Okay here's my new story and sad to say, most likely my last. It depends how quickly I get this done, because I'm not planning to write anymore fan fiction once the last book comes out. I really need to start concentrating on my own writing. Most of you might not know what the title means, but some of you will I guess. It will make sense eventually though. This book is a little darker than my last few stories and it won't be too long. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
~HM
Mo Chroi
Chapter 1
Harry stared out of the window of the house he called home for the last seven months. It didn't feel like much of a home, it was more just a place to sleep and a room to train. Of course any house was more of a home than the Dursley's and the day he moved out for good was one of the happiest times of his life.
During his last summer with the Dursley's, Harry had started to take kickboxing lessons. He knew it would be helpful in the future during his fight with Voldemort and his followers, plus it put him in the best shape of his life. It was also a great stress reliever and he definitely had his fair share of stress.
When the summer was over, he had wanted to keep up with his training so he traveled with his equipment everywhere he went. Shrinking his wraps, gloves, kicking shields and a punching bag. He used the kicking shields for when he was training Hermione and Ron, but mostly used the bag when he was training on his own. It had taken Ron a bit to get comfortable with doing something without his wand, but he eventually got the swing of it. Hermione, on the other hand, was a natural. He was surprised at how quickly she caught on and how hard her kicks were. When she sparred with Ron, it was Ron who mostly ended up on his ass. She had come close a few times taking himself down, but she never did quite succeed.
Things were different now. At the beginning of their journey they laughed more together, enjoying the few moments they were able to have with each other. Not anymore. The war wasn't even over yet and things were already forever changed.
Seven months ago, McGonagall told him Dumbledore had left him a huge house in Ireland. When they first visited the house that was surrounded by tall trees deep in the forest, Hermione had thought it would be the perfect safe house. Of course she had been right and so they had immediately moved themselves in and Harry had quickly set up his equipment. It was in his room where they spent so many hours planning, training. If they weren't in his room or in the kitchen eating, they were in the library researching.
Harry closed his eyes as he thought of the pain and misery him and his friends went through collecting all Horcruxes. So many hours of planning, so many close calls, so much emotion and physical effort went into the hunt it drained them all. It didn't take long for word to get out to Voldemort on what he and his friends had accomplished. His army had doubled and the war began.
The house that was once empty had been filled with Aurors, members of the Order and some of the best Healers from around the world. The three story house was protected by the most powerful magic and no dark magic could step inside or even ten feet from the house. Death Eaters seemed to move closer and closer to the safe house and after weeks of fighting, Harry knew that when the sun rose the final battle would take place.
Harry would face Voldemort for the last and final time. He would defeat him, Harry had no doubt about that. What he did not know was whether or not he would survive or go down with him. It didn't matter. As long as the Dark Lord was gone…as long as the people he loved that were still alive, survived…he would accomplish what he set out to do.
Harry turned from the window, growing tired of waiting for the sun to come up. Sleep wasn't an option and although his stomach was growling, he had no desire to eat. So he decided to do what he always loved to do when he was angry and frustrated. Kick the shit out of his punching bag with the image of Voldemort's ugly ass snake-like face in his head.
He grabbed his wraps and quickly taped up both wrists, but did not bother to slip on his gloves. He wanted contact, even if it was only a bag. He started a quick warm-up, a couple of jabs and right crosses as he danced on his feet. He had only just begun his combo's, hitting a jab, cross, hook and a offensive spin kick when someone opened his door.
"Harry."
"Not now, Remus," He muttered before giving the imaginary Voldemort a solid right, left uppercut.
"Harry."
He knew that tone. It meant something serious had happened…something Harry couldn't ignore. "What is it?" When silence only followed, Harry gave the bag an angry hard punch, before he spun around to face him. "What?" Harry asked again. "Go on, tell me. Someone I love die again? I can take it, already lost my fucking best friend, who's next?"
"No one has died, Harry."
Although Harry did not dare show it, a slight ache in his heart trembled with relief. "Well? What is it then?"
