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: 7,000 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.
A/N: Thank you so much for the great reviews, they've blown me away, I really appreciate the feedback. This story was written for an exchange so it's purposely not too long. I also don't like to drag a story on forever so I hope you're happy with the conclusion. Thanks for following through to the end ^_^
*
The steady rush of my pulse in my ears is the only sound as I approach the steel door. My logical mind keeps running through the options; find someone else for back up - even though I couldn't explain to them what was going on. Find another way to get in, even though I know there isn't one and that you can't apparate straight into The Den anyway.
All of these things run through my head but I'm realise my body isn't listening to any of it. My arms move to braid my hair back and my feet take me steadily towards the door as if on autopilot. And I realise it's almost funny that it's only now, right now, that I admit that I have no choice when it comes to Harry. I never will and I never have.
I open the door and step in to the dingy hallway.
The familiar putrid smell fills my nostrils, but I instantly notice the usual hum of the crowd from the end of the passage is missing. The only sound is my footsteps until I muffle them with a charm and then the silence is punctuated by a steady drip from the pipes overhead. I walk slowly to the end of the corridor, my wand held out and ready.
A rhythmic thumping echoes up the passage, getting louder as I approach and then stopping as the room opens up before me. I see the Dome; its transparent walls shimmering over the huge crucis as always - it looks even bigger now without the usual crowd surrounding it. Another loud thump sounds and I see a figure being tossed a good distance in the Dome.
My throat goes bone dry as I recognise him.
Harry.
His chest and feet are bare; he wears only his jeans and I can see easily from the doorway where I stand the scarlet blood blossoming from his nostrils and down his chest. Rage threatens to send me foolishly forward without thinking and I breathe steadily through my nose, forcing myself to focus. He's still alive at least. This is no time to lose my head.
"Get up."
The voice is loud and deep and I recognise it a split second before my eyes find him. Rodolphus Lestrange stands a few feet from Harry, also bare-chested but with heavy black boots on, and a strange black carving around his neck. I can see the evil sneer on his face from even this far and I have to fight my instincts again not to run at him.
I take in the scene, trying to make sense of it. There are no spectators outside the Dome but I can see several inside it now, at least three wizards stand against the side of the gauzy green walls, but they're not sectioned off. They all watch intently as Harry struggles to rise to his feet and I recognise Pictor, and Lucian Bole too.
"But I am sorry, Potter...I know you're used to all the idiotic theatrics. I'd like to dispense with all of that, if you don't mind. Our good friend Corvus always did enjoy the theatre but, well, his opinion isn't really relevant now."
I see Rodolphus gesture with one large hand towards a misshapen black lump on the ground behind him. I take a few more steps forward, waiting for him to see me.
"Me? Well. I prefer just to cut straight to the part where I bring you pain."
A scream freezes in my throat as Rodolphus draws back his arm and aims a stream of green light into Harry's chest that sends him flipping in mid air and landing with a solid thump on his back. He groans and rolls slowly on to his stomach; the spectators' laughs reach my ringing ears.
"And so the girlfriend shows up. I was wondering when you'd make your appearance."
I tear my eyes away from Harry to stare at Rodolphus. He stands on one hip, his head tilted back and his stare full of arrogance.
"Not short of the famous Gryffindor courage I see."
I fix him with a steely glare. "And I see you're not short of the famous Slytherin habit of picking an unfair fight."
His smile drops only very slightly. I take some steps towards the crucis, taking note of the expressions on the others faces; a strange mix of curiosity and surprise and...fear. Harry is on all fours now, dragging himself to his feet with obvious effort. Rodolphus glances at him and I realise that he's not so arrogant as to totally underestimate his enemy.
"You're more than welcome to join us then. I'm sure it will make it more...interesting."
I climb the steps slowly, gripping my wand tightly at my side. The green dome shimmers as I reach the top step and thins enough for me to step through and on to the crucis.
