Between The Shadow And The Soul

gryffindor-girl

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 08/03/2010
Last Updated: 15/03/2010
Status: completed

When Hermione tries to discover where Harry is going at nights, she finds much more than she bargained for. Written for the hghpficexchange for Lady Bluestar and her prompt "Duelling, serious or playful." 8 chapters complete, will post a chapter a day till done. Warnings: Low grade violence, fairly non explicit sex, swears, poss fidelity issues.

Chapters

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

1. Chapter One

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: 4,600 of 35,000 total (approx)

For: The hghpficexchange on LJ – for Lady Bluestar and her request prompt: Duelling, serious or playful.

Summary: When Hermione tries to discover where Harry is going at nights, she finds much more than she bargained for.

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

Author’s Note: Hi *waves* It’s been a while since I posted here! You’ll either like this or it won’t be your cup of tea but hopefully someone enjoys it. This fic is completed so I’ll post a chapter a day till all eight are up.

Chapter One

The grinding crunch of snow under his feet is barely audible.

I concentrate hard to follow it. It pauses and I tense; wait for it to start again. I narrow my eyes to watch the slight depressions his footprints make in the thick snow as they weave down the alleyway. I let him walk ahead, staying as far behind as I dare, keeping an eye on the ridges of his prints lit only by one buzzing streetlamp and the moonlight.

I stick to the shadows, relying on the dark and my disillusionment charm to keep me undetected. He has his cloak of course, but I still notice that he keeps close to the buildings and dimly lit doorways almost as much as I do.

I nearly miss it when he ducks through a grey steel door.

The door clicks lightly into place behind him. I check the street behind me over my shoulder and then turn and assess the door with my wand.

It opens with a small click once all twelve wards are successfully vanquished.

A long hallway is illuminated with flickering fluorescent light. It smells of cigarette smoke, whiskey and urine.

I wrinkle my nose, take a last fresh breath and step inside.

*

Eight months earlier

*

I drag the toes of my high heels through the snow, tracing trails I’ve already made.

I should go back. Ron might be missing me.

The music inside sounds muted, echoing around the cavernous old mansion and in stark contrast to the cold and dark night around me. The squeak of the swing I’m sitting on is much louder in comparison and I’m slightly mesmerised by the repetitiveness of it as I swing gently back and forth.

I don’t hear him approach.

He lowers himself down into the swing next to me, and then starts swaying back and forth on it without a word. I wait a while, still enjoying the stillness and quiet.

I watch his feet as they drag through the snow too, his black dress shoes uncovering a peek of grass as mine have.

“Getting some air?”

I nod. “Yeah. And I’m hoping I might be able to hide out here long enough to be conveniently absent from Slughorn’s toasts.”

He makes a short, amused sound but then falls quiet.

I watch the darkness, not expecting him to speak again, so it surprises me when he does.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

I turn and frown at him, surprised at the sentiment. He stares straight ahead, into the dark woods the mansion is fringed by. His hair is too long now, hanging nearly in his eyes. They seem greener now that he’s started wearing contacts. Jet black hair and startling green eyes, that’s a combination solely owned by Harry in my mind. I watch him sitting there in his muggle suit. He seems so much older than his years now.

“Of course I remember. I was an insufferable know-it-all.”

He smiles softly.

“Maybe. But I liked you.”

I look back down at my toes, wondering what he’s getting at. He doesn’t speak for quite some time and I start to feel the cold. I shiver, and pull my cloak tighter around me. Suddenly he speaks again.

“I’ve never thanked you.”

I frown over at him. I’ve found tonight tiresome. Another ball to commemorate the fallen and to rehash the same sentiments about “optimism for the magical community in this new era”. He and I have joked about it together – as a means of getting through. Now I wonder if it’s finally striking a chord with him. I think carefully before I reply.

“What do you mean? Of course you have.”

He shakes his head and looks over at me, the colour of his eyes still bright in this dim light, but his expression is sad. It scares me.

“Harry, is everything alright?”

He studies my face for a moment and I feel like he’s looking at me – really looking at me for the first time. I realise suddenly that my mouth is bone dry.

Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them again the strange expression is gone. He smiles slightly.

“Yeah, fine. I just wanted to say thanks for everything. For everything you’ve done for me. You mean the world to me.”

I feel those words wash over me and the impact they make. It’s funny how you don’t realise you’re waiting for something until it arrives. I unfurl one hand from my cloak and reach across to him, holding my arm out into the space between us. He pushes his legs against the ground to swing close enough to grasp it. I squeeze his warm hand firmly and shrug.

“Don’t mention it.”

He smiles and squeezes back. Then he drops my hand and looks back out to the woods.

It feels like goodbye.

*

The ceilings are high and lined with pipes that used to have some purpose.

It’s an abandoned factory, a muggle one, I think. But the crowd lining the walls now are definitely not muggles.

There’s a few hundred of them, all Knockturn Alley types. Milling around, smoking, waiting for something.

I’m starting to feel pretty sure that I know what it is.

I gather my hood further around my face and keep my eyes down. I can’t see much now but I still feel the tension as the crowd seems to take a collective breath and then move as if by arrangement towards the rickety tiered seating surrounding the walls.

The space they leave in the centre of the wide room shivers momentarily and then a huge raised platform appears. It’s circular and about the size of a muggle basketball court; but something about it reminds me of a boxing ring, maybe the way the crowd gathers around it. It has no ropes though, and is round, with peculiar carvings along the edges of the raised dais.

The excitement of the crowd is tangible and building, the murmuring getting louder and more intense. On both sides of me I notice hands snaking out from robes and exchanging money, heads bent close in swift conversation. A coil of unease stirs in my stomach.

A booming, magically enhanced voice fills the room, giving me a start.

“Duellers – starting positions.”

The room erupts in noise, cheers and a peculiar baying that I find instantly sinister. My eyes find the ring again as everyone watches the centre of the room in anticipation and I’m glad for the noise because my gasp is loud and involuntary.

The white smoke of apparation settles in one corner and I recognise him even before he’s fully materialised.

Harry.

Standing there with no robe on now, just a black singlet fitted to his lean body and black military style pants. He stands with his legs hip width apart, his face expressionless. His hair is pulled back from his face for a change, tied with a band at the back which I’ve never seen him do, not once since his hair grew so long.

I’m taken aback by his appearance. He looks suddenly older, yet not the same kind of weary prematurely aged look that’s haunted him since the end of the war. It’s a tougher edge to him now, a steely quality as he stands there – far broader and more muscular than I’d realised he’d become. My unease grows when I realise that I see none of the Harry I know in his expression. A muscle is visible as it twitches in his jaw and I see this is someone new, someone I don’t seem to know and for a second it scares me.

His gaze is calm and unreadable as his eyes fix on the spot opposite him and I turn to follow his stare.

Black smoke clears and falls along the floor to reveal a figure in all black also – a tall, solidly built wizard with dark brows pulled close over his small eyes and large nose. I don’t recognise him, but I don’t like the menacing smile he gives when he lays eyes on Harry.

The voice booms again.

“Wards!”

Harry and the other wizard remain fixed to the spot as thin green lines begin to rise up from the edges of the dais, snaking their way up into the air, nearly reaching the ceiling, before crossing over each other to continue down to the opposite side of the ring. The lines lash across quickly like mesh, to the building excitement of the crowd, until they are all fixed in place, forming a dome shape. Then they crackle with electricity before they glow brightly and meld into a transparent dome that is sheer enough to see through but gives a green tinge to both Harry and his opponent.

My fingers rise shakily to my mouth as I finally accept what’s going to happen. The voice booms again.

“Duellers, bow. Now, BEGIN!”

*

Five months earlier

*

The knock at my door is soft; I barely catch it over the rain.

I glance at the clock above my fireplace. It’s two in the morning. There’s only one person who’d arrive unannounced at this time. I hurry to the door.

He leans heavily against the door jamb, clutching his arm. His hair is wet and plastered to his face, saturated like the rest of him from the heavy rain hammering the parked cars on the street.

He wears no jacket, just a light long sleeved shirt which clings to him, transparent in the places where it’s stuck to his skin. My heart clenches painfully.

“Harry!!”

I reach for him immediately, both hands grabbing his forearms and pulling him towards me, in through the door. His responding hiss and wince of pain doesn’t escape me and as soon as we’re inside, with the door locked again and Harry leaning his back against the wall in my hallway, I inspect him frantically.

“What’s wrong – what’s happened?”

My eyes follow my hands as they cover every part of him, from his face, down his chest and arms as I gently press and run my hands over him, checking for injuries. His face is freshly bruised and his lip and brow bone both split. The wrist he’s holding is broken, which I find out when he draws another sharp breath at my touch.

“Oh, Harry...what’s happened?” I ask again, my voice less shrill with the relief that he’s here; he’s safe now with me, though tears rise in my eyes and I blink them back. I hold the hand and forearm of his broken wrist delicately, noting his knuckles are bloodied and mashed.

He still doesn’t answer; his head hanging as he fights to keep himself upright, the water dripping from his hair to my carpet along with the blood from his hand. He mumbles something I don’t catch and shakes his head. I sigh and duck under his arm to help him into my lounge.

I help him sit gingerly on the couch and carefully extract his shirt, using my wand to cut the sleeve off his bad arm. I summon a towel and a first aid kit and kneel down in front of him. I place my hands gently on his knees.

“Let’s get you fixed up.”

He doesn’t reply but offers no resistance as I pick up the towel and run it over his arms and chest. I can feel him watching me; I keep my eyes on my hands as I wipe the towel down his waist, and across his stomach, knowing a drying charm would be painful on his open wounds. I don’t remember his physique being like this. He’s lean and muscular- much more muscular than I remember.

Silently I give thanks that all Magical Law employees had to do an intense Healing course as I perform complex movements over his wrist, immobilizing it. Then I perform another charm, delivering the equivalent of strong muggle painkillers to his bloodstream. I notice the tension lines around his mouth soften as the charm takes effect.

He leans back into the couch, his eyes closed and his head back.

“Thanks...’Mione...”

I don’t answer; I just go about dabbing his cuts with Liquid Episkey. He must be able to feel them knitting over slowly, because he flinches in pain. I mutter a quick apology, moving on to smear a cream on his cheek bone and other bruises. Then I gingerly take hold of his sore arm.

“We should get you to a doctor for this wrist. I don’t think...I’ve never fixed anything that serious.”

He shakes his head with renewed energy. “No, please...can you just try? I can’t...I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

I frown at him. “Harry, if I get it wrong...”

“You won’t.” He smiles softly at me. “You never get it wrong.”

I make a doubtful expression but look down at his wrist and make the decision.

“Here goes.”

Focusing on his hand I move my wand in the patterns required to realign the bones, relived when the appropriate gold and white sparks stream out of the wand to cocoon his wrist. He grunts as the pain travels up his arm, his fingers biting into his knee.

The pain subsides quickly though and he opens his eyes and looks at me. I feel flushed but satisfied.

His face is a bit ashen but he looks otherwise fine and I smile, brushing some hair from his forehead.

He studies me for a long moment, and then turns his attention back to his wrist. Slowly opening and closing his fist he gazes at his fingers and then back at me.

“You did it.”

I wave a hand at him and begin packing away the first aid kit. “It was just a small fracture.”

I catch his grin, at my modesty I think, and then he’s trying to help me put things back in the kit. I stand and carry it over to the kitchen bench, along with his shirt, throwing the latter into the laundry basket under the bench.

He looks at me from across the room and for the first time I’m self conscious that I’m wearing a dressing gown and pyjamas. I clear my throat.

“So are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

He watches me carefully.

