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: 5,618 of 45,000 total (approx)

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

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

CHAPTER SIX

I hold tightly on to his hand as he leads me through the club and down the stairs of the front entrance, past all the people still lining up to get in. I grip his arm closely, moving with him as he weaves in and out of the throng of people crowding the street - knowing that he has to get us to somewhere discrete enough to apparate.

We make it into an alleyway, and start to head to the end of it, leaving the noise of the street to ebb away gradually behind us. Soon, the sound of my heels echoing off the brick walls is the loudest noise surrounding us.

We duck behind the rubbish skip; out of view from the end of the alley.

I glance back to see if anyone's noticed us heading down here and then I'm being turned by my arm, his fingers burying in my hair and he's pulling my face to his again. I kiss him back hungrily, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt with more impatience than I've ever felt.

There's no sound in the alley now except for our harsh breathing, fast and loud. He turns me and then my back is up against the wall, and his body is pressed against mine and I'm nearly clawing at him to try and get closer.

He slows me down with his fingers on my face.

"Wait...wait...we need to apparate..."

I slow down, trying to stop myself from kissing him. He captures my lips a few more times and then wraps me tightly in his arms, turning the two of us in a tight circle together.

When he releases me, in the entrance way of Grimmauld, I grab him to me again and kiss him greedily. He matches my intensity, walking us backwards towards the stairs, trying to climb a couple before apparating us to the top. I wait for him to open the door to the room and move us through before reaching up to kiss him again; my arms around his neck.

I push his jacket off his shoulders and he takes his hands off me one at a time to pull it off each arm and then gather me back in; our lips never losing contact. He bends and lifts me up against him, his hands under my thighs, and my legs wind around his waist as he walks me up the stairs to the bed.

When I feel the mattress underneath me and his weight on top of me it's like the sweetest relief; I hear a gasp and only realise it's my own when he speaks.

"Hermione..."

I recognise his concerned tone and I've got to stop him. This could all be a dream and if it is, then I don't want to wake up. I don't want to think, I just want to steal this moment now, while it's in my hands.

"Don't. I'm sure, I'm fine. Just, please..."

He hesitates, his breathing hard and harsh with his forehead pressed to mine. His voice when he speaks is husky and barely audible.

"Do you think ...this is a good idea?"

I kiss him and he responds, his tongue warm and soft against mine. He takes his lips away again though and I know he's intent on an answer. I breathe out and try and provide a response.

"Well...I wasn't really planning on doing any thinking."

He stops and then grins against my mouth.

"No thinking, huh."

I capture his lips again, trying hard not to squirm too much against him but I can't stop myself. I shake my head and whisper to him.

"No. Just pretending...that this isn't happening." I reach up and kiss his lips again, desperate. "We can pretend this never happened."

He pulls back and looks at me, his weight on his elbows. I can tell he's weighing what I'm saying, even though I can barely see him in the sparse moonlight falling on us from the windows above.

I know he's probably right. It's a bad idea. Something inside of me is screaming to stop but it's about as effective as if I'm on a platform next to a rushing train, shouting to be let on. And I know it's not just the drink. I want this more than I've wanted anything in my life. I want him.

I don't know how to say that to him in words and so I grab his face and pull it to me - trying to convey it in my kiss instead. He holds back for a moment longer and then I feel him give in; his mouth softening to me again.

I roll over on top of him and he sits us up; his fingers push under my singlet and lift it up and over my head. I find his mouth with mine again as soon as it's off and wrap my arms around his neck. His palms run over my back, feeling so good on my skin. His fingers move to my bra and start to undo it and I realise then that we're not turning back. I grab his t-shirt and try to pull it up; he stops what he's doing and reaches his hands over his head to help me drag it up and off.

When we're skin against skin, his stomach bare and flush against mine, I can't get close enough; revelling in the feel and the smell of him; my every sense full to overflowing. His hands find my hips and I rock against him - I have no idea what I'm doing but it feels like something right when he groans against my mouth.

I decide to tease him.

"You're right... we should stop."

He's kissing my neck, and he shakes his head. "No I'm not. Ignore me. I don't know what I'm talking about."

