TITLE: All Roads Lead Back
KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.
SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.
SPOILERS: All six books.
WORD COUNT: 8,667
RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.
BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine
WARNING: None.
DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.
Wednesday, 05/25/05
"You are late, Potter!"
Shite. Harry had tried to discreetly enter his cubicle inside the Ministry without his department head noticing, but it looked like his major stealth skills that worked so well for him out in the field were a wash under the bright lights of Level 2. Harry aligned his face into a semblance of innocence, and turned to face the voice of his hacked off superior.
"Commander Hanes, good morning sir."
Chief Auror Armistead Tiberius Hanes III was an imposing figure. He had been hand picked by Rufus Scrimgeour to replace the late Gawain Robards as the Head of the Law Enforcement Department. Robards had fallen prey to an Imperius Curse near the end of the War and tried to assassinate the Minister in his office. Luckily for Scrimgeour's sake (and Armistead's ambitions) Robards' assistant was there at the time to foil the plot. In later years, when asked if it was necessary for him to use an Unforgivable on his former mentor, Hanes would always reply that he just did what had to be done.
At 41 Hanes became the youngest Chief Auror in Great Britain's history. As such he tended to over compensate when it came to showing his authority. He ran his department as if it were a well oiled machine. His Aurors were immaculate in dress, procedure, and attitude. Not a lapel was out of place, not a case file was filed improperly, and not an intra-office fracas went down in his department without his knowledge. He knew by heart every bullet point in taking down a dark wizard. He expected no less from the young men and women who served under him.
Hanes had become an Auror back in the dark days when Voldemort was at his highest power. He had witnessed firsthand several of his colleagues cut down in the prime of their life. The fact that he was still fully capable of catching the bad guys (as well as fully limbed) spoke volumes about his skill.
As a young man in his late 20's, his hair had already begun to gray. This led to him being dubbed "The Silver Shadow" by the Daily Prophet after he helped track down and capture the Lestranges. Hanes didn't mind the nickname. He felt the respect that came with the notoriety was fully due him. Hanes was often heard saying, "I don't care if you don't like me, just respect me". Respect was very important to him. That's why Hanes was hacked off at the young man standing before him now. Harry Potter neither liked, nor respected him it would seem.
"That's it? That's all you're going to say to me? Good-bloody-morning?!"
Harry chose a spot beyond the older man's shoulder to stare at as he coolly replied, "Yes, sir."
"You do realize Potter that the morning is almost done."
"Yes, sir."
Harry concentrated very hard not to cross his eyes.
"Do you have a good excuse for your being tardy then?" asked Hanes.
"Yes, sir."
Commander Hanes stared at Harry for a good minute waiting patiently for the answer. That is if you count having every blood vessel in his forehead throb painfully in rhythm, patient.
"WELL, POTTER?!" he barked irritably when he couldn't take anymore.
"Bacon sir," Harry clarified with a perfectly straight face. "I had to finish my bacon."
Hanes stared at the seemingly arrogant young man before him. It was easy to see by the look on the older man's face that he couldn't stand the whelp. The feeling appeared to be mutual. For the first time in his life Hanes felt the need to beat the hell out of a subordinate. This feeling was both terrifying and thrilling!
Due to his long years at the Ministry, Hanes always seemed to have been in command of someone. He flew up the ranks frighteningly fast. He had never really felt like a subaltern to anyone, even though he had superiors he answered to. With that kind of self-importance, Hanes always carried a sort of aloof superiority when conducting his self around others. Since deference to your superiors was part and parcel of your job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hanes naturally expected that kind of treatment from everyone and usually got it. But not from Potter, it appeared.
There was something about him that Potter didn't like, nor respected, and as such the young man only acted as if he had his regard. This knowledge bothered the hell out of Hanes. To make matters worse, Hanes hadn't even wanted Potter in his department to start with. He liked to get his recruits fresh from school. He wanted to mold young minds and break them to his will and ways before they picked up any bad habits. Potter, however, didn't apply to the Department until he was 21 years old! Of course there was that minor little pit stop of defeating the Dark Lord of all dark lords when Potter was barely still a kid of 17 years to take in consideration. However the next few years the spoiled brat squandered on Quidditch. Quidditch!
Now Hanes was a Quidditch enthusiast just as much as the next wizard; he was a Falmouth fan himself. However the idea of taking on some lazy playboy who had decided that it would be just smashing to be an Auror held no charm for him. Even if said lazy playboy had an Order of Merlin, First class. Hanes sniffed disdainfully at the unfairness of life at times. He himself only held a Second class designation.
When Potter first applied to the Department Hanes had almost ignored his application until Scrimgeour impressed upon him what a major addition Harry Potter would make at the Ministry. Rufus even convinced him to speed along (wink wink, nudge nudge) Potter's process in. The usual 3 years of training? Potter did an accelerated program of 1 and a half. All the children who were supposed to have graduated from Hogwarts the year it was unfortunately closed due to the War were granted a special dispensation in regards to their NEWTs. Their course work for the six years prior to the closing of the school, as well as their OWLs, were tabulated together and that formed their score. Potter barely got in due to his Potions work. Hanes heard tell that there was some young girl in that class who managed to attain the highest marks in Hogwarts' history. Now that girl Hanes would have liked to have had under his command!
