Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: Between The Shadow and The Soul

By: Gryffindor Girl

Rating: R

Genre: UST, Angst, Thriller, Action

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & its characters belong to JK Rowling, this is just a piece of fanfiction. Some characters and settings used are created by me.

Words: 5,100 of 35,000 total (approx)

For: Lady Bluestar/Lady Starlight and her request prompt: Duelling, serious or playful.

Warnings: Low grade violence, non explicit sex, swears, poss infidelity.

A/N: Thanks for the feedback everyone xx A few notes - yes there are a few technical points of contention in this story; I did a lot of research but I think it's unlikely I'd please everyone's version of the HP Universe. That said, I'll explain any technical aspects you raise, and some may just be mistakes.

But so far let me say:

The "white & black smoke of apparition/apparation" (I think I always spell it wrong, some Wiki's spell it like that tho) is inspired by the movie version of HP & The Order of the Phoenix and the fight scenes in the Dept of Mysteries, the Order vs the Deatheaters - I loved those scenes.

And I know that Protego doesn't negate an AK but I thought it was too complicated to explain that another AK can deflect it and also that a weaker AK can be ineffectual etc etc.

Anyway hopefully, if you like the story, you might follow along with me anyway.

*

I wake to bright daylight, in a place I don't recognise.

The light pours through windows set in the sloped ceiling above me, and I squeeze my eyes tight against it, turning my face down into the soft bed I find myself in. I lift my head slightly to look at the white sheets and pillows, trying to get past the blinding headache that assaults me and to work out where the hell I am.

"Here."

Harry's voice. I whip my head around to it - too fast. My brain feels like it's loose and rattling around the inside of my skull and I groan. I grind my teeth together and with supreme effort, lift my head to look at him.

He stands beside the bed, in jeans and with his chest bare. He holds a mug for me, of tea I guess, and I swivel in the bed to try and sit up. I can feel I no longer have my jeans on, or my shirt for that matter - just my underwear and a singlet. I gather the sheet up to my chest and look up at Harry.

"What happened?"

"Drink this."

I take the steaming mug gingerly, not sure if I have the strength to hold it. I see it isn't tea, but a green frothy substance. I glance at Harry but he's turned from me, grabbing a tray off the small beside table. He places it on the bed and sits on the edge, behind it, not looking at me.

I watch him a while longer and then take a small sip of my drink. It flows instantly through me, warming my insides and cooling my throbbing head. I breathe a sigh of relief and quickly take another drink, nearly scalding my mouth.

"Steady."

Harry holds his hands out for the mug and I give it reluctantly. He places it on the bedside table and then moves the tray towards me.

"Eat something."

I look around the room. The bed I'm on is huge, and positioned in the middle of a mezzanine level at the top of a very large, airy room. It feels like a warehouse, and it is definitely on the top level - the tall windows in the sloped ceiling open to the sky. The room is fairly bare, there's a large wardrobe and a chair in one corner up on the same level as the bed, and a few bits of clothing and books strewn around the place. On the next level down there is a set of French doors which seem to open onto a small balcony overlooking the city. There is a weights bench down there too, a small home gym.

But the thing that really catches my eye is a huge platform at the other end of the room. It's intricately carved.

"Harry, is that.."

"Eat. Then I'll answer questions." He places a plate with toast on it in front of me. "Maybe."

I arch an eyebrow at him but do as I'm told. I do start to feel better, especially after Harry hands me back the steaming mug. I watch him over the rim as I drink. He sits there calmly but avoids my eyes. I decide to approach things gently.

"Thank you. What is this?"

He brushes the hair out of his eyes and moves the tray off the bed.

"Recovery draught. Just a modification of the Hangover draught really."

I nod. We fall silent for a while. I look around me at the bed.

"Where are we?"

He looks up, smiling slightly.

"Grimmauld."

I turn to him, mouth open. "Really?"

He nods. "Yeah. I cleared out the attic and put this level and these windows in. I mostly sleep up here now."