I take a few slow steps towards them, noting Pictor and Bole eyeing me, each with a resentful sneer on their face. Rodolphus studies me calmly as I approach, his broad chest rising and falling evenly, the large carving around his neck moving with each breath. He has a slick sheen of sweat on his skin, and my heart turns icy, fearing how long he's been beating Harry like that.
I take my cloak off and drop it to the ground, not missing the looks now - six sets of eyes running over my figure, dressed in black pants and a fitted singlet. It's odd how I register that now, when I never have before. But everything about this feels strange - everything about me feels strange and different. I feel so ready to fight that I'm nearly vibrating with potent energy.
I gesture at Harry who is just making it to his feet, breathing heavily.
"It would make it more 'interesting' if you were to give him a wand." I glance at Harry who spits a bit of blood out of his mouth and on to the floor. "It won't be much of a fight with just one mudblood witch and an unarmed wizard now would it."
I look back at Rodolphus, seeing him turning his options over in his head. Finally he nods, and flicks his wrist. Harry's wand flies across the space between us and he snaps his hand up quickly to catch it. Rodolphus sneers.
"Wand or no wand, you are not leaving here alive."
I shrug and move around to stand slightly in front of Harry.
"Let's stop talking and see then. Shall we?"
Rodolphus' answering smile is devoid of humor. Pictor moves to stand beside him, with a distinctly eager expression on his face. Behind him, Bole takes a step backwards and so does the wizard next to him- I recognise him as Peregrine Derrick now. The two heavy set men glance at each other and then both of their eyes shift quickly around.
I feel Harry take a small step forward and straighten up to his full height next to me, even though I can tell it hurts his ribs to do so. I feel an absurd impulse to take his hand but I brush it away quickly, narrowing my focus on our threats - and of that there are a few.
Bole and Derrick look ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Corvus's form hasn't moved even slightly since I arrived and I can only imagine the worst for him. So that leaves Pictor and Rodolphus, who are both looking at us with identical expressions that leave me in no doubt that this is a fight to the death.
Rodolphus touches the carving around his neck and his voice booms loudly around the dome. His words are laced with heavy sarcasm.
"Duellers, bow!"
An obedience spell emanates subtly from him, trying to force us to bend at the waist. I wave it off impatiently with a swipe of my wand. Rodolphus laughs.
"Very well then. Begin!"
And it feels suddenly like I'm moving in slow motion - that everything, even time itself has slowed to a crawl. I raise my wand hand but it feels like the magic is radiating from my entire body and not just my wand.
It spreads out to cover Harry and I, a blue shield - brighter and larger than any I've ever produced before. I feel a red curse rebound sharply off it but it feels distant and surreal. I'm only dimly aware of Pictor's shout of displeasure but it barely penetrates my consciousness. I keenly sense Rodolphus though, as he apparates upwards into a cloud of black smoke.
Harry moves beside me and I'm momentarily distracted; he sets off after Rodolphus and my confidence freezes for a split second - worry seizes me that he's too injured to take on Rodolphus. But I have to push it away just as quickly; feeling Pictor advancing quickly with a strong stunning spell.
I dodge and counter, dissolving into apparation form, with one eye on Harry and Rodolphus. They pursue each other vigorously around the outer perimeter of the dome, furious curses flying between their smoky forms. I follow after them, making Pictor follow me, but my eyes are on Harry.
I know he's weakened and I know I need to end this. Quickly. And so suddenly, the answer becomes clear. I know what to do. And for Harry, I'm not above fighting dirty.
I change direction quickly, doubling back behind Pictor and landing solidly in the centre of the crucis.
I cover myself with a shielding spell and close my eyes as I point my wand at the ground. Silvery smoke pours quickly from the end and swirls in a tight circle, rising to equal my height. I only capture a glimpse of black skirts narrowing to the bones of a corset before I hear Rodolphus's anguished cry.
"Bella!!"
In only a few seconds, he materialises in front of me, staring with starved eyes at the vision of Bellatrix that I've conjured.
"My Bella..."