That was, however, neither here nor there. He was gifted with Potter. Oddly enough, despite joining the Department under rather dubious circumstances, Potter turned out to be a damned fine Auror. But that was what Hanes hated most about the kid, the way he seemed to naturally take to his assignments as if defeating the dark forces were all in a normal day's work for him. Of course for an Auror that was a normal day, but in Hanes' opinion Potter was just being smug about it. In his first week out in the field after completing his training Potter single handedly apprehended the notorious Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, in one of the half-dozen Polyjuice brothels down Knockturn Alley, the Shrouded Asp. Rufus made Hanes promote Potter to Second Squad Leader the very next month.
Yes, Hanes definitely wanted to make Harry Potter's nose bleed. Although the two of them were roughly the same height; Hanes easily had about four stones over him. He could take him! Chosen One be damned...
"Sir?"
Hanes felt as though he was exiting some kind of fog. He shook his head as if to clear it, and glanced down at the pretty young witch trying to figure out just when she had appeared at his side.
"Yes, Miss Vane?"
"That transfer list you wanted for Darthmont has just arrived. I placed it on your desk."
Hanes glanced at Potter. Harry's eyes were trained on Hanes' clenched fist. His eyes slowly traveled to those of his superior officer's and saw without a doubt the distaste and open hostility in them before Hanes adopted his neutral Auror veneer.
"Yes...well...I'll just go take a look at that then. Thank you, Rommy," Hanes said as the young woman placed a steaming mug in his previously fisted hand. He smiled at her, scowled at Harry, then proceeded to make his way to his office.
Hanes' final thought before entering his private sanctuary was that at least Potter hated his partner. The little star of the Department suffered some misery that Hanes was personally responsible for. Hanes smiled to himself. Sometimes you just have to make lemonade.
Harry exhaled the breath he had been holding.
"It looked like you could use a hand there, Harry," his old Gryffindor House mate teased him.
"And how! Thanks for saving my arse there, Romilda."
Romilda beamed saucily at the young man.
"Ah, ah, ah; what did we agree on?"
Harry looked at Romilda for a second, face twisted in confusion.
"Erm..."
"You and I are old school chums, Harry. All my friends call me Rommy," she flirted as she brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from Harry's shoulder.
"Oh right. Sorry," he said as he let loose the patented Potter grin.
Romilda had to use all of her control not to lose her balance. Her knees went weak.
"Hey," said Harry, "Hanes called you Rommy too."
"That he did." Romilda placed her hand on her hip and struck a cheeky pose. "What do you think? Romilda Vane-Hanes? Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"
"Sorry sweets, I don't think he goes for your type. You're not nearly masculine enough," Harry kidded her.
She reached over and gave him a playfully pinch to his bicep.
"Silly boy!" she exclaimed good-humoredly.
The two of them shared a chuckle. Hanes, who had been previously occupied in his office, stuck his head out at the sound of the merriment. He frowned at the sight of Potter and his secretary being so familiar with one another.
"Miss Vane, a word please?"
Romilda swallowed her giggles and turned a serious face towards her boss.
"In a mo, sir!"
Hanes then retreated back into his haven. Harry nearly died trying not to laugh out loud.
"I'm pretty sure that I'm the right type for Army," Romilda said, showing just how close she must be to the man to use his childhood nickname without the slightest sense of trepidation. The last bloke who did that ended up being demoted down to Hit Wizard, if Harry had heard right.
Absalom Hanes never did quite forgive his brother for that one.
"Besides I've been told I have a rather handsome face."
Harry was roused from his thoughts as he turned to look at the dark haired beauty fully. She flashed him a charming smile. Harry patted her on the arm and turned to sit in his cushy office chair.
"Just so you know though..." Romilda began as she turned to walk off to Hanes' office, "I am always open to other offers."
Harry paused in mid-action. His eyes went wide, and he looked at the woman as if she were oncoming traffic that he was trapped in front of. He tittered nervously as she turned back and flirtatiously winked at him. Harry watched her make her way across the room before he felt he could breathe normally again.
Better Hanes is the Arse than me, he thought to himself.
After taking a moment to be thankful that that little awkward moment was over, Harry made to look at the files on his desk. However before he could open the first one he felt the presence of someone hovering nearby. Or should he say, slithering.
"Tsk, tsk, Potter," a silky voice drawled. "And to think I had you pegged as a model for committed whipping boys everywhere."
Harry rolled his eyes havenward and silently begged whatever deity was present to make this day end soon.
"Go away, Malfoy."
"Of course I can't say that I blame you. Rommy is a tasty li'l bit of crumpet."
"Go away, Malfoy."
"She is fucking Hanes in the Arse, though. Well not in the arse mind you but..."
"Go away, Malfoy."
"...she does have a rather extensive assortment of toys…" he said, then added smarmily, "…or so I hear. So you never know."
"Haven't you ever heard of boundaries, Malfoy?" Harry exasperatedly asked as he turned to face the young man who was leaning at the opening of his cubicle.
Malfoy just continued to wear that creepy grin that usually made Harry's fist itch to connect with his face. Ages ago, in a fit of boredom, he and Ron had once cataloged every Malfoy smirk and its underlying meaning. The smile that Harry was currently receiving had been dubbed the "I'm smarter than you, plebe".
Malfoy winked his eye at Harry, and when he got a disgusted huff in return he chortled evilly.