I run my palm over the sheets. So this is his bed.

I think it through, wondering if Ginny stays up here with him. When I look up again he's watching me.

"What the hell were you thinking, Hermione."

I frown, feeling the anger creeping up again.

"What the hell was I thinking? Are you serious?"

He just shakes his head.

"You should never have followed me there."

"Well you shouldn't have shut me out. You shouldn't have shut us all out."

He closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Should've known you wouldn't leave it alone."

I decide not to justify that with an answer.

He stands up, and starts to pace, wringing his hands a little. It's so unlike him and it makes me nervous; I sit up a straighter in the bed and watch him.

"You just...you have no idea what you've done."

He stops pacing and faces me, raking his hands through his hair again and then bracing them behind his head. It's distracting - I find myself wishing he'd put a top on. I never remember seeing him like this; his body has never gotten my attention before. But now I realise that the recent weight he's lost that had concerned me and others - particularly Molly Weasley - wasn't weight loss exactly, more just fat loss - I can see that now. In fact he actually looks bigger than he used to, across his shoulders and chest in particular. I realise suddenly that he's watching my study of him and I reach again for my mug. Setting it back after taking another sip, I answer him.

"Then tell me, Harry. What is it I've done? I thought I'd saved you from being killed in front of my eyes but please; enlighten me if I'm wrong."

"I wasn't going to get killed; it never would have worked...."

"He was using an Unforgiveable Curse on you!" I move towards him, wanting to jump out of the bed but suddenly remembering I'm in my underwear. I settle for kneeling under the sheet. "How does he even get away with that?"

"The dome."

"What?"

"The dome. Unforgiveables go undetected inside the dome."

I press my fingertips to my temples and squeeze my eyes shut. My head is starting to throb again, despite the draught. I try to refocus.

"But why are you even duelling with him in the first place? What are you doing there, Harry?"

He sits down on the bed.

"I've been cursed. I've got to duel until I've spilt enough blood to release me from it."

My vision swims; I move on to my hip and brace an arm on the bed. Suddenly I feel deathly tired. Harry leans forward and takes hold of my elbow, lowering me to lie down and I find I can't protest. His green eyes looked sad as he pulls the sheet up to my shoulder.

"And now, you have to too."

I barely make sense of the words before I slip back into black.

*

When I wake later, the room is no longer filled with light.

Harry is right there, sitting up against the headboard, popping some food into his mouth. He's reading by wandlight and he still has no shirt on.

I push up onto my elbows before thinking better of it; my head still aches. I roll over onto my back, noticing a downy blanket has been added to the bed. Harry glances down at me.

"How're you feeling?"

I press my palms to my forehead.

"Like shit. How long have I been out?"

"All day."

He says it matter of fact, as if it's to be expected. I peer up at him again and he shrugs.

"I was out for two days when it happened to me."

I feel threads of our earlier conversation seeping into my brain.

"After what happened?"

"The curse. Or the... agreement. Compello Pactum. "

The spell sounds familiar. I search my aching mind. Compello Pactum. I remember the loud voice, booming as I left the warehouse with Harry.

"I've been cursed?"

He nods, but there's no sadness in his eyes this time, it's definitely irritation - heading towards anger. But the puzzle pieces are starting to slot into place through the fog in my mind.

"I have to go back there."

Harry nods again, but that's all he gives, seemingly happy for me to figure it out. When I sit up gingerly, he leans over to the bedside table, turns on the lamp and then mutters a quick heating spell over the mug there. He turns back and offers it to me and I accept the draught gratefully.

"What if I don't?"

Harry's voice is quiet when he answers.

"Then you get sick. Really sick."

"And this happened to you?

"Yeah."

I'm silent for a moment, staring into the green liquid.

"How on earth did you get into this mess?"

He bends his knees up and rests his elbows on them, dropping his head back to rest against the headboard. He closes his eyes and finally answers.