I laugh at that and then he pulls down the lace of my bra and lowers his head and his lips and tongue are on me and I'm not laughing anymore.

And then it's just a blur of limbs and clothes being pushed impatiently out of the way, his mouth and my hair and me feeling like he's drowning me and there's nothing else I can think of and nowhere else I'd rather be.

Everything passes in a blur; I'm aware but it's surreal - like we're both having the same dream. He doesn't speak but somehow I know he's being gentle with me, even when his touch is soaked in desperation. It almost feels like I know his body and he knows mine already - like we've done this before.

I only get self conscious when he reaches for a condom and I remember - stupidly - that I'm not the first woman he's had like this. Of course I know that to be certain.

He makes me forget about it though, once he pulls me into his lap - his back against the headboard.

"Hermione..."

"I'm sure."

He kisses me. I don't realise at first it's for distraction as he guides himself into me.

I try not to make a noise - I'm not sure if I succeed. I just grip his shoulders tightly and he holds me still, murmuring something in my hair. He kisses my shoulder, neck, up to my earlobe and it helps me relax - sends thrills through me again. Then he guides my hips to slowly move.

There's nothing could have prepared me for how it feels.

It's like I'm a part of him; like we're living and breathing only through each other. I grip his hair tighter as the line between pleasure and pain blurs and then disappears altogether.

He seems to have lost some of the careful control he's been showing; he lifts us up and turns me over on to my back and I hear myself moan, holding his head between my arms.

He kisses my throat when I tip my head back, and feeling him moving inside of me, along with the moment that his mouth finds my breast again - it's too much. I tip over the edge and then I feel he does too; his fingers pressing into my hips and his lips on the frantic pulse in my throat.

We both hold still afterwards, frozen, his head resting on my collarbone. I don't think I've made my way back into my body yet; like I'm still floating two feet above us.

He takes his weight off me, bringing me back to earth with kisses to my neck and jaw and finally my lips. My arms don't have enough strength to grip him but he holds me tightly and, moves to lie beside me but still close. After a while, he slides off the bed and goes to the bathroom I think - I don't really know; I'm still in dream land.

But when he comes back he wraps me tightly in strong arms, and kisses my temple and hair until I sleep.

*

It takes me a few seconds to realise where I am.

I'm twisted in sheets, naked and cocooned in warmth. I put a hand to my head, pushing hair out of my face and prop myself up to look around the room.

An arm lies heavily over my waist. In the short second it takes for me to recognise the feeling, memories come flooding back.

I whip my head quickly around to him.

He's asleep; his head resting on one arm and the other tightens instinctively around my waist at my movement, though he doesn't wake. I look around the room, at our clothes strewn over the bed, on the ground - my singlet is lying over the bedside lamp. I close my eyes, trying to steady my whirling mind.

He stirs, taking his arm off me and draping it over his eyes as he moves onto his back, the way he usually sleeps. I watch him carefully to see if he's waking but he's a heavy sleeper, I know that.

I study him, his messy black hair. Beautiful lips that I want to reach out and trace with my fingertip. Butterflies stir in my stomach just from the memory of what he did to me with them last night.

Then I notice for the first time that he isn't wearing his leather wristband. I wonder if he just didn't put it on after his shower last night and I didn't realise until now. I sit up to see it clearly and even in the low light of the early morning I can still tell, it's identical to mine. I lean in, noticing that I can really make out the 'H' now that I'm looking at his.

Sitting there, grasping the sheet to me and studying him as his chest rises and falls slowly, I feel my heart pull at the welts criss-crossing his torso. I want to touch them too but I don't want to wake him.

And then, the more I wake, the more I realise what I've done.

I just went from one man's proposal to another man's bed.

What the hell does that make me?

And what am I possibly going to say to him when he does wake up?

I start summoning my clothes before I even realise I'm making a decision. I slide one bare foot out from the covers and on to the floor.

Silently I pull my clothes on - watching him the whole time and still undecided what is worse; being here when he wakes up or not. When I'm dressed I remember our agreement last night. My head is slightly foggy but I remember everything.

We can pretend this never happened.

I pull the door quietly shut behind me and apparate in the hallway.