"A handful of Aurors were scouting not far from here and they came across several Death Eaters. Some were killed, a few escaped, but they were able to capture one."
"Who is it?"
"He's being held in the safety room, the Ministry will be here soon to take him away."
"Who is it, Remus?"
Lupin looked at him with worry in his eyes. "It's Dolohov."
In one instant, Harry's heart hitched, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. "Son of a bitch."
"Harry, don't," Remus said blocking his way. "It won't do any good."
"The hell it won't," Harry growled. "Screw the punching bag when I have that bastard two floors below me."
Remus wasn't prepared for the hard shove from Harry, allowing him to escape his room. He caught up with him at the stairs, grabbing his arm. "Harry, don't do this."
"Let go," he ordered flinging his arm free. "How do you expect me not to do anything? Ever since he hurt Hermione years back, he's been on my shit list. I thought she was dead. For one terrifying moment I thought she was dead."
"Harry…"
"And just a short month ago he actually succeeded in killing one of my best friends and you actually think I'm going to let the Ministry do all the punishing? Knowing them they'll just slap his hand and send him on his merry way."
Remus sighed as he pinched the bride of his nose. "Fine…bloody the bastard up." He looked at him again in surrender. "Just don't kill him, okay?"
Harry clenched his fist. "I wouldn't dare give him the satisfaction."
Harry turned and flew down the stairs, keeping his head low to avoid eye-contact with people he passed. "Move aside, please," he told the Auror who was guarding the door.
He smiled wickedly at Harry as he stepped out of the way. "Give him hell, Potter," Mooddy muttered roughly as he passed him.
The safe room was windowless, cold and drafty The only furniture was one wooden chair, where Dolohov himself occupied. The Death Eater was tied to the chair with his arms pinned behind his back. His head, which was hung low in defeat, lifted slowly and his tired bloodshot eyes trained on Harry. He sneered as Harry walked over to him. "Come to kill me, Potter?"
"You wish."
Dolohov tensed when Harry moved behind him. "What are you doing?" he asked with a hint of panic in his voice.
"Untying you."
"Why?"
"Because unlike you and many of Voldemort's pathetic followers," Harry started as he lifted him out of the chair and shoved him forward, causing him to stumble to the floor. "I believe in a fair fight."
He struggled to his feet. "How is me not having a wand, fair?" he asked as he turned to face him.
"Who said anything about wands?" Harry asked quickly before surprising him with a quick left jab, smacking his fist in his face.
Dolohov grunted in pain as he stumbled backwards, barely able to keep on his feet. Harry watched him touch his newly broken nose, glowering at him when he felt his blood on his hands. "Enjoy that?" Harry asked. "It was called a jab. A muggle defense attack."
Dolohov wiped away his blood. "You think I'm actually going to fight you like a muggle?"
"Don't be ridiculous." Harry gave him a little shove just to piss him off. "You wouldn't stand a change against me."
His eyes filled with rage. "I am a powerful dark wizard!" he bellowed angrily even though he winced in pain. "Your…pitiful, weak, muggle tricks won't…"
Harry cut him off with a sharp right cross, snapping his head back and this time he ended up on his ass. "You were saying?"
He got back on his feet…took him awhile…but he staggered on his two legs glaring at Harry before letting out cry of frustration as he charged. Harry easily moved out of the way and sent his knee up hard into Dolohov's gut, causing him to stoop over in pain. He finished him off with an elbow strike to the head and casually stepped back when he went down. "Had enough?"
Dolohov groaned as he shifted on the floor, gasping for breath as he managed to get to his knees. "None of this matters."
"Oh it matters," he said then gave a sound of disgust and grabbed him by the hair. "Get up, come on you pathetic piece of shit, get up!"
He winced in pain as he had no choice but to stand on his feet as Harry continued to pull at his hair. "I'll even give you a free shot." He tore off his glasses and tapped his chin. "C'mon. Give me a solid right cross, go on. Hit me."
He angrily flared out his right hand, making contact with his face but Harry barely reacted. His face snapped back an inch but his feet stood firm, while Dolohov snapped out curses as he shook his hand. "Knew it would hurt you," he said calmly as he slipped his glasses back on. "Hands are too soft."