"It's a long story."

I hand him the mug and he puts it down for me and then sits back against the headboard again, looping his arms around his knees and staring down between them at his bare feet. I wait for him to speak.

"I found out Rodolphus Lestrange is still alive."

All of my wary disapproval seems to drain out of me, immediately replaced with curiosity. Lestrange is the only one still at large of the six Death Eaters that managed to elude the Ministry after the Battle of Hogwarts. He was presumed dead.

"Really? Merlin, Harry...that's....how did you find out?"

"I saw him one night. In a muggle pub. He just strolled in, plain as day with this blonde woman. His hair is shorter now and he has no beard but I was sure it was him, I remembered him too well from the Department of Mysteries. So I waited for him to leave and I followed him."

My mind is whirring with the information, already automatically planning a team for surveillance, for capture. I try and sit still and patiently listen.

"I tracked him to the Duelling Den. Just like you did me."

He looks up at me then, and I hold his gaze because I'm not apologising for it. He continues.

"I actually did what you did. He was going to AK his opponent and..."

"You tried to stop him."

He nods. I start to understand things now.

"And you went into that ring..."

He nods and smiles grimly. "Yeah, you're getting it."

I say the next almost to myself. "So when you enter that ring, you invoke the pact."

He doesn't affirm it but I can tell just by looking at his face that I'm right.

"And it came into effect when I left the warehouse."

Harry passes a hand over his face and then springs up off the bed, agitated.

"Corvus was just playing with me. I thought maybe he was going to let you go." He turns and looks at me. "I should've known. Now all his Christmases have come at once."

I stare up at the windows, through to the few stars punctuating the night sky.

"What kind of sick?"

Harry gives a short laugh with no humour in it. "The dead-within-48 hours kind. And it's not just you."

He looks like he's about to bolt, pacing and drawing his hair back from his face, but finally he sits on the end of the bed, facing away from me.

"If you don't return, if you talk, if you try and escape - you fall ill. You, and the person dearest to you."

My stomach drops at that.

"How do they know who that is?"

I watch his back and he shrugs his shoulders just slightly. "I don't know. They just know."

He leans forward on his knees, his head in his hands. I scoot down the bed to sit beside him, taking some blanket with me and holding it around my waist. The fog is lifting and I'm feeling clearer now. I put my hand on his back. He looks up me.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I just... I didn't want to drag you into this. I wanted to deal with this on my own."

I run my fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face.

"When have I ever had to be dragged into trouble with you?" I try and smile. "You know there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

He smiles at that and shakes his head. "Yeah well I guess I've always known you were crazy."

I push his shoulder then and he smiles.

"So. What's the plan?"

*

He doesn't let me get up that night. Sends me back to bed and won't talk about it anymore, and despite my protests and all the questions I'm itching to ask, I fall straight back to sleep.

I wake a few times in the night and he's always in different places. Sometimes reading with his glasses on, sometimes sleeping with his back to me. One time I wake up and light is starting to colour the cloudy sky and he's not in the bed. It frightens me and I sit up and look around quickly, finally seeing him at the weights bench, bench pressing the bar with heavy weights on each side. When he stops and lays it back on the rests he sits up and catches sight of me, raising a hand while his chest heaves up and down. He's in his jeans and still isn't wearing a shirt, and it all seems so unlike Harry. Satisfied that he's still there though, I just fall back into the pillows and back to sleep.

When I wake next, he's there with breakfast. This time, I've actually got an appetite and I eat everything on the plate. I feel better, but I really need to go to the bathroom.

I'm overcome with a strange shyness when I have to ask for my clothes. At least he's finally put a t-shirt on; he looks like he's showered and changed.

"Uh...can I please have my clothes?"

I think he smiles a little before he turns away and moves to the wardrobe, grabbing a neatly folded pile out of it and giving it to me.

"Take a left at the bottom of the stairs, there's towels in the bathroom."