*

Ron calls me as soon as I get into work. I've been numb all morning, just going through the motions, but his ember face in my fireplace jolts me into some kind of life.

And awakens the crushing guilt I've been trying to keep at bay.

"Dinner at The Burrow tonight."

I nearly groan, shaking my head which is still sore from the muggle alcohol I consumed last night.

"No...Ron...I'm really not up to it.."

He frowns. "Mum's birthday? Remember?"

I close my eyes, swearing in my head. Shit, I'd totally forgotten.

"Oh...sure...that's right..."

"We can tell everyone our news!"

My stomach drops and my voice literally sticks in my throat. I fight to stammer out an answer.

"Ron...I told you..."

He grins. "Take it easy. I know you don't want to rush it. I'm just having you on."

I lean on my hands on my desk, my fingers pressed to my temples.

"It's not funny."

"Alright. Geez." He frowns at me for a moment but then, as always, it's hard to keep Ron down for long. "So, I'll pick you up at six thirty, yeah?"

I close my eyes. This is crazy. Still, I can't dip out on Molly and besides, it might be my chance to get through to Ron.

I nod. "Okay. See you then."

He's gone in a puff of sparks.

I stay in my office for lunch, getting something delivered instead. I can't bear to face anyone today; my nerves are frayed and raw as it is.

Part of that is because if I'm really honest with myself - which let's face it, I haven't been for sometime - I keep waiting for a message from Harry. Which is ridiculous, considering I was the one who left without saying anything this morning.

But I can't help but feel my nerves set further on edge every time a memo flies in my door, or an owl taps on the window.

At four o'clock, I can't take it anymore. I leave work early and go home to get ready.

*

"Hermione, dear, you look gorgeous!"

I smile weakly at Molly, feeling like an even bigger louse then I did when Ron picked me up from my house and hugged me.

At least Harry isn't here. I had thought he might be but thankfully he hasn't turned up. I know I can't avoid him forever; not when we have to duel again in only a few days. But I'm not ready to confront him yet. Not when every time I close my eyes I still see him; feel him, the way we were last night.

I accept a glass of wine gratefully from Bill and chat to him a while, looking out over the backyard as the sun sets impressively over the low hills. He lightens my mood with his stories; I start to relax for the first time since I got there. Ginny comes and joins us but her mood is decidedly more sombre I sense; she doesn't join in our conversation. I notice her gaze falls on my leather wristband a few times though.

But it's an easy feel at The Burrow, as it always has been. Ron is cheerful and talkative; he keeps us entertained while we serve up a hearty meal from the various dishes and platters that hover around the table for us. Percy and Arthur get up to excuse themselves from the table when Molly's voice cuts through the din and turns my stomach to ice.

"Harry James Potter! Well, it's about time!!"

I keep my eyes fixed on my plate, pushing some potato around with my fork. I feel Ginny react beside me. Her whole body stiffens and she whips around to face him, nearly toppling off her seat. Molly bustles over to him.

"Come, sit, eat!"

"Not tonight, thanks Molly - I've already eaten."

His voice sounds strange to me, familiar and yet different at the same time. I still can't look at him.

"I just dropped by to give you my present. And I've also got to see Hermione."

I'm so glad I'm not eating when he says it - I'm positive I would have choked. I glance up at him in surprise but he's not looking at me, he's smiling at Molly.

And he looks good, so good to me standing there. Just in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt; his hair is damp. He wears the leather wristband again, I notice. He says the next still not looking at me.

"We're working on a case together and I need to discuss it."

Molly bustles him into a chair. "Yes, well you know my rules, Harry. No business on an empty stomach! Sit, sit - at least have some dessert."

Harry succumbs to her fussing and she seats him in the chair directly opposite me. I glance up at him and then back to my plate as he picks up a spoon.

"Harry, you're impossible to get hold of you know."

Ginny's tone is attempting light but I hear the irritation behind her words. "I tried to tell you about this dinner tonight."

I feel him nod in the corner of my vision. "Sorry. Been full on at work."

I try and eat more of my meal, even though every mouthful now tastes like sawdust. Thankfully, Bill and Ron start a conversation about the Quidditch league and so everyone is focused on that.

We stand to clear the dishes and that's how I find myself at the sink with Harry.