Dolohov spat out some blood and one or two of his teeth. "You really think these muggle tricks are going to work on the Dark Lord?"
"Probably not, but at least I'm having fun now." He grabbed his ratty shirt from his front and dragged him angrily against him. "You killed my friend."
Dolohov's bloody mouth sneered. "Ah yes…I certainly did, didn't I? One of my more enjoyable kills."
Harry let out an angry cry as he flung Dolohov over his shoulder and slammed his back on the hard stone floor. "You son of a bitch, I'll kill you with my bare hands!"
He saw red. Anger consumed him as his fist came down on Dolohov's face over and over again. He knew his own knuckles were bleeding and he didn't care. His enemy was already half unconscious and wasn't even making an effort to fight back, but he kept on punching. Kept on striking.
He didn't hear the door open and he barely heard the mix voices calling his name. He struggled against the hands that grabbed him and he fought them back, not nearly satisfied with punishing Dolohov. "Get off…let go!"
"Harry, please!" a feminine voice cried out in his right ear. "That's enough."
Hermione.
"Let it go, Harry," another female voice said in his left.
Ginny.
He watched as Dolohov groaned in agony stumbling to get to his feet, a task that was obviously difficult for him. He staggered back, leaning against the wall painfully as he squinted his swollen eyes at them. "Why'd you stop, Potter? These girls have you whipped?"
Their hands tightened on him in case he went after again, but he didn't move. "I'm done with you."
Dolohov spat more blood, breathing heavily as he winced in pain. One would think he would shut up to avoid more pain, but he kept right on ragging. "Red head's a pretty thing. She your girl, Potter? After the Dark Lord finishes you, he'll track her down and kill her. Not before he has his way with her though, tortures her for a few days."
"Let's just go," Ginny said although she shivered against him. Harry clinched his fist, but turned away and started to walk.
"Or perhaps the Mudblood?"
Harry paused and his whole body tensed up. "No Harry," Hermione whispered. "Don't."
"Dark Lord will torture her too, probably in front of you before he finishes you off. Would want you to watch. He won't touch her, though, like he will with your read head. Her being a Mudblood and all, wouldn't want to get his hands dirty."
Harry's whole body snapped, flinging himself away from the girls, he charged. He heard Hermione's scream of protest as he gripped Dolohov's arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. He shoved his face against the wall. "He won't touch her," he whispered angrily in his ear. "No one will."
"I seem to have struck a nerve," Dolohov grunted out, wincing when Harry tugged his arm further up.
"He won't touch her," he said again. "I'll kill him before he has the chance. I swear it. Your Dark Lord will be nothing but a pile of ashes before he can even look at her." He then jerked his arm up and heard a satisfying snap, before watching Dolohov pass out and crumble to the floor.
Harry didn't want to look at the girls, but his eyes seemed to find their way to Hermione's. Her big round chocolate brown eyes were filled with tears as Ginny stood beside her, clutching her arm. "I…I'm sorry you had to see that," he muttered and then strode out of the room passing Moody. "He needs to be tied up."
He kept on his way, walking up the stairs out of the basement, avoiding eye contact so he could quickly get back to the solidarity of his room. He was almost to the second set of stairs when a faint voice called after him. He turned and his eyes softened as Mrs. Weasley came up to him with a bowl of steaming stew. "Mrs. Weasley."
"I know where you've been," she said quietly. "You need to eat."
Harry touched her tear stained cheek, for his heart still softened for her. The woman he thought of like a mother. "Maybe later, Mrs. Weasley. Save me some, okay?"
Knowing he had no intention of eating, she nodded anyway, giving him a small smile before retreating back to the kitchen. Harry watched her go, then turned back around and stalked up the stairs. Finally alone in his room, he slammed the door shut, leaning tiredly against it.
His knuckles started to throb, but he didn't care. He brought on the pain. It was a reminder of what he did. Of what little justice he gave to Ron. It didn't bring him back, but he knew that Ron would have been cheering him on if he could.