I stare at him, concentrating all my energy on extending a non verbal Imperius; trying to intensify his feelings. Harry lands roughly behind him but Rodolphus has eyes only for his wife.
"It's a trick!!" Pictor crashes down in a cloud of black smoke, placing himself between Rodolphus and me. "Rodolphus! You must know this...it's nothing but a trick!!"
Rodolphus continues to stare at the image I've created over Pictor's shoulder, taking slow steps towards us. I glance at the Bellatrix I've produced.
She's smiles, reaching a hand towards her husband. I stare in fascination, momentarily stunned by her realism; even though I've conjured her for our trainings maybe a hundred times.
Pictor catches Rodolphus's shoulders as he tries to pass, shoving at him with both palms.
"She's not real. You are stronger than this, she's not real!"
I watch Rodolphus's black eyes as they start to waver and a flicker of confusion rushes across his face. I close my own eyes pouring all my feeling into the image beside me, as we would when we wanted an especially difficult training.
But this time, it's not evil or cunning that I'm trying to infuse her with. This time, I pour in all the love and devotion I can muster, hoping it shines out through her eyes. All I need is to distract him for one more minute.
It works. Bella takes a step forward and Rodolphus instantly swipes his wand quickly upwards at Pictor, not even pausing to look at the tall wizard who cries out and clutches at his cheek. The blood pushes through his fingers as he turns to stare at me with wide, angry eyes.
"Come to me, my Bella...."
Rodolphus moves forward and I glimpse Harry. Nose bloodied, he nods softly to me and I give him a grim smile back. We need to end this now.
I think of the beating he's just dished out to Harry. Of his part in the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Department of Mysteries. I think of the way he and his wife tortured Neville's parents without mercy.
I don't even have to move my wand to strike him.
Again and again, the blows emanate from me, whipping Rodolphus's head back and forth as the powerful stunning spells rain down on him like a boxers punches. He staggers forward, still straining for Bella, eyes full of devotion and focused only on his wife. I deliver one last thunderous blow that knocks him off his feet to somersault in the air, landing roughly on his back.
"Gah!!" Pictor spits in disgust and dissolves into smoke; Harry steps forward, looking up to follow him, though he looks barely able to stand.
I glance down at Rodolphus. He is motionless, entirely vulnerable. The image of Bella disappears in a puff of silver smoke and I feel a great surge of pity. Even after everything, I still feel pity. Strangely it makes me feel good.
"Hermione."
Harry is in front of me now, looking at me through hazy eyes. I'm instantly horrified; only now fully aware of how injured he is. He tries to smile at me and I put my hands up to his face, brushing the wet hair back from his forehead.
"Harry..."
"I'm over here."
The voice invades all my senses, sending a chilling thrill right through me. I stare up at Harry and he freezes, his eyes wide but my head starts to turn away from him, as if I have no control.
"Here. Come to me."
Suddenly Harry is in front of me again but his face is no longer swollen and bruised. He grins at me, in that lopsided way that I love and holds out his hand. I take a step towards him and he nods, smiling wider and encouraging. His eyes are an even brighter green than usual.
"That's it. Come to me."
I take another two steps, and it's difficult; it feels as if I'm being held back. I strain to take another, keeping my eyes on Harry. He takes one step towards me, both arms outstretched now.
And all I can think of is how this is the way it should be, that he calls me and I can come to him, without worrying who it hurts or who might see. I was made to love him; I know that for certain now. My self preservation has run out entirely and in that moment, I don't care who knows. I want to run to him and put my arms around his narrow waist, bury my face in my chest.
Then his smile drops and he brings his wand up, slowly. I'm confused but my feet keep moving towards him; I manage two more slow steps. Then I realise his wand is pointing directly at my chest. I feel a thud jolt through me, like a blow to the stomach and he smiles again, but it's different now and I frown at him.
Suddenly a bright scarlet welt slashes across his chest - from his hip to his shoulder, a huge gash opens and I scream. His face crumples and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing what they've seen to be untrue. But when I open them again, he's fallen roughly to his knees and I can't hear my screams anymore - just a loud ringing in my ears.