"We need to practice."

I nod, still unable to look at him. "I know."

"Can you get away?"

I glance up. He's close; I catch a hint his cologne or something. I nod.

"Sure."

"Good."

He turns and walks out of the kitchen.

It's not long before he makes our excuses for us.

"Sorry, Molly. Just an urgent report we have to file."

She hugs us both tightly. Ron and Bill are playing wizard chess and Ron looks up only briefly to wave a quick goodbye. Molly won't let us leave without tucking a paper bag containing leftover food into my arms.

"Well, don't work too hard. It's only the Ministry."

I nod, turning away quickly. Ginny rushes forward and wraps her arms around Harry's neck and I walk directly to the door, leaving them behind me.

I hear his footsteps on the path and the door closing behind me before I'm only a few steps towards the gate.

"Hey."

I turn around, and see him loping down the path towards me. He stops a good distance away from me, just staring. I don't know what he's going to say but I know suddenly, I don't want to hear it. So I speak first.

"Hog's Head then?"

He leans on one hip, staring at the ground. Finally, he runs a hand through his hair, scratching the messy length of it.

"Yeah. Hog's Head."

I nod, uncomfortable in the silence. And when we've been standing there too long, I turn on the spot and apparate.

*

I walk into the bathroom and up to the sink, opening and slamming the open cabinet door.

My reflection scowls angrily back at me. Truth be told, I'm not sure why I'm so angry.

Our practice had gone well - brilliant in fact. Harry and I were working together better than ever, anticipating each other perfectly. We'd trained for two hours straight, against a number of opponents and Aberforth had spent some time teaching and fine tuning a few set moves that we could use. We'd both been sceptical but he was right - they'd worked without question every time.

Harry and I had barely said a few words to each other.

Not even when we'd stopped for water, kneeling or crouching by the side of the crucis , just drawing much needed breaths together. But we never said one word about last night. And I don't know how to feel about that.

I look at myself in the mirror, noticing the wispy hairs springing out of my ponytail.

Aberforth is right about that too. It's a mess. I reach up and drag the hair tie out.

My hair is long; too long I guess. And it really is time I do something about it.

I pull out a long curl and slice it with my wand. It springs back and I realise that's not necessarily the answer. I rack my brain for charms that might be relevant.

After a few experiments, I settle on an ironing charm Mrs Weasley taught me. Turns out it straightens my hair really well. I take off my top and turn on the light, getting into my task more at every passing minute. Finally, I stare at the finished result.

I look different. I'm not sure if it's older or younger - or even for the better, but I do look different. I suddenly remember a braiding charm that Lavender and the Gryffindor girls used to waste hours on back at school. I start trying that too.

I'm not sure if it's a good idea, experimenting on myself like this. But I'm tired and fed up and I really don't care about anything at the moment.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

*

I work from home for the next two days.

Ron is away for Quidditch, thank Merlin, so I don't have to deal with pressure from him.

I don't see Harry either.

He's taken away with work and so I practice at Hog's Head with Aberforth, alone. Not much is said there either - he doesn't even comment on my new hair. I've straightened it and braided close to my scalp in half a dozen thick corn braids, just to keep it out of my eyes. It's infinitely better.

I don't know whether it's approval of that or my duelling but it's definite praise when he pats a hand firmly on my back before leaving me and taking the stairs back up to the pub above.

I travel home and take a long soak in the bath.

We duel tomorrow.

I glance down at my wrist, passing my fingertips slowly over the tattoo. It's been only two days since I was studying Harry's identical marking in exactly this way.

I wipe my wet hands over my face. I've been strict with rationing my thoughts about that night and so far, it's been working.

I'm not about to change that now.

I sit up abruptly in the water and reach for my towel.

*

We arrange by owl to meet at Grimmauld first.

I apparate straight into the kitchen, as Kreacher allows me to. Harry isn't there yet and I stand there awkwardly, dressed in full travelling cloak and gloves. I look down at my new boots that I brought yesterday, black and sturdy. I catch sight of myself in the mirror above the fireplace.

I look like a different person. In just a few weeks, all the change I feel on the inside is becoming apparent on the outside too.