He still felt like beating up something. He had this built up frustration inside him, growing more and more with each second and he was desperate to release it. He thought about going another round with the punching bag, but decided against it. It wouldn't do him any good. After having the privilege of smashing his fist into a solid face he despised, hearing the bones snapping and breaking, a soft squishy bag seemed pointless.
What he needed was a good tumble with a girl. He could easily find someone around here that would be more than willing. Like that pretty little French girl that was an assistant for the Head Healers. She was young and had been sniffing around him for the past few weeks. Not that he pain any mind to it, but now it seemed like something to think about.
He had had sex before. Not with Ginny or any girl that he cared about, but a muggle girl. It was back in the summer when he was still stuck under the Dursley household. It was during the middle of the summer, his aunt and uncle had to make an emergency trip to visit Aunt Marge, who was stuck in the hospital. The stupid bitch tripped over her precious dog and she stumbled down the stairs. It had taken an extreme amount of self control not the laugh at the image in front of his aunt and uncle.
After they had told him that their little Duddykins was in charge and to do what he said, they drove off and it didn't take long for Dudley to announce he was throwing a party.
According to Duddley he had spread the word and nearly the whole school was coming over and Harry was to stay in his room the whole time.
"Do you really expect me to do that?" Harry had said to him casually as he watched Dudley pathetically rummage through his father's cologne. "And Jesus, Dudley go easy on that, you'll stink up the whole house."
"What do you know, Harry," he scoffed as he kept on applying. "Look, come down to the party if you want to, but stay away from Julia tonight. I'm trying to get lucky with her tonight. She's the easy sort."
Harry snorted a laugh. "If the girl is willing to touch you, Dudders, you can be assured I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."
He sauntered out after that, mainly because the potent smell of the cologne was giving him a headache. Harry had hung out in his room at first, not really wanting to go down and mingle with a bunch of muggles that actually liked Dudley.
But then after it seemed like there was a full house, he thought it wouldn't hurt to scope it out. He walked down the stairs, passing muggles snogging in random places in the hallway. The den that his Aunt liked to keep ridiculously tidy was now filled with teenagers and empty beer cans scattered the hardtop surfaces and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air.
He noticed the girls watching him with interest, giggling in packs just like always. And as it turned out, Julia cornered him and was pleased to discover she had no desire to touch Dudley.
"Please," she said with a roll of her eyes as she was now practically in his lap. "Even I have my limits."
It wasn't long after that when she asked if he wanted to go somewhere alone with her. "There's a broom closet under the stairs, you know?" she whispered seductively as she wiggled against him.
"I'm aware of that," he said and almost got up and politely declined her offer, but then remembered in a few short weeks he was leaving to start his very dangerous mission of finding the Horcruxes and he very well might not survive. To die a virgin was a depressing thought. "I have a room," he found himself saying and dragged her out of the crowded living room.
The minute the door closed behind him they went after it. Talking was the last thing they wanted or needed to do. They both knew that it was only tonight. After that, they would both go on their separate ways. He remembered the look of shock in her eyes when he finally plunged inside her, and afterwards she lied flat on her back out of breath.
"Are you sure you're a virgin?" she asked.
"Last I check," he said staring up at the wall. "Guys in the past not do it for you?"
"They always got off before I could," she said.
His only answer was a grunt and then he rolled on top of her so he could do it again. He couldn't explain it, but when he was inside her nothing else entered his mind. For that one pleasurable moment he didn't think of what he had to do in a matter of weeks. He wasn't in pain or didn't think about the painful loss of his mentor. So it was that reason and that reason alone that he reached for her over and over again in the night.
She was gone by the time he woke up and though he was relaxed and incredibly satisfied, he still felt empty. Like something was missing. It was just sex. He didn't care for her, and barely could remember her name now as he stared out the window. Sex though was a great release and it was what he wanted. What he needed now.
He thought he might go search for the French girl after all, but as he turned to go he saw Hermione standing just inside his room. "Hermione." His face hardened and shoved his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing here?"