Then there are shouts and footsteps but they're muffled and I can't make anything out. Aberforth appears and I can't make sense of that, nor the words he calmly speaks.
"Finite Incantanem."
I register Harry's hand on my face just before I slip into black.
*
"Hermione."
It's Harry's voice; I'd know that voice anywhere.
"Hermione, please."
There's a note of worry in it and the 'please' piques my interest. I open my mouth to speak but it's dry as chalk; I close it to try and swallow.
He says my name again with relief and then my head is being gently lifted and a glass rests softly on my bottom lip. Water pours slowly into my mouth and I gulp down a few cold sips as soon as I realise.
"Slowly. Take it easy now."
I open my eyes and he's there, cradling my head in his hand. His face is badly bruised and cut and still carries traces of dried blood. I reach out a fingertip to touch his cheekbone and he catches my hand, smiling.
"I'm fine. Don't worry."
"But your face..." My throat and chest burn as I try to speak; I glance around for the water and he gives me some more. When he lies my head back down he just stares at me, his eyes travelling over my face.
I look around slowly, all too suddenly aware of the building throb in my temples. I see quickly that I'm in Harry's room - and under the gold Sanatur blanket.
"What happened..."
"Try not to speak..."
"Like hell..."
I struggle to push myself up onto my elbows and instantly regret it. He urges me gently back down and I don't resist, my brain feels like it's trying to bust out of my skull.
"I'll tell you everything, just....stay still."
I nod, and that's a bad idea for the headache also. I settle on watching him, studying his face for damage. Some cuts are deep and long but they look like they'll heal eventually. I take his advice and try and calm my breathing.
He brushes his fingertips over my forehead and down the side of my face before he speaks again.
"It was Pictor. At the end - that was Pictor, not me. You know that, right?"
I cast my mind back to the last image of Harry and I realise I do know that; it wasn't just his appearance that was wrong. It wasn't him, I'd known that. I couldn't stop myself from going to him though.
"He did exactly what you did to Rodolphus - he morphed into me and froze us both then used Imperius to make you draw to him." His face creases then and I realise he feels guilt at that. I reach out to his arm and run my hand down it to squeeze his fingers.
"Don't, Harry...it was my fault..."
"No. It wasn't your fault." He looks grim. "It was my fault, I let it happen. I knew that he would try and do that...and I didn't stop him quickly enough.."
"It's no one's fault. I'm just happy you're okay."
He nods and runs a hand through his hair, pressing his lips together and staring at the ground. I take a look around again, at this familiar room. The sky is dark outside the windows in the ceiling and I have no idea what time it is. I look back at Harry and he still looks troubled. I shake his hand slightly to get his attention.
"Bloody sick of being under this blanket again though."
He glances up and grins. I smile back, even though my head throbs rhythmically. He shrugs.
"Well y'know. Anything to get you naked."
I laugh at that, and the look on his face is worth the pain it gives me. His face sobers again quickly though.
"He blasted you in the chest while you were mesmerised. I was frozen and he blasted you.." Harry's frown deepens. "He hit you with a drowning spell. Your lungs were filling up and it was pretty touch and go for a while there."
That explains my throat and my chest feeling like they do then. I shrug - finally learning it's best to keep my head still now.
"Comes with the territory, Harry. I'm fine now...and so are you."
He barely nods. There are still huge gaps in my memory that need filling though and I press on.
"So where is Pictor now?"
"In custody. I called Magical Law after Aberforth turned up and they took him away. It was the carving - the one around Rodolphus's neck. He'd taken it from Corvus and that controlled the Dome. Now it's in their possession, the Ministry can shut it down." He gives me a tight smile. "They've got a few questions for us though."
I close my eyes, picturing my boss and the paperwork ahead. "I'm sure they do."
Harry nods. I remember something else.
"And Rodolphus?"