I'd put some eye makeup on - again, unlike me. It's heavy and dark, from a charm I recalled from somewhere. I'd just felt like I needed it, with my hair braided back from my face like that.

The door to the kitchen opens but I don't turn immediately to look at him.

"Hey."

I watch him in the mirror as he shrugs into a black leather jacket.

He turns and glances at me, and then literally does a double take. I try and pretend I don't notice but I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye as I turn.

Finally, he comments.

"You look different."

I nod impatiently. "Let's go."

He watches me for a bit longer and then gestures to me with a shrug.

"After you, then."

I twist tightly in a circle, catching a glimpse of him doing the same before I materialise in the damp alleyway behind the Den. Harry starts walking towards the steel door without another word and I follow suit.

The Den is noisy tonight - there's probably twice the amount of people here as there was last time. As we push our way through the black cloaked crowd, I wonder, for not the first time, where they all come from.

We've barely made it halfway in when the crowd begins to notice our presence; the murmuring increases in intensity and the sea of black seems to part in front of Harry as we walk, so that soon we're not having to manoeuvre around people at all - we have a clear path in front of us all the way to the crucis.

I look around this time - not so intimidated. In fact, the anger that awoke within me two nights ago while I stared at myself in my bathroom mirror seems to have only grown, and taken root deep within me now. It makes me hold the stares of those we're passing, until they're the ones who look away first.

I stand beside Harry, feeling the eager push of the crowd swirling around us.

"Back for more?"

A short, thin witch with rotting teeth and straggly hair leers up at me. I give her a withering glance and look back around for Corvus, who will no doubt appear with his gloating smile soon.

"Now, this is interesting. I would have thought Potter's partner would be his future red-headed wife."

I turn back around to tell the witch to push off when I realise it wasn't her that had spoken. A tall wizard with familiar snow white hair has elbowed in next to her and I try not to let my reaction show on my face.

"Lucius." I feel Harry turn beside me. "Still hanging around with the wrong crowd I see."

He smiles maliciously - some of the bravado I recognise from our early years at Hogwarts is back. He and his family have hardly been seen since they managed to weasel their way out of a lengthy stay in Azkaban; all on account of his wife giving aid to Harry in the Forbidden Forest. Watching him sneer down at me now isn't changing my mind that the three of them should have gotten a lot more punishment than they received.

"You too, Miss Granger. I see you're letting Potter lead you into mortal danger again as easily as a helpless lamb."

Harry moves at my side but I hold my hand up to stop him from interjecting.

"Nothing you can say would bother me, Malfoy because I know for a fact you're too much of a snivelling coward to get into that Dome." I step closer, meeting his steely gaze which has lost some of its intensity. "And if you did, I'd be happy to fight you. I'd make sure you came out in pieces."

He regards me down his long nose and I glare back up at him, so angry I nearly forget where I am and hex him on the spot. He finally breaks the eye contact and turns away, disappearing in a swish of black cloak into the crowd. I spy Aberforth, standing in the crowd behind him, his face just visible within his dark hood. He catches my eye and nods just once silently. I do the same and turn back to stand beside Harry again. I feel him looking at me for a moment but I keep my eyes forward. He turns his attention back to the crucis just as Corvus steps on to it. His voice booms across the heads of his audience.

"Tonight we have some new...volunteers." He gestures briskly towards the crowd and it parts, though I can't see who for. Then I see the tall head of Pictor - the wizard from our previous duel, gliding through the crowd towards the crucis , gripping the arms of two obviously distressed women.

When the reach the stairs leading up, I see that they're young - early twenties at best. Their struggle increases the closer they get to the stairs but it's no use; Pictor wrestles them successfully to the top and on to the crucis to the delight and cheers of the crowd. I flinch as the words echo loudly off the steel pipes in the tall ceiling.

"Compello Pactum."

The crowd roars wildly and I stare around in disgust as they shout and punch fists in the air, baying for blood. The girls are frightened; their eyes large as they stare at the crowd screaming up at them. Their hoods have both come down, revealing long blonde hair and similar features; it looks likely that they're sisters. Corvus comes to stand next to them and holds out his hands for quiet.

"And now, we require... opponents."