"Oh come Potter; we're all friends here. There are no secrets amongst us now, is there?"
"I hardly think your girlfriend would appreciate it if you started sharing her intimate doings with your work mates," Harry sniffed.
Malfoy merely bent over and laughed.
"Really Potter! It's all I can do to keep the woman from telling my mother what goes on in our bed, during High Tea."
Against Harry's will, his face cracked a small smile.
"I see you have the Ptolemy Cadmus file there."
"Yeah," Harry replied as he half-heartedly thumbed through the thick folder. "Has the team gotten a trace on him yet?"
Malfoy entered the cubicle and sat partially on the corner of Harry's desk.
"No. The ruddy berk seems to not want to check in at home."
Harry sighed. They had been trying to locate this new upstart dark wizard for months. He went simply by the name of Cadmus. He was a pyromaniac who used a Peruvian Vipertooth as both his means of weapon and his way to escape the crime scene.
Cadmus was what they labeled in the Department a blood supremacist. He came from a very old line of wizards and witches. However Cadmus differed from most purebloods who placed such high emphasis on bloodlines in that he felt that all magical people (whether pure, half-blooded, or even those born to Muggles) had no business marrying people with no magical pedigree whatsoever.
According to his file his daughter from his first marriage, Harmonia, had married a Muggle when she was only 17. He was a theology student studying near where she lived in West Yorkshire. Cadmus had been against the union, but he could never deny his precious child anything. If she wanted to marry some nancy-boy, so be it. The poor young woman, however, died a few months after the wedding. Her husband burned her alive in their bed. As he was being carted off to an insane asylum shortly after, the Muggle calmly maintained that he had had to kill his wife. She was a witch and the baby that she was carrying would be evil too. The lunatic was found in his cell burnt to a blackened crisp nearly seventy six years later.
Although Harry and his team couldn't be positive, they suspected that the Muggle had been Cadmus' very first victim. The first couple that he was suspected of killing was murdered just under five months ago.
The young Muggle-born groom had been a student at Hogwarts around the same time as the Auror, though Kevin Whitby had been in Hufflepuff and a few years younger than Harry. Young Kevin was a pastry chef by trade who had opened a little bakery in Hogsmeade village. It was located in a less than desirable area of town next to the Hog's Head, but it had become fairly popular in the months before his death. He had recently married his childhood sweetheart, the girl who lived next door to him in his Muggle neighborhood since they had been kids. Whitney Whitby took the good natured ribbing of her new name in stride. She also seemed to take the fact that her brand new husband was a wizard equally as well. Unbeknownst to most, Kevin had long confided in the girl the reasons for his long absences during most of their childhood. Most mornings Whitney could be found at the counter of the Enchanted Truffle pouring coffee and cutting up slices of pound cake for the early rush customers, while Kevin was in back whipping up his mouth watering creations. Sometimes he would do it by hand, sometimes by wand.
The Whitbys had two very happy months together. Before they made it to their three month anniversary, they both burned to death in the store right before the eyes of their regular morning crowd. The only thing that all of the witnesses could agree on was that they briefly saw the shadow of a small dragon fly away after the store started to burn. As far as Hanes' department had been able to piece together, Cadmus' death toll was currently up to eight couples.
"Have we spoken to the wife again?" Harry questioned his colleague.
Malfoy shook his head.
"She isn't talking. All she says is that Toley hasn't been home in a few months."
Harry pinched the area right under the bridge of his glasses. He closed his eyes and slightly leaned back in his chair.
"Then again," Malfoy continued, "if my wife were fucking half of wizarding London, I don't think I would be too quick to come home either. The wench must have a vagina like a welly-top!"
Harry stifled a snort as Malfoy continued to jabber on. Sometimes Harry marveled at how surreal his life had turned out to be. Here he was, in his office at the Ministry of Magic, discussing the sexual exploits of the wife of a suspected serial killer with his once childhood adversary.
Had Trelawney foretold such a scene years ago, in one of those hateful Divination classes he reluctantly attended back at Hogwarts, no doubt he and Ron would have shared a hearty laugh and eye roll at it. Then again Sibyll tended to stick strictly to death and destruction when it came to Harry Potter. No matter, it still seemed almost impossible to believe; especially considering the events that transpired at the end of Harry's Sixth Year at Hogwarts. Although Draco Malfoy hadn't been the person wielding the actual wand, Harry strongly considered him partly responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore.
Back when he was 17, in Harry's put away heart, he kept a list. The list was fairly short. It only contained five names. Those names belonged to the people who Harry, before he took his last breath in this world, wanted to make pay. Voldemort and Harry's old Potions professor, Severus Snape, held the top two spots and on any given day switched positions. Bellatrix and Greyback were next on the list in that order. Malfoy sat pretty at number 5.
In the end Harry settled most of his old scores. Although he didn't get to personally finish off Fenrir, he did watch as Remus, in werewolf form, tore out the monster's throat.
Lestrange, who had originally escaped from the final confrontation, was found, some years later, working as a prostitute in Knockturn Alley. The former proud concubine of Lord Voldemort had been reduced to shagging the dregs of society for the spare sickles in their pockets. When a thrifty consumer asked to see the cheapest whore in the house they were shown to Bella's door. She had become a Halcyonian addict, a potion that left the drinker in a state of prolonged calm. She was so completely under the thrall of the draught, that when Harry walked into the little room she occupied, she hadn't even batted an eye.