His face hardens. "Dead."
"Dead?"
"He woke and fired a killing curse at you. It rebounded off the shield I put around us; hit him square in the chest."
That rocks me a little. I watch him as he stares steadily at the ground and suddenly feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I squeeze them tightly shut and clear my throat which burns horribly.
"Thanks."
It seems a stupid thing to say to someone who's saved your life. He looks at me with that exact same sentiment behind his eyes and we laugh slightly.
Then he leans forward and brushes his hand over my face, leaning over me on his elbow. His eyes rove all over my face again and I wonder for the first time what I must look like - probably like I've been dragged through a bush backwards. But then he presses his lips gently on mine, leaving them there for a few seconds and then pressing a light kiss on my nose.
"Don't mention it. Think I'm a little in debt to you for turning up in the first place."
I smile. "I didn't have anywhere else to be right then."
He raises his eyebrows. "Oh? Lucky me then."
I nod and smile and he kisses me again. Suddenly my head doesn't seem to ache so badly. Then he pulls back to look at me and for once, I'm not scared of what he's going to say.
"You know we're free now."
I frown, not entirely sure what he means.
"Free." He shifts his weight onto one elbow and shows me the inside wrist of his other hand. It's bare - the tattoo is completely gone. I pull my own wrist up quickly to check. The skin is bare and smooth, as if it had never been marked.
"Oh." I look into his eyes and then back at my bare wrist. "I had gotten used to it being there." I still don't meet his eyes. "I'll actually miss it."
I steadfastly stare at my wrist, biting my lip. I can't bring myself to look back at him now and I feel reality creeping in again, pushing at the corners of my consciousness which has gotten cloudy with him so near.
"So it's over then."
I close my eyes because I can't believe I've just said that, and everything it really means.
We're silent for a bit and then he picks up one of my curls and I see him studying it between his fingers out of the corner of my eye. I wonder absently if he took my hair out of the braids and then figure that he must have.
"Well, that depends on you."
I glance back at him then, I can't help it.
"What do you mean?"
He shifts slightly and I realise he's keeping his weight carefully on both elbows and off me.
"Magical Law want to blitz the illegal Duelling Dens. They want a team to go and infiltrate them undercover and take them down from the inside."
"Oh." Despite all the walls that I've built and all the care I've taken to not expect anything from whatever this is we've been doing, my heart sinks. He's talking about the job, of course he is. I form my reply, forcing my emotion down.
"I'm in." Even I notice the hard edge to my tone.
He's studying me intently and I hold his gaze, determined not to show my weakness. I love him. Body and soul. I'm fully aware of that now. Whatever is between us physically, it won't stop me doing my job and keeping my head straight. Romantic ideas about the two of us are only going to interfere with that.
"So am I."
I nod, and kinda wish he'd get off of me now. He stays there though, still staring at me. Then his expression changes and he kisses my collarbone and lowers his head to my ear; buries his face in my hair. I glad to get a rest from his steady gaze but his voice when he murmurs in my ear sends tremors through me.
"I want to be wherever you are. I want to be with you."
I nod, hoping he means it the way that it sounds. And it sounds good.
He pulls back and I finally see it in his eyes. My own well up with tears and I have no hope of stopping them.
"I want to be with you." There's a slight emphasis on the 'be' and when he kisses me afterwards, I'm sure. "You gotta know I'm in love with you, right?"
I can't find the words to answer and so I nod. Then I think about it and shake my head. He laughs.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Yes. No. I don't know."
"Okay thanks for clearing that up..."
I laugh and the tears finally fall out of my eyes and down my cheeks. "Well, no. I didn't think you were IN love with me. I was maybe getting the fact that you loved me though, yeah." He rolls his eyes. I think of the world outside the sanctuary of this room then and it sobers me. "But I thought you were with Ginny. That you are with Ginny."
He frowns and looks confused. "Ginny?" I nod. He shakes his head. "No..Merlin no. I haven't been with Ginny for over a year." My eyes widen at that and he continues. "She's just had ...a hard time accepting that."