He says it as if he's announcing some exciting news. My heart actually seems to stop when I consider that he may just choose Harry and me. I know for certain, I could not fight these frightened girls.

Corvus surveys the seething crowd with a smugly satisfied grin. Finally he nods to someone just over my shoulder.

Two figures in black make their way up to stand beside Corvus. The two girls are now tightly holding hands, their wands already out.

"Lucian Bole."

I turn and watch a broad shouldered, dark haired wizard about our age wade through the horde. Harry leans down to my ear.

"Bole. Slytherin Beater in ninety-four, ninety-five." He walks by and I look up into Harry's face as he watches him pass. "Thick as two short planks but strong. He can take a hit and keep coming back for more."

I nod, studying his face. Thinking, probably inappropriately, that he is closer than he's been since the night that we....

"And a very special guest, who has honoured us with his presence tonight." Corvus pauses and I turn to watch him make his annoucement.

"Rodolphus Lestrange."

My heart leaps; I can't keep the reaction off my face. I turn my head to look for him but I can't see through the horde of people cheering. Harry grabs my arm and I grip him tightly back.

"Duellers, prepare!"

I turn back to look incredulously up at the crucis as Rodolphus steps up to loud applause. He looks freshly shaven; his facial hair is carefully sculptured over his dark features. He glances down at Harry and I and I remember that cold, unfeeling expression from the Department of Mysteries and the other times where we'd faced off against this man - if that's what you could call him. Just looking into his eyes makes my stomach turn; more so when Corvus activates the Dome and leaves him alone in there with the two trembling girls. I can't bear to watch such an uneven match.

Harry's fingers dig into my arm and I realise he's thinking the same thing.

"Duellers, starting positions!"

The two huge men move to face their opponents and I feel a wave of revulsion for them, for this crowd, for this whole situation. It's so strong, I can feel myself moving towards the Dome again, like the first time I was here, against my own will.

Harry beats me to it though.

The sound of his curse echoes off the Dome before I realise he's thrown it. Heads turn in our direction as I step forward to stand beside him.

"Us for them."

Corvus approaches us at floor level. The duellers in the Dome turn to look our way; the girls faces desperate and scared, the two wizards irritated and impatient.

Corvus shakes his head and lifts one gloved finger.

"I've already gone through this with you, Mr Potter. Despite all your heroics, you're already bound to us. You have nothing further to give us."

Harry steps up to him, his anger only barely in check I can tell. He turns and looks at me and I nod once, knowing exactly what he's about to do.

"We'll go again. Once we fulfil our pact, we'll go again. If you let the girls leave. Now."

Corvus laughs, but I saw his eyes widen perceptibly at Harry's offer. He shakes his head.

"And how would I know you will keep your word, Potter?" He glances at me and back to Harry and I can see him measuring up the proposition.

Harry shrugs out of his jacket. "Unbreakable Vow."

He holds his arm out in front of him, offering it to Corvus who eyes it hungrily. I wind up my sleeve as I watch and step forward, holding my arm out in line with Harry's.

Corvus' eyes dart from me to our arms to the girls still in the Dome. The crowd around us murmur feverishly and I'm unsure if they're for Harry's idea or not. We wait quietly while Corvus puts it through his mind.

Finally, it appears the lure of the Chosen One is too much. The Dome flickers and disappears and Corvus holds out his arm.

"Agreed. And you will fight now."

Harry nods and grips Corvus by the wrist. I place my hand on top of their wrists, gripping tightly as Corvus calls forth a bonder - Pictor Longbottom makes his way towards us through the now hushed crowd. They watch almost silently as Pictor performs the incantation and tongues of fiery ropes lash around our conjoined hands.

Corvus' eyes light up with the reflection of the glowing ropes and I feel a cold thrill of terror shiver down my spine. It's like a glimpse into the future, one where we've thrown the dice too many times and something bad happens. Something really bad is going to happen.

Then the ropes dissolve and disappear and the fleeting moment is gone. I glance up at Harry and find he's watching me, a concerned frown on his face. I nod at him, hoping he realises that I wouldn't be anywhere else but right here.

The crowd howls in anticipation and I turn and face the Dome.

*