I nod, and half expect him to leave while I get up but he doesn't. I decide not to be self conscious and just move to the edge of the huge bed and throw my jeans on, jumping into them as I stand up. When I turn around he's watching me. I feel a little lightheaded and it must show.

"You alright? Do you need a hand?"

I shake my head.

"No, I've got it."

I hurry down to the bathroom. The shower is heaven, even though I have to change back into the same clothes, but a quick scourgify with my wand makes that okay. When I climb the stairs again, Harry is still on the bed, resting against the headboard with his eyes closed. He opens them when I approach.

"Feel better?"

"Much. Thank you for looking after me."

He shrugs and stands up.

"I'd hardly say I'd look after you, Hermione. I just got you in the biggest trouble of your life."

I don't reply, just keep running my wand through my hair to dry it.

"So, when do we go back?"

"Within a week." His face clouds. "So you need to practice before then. A lot."

I'm almost offended. But I try to be reasonable.

"Okay...."

He stands up, smiling slightly.

"Yes, even you. These guys are a different breed, Hermione. They're ruthless and they don't hesitate for their conscience." He rubs his wrist. "I've learnt that, believe me."

I look at him, realisation dawning.

"That night...when you came to my house..."

"That was my first duel, yeah."

"That long ago?"

He nods.

"I have to spill that much blood?"

He gazes at me intensely. "The equivalent of killing someone. Or, the alternative is, you actually kill someone."

I feel slightly sick again but it's not physical. I sit down on the edge of the bed.

"But how do they get away with this? It's ...it's criminal!"

"It's been going on for centuries. This is no D.A, Hermione. This is as real as it gets." He walks over and sits down next to me and takes my hand. I notice he has a thick black leather band around his wrist that I thought was a watch but I see now it's not. He looks devastated all of a sudden. "Fuck it. Hermione...I'd do anything not to bring you into this."

I don't know what else to do other than lean forward and put my arms around him. It feels good to be holding him, it soothes me. I rest my chin on his shoulder and close my eyes. I can't believe I'm even contemplating doing this but I know that if he could have figured a way out of it he would have by now. And if I'm honest, I like the idea of spending time with him again. Like we used to.

"Well, it's the two of us now. We'll work it out together."

He says nothing, just rubs my back. Then we pull apart and look at each other and he answers.

"Maybe. You up for some practice?"

*

He leads me over to the platform and despite everything, I'm excited. And curious, and a little petrified if I'm honest.

I mean, in Magical Law, we do a lot of physical training, a lot of self defence. But that's always to apprehend people, or diffuse a situation. I haven't really been fighting for my life since the Battle of Hogwarts and that realisation hits me fairly squarely at the same time as we step up on to the platform. I ask him a question to distract myself.

"How on earth did you get one of these?"

He smiles. "Aberforth."

I feel my eyebrows raise and my face turn incredulous as he nods.

"You should see the set up in his basement. It's incredible."

The enthusiasm in his face and expression is fairly obvious and again I wonder who this new Harry is. I think he notices and his face straightens again. We're near the centre of the platform now, and I realise that aside from its smaller size, it's identical to the one at the Duelling Den.

"What is it called?"

"A Crucis. It means 'Torture Platform' or 'Stake'. Duels have been held on them for centuries. And witches were burned on them in the past." I shift uncomfortably and Harry takes his wand out and points it above our heads.

"Wards."

The green lines of energy snake quickly from the edges of the crucis and up into the air, crossing quickly over our heads. I watch them, fascinated. They knit together like a mesh fence and then they glow, making a buzzing sound. I watch as the individual lines disappear and seem to melt into a transparent, gauzy ceiling that covers us in a dome.

"Incredible."

Harry nods at the awe in my voice. I look up at him.

"So I could use an Unforgiveable Curse in here?"

"Yeah."

We're silent for a moment while that sinks in. I ask the next question, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.

"And..you have?"

"Cruciatus and Imperio - yes." He holds my gaze as if defying me to lecture him. When I don't, he continues, a little softer. "I have to. You'll have to."