Later he found out she had assumed he was just another paying customer. Harry was horrified to discover that his visage was one of the most sought after and in demand faces of the illegal Polyjuice sex trade. People either wanted to fuck Harry Potter, or fuck while being him. This was about the time Harry started to grow his hair out. It now sat on his head as a shaggy mop of hair. Long in front, even longer in back. Only Dobby was allowed to clip it on rare occasions. This alleviated Harry of the worry that his precious strands would find their way into the hands of people who would make a profit from them. It also helped to cover his now bare forehead. It seemed that eyes would always drift up there, scar or no scar. Harry thought he had found the perfect solution to make himself seem as ordinary as the next bloke. None of his friends and family had the heart to tell him that he had helped create a mini rage in wizards' hair fashion.
After witnessing Bellatrix receive The Kiss from one of the last dementors still under the Ministry's control, Harry had been able to cross out all the names on his list, save one. He had killed Tom after the final Horcrux was destroyed. He had managed to separate Riddle's head from his neck with the use of Godric's sword, the very same sword that Harry used to kill the basilisk in his Second Year. With the last vestiges of Tom's cursed soul decimated he was really an easy target.
And Snape...well...Harry preferred not to think of Snape. All that mattered was that Dumbledore's killer received some sort of justice in the end.
Malfoy, however, was another story. What had been simply a strong dislike for the blond when they were children, had morphed into a burning hatred once Harry had become of age. Although Harry recognized the fact that Malfoy hadn't actually cast the Avada on Dumbledore, in fact the boy seemed terrified to do it, Malfoy had been responsible for the destruction of one of the Hogwarts towers, the year long closing of the school, and most importantly the devastation of so many lives.
Bill Weasley, for one, was one of those most affected. Although he never showed signs of succumbing completely to the werewolf curse after being attacked by Greyback, Bill was never really quite the same. Some of his wounds never fully healed, marring his once dashingly handsome face. He also tended to stare longingly at the full moon for long periods of time on occasion. Harry always suspected that the mauling may have left some psychological scars on Bill; however, his brother-in-law never said a word about it.
If Harry added in all the hurt, humiliation, and pain Malfoy had put those Harry cared about through he figured that Malfoy, as the common Muggle saying went, had it coming. However since he had been low on the totem pole, Harry hadn't spent too much time devising ways to exact revenge on his school rival.
Imagine then his surprise when Draco Malfoy showed up on the doorstep of Hermione's parents' home in Notting Hill one balmy night in August.
After Dumbledore's death The Order needed new headquarters. He had been their Secret Keeper and no one seemed to know exactly how much a Fidelius would be compromised in case of death. Besides with Snape back in Death Eater central, it would be stupid to remain like sitting ducks at Grimmauld waiting for Riddle to make his move. The Burrow was not an option even though the Weasleys swore that they didn't mind.
As usual Hermione offered a solution. Her parents had left for the summer to visit her father's mother in Killarney. Hermione had opted to stay with Harry and Ron, first at Little Whinging, then at the Hollow. To put it mildly, her parents were not very pleased with her decision. If they had known that the fate of the wizarding world was going to be planned at their kitchen breakfast nook they probably would have hog tied their daughter and spirited her away to Ireland with them against her will.
"I DON'T BLOODY WELL CARE!" Hermione shouted at him one night after he asked her one too many times if this all was such a bright idea.
Dedalus Diggle had just exploded her microwave and Hestia Jones was in the living room talking back to the people on the telly.
"There are bigger things right now," she pressed as she tied her bushy brown hair down into a messy ponytail. She then stalked away from him and went up the stairs to her bedroom, he surmised. He had seen Ron go up a few minutes before, but at the time thought nothing of it.
Tensions were already high in the Muggle house. So of course that was the very evening that Malfoy decided to show his pointy face.
The tiny group that was assembled together that night was waiting for some of their fellow comrades to get back from a fact finding mission. Remus, Shacklebolt, and Charlie Weasley had gone to the Hog's Head to see Dumbledore's brother Aberforth. He had gotten a note through to them by way of Mundungus that he had some vital information that would come in handy to the Order. Harry was hoping it was information on where one of the missing Horcruxes was. So far the Order knew what three of them were; Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, and thanks to Hermione's brilliant research, Ravenclaw's Pensieve. They just didn't know where any of the bloody items were, or even how to destroy them once they found them. Harry was beginning to think that it was going to take a miracle to solve this.
When Harry heard the doorbell ring, he naturally assumed it was the Order members returning. Hermione had cast repelling charms all around the house to ensure that no Muggles came near it. As far as all of Hermione's neighbors were concerned the Grangers and their charming daughter had all gone to Ireland on holiday. She cast a Fidelius over the house so that no wizard or witch would be able to find them. She made herself the Secret Keeper. That's why Harry was so shocked to find the emaciated looking Slytherin standing on the door step. His hair hung limply on his head, thick with grime. His eyes held no luster and were a dullish gray color.
"Son of a bitch!"
Harry's surprise didn't last long. He hurled himself at Malfoy and the two went crashing down onto the cobbled mews in front of the house. So much adrenaline came rushing through Harry's blood that he didn't even think to use his wand. That is until Malfoy punched him in the nose.