A few more things fall into place and I take a long breath out.
"So..you didn't spend the night with her..?" I feel a little sheepish asking but I can't help it.
He smiles, shaking his head. "No, not since we broke up. She makes me take her home and tries to get me to stay every time but no." He looks me straight in the eye. "It's hard when you don't want to hurt someone you still care about."
I nod, knowing exactly what he means. "Ron's going to hate us."
Harry shrugs. "Maybe. But he knows how I feel about you."
I stare at him, incredulous. "He does?"
"Yeah. I told him not long after I first went to the Den - a few nights after I came to your house that time. Bled all over your carpet."
"I remember."
"Yeah. Well, he wasn't happy. But at least I told him the truth."
"Huh." I frown, slightly bemused. "So...the marriage proposal?"
He shrugs again. "Doesn't like to lose, Ron."
"Hmm." Everything feels suddenly strange but at the same time, infinitely clearer. I look back up into his face and raise my hand to lightly trace a cut running through his eyebrow.
"So ...you're saying... everybody knew before me."
Harry squints, pretending to think on it. "Mmm yeah. Pretty much." He grins and shifts again, lying down next to me now and I turn on to my side to face him. He cups my jaw with his hand and brushes my cheek with his thumb. "Bit slow to catch on, you are."
I punch him lightly on the shoulder and he winces but laughs. I suddenly realise how battered and bruised he is.
"Get under here with me."
He turns on to his back and starts taking off his jeans.
"Thought you'd never ask."
We wrap around each other under the warmth of the blanket and even though I feel the healing working, all the pain seems distant now. Everything feels distant in fact, there's just me and him and this bed.
"You're not the brightest spark either you know."
He frowns at me. "What?"
"You." I lean forward and speak with my lips close to his ear. "In love with you too. Always have been."
He tightens his arms around me and kisses my forehead.
And we sleep.
*
The soggy footpath weaves in and out of my blurred vision as I fight to stay upright. I collide roughly with a parked car and I stay there, leaning against it for a moment, steadying myself. My wrist throbs rhythmically and her name rings through my head in time with the ache.
Hermione.
I have to get to her. She'll know what to do, she'll help me. She fix this.
I force my feet into action again, one in front of the other, trudging down her street towards the soft light at the porch.
When I finally get to her door, I suddenly reconsider my decision to come here.
What if she asks questions? What if she won't settle for not knowing the answers? My fist hovers an inch from her door as I think it through.
She might be mad but she'll never turn me away. And she's already involved in this, even if she doesn't know it.
Guilt washes over me at that thought, and I glance at my leather wristband, making sure it's in place and covering the tattoo before giving a light knock on the door.
I lean against the wall of the small porch, looking down at her tidy doorstep with the neat square of a doormat under my feet. Blood drips on the light coloured mat and I grimace at the stain it makes, suddenly feeling like an even bigger prat.
A light flicks on inside and I almost groan in relief. I feel suddenly desperate to see her face; the familiar curls of her wild hair and the concern in her brown eyes.
"Harry!"
Her arms grasp me tightly and I realise I forgot about the enthusiasm of her greetings; I wince sharply as she jogs my fragile arm and the pain lances sharply up my elbow.
She notices, and eases her touch a little, but she's searching me frantically for damage. I realise then just how much of a mess I must be, bloodied and dripping wet.
"What's wrong- what's happened?"
I don't even half form a response in my head; I slump silently against the wall while she presses her small hands all over me, searching gently for injuries. Her fingertips are cool as they feel along my jaw and then gently cradle my face. I drag my eyes up to look at her and she's frowning at me, anxious and alarmed. Then she touches my wrist and I can't help but breathe in sharply through my teeth.
"Oh, Harry...."
I'd been waiting for that. Funny, how it sometimes used to irritate me slightly when she said those two little words. As if she was fussing or worrying unnecessarily. Now, as she gently cradles my arm I stare at the ground, realising there's literally nowhere else I could have gone, I suddenly grasp that I've always taken that concern for granted.
