,"

"Vegetables do not glow!"

"But they make you," he countered smoothly, his lips twitching.

"Tell me about this key."

"No."

"If you do not tell me, Sirius shall."

"Like hell he will!" his exclamation reverberated across the room. "I warned him not to, he would not want my annoyance on him."

Hermione hesitated before replying. "And you'd rather have mine, is that it?"

He chuckled, tipping up her chin to get rid of that stubborn pout. "My dear, if annoyance is the only thing you're threatening me with, I have nothing to worry about."

"Then would you tell me why you keep insisting this key to be a secret?"

Harry crossed his arms, meeting her defiant look. "Because, you would insist that I get it."

"How do you know that I will?"

"I know you."

"No, you do not." She rolled her eyes. "At least not fully."

"Hermione," Harry whispered, regarding her with a heated gaze. "I know every inch of you."

Unable to continue looking at him, when her face was flushed with intimate memories, Hermione crossed her arms and turned away. She muttered something like 'that does not count' and then stared out the window.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked after a while.

'Well' was all she muttered, still annoyed with him for shutting her up so easily.

"Does anything hurt?"

Yes, she wanted to say, but if she did, he would certainly not care to know which part of her. "No, just sore."

This caused him to lurch up, alarmed. It was too late to realize that the word inadvertently indicated a part of her that would definitely be, if the attempt on her virtue had been successful.

As he did not know yet what transpired before she'd been rescued, it was justifiable for him to come up with the wrong conclusion. Hermione winced. He'd grabbed her arms in rage and was gripping it so tightly.

"Did he---?" Harry couldn't finish his question, the possibility closing in on his throat.

"Harry, no." Hermione shook her head, willing him to believe her. His eyes looked like his mind had gone numb, rendering him incapable of understanding her words. "No, he didn't do anything. He tried, but somebody rescued me in time."

Her eyes widened in remembrance.

"Oh, God! Harry, William---he tried to save me, but the man, he---he---we have to go back to the place---!"

Harry released her so suddenly that she gasped in surprise.

"Your William is safe." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly shocked of his outrage a moment ago. To lose control like that was one of the reasons he didn't want to care for anybody. The weakness, the vulnerability, gave anybody a leeway to crack his defense.

"H-he is?" Hermione rhetorically asked in relief, believing him with just that simple statement. Her trust in him had escalated to a height so unbelievable, given her initial impression of him. "Where is he?"

"Resting," Harry said, "...in one of the guest's suites."

"How did he get here, Harry?" she asked, adding this in wonder, "How did I get here..."

Harry refused to look her way, clearly avoiding her gaze. Why she even had to ask, she didn't know. The answer was right in front of her. She let out a breath, her lips trembling, her heart filling with so much love that she feared she would burst with it.

A drop of tear escaped her eye. She grasped his hand, holding it against her cheek and then kissing the inside of it. "Thank you."

He kept looking at her, his throat working convulsively. Abruptly, he pulled his hand away and stood up. He strode over to the window, bracing his palm against its wooden frame.

Seeing her in that tavern room had awakened memories inside him that only came back when he was filled with helplessness. Thrice in his life, he'd encountered such a burden. To have someone die right before your eyes, knowing there had been a way to save them but you didn't, was not a feast he'd likely attend ever again.

By simply marrying Hermione, however, he'd endangered his emotions once more. Nothing he could do would prevent that from happening again. But what he could stop was this connection slowly growing stronger between them. It was best, he thought, to keep distance.

With his back to her, his words came, low and harsh.

"Don't thank me, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head, unmindful that he could not see her. She struggled to stand, thankful that dizziness didn't come to her as easily as it had earlier. She walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm, felt his muscles tense beneath her touch. "You helped me."

"I do not deserve your gratitude." He pushed himself away from the wall, ignoring the comfort she was giving.

She curled her hand and followed him tentatively. "You have it anyway."

"What you are thanking me for is an illusion. You were in danger, and I barely made it in time!"

"I know I was. In case you it slipped your mind, I was there!" Hermione shouted. She took a deep breath, forced herself to calm down. "It matters little to me when or how you arrived---"

"You could have died---"

She laid a hand on his chest. "It would not have made any difference to me either, if you'd found me dead, Harry. You came. That is enough."