“No.”

“No. That’s it? Just...’no’.”

He shrugs. I walk back over to him, feeling my temper bubbling to the surface.

“What if ‘no’ isn’t good enough? What then?”

He shrugs again. It makes me wild.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I got in a fight, alright?”

“With who?”

“It was just a fight.”

“Not when you break your fucking wrist, Harry.”

He stares at me for a moment, an expression I haven’t seen. Then I realise his lip is twitching. He tries, but he can’t hold it in; a definite smile escapes. I frown deeper.

“This is funny?”

I see him trying to keep himself under control, and failing. His grin is kinda thawing me and that irritates me more.

“No. It’s just...you said ‘fuck’. You never say ‘fuck’.”

I give an exaggerated sigh and angrily pick up cotton balls to send to the rubbish with my wand.

“I did bloody not.”

He’s still trying to suppress his laugh and I glare angrily at him.

“I said ‘fucking’.”

He laughs outright then, and even though I try to keep my frown, I can’t help it. I laugh too. I relax a little, feeling that wherever he’s been, whatever he’s been doing...he’s safe now. I summon him another towel and some clothes for a shower and throw them at his face. He smiles and stands, grabbing my head and roughly kissing my temple before heading up the stairs.

“Thanks ‘Mione. You’re the best.”

*

The crowd roars a deafening cheer and I flinch. I recover just enough to reposition myself so I can move around the now seething crowd to see Harry again.

He and his opponent are circling each other warily in a crouch on opposite sides of the ring. They both hold their wands out in front of them, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Harry moves his arm in an arc suddenly and I recognise his Protego shield as it deflects a lazy shot from his opponent. The other man smiles with sinister pleasure and I find my feet starting to carry me forward through the crowd, weaving through the bodies jostling for better viewing positions.

Harry stretches his neck to one side and then the other and bounces up on to the balls of his feet, moving further around the ring. His opponent turns to the crowd, shrugging with arms wide and a scornful expression on his face – mocking Harry. They cheer loudly in response and so maybe it’s only me who notices the swift flick of Harry’s wand.

The other wizard’s smug look disappears instantly and he staggers slightly, eyes wide. He turns and I see it – a long red gash along the length of his face, from cheekbone to chin. My shocked shriek goes unheard, drowned out by the loud approval of the crowd. I stare at Harry as he cricks his neck again and glares at his rival, a slight tug at the corner of his lips giving a grim smile. He gives the barest nod to the other wizard who is bringing his hand away from his face to check the scarlet blood on his fingertips. The wizard wipes his cheek angrily with the sleeve of his robe as the crowd gets even louder, and seems to lean forward in anticipation.

“Harry..”

His name falls from my lips in shock and then I don’t have a moment to breathe before suddenly, he evaporates into white smoke, whipping quickly around the inside perimeter of the dome. His opponent follows suit, black smoke following and I find it hard to keep up; they both half materialize at times to fire shots at each other, but the crowd are so loud I can’t follow it very clearly. I push through another few rows and then it happens.

Harry lands a blow that stops the other wizard dead in his tracks, jarring him out of his apparated state to fall heavily on to the ground. The wizard writhes painfully on the floor of the ring, clutching his stomach, pain etched on his face. Harry stalks towards him, swiping blood from his own lip with the back of his hand.

He stands over the wizard who seems immobile, lying there prone. I almost relax, would almost feel like cheering – if what I was witnessing wasn’t so barbaric. And wasn’t so ..not Harry.

Suddenly the wizard on the ground moves quickly, twisting his wand arm up and at Harry. Everything has been non-verbal until now, but I suddenly hear him shout a spell loudly.

“Avada...”

“NO!!!”

*

“Tea?”

I gesture at the kettle and Ginny shakes her head. I shrug and pull out a chair with a flick of my wand hand. She arches an eyebrow at me and then sits.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

She has the decency to look surprised. I wave it off. I haven’t got time for charades, I’m busy. I know she didn’t come here for a friendly visit – I know she wants something. The part of me that wants it too gets pushed down for the time being. She blinks at me before answering.

“I want you to find out where he’s going.”

She says it with infinite tiredness in her eyes but a stubborn tilt to her chin. I feel a surge of something like pity for her.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

She jumps up out of her chair, almost startling me, instantly pacing around my small kitchen and gesturing with her hands.

“I don’t know, Hermione...don’t make me beg for this. Please. You’ll figure it out. You always do.” She stares at me, desperate and if not a little crazed. I shake my head.

“Ginny, you know him. You know that if he doesn’t want me to find out what he’s up to, it’ll be near impossible to find out.”

She’s in front of me in a second, holding my hands in my lap. She squeezes her eyes tight when she speaks, and I feel her trembling – barely in control.

“I know that but...you’re smarter than him. You can figure it out and...and he won’t disown you for snooping.”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filling with water. I press my lips together and nod slowly.

“Alright. I’ll try.”

*

I feel myself propelled forward, my every instinct straining towards him. My wand is suddenly out and aiming a blue Protego shield at Harry, to protect him.

It deflects quickly, and loudly, like the chime of a huge gong, off the large green dome – causing the whole thing to ripple and cloud. And suddenly I’m there, ringside. Searching desperately for him within the dome and failing to notice that the crowd has fallen unnervingly quiet.

The smoke within the dome clears and I see his face; the relief washing through me is almost enough to make me stumble. I see him frowning down at me but that doesn’t really register, I just need to know he’s okay. I look him up and down from the outside of the dome, desperate to press my palms against it but not sure how it would react. I see him mouth my name but I can’t hear him at all. Then suddenly the dome flickers and then fades. The crowd roars its disapproval and suddenly a tall and extremely thin wizard appears –his shiny black hair long and falling down onto his shoulders from under the hood that he wears up over his head. I climb the steps up the platform, keeping my eyes mostly on Harry though – so unsure of the expression on his face. I slowly start to recognise the contempt in his firmly pressed together lips, and the anger in his eyebrows pulled tightly together in a scowl.

I don’t care, I’m just glad – so desperately glad that I’ve stopped it - and that he’s alright.

“May I ask..”

The tall wizard addresses me directly and I turn to him. He suddenly apparates instantly forward until he’s only inches from my face. I flinch, I can’t help it, but I hold my ground. Harry starts moving towards us though.

“..what you think you’re doing?”

His voice is clipped and shadowed by a soft lisp, almost like a hissing. There’s something very strange about this wizard and I feel uneasy, especially as Harry now looks a little more like himself, and is definitely trying to manoeuvre his body to stand between me and the wizard, I can tell. I step deliberately to the side and away from him; draw my shoulders back and answer.

“I’m stopping this barbaric... archaic... macho.. nonsense!”

The room seems to fall even quieter, my voice echoing through the tall warehouse. The wizard just stares at me, his eyes a dull and unsettling black – frightening eyes, I realise. I lift my chin slightly in defiance and with bravado that I don’t really feel. I tighten my fist around my wand.

He stares at me a moment longer, and then he laughs. Loud and long. I frown, glancing at Harry who is not looking at me at all.

“Miss Hermione Jane Granger!” The wizard grips my wrist quickly and painfully, twisting me around to face the crowd. Harry finally meets my gaze as I glance at him. He shakes his head minutely, seemingly warning me with his eyes. The wizard continues, walking me around the ring as he talks.

“Heroine of the Battle of Hogwarts! Sidekick of our beloved Harry Potter. “ He smiles down at me, his voice carrying a trace of humour – his eyes glinting and filled with malice.

“The brains behind the trio that vanquished the Dark Lord.” There was no humour in that whatsoever.

He yanks me roughly around to face him and speaks the next words to the crowd, but looking straight into my eyes.

“She is the reason this match was aborted. The reason why you might now be finding yourself....” he turns to address the crowd with a sickly smile. “...out of pocket.”

The crowd roars again, and a strange chanting starts. I have no idea what they‘re saying, it sounds like another language. But Harry steps suddenly forward, griping my arms and pulling me back and away from the wizard and hard against his body.

“No, Corvus. Take me.”

I struggle to move out of his hold but his fingers tightened painfully around my upper arms. I try again but he holds me fast in an iron grip.

Corvus smiles, wide enough for me to see his grey teeth.

“But I already have you, Harry.”

I whip my head up and back to see Harry’s reaction for this. He stares straight ahead, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

Corvus steps forward, close to me and trails a black gloved finger down my jaw. I flinch away and he grabs me quickly – gripping me roughly around the neck before I realise what’s happening. Harry makes an involuntary movement towards me but seems to restrain himself, standing face to face with Corvus now, breathing hard. Corvus smiles in Harry’s face.

“Unless you offer her as a sacrifice? I’m more than happy with that exchange.”

Harry’s face contorts into an expression I’ve never seen, one of rage and pain that’s even worse than anything I’ve witnessed in him in all our years fighting Voldemort. I see he tries to maintain eye contact with Corvus, but finally he bows his head to look at the ground.

“No. Just...don’t hurt her.”

Corvus releases his tight grip on me and moves his hand to cup the back of Harry’s neck, almost as a father would a son. He presses his lips to Harry’s jet black hair and nearly whispers his next words.

“Of course not.” He releases Harry and steps back, turning his palms up.

“You are free to go.”

Relief washes through me, but Harry stands rigid, fixed to the spot, still staring at Corvus. I grab his wrist and shake.

“Harry?”

Corvus smiles and gestures at me and then towards the door.

“Harry?” he repeats.

I start to pull him towards the edge of the ring. Harry moves a few steps, his eyes still fixed on Corvus.

“Come on. Please.”

He turns to look at me, as if suddenly remembering I’m there. He searches my eyes for a moment and then nods, following me as I lead him down the small steps leading from the raised dais. The crowd watches, hushed. They part for us as they pass, and I instinctively grasp Harry’s arm closer.

Now that we’re out of the crowd, I speed up, nearly dragging him behind me. We make it to the end of the hallway and I open the steel door and cross the threshold.

“Compello Pactum.”

I hear the words in a booming voice before my legs go from underneath me. I feel Harry’s arms catch me and slow my progress to the ground just before everything goes black.

2. Chapter Two

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.”

*

3. Chapter 3

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: 6,800 of 35,000 total (approx)

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

Summary: When Hermione tries to discover where Harry is going at nights, she finds much more than she bargained for.

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

Chapter Three

“Again.”

I close my eyes, hating that word. I wipe my forehead with my forearm but it doesn’t do anything; both are as sweaty as the other.

“Get up.”

I answer through clenched teeth as I scramble to my feet.

“Alright. Geez.”

“There’s no rest...”

“In the dome, yes I know that, Harry.” I finish the sentence in my head with some colourful adjectives.

I stand to face him and he’s trying not to smile again which enrages me. We’ve been training for two hours solid and he is relentless. Drilling me on Stunning Spells and Shielding Spells so persistently that I’ve overcome my reluctance to hex him; now I’m itching to sit him on his arse.

A stubborn part of me won’t admit that the thing that irks me most is that he’s gotten so good at duelling. Much better than me.

I try and clear my mind as he’s told me to – trying to shed the anger. It doesn’t work entirely I can tell, because my body bind spell powers out of my wand so forcefully that it drives me back a little. Harry deflects it with a lazy flick of his wand and counters with a shot aimed from behind his back – just to piss me off more.

It’s in that moment that I decide I’m through with niceties.

I duck his hex, running quickly to my left. Then, just as he turns his body to face me, I pretend to trip – falling in a roll on the ground. He lunges forward slightly, as if he’s going to catch me and I aim my wand at him from under my elbow.