"ARG!" he screamed as he stumbled back from the other boy. His shout brought most of the inhabitants of the house outside, although Harry was too busy to care. As Harry's head lost its dizzying sensation, he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his wand. By time he got it to Malfoy's neck, he felt an object poking into his Adam's apple. It was Malfoy's wand.
"What are you going to do, Potter?" Malfoy snarled. The little scuffle had left him winded and he looked like any moment he would pass out.
"Just you wait and see," Harry replied, low and steady.
That's when the street lights all went out.
"EXPELLIARMUS!"
When Harry came to he realized that he was back inside the house lying on Hermione's parents' huge bed. The large orange blur that was sitting on his chest as he awakened came into focus and he saw that it was Hermione's cat. Crookshanks licked at his paw, oblivious to Harry's return to the living.
Crookshanks wasn't the only party in the bed with him, Harry soon realized. Malfoy was lying right beside him; still knocked out. The last thing Harry remembered was hearing Hermione's voice shout out a disarming spell.
At the thought of her name, the young witch in question came into view. She was standing at the foot of the bed with her back turned to him. There was very little light in the room, but he could tell that she was wearing her red Gryffindor dressing gown. Although he couldn't see her face from his vantage point, he could see her reflection in the mirror in front of her. Her head was bent down examining the engravings of a golden cup she held in her hands. Harry's heart froze. He had seen this cup before.
"Hermione," Harry whispered; his voice strangled with fear.
She whirled around as if surprised to find him in the same room with her. Her big unblinking eyes found his and her lips parted as if to speak. Before she could, her attention was drawn to Malfoy's form instead. He was beginning to stir.
"Hermione, put the Cup down," Harry softly pleaded.
Hermione brought her eyes back to his.
"But Harry-"
"Please, Hermione! You don't understand. I've seen that Cup before."
And he had, in Dumbledore's Pensieve.
"Harry just listen-"
"He thinks your hand will disintegrate into dust."
Both Harry and Hermione turned their heads to look at Malfoy. For the first time since coming to, Harry realized that his head was about all he could move.
"That's Helga Hufflepuff's Cup you hold there, my dear Granger." Malfoy pronounced her name as if he was speaking a curse.
"I know," Hermione softly responded.
She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed in front of Harry, half-turning her body to face the two boys. She held the Cup in her lap. She shooed the part kneazle off of Harry's chest, and watched him pad across the room, swishing his bottle-brush tail to and fro, before turning her attention back to the pair on the bed.
"Professor Lupin and the rest got back shortly after he," she looked pointedly at Malfoy, "arrived."
"Should we be speaking of this in front of him?" Harry asked, his brow line creased with worry.
"If we need to we can Obliviate him." She turned hateful eyes towards their captive. "I won't hesitate."
"You would be a fool if you did, Granger," Malfoy told her.
The way the two of them stared angrily at each other, Harry almost felt as if he were somehow intruding. He wondered if he should leave the room. The problem was he seemed to be frozen in place.
"Um...Hermione-"
"I cast a Body-Bind on you two," she said cutting him off.
"Why me?"
"Because I figured we had better find out why Malfoy came here before you tried to kill him," she said with a rather superior sounding sniff.
He really hated it when she talked to him like he was all of 5 years old.
Harry turned his body towards the Slytherin as best as he could.
"How the hell did you find the place, Ferret?"
"I followed Mudblood's stench here," he said nastily.
Harry made a guttural sound in the back of his throat and thrashed around on the bed as if he could throw off Hermione's spell that way. He was going to annihilate Malfoy!
"Harry, be still," Hermione chided. She put down the golden Cup, drew out her wand and pointed it at her empty hand. Before Harry could blink, a glass vial, filled with what looked like water, appeared in it.
"Is that what I think it is?" Harry could barely hide the awe in his voice. The making of Veritaserum was no small undertaking. Besides being very difficult to brew, there were also many strict Ministry regulations on it. Hermione was violating some serious rules. He figured she really must have meant business when she said that there were bigger things.
"Do you know what this is, Malfoy?" Hermione asked the blond on the bed. Her voice took on a chilling note.
Harry had heard her speak this way only once before. Cold. Threatening. Inhuman almost. It made Harry's blood run cold to hear it again. She then proceeded to crawl on the bed and before Harry realized it, Hermione had straddled Malfoy's lap. Harry was too stunned for words.
"C'mon Drakey-poo, surely you know what this is?"
Malfoy looked at her as if he were staring into the face of a banshee. He gulped nervously before finally stammering out a shaky reply.
"V-Veritaserum."
"Good boy." She smiled down at him venomously. There was nothing of the Hermione Granger that Harry knew in that smile.
She looked at the vial in her hand. "You know Drakey, if I were to pour all of this down your gullet..."
Malfoy gulped again.
"It would make you spill all of your deepest, darkest secrets."
She looked him in his eyes again.
"Got anything to hide, Drakey?"
Neither Harry nor Hermione missed Malfoy's quick intake of breath.
"Like if you've ever had a homoerotic dream..."
Malfoy's eyes got huge.
"...and of whom? Or how old you were when you last wet the bed, perhaps?"
Hermione then giggled wickedly as a brand new, brilliantly horrific idea entered her head.
"I might even bring Ron in here and have him watch as I ask you about the last time you fantasized about me."