Harry turned around savagely. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe!"

"I am all right." Hermione closed her eyes in frustration. "Look at me."

"I am looking at you!" Harry bellowed. "And do you know what I see? All I see is your face, battered and bruised, your hands tied behind your back!"

Harry didn't move away this time, but neither did he return her embrace. "Danger follows you wherever you go. I wish---"

I wish I didn't care so much.

He'd been about to say, but caught himself just in time. Forgetting his resolve to keep his feelings at bay would only endanger their lives even more. The pleasure of living normally was an unaffordable situation, especially now that marriage was no longer a barricade for Voldemort's intentions.

I wish what? Hermione thought meanwhile. I wish I had not married you? Was not responsible for you? Was that what you wanted to say, Harry?

"I was a fool to believe that marriage to me would give you protection."

"It has, Harry."

"But when will it end? How will it end, Hermione?" he whispered in despair. "How many more times should I wake up, thinking this might be another day that you'll be gone again?"

Hermione snatched her hands away and stepped back, stung. "I am sorry that I have been an inconvenience---"

Harry shook his head, unaware that his honesty was shattering Hermione's world.

"Do you know what frightens me most?"

At Hermione's no, he let out a deep breath. "It frightens me that a day might come when I will not be there when you call me. Or that if I were late once more---it would be the last time that I---" Harry turned around and rubbed his forehead, his voice carrying defeat. "Sirius is right. I am not the strongest man in the world. I certainly can not save you all the time.."

A long silence ensued, followed by a broken whisper.

"Do you regret marrying me?"

Harry's head whipped around.

In a way, he did think it was a mistake to have put her in a situation more vulnerable than where she'd been before. But to say that he regretted it was simply wrong. She was more important to him than breathing. Yet, by marrying him, she'd married danger as well.

He tried to tell her this.

"I did not believe marriage was the best choice---" started to come out his mouth but faltered when instead of listening, she looked away almost immediately.

Panic engulfed him. He wanted to take back what he'd said. To take away the shock and pain he'd seen before she'd hidden them away. But she'd already braced her arms around herself. The anguish that came with his admission surrounded her, an impentrable wall he did not know how to break down or merely scale it.

"Hermione," he whispered tenatively, hoping to endear her into listening to the rest of what he had to say.

"I-I'm tired," she said quietly. "Please go."

Harry wanted to, but he couldn't bear the thought that she was thinking he didn't care for her at all.

His fists trembled at his side, not from anger, but from weakness. How can she not see how vulnerable she made him? If she only knew how he would walk to hell and back just to release her from the curse of a life filled with threat.

He sucked in his breath.

Therein lay the greatest difficulty of all.

She did not know because he could never let her.

Silently and slowly, he embraced her from behind, his arms tightening around her. His heartbeats painful against his chest, sorry he could not give the words she longed to hear. It was simply too dangerous to let them go.

"I don't expect you to understand all my reasons. I never meant to marry, and neither did I intend for our paths to cross." he coaxed, tipping her chin up and turning her head to meet his gaze. "But they did, and I began to want you for myself."

Hermione tried to turn away. "You were forced to marry me. You didn't know then what you were marrying into and that's why you regret---"

He silenced her with a long kiss, filled with all the pent up emotions he kept bottled inside, hoping that in that one simple gesture, she'd feel everything he felt.

"You're mine now, Hermione," he whispered against her lips. "I'd be a fool to regret that."

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A/N:

There are a lot of questions raised in this part of the story, which was initiated by the abduction of Hermione. Lots of confusion in the last scene. After all these years, Harry still has a lot of issues with forming a sense of belongingness and attachment, while Hermione is confused as to what Harry's feelings are.

I hope that I'm making sense and progress even after nearly a year of hiatus. To all those who patiently waited, thank you. To all those who kept dropping by to coax me out of my shell, thank you even more. Without your words of encouragement and your requests, I wouldn't even have thought I still have people waiting for an update.

I hope I can put the next chapter right away.

Lots of love!