Silver ropes materialise quickly and snap around his wand arm and on further to wrap his torso. His eyes widen in surprise as I aim a second rope around his ankles, drawing them together tightly and causing him to topple hard to the ground.

I stand up, brushing off my jeans and walk over to him. I gesture with my wand and the ropes dissolve. I nudge his leg with my toe.

“Come on, Harry. There’s no rest in the dome.”

I catch a glimpse of his grin as he pushes up onto all fours and then rises quickly to his feet.

“Now that’s more like it.”

*

We duel all day, with only a few breaks for drinks.

I’m exhausted, spent. Tired and aching and sweaty and hungry and damn hot.

And exhilarated.

I’m more of a match for Harry now. And I can tell he’s trying harder finally. We’re starting to read each other’s tactics – anticipate each other’s moves.

We’re setting up to start again and I’m retying my ponytail when he takes his shirt off.

He chucks it on a chair and heads back up the steps to the platform. I watch him, forgetting to follow.

“You coming?”

“Uh, yeah.”

I wipe my hands on the seat of my jeans and move over towards him.

When I’m facing him in the ring, I really can’t look at him properly. There’s too much smooth expanse of lightly tanned skin – glistening a little with sweat. Muscles play underneath that skin and they’re distracting; making it near impossible for me to refocus. I try to, because I know he can sense something is wrong, and I desperately don’t want him to see the effect he’s having on me.

He bows. I follow suit and we start moving around each other, but I find I can’t really look him in the eyes.

He fires a Stinging hex and it grazes my forearm like a whip. I tighten my fist around my wand and try to shake it off – those little ones hurt like crazy. I force myself to look at him.

He’s so different. And he’s not. He’s my Harry but he...it’s as if he has aged about five years since I last spent time around him. And that body. Well.

It’s not helping things.

He frowns at me as I only just deflect another Stinger from him.

“What are ya waiting for? Let’s go.”

I nod, trying to focus again. I flick a swift Expeliarmus at him and he repels it too easily. He makes a disapproving snort.

“What the hell was that?”

I shake my head, trying to get myself back into form. I conjure a decent stunning spell but he completely sidesteps it and then before I know it, he turns, steps quickly forward and catches me in one arm, spinning me around until my back slams hard up against his chest. He holds one of my hands immobile, with the forearm tightly braced against my throat. I struggle against him – more than a little humiliated.

“Harry...”

“Don’t talk, just act.”

I feel his breath against my ear and I struggle against the feelings crashing through me like waves. I strain against him again but that just makes it worse, I can feel my reaction to him so strongly it’s blurring my senses; my logic is struggling to make sense of it. I think of jabbing my other elbow sharply back into his solar plexus but I can’t seem to locate my limbs or make them move the way I want them too. All I’m aware of is his chest against my back and his nose and lips close to my ear as he holds me fast.

A bell chimes long and loud and the green dome flickers and disappears. Harry’s hold on me loosens instantly.

“Ginny.”

He’s down off the crucis and dragging his shirt over his head before I even realise he’s moved away from me. I stand there, feeling stunned and stupid as he whips back around to me, holding his hand up.

“Stay here. Don’t come downstairs; I’ll get rid of her.”

I think I nod, I can’t remember. But either way he’s gone suddenly and I’m left to realise what an idiot I’ve just made of myself.

I can’t understand my body betraying me like that – reacting in that way.

This is Harry. Harry.

I jump down from the platform and somehow find myself walking to the bed. I sit on the end and then fall back to stare at the windows in the ceiling.

“Crap.”

I have no idea what all of that was about.

*

I open my eyes. The room is dark.

I sit up and look around. The platform is empty and abandoned at the end of the long room. I scan the room, catching the moonlight touching the banister of the small balcony outside.

Harry isn’t anywhere to be seen. And I’m starving.

I look down at my hand; I slept still clutching my wand. I remember then that Harry went to Ginny and realise suddenly that I may be overstaying my welcome. I go to stand up and the door opens.

It’s Harry. He’s levitating a tray behind him that looks like it has a meal and a tall glass of orange juice on it.

I watch him as he walks towards me on the bed.

He looks serious; a little troubled even. In all honesty I’m still trying to shake the sleep off, I hadn’t moved an inch – I’d slept like a log.

I scoot over so he can place the tray on the bed. He sits on the other side of it.

“Hungry?”

I nod and try not to be too obvious that I want to inhale everything straight off the plate without chewing. He must be able to tell though because he nudges the plate closer to me. I pick it up and start eating; the pasta is hot and delicious.

“Have you eaten already?” I ask between mouthfuls. He nods. I realise he must have grabbed something with Ginny.

“I’m sorry.”

I stop eating and stare at him.

“What for?”

He runs a hand over his face. “I went a little too far earlier. I’m just....I worry that you’re not going to be ready for these creeps. They won’t cut you any slack.”

I put my fork down, feeling the pinch of his words. He’s right. I have to approach this like I would any project.

“I know that, Harry.” I reach for his hand and squeeze it. “Don’t worry. Failing isn’t an option.”

He squeezes back, smiling. “That’s the Hermione I know.”

I smile weakly and go back to eating. After a short silence, I find I can’t stop myself from asking.

“So...how’s Ginny?”

He shrugs; I only just make it out in the dark.

“She’s fine.”

The subject feels definitely closed and so I go back to my food in silence.

I’m just about done when he stands up and starts tiding a little.

“You could stay here.”

His words make my stomach flip weirdly.

“Get an early start.”

I look around the dark room. He’s right. I really need to make this a priority. Tomorrow, I’ll call into work and tell them I can’t...

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him take his damn top off again.

I almost sigh. Why does he have to do that? It’s warm up here, sure, but...

“So?”

I whip my head around to him, suddenly unsure what my response is supposed to be. I figure that’s a good reason why I should leave now.

“I’m gonna ...go. I...I should go into work first thing and get the week off.”

He nods his approval as he turns on a lamp. The light serves to highlight the lines in his stomach, especially those ones leading down into the low waistband of his jeans.

I stand and start to quickly gather up my things.

“Okay so I’ll see you tomorrow, as soon as I can.”

I don’t even look at him again before I apparate home with a sharp crack.

*

Ginny tracks me down at midnight. My bedroom floo sputters into life and I don’t know how long she’s been waiting before I finally get up and throw the powder in to answer.

“Hermione! Where have you been?”

Any sleep fog that was still hanging over me pretty much evaporates instantly. I can’t believe I forgot to get back to her.

“Uh..Ginny, hi. Sorry... I got called away for work.” I throw up the same story that I did to Ron and hope that neither of them think to check it with my department.

“Oh. Well, did you find anything?”

My gut wrenches with guilt. Ginny’s face is fairly calm but I can see the cracks in her composure – and I remember the last time I spoke with her and how heartbroken she was. I swallow thickly.

“No...I’m so sorry Ginny, I lost him.” She doesn’t say anything and I find myself speaking again. “I’ll ...keep trying.”

Her ember face brightens a little and my heart sinks. She nods.

“Thanks Hermione. I went to see him tonight and he seemed okay but ...he still won’t let me stay.”

That strange feeling in my stomach comes back and I’m revolted in myself that I feel a little happy about the fact that he turned her away. I nod.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

I have no idea why I’m saying that – setting myself up for more lying. I really need to get off this call.

“Alright. Hey, thanks.”

She disappears and I’m left staring at the floor, my hands on my knees. I kneel there like that for a while, just feeling the guilt shift through me.

I catch sight of my inner wrist and bring it up to my face. The mark seems darker now; etched deeper into my skin.

I realise then I completely forgot to question Harry about it. I stare at the patterns – like thorns weaving out and in on itself. I rub it briskly with my palm and stand up, trying not to let a sense of foreboding overwhelm me.

I pull my dressing gown tightly around myself and get back into bed.

*

It’s easier than I expected to get the time off work. I floo my boss to tell him I’m feeling unwell and he volunteers that I take some of my unused leave days and relax for the rest of the week. I think I almost wanted him to be mad. Maybe tell me that I can’t surely take the time off. I guess that means that a part of me wants to deny that this is all happening – that I’m in deep in so many ways.

I floo to Grimmauld.

He’s in the kitchen, eating breakfast – fully clothed, thank Merlin. I make some tea and we share an easy silence and it helps me feel like my reactions last night were just the fatigue messing with my brain.

He grabs an apple and leads us upstairs. We pass his old bedroom on the way – I glance in, noting that it still looks as if he uses it and I comment on that.

“Yeah, I still live down here, according to anyone who visits anyway.”

I guess he means Ginny. He reaches the door to the attic and mutters a charm to unlock it before holding it open for me.

“But I spend most of my time up here.”

I step past, ignoring how close I have to get to him to do that. I’ve got to start this day the way that I mean it to continue.

“So, what’s the story with these ...tattoos?” I turn my wrist around to him, running a finger over the thorny design.

He takes my hand, but he seems to hesitate in looking at it.

I wait, and in the meantime, he looks at me.

His eyes study my face, wandering over my features slowly, like no one has before. I can’t understand his expression, I only know that he’s taking too long to speak and I feel strangely nervous now; a feeling that I’ve never felt around Harry.

His thumb drags across the inside of my wrist just before he finally looks down at it.

He presses his lips together and nods.

“It’s the mark of the curse. It’ll disappear when you’re released from it.”

I glance at his wrist and now I realise why he’s wearing that wide leather band. I shrug and gesture at his.

“Well then maybe you might be able to point me in the right direction for one of those.”

He nods and drops my hand.

“Yeah sure. I’ll sort it.” He turns abruptly and walks towards the platform.

We get in a few hours of practice, and I really feel like I’m improving with my speed and reaction. He gives me a few pointers occasionally and it feels easier to swallow my pride and just take them on board; I think I finally realise this isn’t school anymore. This is real – and a reality that Harry has been living for months and so I’m going to ignore the control-freak in me and take every bit of direction he gives.

And even though I’m feeling more confident in some ways, in others I’m worried I might not be able to do this.

He must be thinking the same thing, when he makes a suggestion after lunch.

We’ve shared a meal that Kreacher brought us together on the floor, both too hungry to care for heading to a table or even chairs. Besides, it’s relaxed and warm here, in the sunlight streaming through the windows in the ceiling and I’m relishing the rest for my tired limbs.

“I think we need to step it up a notch.”

I glance across at him while he chews on a sandwich, staring at the floor.

“How?”

He looks up. “I think you need to practice on someone other than me.”

I frown, confused.

“How are we going to manage that?”

He smiles grimly.

“I’ll show you.”

After we’ve finished eating and drinking and resting for a bit, we make our way back to the crucis. But instead of heading to the middle of the ring to put the wards up, Harry stays on the edge, and points his wand towards the empty centre.

“Geminio Homenum.”

A silvery mist materialises in the middle of the crucis, quickly shifting to eddy into a small whirlpool which starts to move faster and faster. It rises from the ground as it does, and I can suddenly make out the foot of some black robes.

The mist travels higher until it begins to take a definite, human shape. The figure is clothed in black robes and fairly generic looking; that is until the mist starts to reveal the neck – and then the face.

The skin is chalk-white with red cat-like eyes. It’s a face I thought I’d never have to see again and I gasp aloud; I can’t help it.

Harry takes my hand wordlessly in his.

I watch as the replica of Voldemort stands there regarding us, blinking his black slit pupils. The vision flickers occasionally, and even though it’s barely detectable, that flickering still gives me some comfort that the lifelike image in front of me isn’t the real thing.

Harry steps forward and bows. The disturbing image of Voldemort does the same.