"I'm sorry, Hermione...I've been so stupid...you..." I fade out, shaking my head at my useless words. She just sighs and moves under my arm to help me through to her lounge.
She sits me down and then she starts taking off my shirt.
I would never have thought twice about it in the past. I'm hurt and dripping water and blood all over her couch and it makes sense that she needs to take it off. Even still, I'm all of a sudden more lucid - too aware of her small hands as they carefully undress me.
She gets the shirt off quickly and then she leans in with a towel, running it over my chest, my shoulders, my stomach. For some reason, I find I can't move; all I can do is lean my elbows on my knees and watch her as she kneels between my legs. She concentrates on her task with a small frown creasing her forehead and it's kind of cute I guess. Her head is bent close as she works and her hair smells good. Really bloody good.
She takes her wand out and it's only then that I wonder why she didn't use it to dry me instead of the towel. I forget about it though, as soon as she casts a charm over my wrist which makes it feel instantly stiff, as if encased in plaster.
Her next wand movements are something I've never seen before but any comment I was going to make is forgotten as a sudden overwhelming euphoria washes through me. My every nerve ending seems to sigh in relief as the feeling sweeps through my veins, turning my bones to rubber. I recognise then that the charm was for pain relief and I close my eyes and lean back, giving silent thanks that I knocked on her door.
"Thanks 'M'ione..."
She is quiet but still there; I can hear her breathing and I still smell her hair. I lie motionless, enjoying the pain relief. Next, I feel a cold, wet sensation briefly on my knuckles. Then quickly, again on my lip. I have the strangest thought that it's a kiss; stupid, I realise, but maybe this pain relief charm is a strong one. My eyes flutter open either way, just in case.
She's going briskly about her business, not even glancing at me until the liquid she's just applied seems to take effect and the skin starts to heal and a bite of pain breaks through the charm I'm under. I flinch and she watches my face; I try harder not to show any expression. She goes quickly back to her work though, producing a pottle of some white cream and then bending forward to smear it on my face.
I study her, as she leans in close. Her eyes watch her fingers as they delicately wipe the cool cream over my cheekbone, my eyebrow. I find myself holding my breath while she does it and I'm not sure why. She stays business-like and efficient with her movements but I get the sudden urge to grab her with my good arm. It wouldn't take much to tip her forward and then she'd be leaning against me; practically lying on me. I clench my teeth together, trying to ignore the feeling. It's the pain relief. It must be the pain relief.
I try and concentrate as she gently takes my wrist because she's saying something.
"...doctor for this wrist. I've never fixed anything that serious..."
At the word 'doctor' I come quickly to my senses. Doctors ask questions. I shake my head and speak before I realise what it is I'm going to say.
"No, please...can you just try? I can't...I don't want to go to the hospital."
I've pulled out the sympathy card there. I know she feels for me when my 'fame' puts me in awkward positions so I use that empathy that I know she has to try and persuade her. I really am turning into a real scumbag.
"Harry, if I get it wrong..."
"You won't." And I instantly feel sure of my words. She doesn't get it wrong. She's always been there, always known what's best for me. Even when I've been too stubborn to see it myself. I smile at her.
"You never get it wrong."
There's a flicker of self doubt behind her eyes but I can already recognise that she's determined. I hold still, knowing she's decided.
"Here goes."
She makes her wand move in intricate swirls and patterns, her concentration frown creasing her forehead. The wand produces golden sparks in a stream that wrap around my wrist with increasing speed. When the sparks form a solid shell around it, I feel the bones sliding back into place. The pain breaks through and I squeeze my eyes shut and bite down on my back teeth, gripping my knee as the ache pulses strongly through my arm.
And then just as quickly, it's gone. I open my eyes and blink in surprise; the pain is entirely gone.
She's there, watching me. She smiles and leans forward, drawing her fingers across my forehead to brush my hair out of my eyes.