At this Malfoy began pitching around the bed madly trying to shake Hermione off of him. Ron might not have been that scary with a wand, but he more than made up for that fact with his fists. Hermione wasn't budging, though.
"Yes. That's what I think I'll do. And then I'll leave him alone in the room with you and lock the door so you both can rationally discuss the matter."
"I've never...HOW DARE YOU...YOU FILTHY BITCH!"
Hermione then leaned down and whispered something in Malfoy's ear. Harry tried his best, but he couldn't hear what she told him. Whatever it was though made Malfoy stop cold. The two of them locked gazes.
"Of course you could just answer whatever questions Harry and I put to you honestly and we won't even have to resort to this," she said as sweetly as a viper.
Malfoy looked at the vial in her hand. He turned and looked back at her. He sighed as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He closed them as a look of defeat became clearly evident on his face.
"Fine," he whimpered in a bratty little voice that reminded Harry of the 11 year old boy getting his robes fitted.
Hermione pointed her wand at Harry and muttered something under her breath. Harry instantly felt free of the binding curse. Hermione, however, didn't move from her position over Malfoy.
She really needs to get the hell up off him, thought Harry grumpily to himself.
He then got off the bed and walked to the end where Hufflepuff's Cup was. He picked it up and looked at the badger engraved on the front. Without question, this was the right cup. Harry shivered as he realized that he was now holding a piece of Tom Riddle's sick soul in his hands.
"How did you find my house?"
Harry turned back to the bed.
"You told me where it was," Malfoy limply answered.
"GIVE HIM THE POTION HERMIONE!" Harry ordered; his voice full of irritation.
"Granger did tell me! Back in Third Year I made a crack about her being nothing but a poor dirty Mudblood and Granger here was quick to inform me how wrong I was."
Malfoy then proceeded to do a surprisingly good impersonation of the Gryffindor girl.
"'My mum and dad are Denty-tist. I live in Notting Hill. I can walk to Portabello...my house is on St. Luke's'. Blah blah blah blah...BLAH!"
Hermione's face went scarlet.
"I have a near perfect memory, Granger. I figured I might need that information later so I looked the rest up. It appears that I was right."
Harry had reached his limit.
"Malfoy, I am going to pour that truth serum down your throat my-"
"He's telling the truth, Harry."
Harry looked at Hermione incredulously.
"I remember that day. He's telling the truth. If someone already knows where a house under the Fidelius is they can still find it. They just can't tell anyone else about it."
"Very smart, Granger. Now would you please do me the kind favor of getting your FAT ARSE OFF OF ME?!"
Hermione quickly removed herself from Malfoy and climbed down from the bed in a snit. She then stomped her way over to stand next to Harry. By the look on her face she didn't seem to appreciate Malfoy's estimation of her backside's girth.
"Gladly!" she snippily said.
"Finally!"
"Honestly!"
"ENOUGH!" Harry was ready for some real answers. "Why did you bring this here?" he asked Malfoy, raising the Cup.
"I wanted to have tea and crumpets with you."
"MALFOY!" Harry and Hermione both bellowed.
"Look Potter, my father was murdered during that raid at Azkaban Prison."
At this both Gryffindors looked at him, shocked at the news. "The Great Breakout", as all the newspapers were calling it, had only happened a few days prior.
"His body just turned up last night in front of the Ministry. The Prophet tomorrow morning is going to claim suicide, but the truth is my father had outlived his usefulness to the Dark Lord."
At this Malfoy's voice choked. His body nearly came off the bed.
"My mother has gone into hiding in Switzerland. Thankfully we have family there who has remained neutral through out all of this, so she should be safe for now. I'm not sure if I'll ever see her again, though."
"Malfoy I'm so sor-"
"Don't you dare pity me, Granger!" he spat out.
Hermione was so taken aback by his vehemence that she grabbed Harry's hand for comfort. She looked down at their clasped hands and instantly let go, blushing.
"You lot are supposed to be the good guys, right? Well, I'm here! I'm throwing myself at your mercy because I can't ever go home again. I've brought you the bloody Cup. We both know what it is, but I'm the only one in this room who knows how to destroy it. Now are we all going to piss around each other all goddamned day or what?!"
The room was momentarily silent after his outburst. Malfoy crumpled back onto the sheets panting, his right arm thrown across his forehead. He looked like he had run a marathon. He was so exhausted that he hadn't noticed Hermione lifting the Body-bind from him. Harry, however, did. Before he could ask her about it, she grabbed his arm and steered him out of the room. He was still holding the Cup. As she was closing the door, her cat squeezed his way pass the small opening before Hermione could trap his tail in the jamb. He turned up his squashed face and tossed them both a cross look before heading down the stairs.
"Sorry, Crooks," Hermione called after the disgruntled ginger fur ball before turning back to the bedroom door and muttering a locking spell over it.
She then turned her attention to Harry.
"I still have his wand if that's what you're worried about."
It was almost unnerving how she could do that.
"He's completely exhausted, though. I doubt that the Ferret is going to get up to anything much tonight."
Harry agreed with this assessment. Malfoy looked as weak as a new born kitten. Harry almost chuckled at the comparison. One look at Hermione's stern face made that amusement die quickly.
"He's telling the truth, you know."
"I wish we could be sure," Harry replied. "Maybe we should make him drink the truth serum anyway."
Hermione gravely shook her head.