They begin to circle each other and the wards spring up automatically, forming the dome over their heads. Some of the green lines fall down in front of me at the same time and form a small enclosure around me- fencing me off against the wall of the dome. I watch as Harry and Voldemort continue to circle each other from behind my barrier and I won’t lie; the instinct to break out and stand next to him against our greatest foe is so strong, I nearly can’t control it. I try a few deep breaths and busy my hands by fidgeting with my wand.

Harry throws the first curse, a Septumsempra that Voldemort deflects with a shielding spell and a swift step to his right.

The image of Voldemort counters with a strong Body Bind curse, which Harry has to dive and roll to avoid. Harry apparates into white smoke, something he’s told me is a very helpful evasive manoeuvre and that I’ve been practicing a lot.

Voldemort evaporates into smoke too, a dense black, and they chase each other past me, both of them occasionally materialising to fire a curse at the other.

Harry suddenly changes direction and his curse catches the tail end of Voldemort’s apparition, causing him to appear and fall hard to the ground.

Harry becomes slowly visible as he stands over his opponent, still lying prone on the floor. His face darkens as he raises his wand hand to point directly down on the figure. I barely see his lips move as he utters the curse.

“Crucio.”

The image of Voldemort instantly starts writhing on the ground, a curious twisting that’s even stranger when I see that the face registers no pain or emotion. I expect Harry to stop, but when I look back at him, his face is set in a grim determination and he stabs the wand down again, intensifying his assault.

“Harry....stop...”

I hear myself speak, the words barely a whisper against the green barrier in front of me. He still doesn’t relent, and some sort of perverse sympathy strikes me for the imaginary image still thrashing around at his feet.

“Harry! Stop!”

I pound on the walls of my little cell and it reverberates loudly, ripples radiating out until the whole dome shudders from my blows. He turns around to me and I don’t recognise the darkness in his eyes. I beat the wall again with my fist.

“Stop! That’s enough.”

He blinks and suddenly it’s gone. He walks towards me, rubbing a hand over his face and waves his wand over the wall keeping me trapped. I stumble forward slightly and he catches me by my waist. I look up at him.

He doesn’t speak and I don’t know why but I rub his arms, like I’m comforting him. He bends and touches his forehead to mine briefly, smiling a little.

“You dolt. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

His voice is gentle and it calms me some. I nod, feeling a little sheepish now.

“I know. I just...I didn’t like it.”

His expression is soft and I focus on the familiar bright green of his eyes. I’m beginning to feel that might be my only reminder now of the Harry I used to know. He lifts his hand and brushes my cheek with his knuckles.

“Come on. Your turn.”

I spend the next three hours facing off against the apparition of Voldemort and it gets easier as I go, from the first, where I felt genuine terror to the point where I can really focus on the spells and curses I’m trying to perfect as we duel.

Harry really is a great teacher – as I’ve always thought he would be, ever since our days at school. He is more patient today, when it’s me against Voldemort, but I think that’s because I make real progress. I still can’t get near an Unforgiveable though. We talk about it over a drinks break.

“It’s not real, Mione. He doesn’t feel it.”

“I know that.”

“Picture all the people we lost. All the people he took from us. That’s what helps me.”

“I know, Harry.” I try not to feel irritated. I know he’s only trying to prepare me. “I just...I’m not ready.”

He shakes his head but he doesn’t seem mad. Then the bells chime - a different tone from the other day. His face drops slightly.

“That’s Ron.”

I freeze, unsure of what to do.

There’s been a strange tension between Harry and Ron, ever since the battle. Nothing that anyone else would pick up on, but things are just not as easy between them, I can tell. I put it down to the moment when Ron left us on the Horcrux Hunt. But funnily enough, it’s not necessarily from Harry. It seems to come mainly from Ron.

I wait for Harry to speak but he seems to be waiting for me. I shrug.

“What shall we do?”

He pauses, and wipes a hand over his face.

“I’ll go. Do I say you’re here?”

“I’ve told Ron that I’m visiting my parents.”

Harry nods, pursing his lips.

“Right. Well you better stay here then.”

We stand there a little longer and the bell chimes again. He catches my eye and holds it for a moment. I start to feel my face flushing, the blood creeping up my neck. I look away.

He turns and takes off his shirt, wiping himself down with a towel before he leaves.

*

Hogsmeade Village is deserted, the streets empty and snow filled. I pull my robes tighter around myself, following Harry again but this time it’s at his request.

Ron had only stayed for an hour, just popping in to see Harry on his way home from work. Harry didn’t have much to report, other than that Ron asked if Harry had heard from me. He’d told him that he hadn’t.

After a quick dinner, he’d asked if I was up for a ‘field trip’. I was feeling surprising good; I’d noticed that already my stamina was improving from our sessions. I’d agreed and we’d side-long apparated here, to Hogsmeade.

I realise where we were going when we turned into a familiar dark street. The lights of the Hogs Head glow softly against the snowy backdrop.

“Aberforth.”

He nods without looking at me.

“I think it’s time you met with him.”

I just nod back. I’ve never been sure of Aberforth; he was always so gruff, and so unlike his brother. But I trust Harry’s judgement now more than ever.

Aberforth meets us at the door as if he’s been expecting us. He turns and walks back inside nearly before the door is fully open and Harry just follows him without any greeting or discussion.

We walk down a corridor; the same one that leads to the room with the portrait of Arianna in it but instead we make a sharp left just before we get there. At the end of a few more short passages, we arrive at a wooden statue of a goat playing a fiddle and prancing high on its hind legs. One horn is broken, the tip snapped off and this is the one that Aberforth reaches out and grasps. The horn glows briefly and then the statue shifts forward and turns, revealing a narrow opening in the stone wall behind. Aberforth steps in and twists to the side and then he’s swallowed whole by the small cavity.

Harry follows suit, stooping slightly, and even though it looks like he won’t fit, he’s quickly through. I step up and mimic the way they both entered and suddenly I’m through into a large square room, with a flight of stairs forming another dark hole in the middle of the floor.

Aberforth is gone already and Harry is just descending. The three candles in the wrought iron candlebra fixed to the wall don’t offer enough light for me to find my footing; I light my wand to help.

The stone steps seem to go on forever; I start to lose count and just try and keep up with the end of Harry’s robes. Then suddenly they finish, the sensation jarring as our descent abruptly stops.

We’re still in darkness and I have to grip the arm of Harry’s robes to steady myself.

Then the room floods with light and it takes a while for me to adjust; I hold a hand up to shield my eyes from the bright light radiating from above.

Finally when I can see again, I take a look around the huge room.

There’s a platform in the middle – as I expected. It’s as large as the one in the Duelling Den and there are tiered seats on the walls on either side too. The room isn’t as big as the warehouse but otherwise, it’s obvious this would serve any duelling needs just as easily.

Aberforth is already up on the platform and Harry is getting up there too. I’m not sure whether or not I should follow so I hover by the steps leading up to the ring. Aberforth turns and gestures sternly to me.

“Well, get up here, girl. We’re not here to stand around and look pretty.”

Embarrassingly, I feel my face flush. Even if he doesn’t act like his brother, he still looks like him – with the same bright coloured eyes – and I can’t help but feel like I’m being told off by the principal. I hurry to join them and I can’t help but notice Harry smiling slightly. Aberforth assesses me like livestock and then speaks about me as if I’m not there.

“How’s she been doing? No good?”

Harry shakes his head.

“No, she’s doing well. We’re just having trouble with Unforgiveables.”

Aberforth grunts. “Figures. Well, we’ve gotta get her out of that.”

I stand as still as possible, determined not to let my irritation show. Harry just nods his agreement.

Aberforth activates the dome and Harry goes and takes his robes off, leaving them in a pile by the wall. I do the same, tying my hair in a ponytail while I walk over to stand opposite the two of them. If they want me to show what I’ve got, well I’m not about to let anyone down.

The older man assesses me, looking me up and down as if considering a racehorse. Then he turns to his side - the opposite one to where Harry is standing - and mutters a spell I can’t hear.

Instantly, silvery smoke starts to pool and whirl and rise, creating an opponent like Harry did earlier that day with Voldemort. Aberforth is watching me closely and so I’m determined not to be surprised by the figure he’s creating. When the smoke reveals a full black skirt leading up to a black fitted bodice, I know exactly who it is and I steal myself to see her leering face. But it’s unnerving, how lifelike this creation is.

Bellatrix Lestrange looks for all the world like the real thing; standing there smirking her manic grin from her position at Aberforth’s side. I lift my chin a little higher and look back at him defiantly – determined not to let him rattle me. When she’s fully formed he nods lightly and folds his arms.

“Well then. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Surprisingly, I do really well against the image of Bellatrix. I don’t know if it’s from the practice with Voldemort earlier this day or if I’m just improving but the spells come quickly to me as I evade and counter for a good ten minutes. Harry and Aberforth both move out of the ring as the duel intensifies. She is cunning and relentless; shifting regularly to vapour form and she is especially good at capitalising on any weaknesses.

I spend a lot of time blocking her and watching for devious moves I’m not expecting. The oddest thing is that unlike the apparition of Voldemort earlier in the day, she shows emotion – grimacing in frustration when I best her, wincing in pain when I score a hit. It is definitely unnerving, but I force myself to remember that she isn’t real; she’s merely a mirage – an imitation of life, much like a portrait. There is nothing to be scared of.

I glance over at Harry who watches from the edge of the dome; both he and Aberforth are sectioned off into a corner like I was earlier in the day. I see his eyes widen momentarily and he gestures wildly over my shoulder.

My lapse in concentration was only a half a second but she catches it; a strong stunning spell slams into me from behind and sends me flying - turning me in mid air so I land with a breath-robbing thump on my back.

The apparition of Bella is there straight away, looking down on me with a twisted smile on her face. I’m still struggling for breath and I can hear Harry shouting at me but I can’t make out the words.

She moves her wand above her head and I use all my strength to tilt my wand hand back up at her in the right pattern. The yellow shield I produce blocks her just in time; her curse rebounds off it and back into her stomach, sending her flying backwards.

She finishes lying on her back on the other side of the dome – stock still, and I fight to push myself up to sit.

“Get up and finish her.”

Aberforth’s voice seems as clear as if it was right by my ear. I look over and see him levelling me with a steely gaze with Harry frowning down at me from behind his shoulder. Aberforth repeats his instruction.

“Finish her. Now.”

I stand up, finally able to take half a breath into my starved lungs. I watch the two of them as I walk slowly over, and then turn to look at her lying prone on the ground.

Her face is still disturbingly emotive; her chest rises and falls quickly and her large eyes are wide and fearful as she stares back up at me. I squeeze my own eyes shut momentarily, trying to force out the empathy that’s creeping in – knowing that this is a test, this is THE test that I was brought here for tonight, I know it. I try and form the right incantation in my mind for the Cruciatis curse.

But behind my closed lids, all I can picture is the first time I saw the curse, in our Defence Against the Dark Arts class when Professor Moody tortured that poor spider. I remember the creature thrashing around on the desk top in unbearable pain and my feeling of horror when I saw it.

I lower my wand.

“I can’t do it.”

I turn and walk into the corner and sit down heavily on the floor, leaning my arms on my knees and resting my forehead against them. I don’t even care what happens now; I’m exhausted and it feels like no amount of pain would break through the numbness settling over me now.

Footsteps make their way slowly over to me. I see the toes of two pairs of boots standing there but I don’t look up. Again, Aberforth speaks about me as if I’m not there.

“She can fight, I’ll give you that. Needs some more stamina though – send her for some runs, get a bit of weight off. And this hair...”

I look up then, I can’t help it. He gestures at my hair which must look shocking and I can’t help it; I smooth it self-consciously.