I wonder what she would do if I just kissed her.
Then suddenly, it's as if the pain relief wears off and reality comes crashing back in. Thoughts like that about my other best friend's girl are not helpful right now. Especially when I'm in deep enough shit as it is. I tear my eyes away from her, sitting there on her knees in her dressing gown, hair floating around her shoulders. I glance quickly down at my wrist, and move it cautiously. It feels perfect and I look back up at her, trying to keep too much of the wonder from my voice.
"You did it."
She waves me off and starts fiddling with the creams and potions she's brought out.
"I was just a small fracture."
I grin, because it certainly wasn't. She stands abruptly, taking the plastic first aid kit and my ruined shirt into the small kitchen. I watch the doorway until she comes back and leans on it, folding her arms.
"So are you going to tell me what happened or not?"
The question falls out of her and I berate myself silently for not being prepared for it. I watch her, weighing up all the possible answers and wondering which one will cause her the least amount of stress. Finally, and maybe because I've never been that good at lying to her, I settle for one word.
"No."
"No. That's it?" Her eyes flash with irritation and she pushes away from the wall to stand upright. "Just...'no'."
I don't want to annoy her more so I just shrug.
She walks towards me, and it's inappropriate, but her gown opens a bit and I notice she actually has a bigger bust than I'd realised. Her singlet is fitted and her pyjama bottoms are baggy but it just accentuates how tiny her waist is. I get another unwanted urge to wrap my hands around it and see if my fingers would touch.
She's said something else that I missed and so I just shrug. I can see that makes her mad so I search for something - anything close to the truth that I can give her as a consolation. I decide to try for nonchalance.
"I don't know what to tell you. I got in a fight, alright?"
Her eyes blaze a little at that and I realise it was the wrong tact.
"With who?"
"It was just a fight."
"It's not just a fight when you break your fucking wrist, Harry."
I just about choke in surprise, I've hardly ever heard her swear, and nothing as strong as that. She's standing there, hands on hips, fuming at me. And I kinda like it.
I feel the smile coming and I try and think of something else, a funeral, my last case - anything to stop the laughter I can feel bubbling up inside of me. She catches me though.
"This is funny?"
My grin draws wider at that, even though I keep trying to fight it. I fess up.
"No. It's just that you said 'fuck'. You never say 'fuck'."
Funny, when I say that out loud, it actually sobers me a little. I feel like I shouldn't really be saying that word here, alone with her half dressed like that, and me the same for that matter.
She sighs and picks at some rubbish, muttering under her breath.
"I did bloody not."
It strikes me as funny again and I press my lips together tightly. She throws a glare at me.
"I said 'fucking'."
She sounds so serious and insistent on her technicality that I can't help it; the laugh finally escapes. Thankfully, she cracks a grin too which just encourages me and then we're both laughing. It feels good and that's strange. I haven't felt good since all this stuff with the Den started happening.
I watch her as she summons me a towel. She's the same as she always has been. So why does she seem so different?
Maybe it's me that's different. I rub my other wrist, squeezing my fingers around the thick leather band. Underneath is her initial and I finally realise for the first time why it's her that is dearest to me.
I could never have gone to Ginny tonight. I didn't even contemplate it, not for a second. I watch Hermione as she catches some clothes and then throws them playfully in my face. And I realise it's true, what they told me about the tattoo.
It's the person that you'd die for. Maybe more importantly, I realise as I watch her standing there, arms folded, studying me - the person that you'd live for. The feeling hits me hard and I let a long breath out realising only now. I might be just a little in love with Hermione.
My eyes travel over her face, taking in those features that I know so well but that maybe I've never really looked at before. All this time and I haven't realised. And now I can't let her know.
I stand up quickly and grab her head, planting a rough kiss into her hair before I give in to the feelings running through me and do something stupid. I walk towards the stairs and her shower.
"Thanks 'Mione. You're the best."
*
~end
Note: The title from this story came from the following poem.
Love Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
-Pablo Neruda