"See the problem with that scenario is that we have no Veritaserum to give him. Bottoms up!"
Hermione lifted the vial to her lips and downed the contents in one swift gulp.
"Ahh...refreshing."
Harry looked at her as if she had grown whiskers...AGAIN!
"Hermione!"
"Plain ordinary tap water," she explained as she dropped the vial and her wand into the pocket of her dressing gown. "I haven't been able to get the necessary ingredients to actually make a proper truth telling potion."
Harry looked at her in awe. She had just played the Prat of Slytherin house, and won.
"I still believe he is telling the truth. I've been doing research and have seen pictures of Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. That's it, Harry." She pointed at the Cup as if to emphasize her point.
"I know. But it makes no sense. Why would he bring us the Cup?"
"Oh Harry, don't go looking gift thestrals in the mouth!" When he huffed irritably at the old wizarding proverb, she said more patiently, "If Draco Malfoy is a spy, why would Voldemort allow a very powerful weapon that we could possibly use against him, walk right into our hands?"
"I don't know, ok! But I do know Dumbledore is dead because of him."
"Stop it, Harry!" She had grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him a shake. "Stop it now! You told us that Snape was the person who put the Avada Kedavra on the Headmaster."
"Well he was but-"
"And that Malfoy tried to, but he couldn't go through with it."
"He couldn't but-"
"Well then! If the reason why he couldn't kill Dumbledore is the same reason he has brought the Cup to us, you very well can't take out some childish grudge on him, can you?"
"But-"
"Well?!" she asked challengingly through gritted teeth, arms flailing about. The two of them were damn near nose to nose.
"I was right about him before. I told you that he was up to something and you didn't believe me!"
Hermione's tense expression instantly softened into one of hurt and remorse.
"You're right, Harry. I should have trusted you."
She grabbed a hold of one of his hands and held tight to it as her eyes moistened.
"I am so sorry for not believing in you when I should have. As long as I live I will never do that again. But can you please just trust me on this?" she begged.
"Alright! Alright! You win! But so help me Hermione if he compromises headquarters-"
"I'll be personally responsible for him," she primly replied.
Harry just shook his head irritably as she dropped his hand. Hermione could be so stubborn at times.
"Look, like I said, Malfoy isn't going anywhere tonight. I'm going to head off to bed myself. I'm knackered."
And as if to emphasize the point, she stretched her arms and yawned.
"We can gather what Order members we have here in the morning and do an in-depth question and answer session then."
The three teens were all of age and had officially become members of the Order not too long ago, much to Mrs. Weasley's dismay.
"Sounds good to me," said Harry mid-yawn.
Hermione crinkled her nose and gave him a small smile.
"You should go to bed as well."
"Yeah, well maybe I wouldn't be so tired if someone wasn't using me as a human spell cushion."
She giggled.
"First you knock me around, then you bind me up. How did you make all the street lights go out by the way?"
"Oh that? Mr. Moody gave me his Put-Outer."
"Wicked! He seems to have taken a little shine to you," Harry teased.
"Honestly." She rolled her eyes yet she couldn't hide the pleased smile that was threatening to break out across her face.
Harry looked back towards the bedroom door.
"I still want to kick his arse."
"I tell you what, if we're all still alive by then, I'll let you two use him as a human piñata for Ron's birthday."
Harry could barely contain his chortle.
"Promises. Hey, where is Ron by the way?"
For the first time Harry realized that he hadn't seen his other best friend since Malfoy's arrival. Hermione blushed and fiddled with the tie of her dressing gown.
"Oh, he fell asleep," she said, barely looking Harry in the eyes, "in my bed."
Harry's eyebrows shot up.
"Oh I like that. Like I'm some tart! We were just talking and he fell asleep," dismissed Hermione.
Harry snickered to cover up the oddly relieved breath he had let out. Why he was relieved, he wasn't sure, he did, however, have to force himself to concentrate on the rest of what Hermione was saying.
"Well what do you expect; the boy would sleep through a goblin rebellion even if it played itself out on his duvet."
"He definitely slept through enough lectures about them in Binns' class to last a lifetime," joked Harry.
"Laugh if you will, but as I recall Mr. Potter you used to be there drooling along onto your parchment right beside him."
Harry mock scowled at her. Hermione innocently smiled back. She then turned to walk down the hall to go up to her room.
"Night," she called over her shoulder.
As Harry watched her sashay away, hips swinging back and forth enticingly, not for the first time in the last few weeks did he think to himself what a lucky bastard Ron was. Then he quickly banished the thought from his head.
Five weeks after that night Draco Malfoy officially joined the Order of the Phoenix. Regrettably Harry and Ron never got a chance to go at him with large sticks. Hermione welched on the deal. Although Malfoy and Harry never really became friends, they both eventually came to respect each other. Malfoy's contribution to the fall of Tom Riddle was nothing small. After the end of the Second Great War, Malfoy remained a presence in their lives. Harry sometimes groaned at the thought of how much of a presence he remained.
When Harry joined the Auror ranks Malfoy had already been in the Department for a few years. Harry's superior had thought it a perfectly brilliant idea to make the two war heroes partners. And so their current relationship came to pass. In the field Harry couldn't ask for a better backup. He trusted his old school mate. He relied on him.
He just didn't like the bastard much.
"Potter! Did you hear a word I just said?"
Harry's attention focused back onto the blond.