“Chop it off. She can’t fight with that mess floating around her all the time.”

I think I catch a smile from Harry but when I turn to look at him, his face is expressionless. He nods shortly.

“Thanks, Aberforth.”

The older man grunts and turns from us, walking towards the steps. The dome flickers and fades as he walks away and I glance past him to see the disturbing image of Bellatrix has disappeared. Harry holds out a hand to me and I take it.

He pulls me up and when I’m standing right there in front of him, I suddenly feel bad – like I’ve disappointed him. I can’t look at him; I level my gaze at his chest.

“I stuffed up, didn’t I.”

He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it; he waits until I meet his eyes before answering.

“You did really well. Coming from Aberforth, that was singing praise.”

I grimace. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You did well.” He drops his hand down my arm to take mine in his. We start walking, and just that – him holding my hand, makes me feel instantly a hundred times better. “We’ve just gotta get those Unforgiveables sorted.”

I glance up at him as we walk back over to the stairs. He lights his wand as the light from the ceiling disappears, plunging us into near darkness.

“I don’t know if I can, Harry. I really don’t.”

He doesn’t look down at me and I can just make out the grim set of his jaw by wandlight. He squeezes my hand.

“Yeah well, I didn’t think I ever would either.”

We climb the stairs together in silence.

*

4. Chapter Four

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: 6,800 of 35,000 total (approx)

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

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

Thanks for all the great reviews :)

Chapter Four

That night, after we arrive back at Grimmauld from Aberforth’s, we sleep in the same bed.

Sleep isn’t exactly the right terminology – ‘pass out’ is probably more correct. We’re both exhausted and there’s only time for Harry to mention to me I should just stay here before I collapse fully clothed on the huge bed in the attic room. I’m awake just long enough to feel Harry’s weight on the bed next to me and then I sleep the sleep of the dead; not waking until bright sunlight touches my eyelids from the skylights above.

I stir, rolling onto my back and feeling every muscle in my body that I didn’t realise I had.

“You need to get hold of Ron.”

I turn around, squinting, trying to find him. He’s sitting up against the headboard, knees bent up, feet and chest bare.

“What?” I try and shake the sleep fog as I sit up.

“Ron. He’s trying to find you.”

“Shit.”

I rub my eyes, looking down at my still fully clothed body. My mouth is dry and I feel like crap.

“Here.”

Harry passes me a mug of Recovery Draught and I take it gratefully. I glance at Harry after I take a sip.

“He called here?”

“Yeah. Twice.”

Harry’s reading a book and doesn’t look in my direction. I stand up, still feeling sore. I wonder if he’s going to let me leave without saying anything more.

“Come back afterwards. We’ve got work to do.”

I nod, and apparate home.

*

After a shower and a change of clothes, I floo into work. My floor is deserted – no one but me generally ever works in the weekend. But for the first time, I’m not even tempted to look at the in tray. I head straight to the unregistered floos in back.

Ron answers almost immediately.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah, hi.”

“Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last two days! I’ve tried everyone and nobody knows where you are....”

“Why, Ron?” I sigh, and brush a hand through my hair. I glance back and double check that the background behind me mirrors my parent’s living room in Australia. I feel bad that I’m trying to deceive him but I’m beginning to wonder what his motives are anyway.

“What do you mean why? You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means anymore. Other than that it seems to give you license to play parole officer and make me check in with you more than I do my own mother.”

Ron’s face freezes in the embers. I think this time maybe I’ve done it. But then he surprises me.

“Okay. I just...I was worried about you.”

I shrug, looking down at my hands on my knees. “I’m fine.”

He launches into a long description of his Quidditch training and his work and neglects to ask me anything about my parents until the very end. I tell him they’re fine and that I’ll call him in a few days and then he’s gone.

He hangs up and I sit there for a moment, digesting our conversation. Then I make another call.

“Ginny?”

“Hi, Hermione. I know you’re away, aren’t you.”

I nod, feeling a little disgusted in myself. “Yeah I am. Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I think Harry’s out of town anyway.”

I try and hide the surprise from my face. “Okay.”

“Yeah so, I’ll see you when you get back maybe?”

I frown, a little confused but then nod in reply. She hangs up quickly too and I’m beginning to wonder if I can read anyone accurately anymore.

I move out of the floo rooms and head towards the nearest apparation point. And try and calm the nerves in my belly.

If I’m honest, it’s not really nerves. It’s excitement.

And I know what it’s about. My first duel is only two days away and I should be feeling nervous at best; petrified at worst.

Instead, I can barely bring myself to think about it. Because I can’t stop myself from thinking about him.

I’m trying to ignore it but in my rare moments alone, I know my feelings towards him are changing. At any given moment I can picture him, lit by the light of that lamp, jeans low on his hips and the distracting lines of his stomach and what they do to my insides. It’s stupid; it’s naive, immature, maybe even predictable. All the things I hate. And I think I’m powerless to stop it.

*

When I close my eyes, all I can see is bright flashes of colour.

The blues of shielding spells, the reds of stunning curses. My mind is a jumble of incantations and correct wand positions and my muscles ache like nobody’s business.

It’s dark outside, we’ve spent the whole day duelling. Harry has gone to help Kreacher prepare dinner and I’m getting dressed in the bathroom down the hall from the attic.

Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I look a bit of a mess.

Along with the now standard small scratches and whip marks on my forearms, there’s another few, more impressive additions. My lip is cut and a purple bruise is blossoming on my cheekbone from where one of Harry’s Body Bind curses had sent me plummeting to the ground too fast and my face had slammed into the floor. Not my most elegant of moments.

I think I blacked out for a moment. When I’d come to, Harry was kneeling over me looking concerned. He’d helped me sit up and summoned some water, watching me carefully as I fought to clear the fuzziness from my vision and stand again. He’d made me stay down, telling me not to rush.

“Wait, wait. Just take your time.”

“There’s no rest...”

He’d brushed the pad of his thumb lightly over my cheekbone which had already become tender.

“In the dome...yeah I know. But just take a minute. That was a decent knock.”

I tried to nod but my head hadn’t finished swimming yet.

“Come on. Let’s call it a night.”

He’d shut down the dome despite my mumbled protests and bundled me off to the bathroom with a clean towel. I’d reluctantly complied; I know now that I can’t waste one minute of practice. We go back to the den tomorrow night and I still haven’t cast one Unforgiveable.

I throw on some loose pants and a fitted tee from the collection of my clothes hung permanently over the hook on the back of the bathroom door. I look over at my toothbrush in the holder, my collection of moisturisers and cleansers on the sink top and then back at my face in the mirror and realise that I’ve practically moved in. I run my hand through my wet hair and wonder about the strange mix of elation and terror that runs through me at the thought.

The knock at the door startles me.

“You okay in there?”

I smooth my hair quickly and clear my throat before calling out.

“Yeah...I’m fine, I’ll be right out.”

When I get back into the room, Harry’s sitting on the bed. He’s showered too and is in a black singlet and pyjama pants now and is wearing his glasses. Next to him is a tray laden with food and a small plastic box. He gestures for me to come over.

“How are you feeling?”

I try and smile and then grimace when it makes my lip split again. He pats the bed beside him.

“Here, sit.” He delves into the plastic box and I sit patiently. He pulls out a cotton bud and some Liquid Episkey.

He shifts a little closer and examines my lip. He makes a sympathetic noise and then glances up into my eyes.

“This is a bit of a déjà vu, isn’t it.”

I nod, trying not to smile too wide.

“Except we’ve reversed roles this time.”

“Mmm.” He nods and then concentrates on my lip, dabbing the Episkey on my cut. “This shit hurts like hell.”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight as his words become truth. I can feel the skin knitting over then and I watch his eyes studying the progress from behind his glasses. It’s strange to see him in them again – they look out of place on him now. He looks back at me and I look up and away and try not to fidget.

“There. Looks good.”

I nod and look down at my hands in my lap. I can smell the freshly washed scent of him that’s becoming really familiar and it smells too good to me. I try really hard not to breathe.

He rummages in the box again and comes out with some cream. I watch the ceiling as he smoothes it over my cheekbone, waiting for him to be done. Finally, he pats my knee.

“Alright?”

I nod, still avoiding looking at him. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him pack everything away. Then he pushes the tray towards me and grabs his own plate off it, scooting back onto the bed and settling down to eat off his lap. I follow suit.

We eat in silence for a while. My heart is still hammering in my chest and I stubbornly ignore it.

“Do you mind sleeping with me up here?”

I nearly choke on my food.

“No. What? No, well, I mean...”

“I could make up a room down the hall for you. I just figured this bed is big enough and it’s just easier to crash here.”

I use all my effort to swallow the food stuck halfway down my throat and then force myself to look at him. I produce my best effort at a smile.

“Sure. Of course. It’s fine, Harry.”

He nods but I can’t see his expression because his glasses are reflecting the lamplight and I can’t see his eyes. He goes back to eating and so do I.

“So tomorrow morning, we’ll head out to Hogsmeade. One more round at Aberforth’s oughta do it.”

I’m not so sure but I just nod my agreement.

We finish eating and Kreacher comes and clears the dishes away and then I’m not sure what to do. We’ve only ever slept in this bed when we’ve fallen into it – so I’m not sure how to go about it this time. Harry doesn’t seem to have any such worries; he yanks off his singlet and climbs into the bed. He removes his glasses and leans over to lay them on the bedside table. Then he flicks off the light on his side and looks over at me.

I feel like such an idiot, standing there. But I know I can’t get in the bed with him lying there like that. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to pull the blanket up higher than his waist. And he’s still looking at me.

I stand up abruptly, mumbling something about brushing my teeth and quickly leave the room. When I get back, he’s on his side, asleep already I think. I climb gingerly under the blanket, trying not to wake him, staying way over on my side of the bed. He doesn’t stir and I finally settle, staring at the ceiling and listening to his slow and steady breath, wishing sleep would come as easily to me.

*

Aberforth is nowhere to be seen when we arrive at The Hog’s Head but Harry just makes his own way down to the corridor with the statue of the goat with no hesitation. He’s been quiet this morning, and I wonder if he’s feeling as nervous as I am.

It’s tonight. We have to go back there tonight.

It’s confirmed that he’s just as edgy as me as soon as we get into the dome in Aberforth’s basement.

“Unforgiveables.”

The way he says the word sounds ominous and uncompromising. He looks at me in the same way. I nod shortly and he does back. Then he conjures an opponent for me.

The sheer size of him gives it away before the vision is completed. He leers at me hungrily and I struggle to hold down my repulsion. Fenrir Greyback.

Harry looks at me from beside the huge werewolf.

“Imperius Curse. Start with that.” He points to the huge image of Greyback. “It’s trickier with these simulations because there’s only an imitation of a mind. But it’s still possible, and if you can do it with them, it’ll be a piece of cake with a live opponent.”

My palm feels instantly clammy but I nod anyway. Harry moves away to the edge of the dome.

The image of Fenrir is accurate right down to the smell. My throat tightens but I face up to him and bow. I try and remember everything Harry has said, as Fenrir bows as well.

Remember.

I think of Fenrir and his lust for feeding on small children. My eyes narrow and I draw up the right wand movements and utter the word.

“Imperio.”

He moves to step towards me but his progress seems slowed by an invisible wall. He glances down, puzzled and I’m heartened; I feel the thread of power emanating from the end of my wand and I increase it – delving deeper into his mind.

Fenrir’s eyes widen momentarily and then he’s thrown; up and backwards, head over heels to land roughly on his back. The thrill of success powers through me and I feel it – the ease of which I can manipulate this; it feels as if I’m throwing around nothing heavier than a feather. I force him to flip again, violently through the air and against the side of the dome. He lands heavily on the floor and then promptly disappears.