I shake my head. "But you have to mean it - really mean it to perform those curses. How?"

He looks grim. "You find inspiration. One way is Legilimency."

I try not to let the surprise show on my face but it's quickly obvious that it does when he laughs.

"Yeah, I know. Not previously a strong point for me, right?" He nods at my smile. "Well I'm still not great at Occulmency. But practicing Legilimens comes in handy, especially for the Imperious curse." His face turns dark. "And for knowing your opponent. Believe me, Hermione, you won't find it hard to battle with these guys when you delve a little into their minds. It's not pretty in there."

I nod shortly, having already had that experience with suspects I've had to interrogate. I still can't see myself -or him for that matter, performing one of those curses. But nothing about this whole situation seems very real at the moment and I decide to just keep going with it.

He steps back a little and bows. I hesitate for a moment and follow suit.

"Good. And then...anything goes."

I frown. "Anything?"

"Anything."

I start to walk very slowly to my right and he does the same. We begin to circle each other and I'm watching him, still unsure how to take this all seriously. He flicks his wand casually at me. I feel my wand tug in my hands; I hold it firmly and construct the counter spell to Expelliarmus quickly with a smooth movement of my wrist. My wand stays in place and Harry's twitches. He looks down at it and quickly back at me, tilting his head slightly, with a barely noticeable smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He makes a small amused sound.

"Okay then."

I feel it a split second before he unleashes. A wave powering towards me of a stunning spell, with a little more force than typical.

I have to move my whole arm to block it and it packs a punch - leaving me breathing a little heavily. He pouts his lips and nods, moving to his left now. I counter without a thought.

My stunning spell nearly hits him; would've if he hadn't twisted deftly to the side. It's so close that it ruffles his t-shirt before making impact with the dome wall behind him, causing ripples through the gauzy green surface.

He whips his head back around to me but I barely register that; my hand opens and my wand clatters to the ground - I raise my fingers to my mouth which has dropped open.

"Oh...Harry...I...I'm..so..sorry"

He steps forward and grabs my wrists.

"No, Hermione...that's....don't be sorry. That was great."

His fingers tighten, and he steps even closer. I breathe in shakily and I absently smell the scent of soap or something on him, a male scent that I don't recognise. I still feel confused and dazed; he shakes me gently.

"Hey."

He bends a little so I'm looking him in the eye. I focus on his bright green gaze, trying to calm myself again.

"That was good. But that was just a start. You're going to have to do far more than that."

I put my head down, nodding with my eyes closed.

"I know. I know that. I just...I've never had to do that to you."

When I look back up he grins and slowly drops my hands.

"Don't tell me you've never wanted to."

I fight the smile trying to materialise on my face. My mind flies directly to a few times when I've been itching to throw a hex at his stubborn ass. He smiles wider as he sees me thinking.

"Yeah, I thought so. Come on. Go again."

We practice for the next hour, and I know he's going easy on me. But at least I get past the initial hesitation and start getting more comfortable inside the dome. I still don't know how I'm going to get anywhere near performing an Unforgiveable and I tell him that, as we're sitting on the floor against the wall, drinking water Kreacher brought us from the kitchen.

"You'll get there."

He doesn't look at me and his voice is neutral but I wonder if he's truly scared that I won't. I decide not to ask.

I look down at my clothes; I'm just in my singlet and jeans now but I'm still sweaty and dirty. As if reading my mind, he chucks me one of the towels that Kreacher brought. I wipe my face and neck and then I press my cool glass against my cheeks.

"I better go."

He nods. "Okay. But we need to practice again tomorrow. And the day after that." I look at him and his expression is earnest. "I mean it, Hermione, you need to be much further along before you step into that dome next week."

I nod, my mind boggling with what I'm going to tell work, Ron - how I'm going to manage it. But I know he's right and when I start to see his guilt kicking in again, I put a brave face on and muster a decent smile.