"Erm..."
"As I thought; here," Malfoy drawled slipping a picture into Harry's hands. "The wife gave it to us; a picture of the darling daughter who started this whole mess."
Harry looked down at the moving photo. It was so old that the sepia toned image moved slower than normal. The teen aged girl in the picture waved at him and Harry's heart stopped.
"Merlin's beard!"
"You see it too then?" Malfoy asked. "Good. I nearly thought someone was playing a late April's fool on me when she handed it over."
Harry's hands, still clutching the photo, began to tremble. Although the hairstyle was different, the woman in the picture resembled Hermione Granger, Harry's best friend, at the age of 17. The same Cupid's bow mouth, the same large brown eyes, the same long dark hair; Harmonia's was just bone straight as opposed to the bushy mass that belonged to the other girl. They even appeared to have the same bone structure and be about the same height, 5 feet 6 inches. Hermione, however, had been slightly heavier than this girl. Though never fat, Hermione did tend to be rounder than most of the other girls in her circle.
"But how?" Harry asked, hoping his partner could make more sense out of it.
"No clue. But it is quite creepy in'it? Similar names too."
"Could they be distantly related somehow?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"Already checked into that. As far as we could find, the answer is a decided no."
"Bugger!"
"You're telling me," Malfoy said as he lifted himself from off of Harry's desk. "Although for once I'm sort of glad that Hermione is off traipsing around the Sates, I tell you."
Harry simply nodded his head.
"Well I better go before Hanes starts making his random desk checks, the plonker!"
And with that Malfoy exited the cubicle.
Five minutes later found Harry still looking at the old moving photograph. What the hell is going on, he wondered to himself. Eventually he placed the picture in with the rest of the Cadmus file. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes closed. The resemblance between the two females was not only mystifying, but also worrisome. If asked why, Harry wouldn't have been able to put it into words, but without a doubt he had a bad feeling about all of this. He had to agree with Malfoy, he too was glad Hermione was somewhere safe from all of this insanity, far away living in America.
Harry only wished he knew where.
"I'm right here Harry."
Harry quickly looked up to see the woman who had made him late for work sitting comfortably on his desk.
"Hermione?" he asked tentatively.
"Who else would it be, silly?" she asked with a smirk.
You don't want to know.
Harry looked at the vision. Hermione was dressed in her old Hogwarts uniform; a pleated woolen skirt, a white Oxford shirt, and a pair of white knee socks. She was missing her Mary Janes and her Gryffindor colored striped tie, though. Her shirt was also unbuttoned to her bosom. Harry could see the smooth skin of her breasts that the simple white cotton bra, with its pretty pink bow in the middle, did not cover. Harry half-suspected that she didn't have any knickers on.
Hermione moved her right foot to rest on the desk.
Yes, she definitely wasn't wearing knickers.
Somehow Harry figured that none of this was regulation student wear at all. Harry leaned back in his chair to peek out his cubicle door. There wasn't another soul in the whole office as far as the eye could see.
I get it, the little voice in his head said, I'm sleeping. I'm having another dream.
Hermione grabbed his tie and pulled his chair back towards her.
"You didn't answer the question. Who else would it be, Harry?" she asked again. Her voice sounded far sexier than the bossy words implied.
Harry gulped. "No one, luv."
Of course he was dreaming. Even though Hermione was wearing her Hogwarts uniform she was as he last saw her, a stunning 20 year old woman, as evidenced by the fact that she was practically popping out of her get up. Her dark hair was halfway down her back. She had started wearing it that long because it tended to wave and not look so frizzy at that length. Her skin was a medium tan colored shade. She had taken to sunning herself on her terrace every chance the weather was right enough. After taking a vacation in Ibiza with Glinda, she had come back saying that she was tired of looking like a pale, colorless English woman. To which Ron replied that she looked that way because she was a pale, colorless English woman. Hermione then informed him that he better get well acquainted with his hand because she was never going to allow him to touch her ever, ever again. Her eyes...
"Ahem."
Harry looked back at Hermione. She now had her shirt fully unbuttoned and she was rubbing her left breast through the cotton of her bra. Harry could see the faint impression of a nipple straining against the material. Her right hand was teasingly playing with the edge of her skirt giving him a tempting peek of what was barely hidden underneath it.
"Am I going to just sit here all day long with nothing to do?" she asked with an adorable pout.
I am a sick sad bastard, Harry thought to himself.
Then he moved his chair closer to the desk.
A/N: Next up is Ron's POV. Things to look forward to: Lavender, wedding planning, and how the Heron finally got it together...before blowing apart.
A few more points of interest...
1) All characters other than Chief Auror Armistead Hanes, Absalom Hanes, Whitney Whitby, Ptolemy Cadmus, and Harmonia Cadmus are canon.
2) The Fidelius Charm is slightly off canon for the purposes of this story. In other words I goofed. :).
3) Cadmus was a Greek mythological hero who founded the city of Thebes after killing a water dragon. Cadmus' queen was Harmonia (goddess of harmony and concord), the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite. In his old age, plagued by misfortune, Cadmus asked the gods to turn him into a dragon. Upon seeing his transformation, Harmonia asked for the same fate.
4) Darthmont Prison, the Shrouded Asp brothel, the Halcyonian potion, and The Enchanted Truffle bakery are all original to this story.
Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.