I don’t feel Harry approach until his arms are tight around me and I’m spinning around.

“Brilliant! Hermione! That’s it!”

I grin, my face flushed with my own success. He places me back on my feet and grips my upper arms setting me back to grin down into my face. “You did it!”

I smile, shaking my head at his glee. “It was okay.”

“Better than okay. Much better. I could...”

Suddenly, he grabs my face and kisses me. Hard, on the lips.

“...Kiss you.”

He’s grinning at me. Completely unaffected that he just kissed me and all the while I’m just hoping he doesn’t let go straight away because I’m not sure if I can stand unassisted anymore. Suddenly I’m not so proud of myself.

“Harry.”

“Sorry. Go again.”

He turns and walks away and I gather myself while his back is turned. My voice is stern inside my mind.

Get your head together.

I’m composed by the time he turns around to generate another opponent for me.

“Let’s go.”

*

Not long after, Aberforth comes down to sit in on our practice. For some reason she insists on us fighting together, side by side against two opponents, saying cryptically that we need to be prepared for anything. Afterwards, he has no problem critiquing us – or at least me.

“Well first of all, you’re still hesitating too much. You can’t give them a moment, not a second. They’ll take it.”

I nod silently because he’s right.

“You have a strong Imperius; use it more.”

He stands and walks over to me as I stand in the middle of the crucis, looking me up and down. The large basement room is well lit and now very warm; we’ve been training for hours.

“And get the hair out of your eyes.”

I can see Harry trying not to smile and I find myself suppressing one too. Aberforth notices, and glares at us in turn.

“But your biggest weakness is each other.”

He gets our attention with that. He presses his lips together and starts pacing.

“You care too much about each other. It’s coming off you in waves. That’s your vulnerability.”

I lose my smile then. Again, Aberforth’s shrewd observations are spot on.

“Now, I don’t know what’s going on between you two and I don’t wanna know. I just know this; if you let it become obvious to your opponents, it’s going to be a problem.” He waves a hand to punctuate his words. “And remember, any time emotion goes up, intelligence goes down – that’s certain.”

We both shift our stances, neither looking at the other. Aberforth just grunts and turns, making his way down off the crucis and towards the stairs. We follow; both silent. Harry pauses at the stairwell, and we hesitate awkwardly for a moment, unsure of who’s going first. He finally steps back and gestures for me to go ahead.

We climb the dark steps quietly.

*

“You’re quiet.”

We’re back home – funny that I consider Grimmauld ‘home’ so easily. I guess it feels more like home than my parents or Ron’s or anywhere else lately, whether that’s right or wrong.

“Sorry.”

I didn’t notice him coming to stand next to me. I’m staring into the fire as the flames lick the small logs Kreacher just added. We’re eating dinner in the kitchen for a change; I’m not sure why. Harry just decided to. I’ve been a bit lost in my own thoughts since we arrived back from Aberforth’s.

“No, look I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh today.”

I shake my head.

“I’m fine. Just nervous I guess.”

That’s kind of true. I am nervous; about feelings I shouldn’t be having and how deep they’re beginning to run.

He puts a warm hand on the back of my neck. It takes all my will not to pull away.

“You’ll be great. You’ll be fine, I really believe that.”

He sounds more like he’s convincing himself. I turn and look up at him and at least he takes his hand away from my neck. I decide to follow his line of thought because that’s the easiest option.

“I’m not sure. I only threw one Cruciatus and I couldn’t hold it....”

He shakes his head.

“Yeah but you got Imperious going really well by the end of today.” He reaches out and turns me a bit more towards him but I stare stubbornly at the fire again.

“Hey.” I still won’t look at him. He sighs and drops his hand. “It’s not an exam, Hermione. You don’t have to get one hundred percent – it’s not going on a scorecard, you’re not being graded. You just need to get through.”

He waits a moment and then turns me to him. I give in and look up. Lit by firelight, his eyes are dark with half of his features in shadow. There’s that nose that’s not perfectly straight, the dark brows. Lips that are actually quite full, now that I’m noticing. That felt good kissing mine, even for just that brief moment.

I can tell he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking and that’s a little dangerous so I move into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He pulls me in tight and presses his lips against the top of my head, as I hoped he would. So I don’t have to look at him anymore. He murmurs into my hair.

“You’re still the smartest witch I know. And a hero of the Battle of Hogwarts. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

I nod against his chest, hearing him but not really listening. I can feel his heart beating against me and I shouldn’t really have let myself get this close. I gently extract myself.

“Thanks, Harry. I mean it, you’ve been great.”

He grimaces. “Well, you wouldn’t be in this situation if....”

“Shush.”

He frowns but he stops. He watches me for a moment, leaning against the mantelpiece. Kreacher calls out that dinner is ready but Harry just keeps standing there. I incline my head towards the table and then start to move over but he catches my wrist.

“Oh, hey. Wait a sec. I’ve been meaning to give you this.”

He turns and reaches into a large wooden box on the ledge. Opening the carved lid, he draws out a small black suede pouch.

“Here. You wanted one of these.”

I open the drawstring and tip the contents into my palm. It’s a wristband, made of black leather, soft and thick and identical to his. He draws out his wand and passes it slowly over my palm; the cuff rises gracefully into the air to hover over my wrist. The leather splits as I watch, and it wraps itself around my arm, covering the tattoo perfectly. Once it’s sealed, I rub my fingers over it.

“Thanks. It’s great.”

He walks over to the kitchen table without another word.

Later, in his bed, in the dark, I ask him.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Did you quit your job?”

He’s silent for a bit.

“No. I’ve just taken selective leave. Just picking up the odd assignment.”

I rustle up the courage to ask the next.

“Where did you tell Ginny you went?”

I hear him shift under the sheets, maybe turning my way.

“Ireland. Said I had a mission.”

“Oh.” I can hear him breathing and I’m suddenly glad the moon isn’t out tonight and I can’t see him. “You know she’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I can’t do anything about that.”

I answer before I can stop myself.

“Why don’t you tell her? What’s going on, I mean.”

The sheets rustle again and I wonder if he shrugged.

“I don’t know.” He turns again.

“Get some sleep.”

*

The warehouse is just as I remember it although it feels more like a month than a week since I was last here.

I notice more this time, maybe because I’m not so focused on following Harry.

Eyes are mostly downcast, gazes are shifted quickly. But walking behind Harry, I see a lot of them glance at him, with mixed stares that vary from revulsion to awe to horror. I don’t hold anyone’s stare long enough to see what they make of me.

We wade through the crowd towards the crucis, and I recognise Corvus, standing in the middle and watching our progress towards him. His arms are held in front of him, his hands clasped inside the long sleeves of his robes. His hood is down and his long hair hangs in black curtains on either side of his face which is set in a beatific smile. He opens his mouth to speak and it’s already magically enhanced; booming from the ceiling, it instantly quiets the crowd.

“Mr Potter. And Miss Granger. How nice of you to join us!”

The crowd swells with unnerving laughter and I move to stand beside Harry. Corvus walks to the edge of the platform, and looking down on us, continues.

“The pleasure is all ours.”

Harry has warned me not to speak too much to Corvus; telling me that he enjoys it too much and that I’d just make things harder on myself. And yet still, I find myself answering back.

“It’s not like we had a choice, is it.”

His black eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“Come. You don’t want to insult your host on the very first visit now, do you?”

I go to speak again and it’s only Harry’s fingers winding around my upper arm that keep me silent. Corvus eyes the contact and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh. Well here I am, misunderstanding things. I was quite sure that young Mr Potter here was set to become a Weasley.” He says the name with obvious distaste. “One. Big. Happy. Family.” Then he looks me up and down appreciatively. “But now I see. Things are more...complicated than that.”

Harry doesn’t reply but his fingers tighten on my arm. Corvus walks forward and descends slowly down the steps to become level with us. The crowd is quiet enough for me to hear the echo of his footsteps on the concrete floor. He comes to a stop right in front of us.

“Well, far be it from me to split up a happy couple.” He reaches a gloved hand up and brushes my cheek. I draw away, scowling at him. He chuckles, amused, and then addresses the crowd.

“Mr Potter and Miss Granger will duel as a team.”

I whip my head sharply around to Harry. He stares at Corvus, his brows knitted together. He doesn’t let on any indication if this is a good or a bad thing, other than a small muscle twitching in his jaw. I turn back to Corvus who’s now climbing the stairs back up to the ring.

“Duos. In honour of our new members, we’ll fight in duos, until further notice.”

The crowd murmurs excitedly and I glance around to catch hands darting out of robes and further money being exchanged. Corvus turns and beckons us up onto the podium. Harry moves towards him and I follow.

“Pictor Longbottom. Norma Crouch. Take your positions.”

A stocky witch and a tall and thin wizard detach from the crowd and climb the stairs, coming to stand next to Corvus. The woman removes her hood to reveal blond hair surrounding a round face with a haughty expression; her companion keeps his hood on so all I can see is his large nose catching the light from overhead.

Harry shifts at my side and then his voice sounds close to my ear.

“Watch out for Pictor – the wizard, he’s a Metamorphmagus. Fast and lethal. Norma is good but slow; keep moving.”

I nod tightly, watching Corvus moving to the centre of the ring to activate the wards. Harry takes his robes off and I follow; the air is cold in my training gear – a white singlet and black combat pants, but I know I’ll work up a sweat quickly enough. The witch removes her outer robes; she wears a long full skirt underneath and a bodice bulging at the seams to contain her bust. The wizard keeps his robes on; standing completely motionless as the dome appears over our head.

The robes at our feet disappear at the same time that Corvus does and the booming voice nearly makes me flinch.

“Duellers. Bow!”

I glance at Harry and he nods at me, reassuring me I’m sure but it feels surreal – as if I’m dreaming. The dome seems thicker here; I can’t hear the noise of the crowd very well, it sounds muffled, as if I’m underwater. I shake my head to clear it and then I’m beside Harry, facing our opponents. We bow, brandishing our wands in the way that is customary. The woman glares at me and I hold her stare. The crowd outside stills, as if holding its breath.

“Now. BEGIN!”

I rise up onto the balls of my feet, ready for a strike but it’s as Harry said it would be; neither wizard wants to be the one to make the first move.

I move cautiously to the side and Harry follows my lead, the two of us taking only the smallest steps and our opponents do the same. The woman is agitated, antsy, and I feel sure she’s not going to be able to hold back for much longer.

Sure enough, her arm moves in a sweeping motion; I recognise the Rictumsempra spell before she’s barely uttering the words. I conjure a quick shielding spell and counter with a strong Stupefy – apparating into smoke at the same time. I hear a noise from the crowd but I’m not sure if it’s approval or not; either way I’m not sticking around to figure it out; Harry said to keep moving and that’s what I’m going to do.

I fly around the widest perimeter of the interior of the dome, keeping my eye on Norma as she dissolves into smoke too; her inky black column shoots straight up and along the curve of the dome to come around behind me, chasing me at speed.

I glance sideways for Harry and realise he and the wizard Pictor are beginning the same chase; weaving their way around the dome in apparated form – Harry’s white and Pictor’s black pillars of smoke running parallel and weaving in and out of each other as curses fire back and forth between the two. I look back around for Norma; knowing that she is my responsibility. It’s my job to shut her down.

She appears suddenly in a great rush of downward smoke and I fire a low grade Sectumsempra spell at her form. She yelps and draws back as it slices across her forearm and I see a satisfying red welt appear quickly on her pale skin. It makes me realise that it’s her blood or mine. And the only way out of here for good, is to spill more of hers.