"I know. I'll come back tomorrow. Take the day off work."

He gasps and puts a hand to his mouth in mock shock and I swat him with the towel. He laughs as I stand up and speaks almost to himself.

"Hermione...taking a day off. Shit, we are in trouble."

I leave him there and apparate home.

*

Ron is not impressed that he hasn't been able to get hold of me.

"Three days? You couldn't find a floo to call me in three whole days?"

It's been ten minutes of this lecture and I'm over it; I finally pull out my ace.

"Well, you know, Ron - if you learnt how to use your cell phone, I would have been able to."

His frown falters and I know I've got him; he's never been bothered to even charge the muggle cellphone I got him for Christmas. So there's no way he'd know whether or not I tried to use it to contact him.

It's a low blow but it gets him stammering.

"Well...I...you...."

"I'm sorry, okay? I was just so busy with work." I can see him thawing and I step forward and give him a hug. One of the strangely awkward hugs that we have so many of.

I can't understand it. It's been a year since we all finished at Hogwarts and he and I were supposed to be this couple that were so meant to be.

And it is good. It's fine.

We get on pretty well most of the time, surprisingly. Apart from when he gets a little possessive. But physically....it's not happening. Let's just say it's a relationship in every sense of that word, bar that.

And I don't know how to change it. But I figure it will sort itself out in time. That sort of stuff comes naturally, I suppose.

I pull away from him and he smiles and pats my arm.

And then I'm hit with a searing pain in my wrist.

It starts just below my palm; an intense burning, like someone has just strapped an invisible watch on me that has been nestled in a bed of coals for an hour before.

I jump up; my hiss of pain startling Ron. I run quickly to the sink, gripping my forearm tightly and holding the inside of my wrist directly under the cool tap.

Ron arrives beside me.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?"

I try and speak through the pain, wincing the whole time.

"I don't know. It's just ...burning."

He watches the water flowing over my wrist with a worried frown.

And then, just like that, it stops. I draw my hand out from under the water and stare at the skin. It's noticeably red, but the pain has completely gone.

I glance at Ron who's staring at me strangely. I realise how weird this looks and I reassure him as I grab a towel to wrap around my wrist. I try and think quickly.

"Must've been the Hungarian Silver Ivy we came across on our assignment." I try and smile reassuringly. "It's fine now."

But a foreboding nags at me and I get Ron to leave as soon as I can without rousing his suspicions. Luckily he has Quidditch practice for his social league so he has to leave anyway.

Almost as soon as he's out the door, the pain flares violently in my wrist again. I grab it tightly, falling to my knees in the hallway of my flat. The pain radiates up my arm and down to my fingers and for a second I think that I might pass out.

And then, again just as quickly, it stops. I pause, breathing heavily, checking that it's really finished. Then I look at my wrist.

There's an intricate pattern there, etched deeply into the skin as if tattooed. I stare incredulously at the thorny design that twists and weaves in on itself. It seems almost three dimensional; as if it's leaping off the skin.

I look closer at the elaborate lines. For a moment, I think I can make out a letter - an 'H'. I run my fingertips over it gently, but it doesn't hurt at all, and the skin is as smooth as it ever was.

I get up off the floor and head directly to the floo.

"Harry?"

His head appears fairly quickly; he looks like he's chewing.

"What's up?"

"My wrist?"

His jaw pauses for a moment and then he nods. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot to tell you that would happen."

"Helpful."

"Yeah, I know - I'm really sorry. Is it like a tattoo?"

I nod, running the pad of my thumb across it.

"Exactly like a tattoo. What is it?"

I watch his ember face as he seems lost in thought for a moment. Then he shakes his head.

"It's just a part of the curse. It won't hurt anymore now, I promise. So what time will you be here tomorrow?"

I think he's distracting me, but I'm too exhausted to probe further and I figure it can wait until tomorrow.

"First thing."

"Good. I'll see you then."

*