She recovers fairly quickly; aiming a series of blasting Expulso curses at me; I duck and roll across the floor, quickly countering with a Confundo and then retreating to smoke form again so she can’t keep track of me.

My jinx hits her squarely between the eyes as Harry and Pictor rush overhead and I see they’re relentlessly firing curses at each other; merciless in their pursuit.

I look back to Norma and she’s shaky on her thick legs; I materialise to solid form and face her. Her expression is bewildered; she looks almost childlike as she stumbles forward. I know this is exactly where I should take advantage and spill some more of her blood, but I hesitate.

I can hear Harry shouting at me and still I stand there frozen. Norma raises her wand hand sluggishly and mumbles a curse from between her thick lips.

“Serpensortia.”

A large purple and gold snake snaps out of the end of her wand and lands with a slap at my feet. I hear someone shriek ‘No!’ but it’s not Harry.

Suddenly he appears in a rush at my side, at the same time as Norma aims another spell at the snake and it starts to swell; its head gaining size at an incredible rate until it stares down on us, nearly twice as tall as Harry.

“I said no!” Pictor materialises next to his partner and she turns and stares hazily at him, her eyes still puzzled and unfocused. “No snakes!”

I realise what he means just as I hear Harry’s low hiss as he steps in front of me.

The snake dips its huge head to regard Harry and for one moment they stand there, staring at each other. I hear more Parseltongue from him and see Pictor evaporate into smoke again, just before the snake jerks its head back around to Norma. It eyes her for a second before it moves – faster than I would have thought its huge body could.

I apparate straight upwards towards the dome ceiling as the thick tail whips around; the huge rattle on the end just missing my feet as I rise. The tail sweeps around the ring and I watch Norma’s horrified face register what’s going to happen just before the bulk of the snakes body wraps quickly around her.

It holds her trapped, her arms pinned to her sides, her head the only thing visible above the snake’s sinuous body.

“Now!”

Harry appears in smoke form beside me and gestures down at the trapped witch. My heart lurches – I don’t think I can assault her when she’s defenceless like that.

Then his hand grips my wrist and I’m tugged roughly down to the ground to stand in front of her.

“Hermione! Do it!”

I know what this hesitation is costing me – is costing us and yet still, I can’t. I can’t be that ruthless.

Harry grips my wrist tightly, and I feel a shield form around us; radiating blue. Pictor swoops by and his green curse bounces off the shield Harry has created. But Harry doesn’t look; he’s staring down at me and he grabs my chin roughly and turns my face to him.

“Don’t. Don’t freeze up on me now. Get inside her mind. Find what you need and use it. Otherwise, we’re dying tonight.”

I look up into his eyes; into a face that I realise I trust more than anyone else in this world. I really do. I nod, and throw a hex without looking away from him.

“Expulso.”

I turn and see Norma take the blow like a swift punch to the face; her nose instantly begins to bleed. Harry gives me one more hard stare and takes off again.

I walk towards her and do as Harry said – delve into her mind.

Flashes assault me, almost too fast to make out. Norma as a young girl being chased down a dank hallway...Norma in the Slytherin common room...Pictor meeting her somewhere, holding her hand...

Then I find it. The memory I need. It’s from the night of the Battle of Hogwarts – when she was misinformed that Harry Potter was dead and the immense glee that filled her at the idea. She felt such joy and elation that Harry, my Harry could be dead.

I unleash a Stunner on her that instantly knocks her out cold. The snake immediately shatters into hundreds of pieces; falling as purple and gold sand to the floor. Norma falls on top of it in a crumpled heap sending up a puff of the fine sand.

A roar of definite approval sounds from the crowd outside the dome.

I look around for Harry and he appears not far away from me in a rush of white smoke. He turns to look at me.

I brush the hair out of my face that’s come loose from my ponytail. His eyes lock with mine and he grins.

I’m about to smile back when golden ropes snap around his chest and wand arm. His face drops and he’s pulled violently backwards.

“No!”

I throw the first jinx that enters my mind.

“Immobulus!”

Both Harry and Pictor are instantly frozen in motion, moving as if floating underwater. I can hear the crowd building to some sort of fever pitch but I focus on Harry – and releasing him from the ropes that seem to be beginning to burn.

Then there is searing pain.

Like a knife through my stomach it slices right across, and on up my arm. I bend over double, stumbling forward and I hear the crowd cheer. I fling my wand arm desperately in Pictor’s direction – his body floats in the corner of my vision.

“Relashio!”

Red sparks burst from the end of my wand towards him in a torrent; the heat of them against my hand nearly enough to make me drop it. Pictor is thrown against the dome wall by the force of the stream and I stalk after him, forgetting Harry, forgetting the crowd. I clutch my hand to my stomach which is still blossoming pain but I’m determined to reach him.

His robes are charred and still burning in some places. One side of his face is red and marked from the sparks. I lift my hand and point my wand down at him, devoid of feeling. My hand and body don’t feel like my own, maybe because of the pain, I’m not sure, but I seem to have no control over either as I unleash the curse.

“Crucio.”

The power from my wand is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Pictor’s thin body arches impossibly as the crowd’s noise doubles; it’s as if the dome is no longer there, the sound of the cheering is so loud.

Pictor’s body twists and changes and seems to diminish in front of me – suddenly he is half his size; a small body swimming in the now oversized robes. I stop my curse and stare as he turns over on to his back.

The face of a young boy turns up to me – half of it marked by the fire sparks from just a moment before. The boy must be around five years old; his eyes stare up at me in horror and fear.

“Please...please stop. You’re hurting me.”

My hand flies to my mouth in horror; I take a shaky step back. The boy stares at me, his eyes boring through me as he moves to sit. The hood of the robes falls back and I really see how young he is; I step back again.

“I’m...I didn’t...”

A flash of red light shoots past me and the boy is thrown high into the air and slammed back into the wall of the dome. His body lands limply on the floor and lies there, motionless.

Harry appears at my side, gripping my arm. He stares at the boy, lowering his wand.

“I told you. He’s a Metamorphmagus.”

I stare up at him, only barely understanding before I feel myself slip down and into darkness.

*

I wake to the feeling of movement; I’m cradled tightly and being walked down corridors, through doors. My arms are wrapped around a neck, I’m being carried. I stir, and the arms tighten around me, lifting me up higher and closer to the person carrying me. I strengthen my grip and hold on, pressing my face against skin.

I breathe in the scent and I know it’s Harry that’s carrying me.

I squeeze tighter, grateful for the feeling of safety it gives me. He presses his face against my forehead and murmurs something I don’t catch but it’s okay – all I needed to know was that I was safe. The unshakeable tiredness overwhelms me and I’m lost again to sleep.

*

The light is low but familiar and it takes me only seconds to realise that I’m in Harry’s bed.

I notice first that my body is incredibly warm, like I’m inches away from a raging fire. I stir and look down at my body; I’m covered by a glittering gold material.

I move to sit up and Harry appears from somewhere, his hand firm but gentle on my shoulder.

“Stay still. It’s really important you stay still and lying down.”

I comply – feeling drained and weary to my bones anyway. I watch him as he sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to the bedside table. The sound of water dripping reaches my ears and then he places an ice cold face cloth on my forehead. I feel a little stupid, being tended to like that but I don’t think I could move much now, even if my life depended on it.

He presses the cloth all over, my cheeks, neck and the tops of my shoulders.

It’s then that I realise I’m naked.

I glance down; I definitely have nothing on but the leather band around my wrist. I try and move again but he stops me with his hand on my shoulder.

“Still. You’re under a Sanatur blanket. You’re going to be fine but you need to stay immobile if you don’t want any scarring.”

I obey, staying quiet and motionless under his ministrations. There’s no sound other than him dipping the face cloth back into a bowl and wringing out the water before laying it back on me.

He frowns as he goes about it and he doesn’t look into my eyes. I use the moment to study him; he wears a singlet and has a bandage around his bicep. There are a few scratches and welts on his face but otherwise, from what I can see, he seems alright.

“Your arm.”

He glances at it and then dips and wrings out the face cloth again.

“Just a graze. It’s better now.”

He presses the face cloth against me again, gently over my cheeks and down across the top of my chest. Then he finally looks at me.

“Better?”

I nod. He holds my gaze for a moment, then runs a finger lightly across my eyebrow.

“You did well.”

I close my eyes – remembering the duel now; running through everything that happened. I shake my head.

“No...I didn’t...I couldn’t...”

He leans closer and brushes my hair back from my forehead.

“You were great. Perfect. You did really well.”

He bends down and kisses my forehead.

“Get some sleep.”

I want to say more. I don’t know what, but I want to stay awake with him. But I can feel sleep coming for me again.

I feel myself fall into it, with his fingers in my hair.

*

5. Chapter Five

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: 4,900 of 35,000 total (approx)

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

Summary: When Hermione tries to discover where Harry is going at nights, she finds much more than she bargained for.

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

CHAPTER FIVE

My sleep is fitful.

I keep dreaming of running, fighting, and flashes of light. Not knowing where I am, not knowing where Harry is. For the first time in a long time, I dream of the days we spent in the tent hunting Horcruxes and the final battle and I dream of funerals.

I wake with dried tears on my face and the sun high in the sky overhead – streaming down on me through the windows. I sit up, feeling immediately anxious and not knowing why.

The room is still, and Harry isn’t anywhere to be seen. I glance down; I’m wearing a singlet now, and a pair of Harry’s pyjama bottoms and the golden blanket is gone. I glance over to the bedside table, there’s a covered tray of food and a glass of something to drink.

I put a hand cautiously on my stomach; in the place where I’d felt so much pain the night before. It feels slightly tender, but not painful – I gather the singlet up to look at the skin underneath.

It’s smooth and unmarked, if a little pink. I grab for my arm quickly, looking hard for some sign of the wound made there the night before but it’s the same. Smooth and unmarked, just a little pink.

I draw in a deep breath and take stock of my whole body. I’m sore – my muscles are a little achy, but nothing too bad. I think about how I was naked earlier and how I might’ve got that way. And who dressed me now.

I lie back into the soft pillows.

It had to have been Harry. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed or grateful about that.

“How’re you feeling?”

His voice startles me. I sit up, and spy him as he closes the door to the room. He whispers an enchantment over the door handle and I wonder for the first time if I’m the only person to have seen this room.

“Better, thanks. Much better.”

He walks over and hands me a steaming mug as he sits down on the bed. His hair is wet and he smells freshly showered.

“Here, this will help.”

I take the draught and sip it slowly, trying to ignore him watching me. He’s in a black singlet and he’s still wearing the bandage around his arm. I gesture to it.

“What about you? How’s the arm?”

“Good as new.”

I frown at him, not convinced. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Let me have a look for you.”

“It’s fine...”

But I’ve already placed my mug on the table and am unravelling the bandage gently from his arm. Even though I’m careful, he flinches slightly and so I’m not so surprised by what I find.

A bright red, raised welt cuts across his bicep; I realise it’s exactly where the fiery ropes lashed across him last night. My heart lurches.

“Harry...you should have told me...”

“It’s really fine, I mean it...”

I ignore him and scoot closer, grabbing his singlet and pushing it up to reveal his stomach. He continues to protest but it’s just as I feared – the welts cut across his abdomen; one across his chest and the other just above his navel. I shake my head.

“Oh, Harry.”

He holds still, putting up with my inspection.

I lift a finger and trace one of the welts delicately, feeling unbearably guilty. I’m not even thinking about the way I’m touching him – more that he’s forever scarred now and it’s all my fault; he was too focused on looking after me. I speak without thinking.

“You should have gotten under the blanket with me.”

I finish tracing the line that continues across his ribs and looks like it leads further around to his back. I look back up into his face and he’s watching me, frowning slightly. I realise suddenly what I just said and I draw my hand away. He bites his lip and watches me for a moment and I realise how close we are.

“I thought about it. I figured, it might not be a good idea.”

Just the way he says it sends warmth spiralling through my body, starting in my stomach and spreading lower, right down my legs. I think it’s why I look into his eyes when I know I shouldn’t.

The eyes are familiar but the expression in them isn’t. He studies me; I watch his gaze travel over my face and end at my lips.

“Master.”

Kreacher appears suddenly at my side and I literally jump back away from Harry, gripping the blankets tightly to me. I don’t see what Harry’s reaction is, I just hear him clear his throat before answering.

“Kreacher.”

“Miss Weasley. She waits in the kitchen. She refuses to leave.”

Harry leans forward on his knees, pushing his fingers into his hair.

“Fuck. Alright – I’ll be there in a minute.”

Kreacher leaves with a gentle pop and we sit there, motionless. I finally lie back into the mattress, away from Harry.

After a moment I hear him get up and snatch a t-shirt off the chair by the bed. Then I follow the sound of his footsteps as he walks down the stairs to the door and the quiet click as it closes behind him.

*

I think about leaving, but I’m still weak and exhausted. I can’t stomach any food and I fall to sleep again quickly. When I wake, it’s dark and there’s a fresh tray there. I look around and there’s no sign that Harry’s been back.

Kreacher appears with a soft crack. He goes about his tidying for a bit while I just lay there watching. When he picks up the tray and tries to pass it to me, I ask him.

“Kreacher, where’s Harry?”

The house elf pushes the tray towards me and so I sit up and uncover it, hoping he’ll start speaking if I start eating.

“He is gone for the night Miss Granger. He is with Miss Weasley.”

I feel his words like a slap to my face. I keep my eyes on my food and try to ignore how difficult it’s become to chew.

Kreacher doesn’t comment further and he leaves shortly after. I push the food away – what little appetite I’d had was just erased by Kreacher’s revelation.

Of course he’s with Ginny. Ginny is his girlfriend. When did that particular information seem to leak out of my memory?

I fall back into the bed again, pressing my palms to my forehead. My mind whirls for a moment, trying to make sense of everything.

I make a decision.

Throwing off the blankets I swing my legs off the bed. I’m just a little woozy but I’m pleased to see that I’m fairly stable. I make my way to the bathroom, intent on getting my clothes.

I’m going home.

*

I try not to think about him for the whole of the next day.

I couldn’t stay at home; being idle was driving me spare. Besides, now my parents live mainly in Australia, I feel like I’m just rattling around their big house here, now that I have it all to myself. So, although I was still a bit shaky on my feet, I decide to go back to work for the day.

I thought it might help take my mind off things as well.

It was almost working – I hadn’t thought of the day before for a few hours, and work was busy; people were coming in with questions and Ron had called and asked me to dinner and it was, for a moment, as if I hadn’t even been gone. As if none of the craziness of the last week had happened – as if it was just a bizarre dream. For just a few hours, it gets buried, in the normality of reports and workmates queries and memos flying in through my office door.

So when I see him, in the middle of the lunchroom, it jolts me. Like a bubble being popped, I’m jerked out of the reality I’ve constructed today, just with one look at him.

He’s standing there, looking hugely out of place; in kind of scruffy muggle clothes – faded jeans and a black t-shirt under his black jacket. He looks far too casual for work; and some Ministry employees eye him curiously as they pass. I notice he’s standing next to Ginny at exactly the same moment that she looks up and sees me. She smiles and waves and I paste on a smile and force my feet to take me over to them.

“Hermione! You’re back!”

I nod weakly, unable to look at Harry. He turns to look at me as I embrace Ginny but I can’t even glance at him.

“Mmm, back yesterday. How are you?”

“Great! Have lunch with us?”

I turn and wave at the cabinets lined with sandwiches.

“Oh...No, I’m fine, I’m just going to grab something and head back to my office...”

Ginny has turned and is waving at two young witches in Aurors robes who are approaching and so I trail off. As she loops her arms around one of Harry’s and starts to talk to them, and I’m just about to turn on my heel and leave, Harry disentangles himself and steps up to me.

“Where’d you get to?”

He’s staring at me intently, his hand just inches from my arm and I can tell he wants to grasp hold of me.

Suddenly I feel like a fool, just taking off like that last night. I shrug.

“Kreacher said you’d be out all night. I figured I’d give you some space.”

He frowns at me and then glances at Ginny who’s still deep in conversation but is throwing looks in our directions.

“Practice tonight.”

“I can’t...”

“Tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

“Hogs Head – six o’clock.”

I just nod because Ginny has turned back around and is looking from me to Harry and back again. I notice her eyes slide down to the leather band around my wrist and then glance quickly at Harry’s.

“Everything okay?”

I nod and smile with the same fake smile that’s starting to make my face ache. Harry’s face is stony and so I answer.

“Fine, we’re just working on a case together.”

Ginny responds with a fake smile of her own.

“Merlin, you’re not back a few hours and they’re working you too hard again, Harry.”

He shrugs and I feel an insane urge to drag him away from here. I stretch my smile wider.

“No rest for the wicked I suppose.” I take a few steps back before turning. “I’ll see you guys later.”

As expected, Ginny pops in to see me in the afternoon. She launches straight into it, doesn’t even bother with niceties.

“Did you find out anything?”

I shake my head, pushing down my irritation which seems to be threatening to overwhelm my guilt now.

“He’s just busy, Ginny.”

She pulls out a chair and sits in it, staring at the ceiling.

“Maybe.” She hesitates and I go back to the report in front of me. “He came and stayed with me last night you know.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the parchment, determined not to let her see the impact her words have had. I shrug and answer without looking up.

“Great.”

“Yeah. He’s going through some stuff but...I think he’s coming right.”

I shrug again. She watches me for a moment and then gets up to leave.

“You’re going to dinner with Ron tonight?”

I nod, even though the idea is starting to fill me with dread.

“Well. Have fun.”

Something in her smile is a little strange but I wave it off.

Work fills up the rest of my day nicely so that five o’clock rolls around before I know it. I apparate home and have a long, hot shower, thinking as I stand with my eyes closed, letting the water flow over my face.

Everything went well today. Work felt like a good dose of normality and even though I feel like my life has been turned inside out, no one seems to suspect anything is amiss. In the brief contact I had with Ron in the morning he seems fine and even Ginny and Harry seem back on track and content.

So why do I feel like shit?

I turn the shower off and summon a towel into the still-warm shower cubicle.

It’s the curse, I reason. It hangs over my head like a guillotine ready to drop and there’s nothing rational I can do about it. It irks me that I haven’t yet figured out how to get us out of this situation.

It certainly is not anything to do with my disappointment that Harry spent the night with Ginny.

I hold still for a moment, and then press the towel into my face and mutter to myself.

“Pretty shitty lie if even you don’t believe it Granger.”

I slam the shower door shut and go to get ready for dinner with Ron.

*

“So, I think they’re going to offer me a contract!!”

I try really hard to muster up an enthusiastic smile.

“That’s great, Ron – I’m really happy for you.”

He nods eagerly. I look around for the waitress bringing the drinks, trying not to look desperate. He clears his throat and then I feel his hands closing over mine. I glance back around to him, trying to resist the urge to pull my hands out of his grip.

“So...I’ve been thinking. About what I want.”

I finally pay attention to the look in his eyes. My heart drops to my stomach.

“Ron...”

“Just, let me finish.”

I feel like apparating on the spot – I almost do, my every body cell is screaming so hard to leave. Then he does exactly what I’m dreading; scraps his chair back and crouches down beside our table, still grasping my hands. I look down and see he’s on one knee at the same time that half the restaurant notices.

“Ron...get up..”

“I can see my life ahead of me now, ‘Mione. I couldn’t before. And so now, I want to ask you to be a permanent part of it.”

A loud ringing starts in my ears. I glance around; several diners are smiling sweetly at us and our waitress is standing there with our tray of drinks and a smug grin on. I get an intense urge to grab one of those drinks and down it in one.

“Ron...”

“Will you marry me, Hermione?”

His eyes are wide and earnest. The ringing in my ears gets louder.

“Ron...I....”

“Not right now...I know. Just...I wanna know that you do want to..eventually. ”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see we have the attention of the whole restaurant now. I could hex Ron into oblivion.

“This is really sudden. I just....I need time to think about it.”

His smile falters only slightly before he pulls it wider.

“That’s enough of a yes for me.”

He reaches forward and kisses me, and I wrap him in a quick hug, mainly to hide from the diners who are all clapping for us now.

“Let’s celebrate!”

*

I don’t believe this mess I’m in.

I lean against the door of my house, my face buried in my hands. It had felt like a long, drawn out day rather than a few hours since Ron had made his proposal. I’d suffered through a dinner I could barely stomach, dessert and a long goodbye at the door.

I should’ve told him. I should’ve fought with him and asked how dare he put me in that position.

I just didn’t have the energy. Nothing in me had the inclination or the desire to get into an argument with Ron.

“That says it all, doesn’t it.”

And I’m talking to myself again. I push away from the wall and stand straight.

I’ve got to get out of here.

I apparate without thinking.

*

“Miss Granger.”

“Kreacher.”

He doesn’t seem surprised to see me. Not nearly as surprised as I am to find that against any rational thought, I’ve apparated to Grimmauld. I glance around the kitchen.

“Is Harry here?”

“He is in the top room.”

“Oh.”

Now I’m here, I wonder if I should leave. Kreacher speaks again.

“He is alone.”

I glance back around to the house elf but he’s shuffling out of the room already. I mutter my thanks to his disappearing back.

I climb the stairs, enjoying the familiar dank smell of the house. When I get to the door of the room, I pause, my palms braced against the heavy wood. Inside I can just make out some sort of repetitive thumping.

I’m contemplating leaving when the door opens.

Harry stands there, holding it ajar. His hands are wrapped in black material and he’s breathing hard, as if he’s just been running, wearing black tracksuit pants and his chest is bare. He looks me up and down and then into the hallway behind me.

“Are you alright?”

I nod, feeling the relief at being there washing through me. He looks at me a bit longer and then steps back from the door.

“Come in.”

I walk past him and into the familiar room. It’s lit by lamplight and there’s a new addition; a punching bag is hanging in the corner by the weights bench. When I turn back around to him, he’s unwinding the material from around his hands and wrists. I study him while he concentrates on his task. It’s then that I realise that coming here was probably a bad idea.

“I should really go.”

The words are out before I think about them. He looks up at me, frowning.

“You just got here.”

“I know. But...you look busy.”

He removes the final piece of wrapping from his left hand and walks towards me. Chucking the material on the ground under the punching bag, he shrugs.

“What’s happened?”

I find myself unable to answer, suddenly almost on the verge of tears. I stare steadfastly at my feet and shake my head.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need any more than that.

“Look, wait here. I’ve just gotta shower and I’ll have Kreacher bring up something to drink.” He bends to catch my eye and smiles crookedly. “You look like you could use one.”

I nod numbly. He puts his hand on my shoulder briefly and then he leaves.

When he’s gone, I walk to the bed, perching on its edge, even though all I want to do is fall into it and sleep. Kreacher appears immediately with a large bottle of Firewhisky and a couple of shot glasses. I smile at that, because it’s just what I need, but I’ll wait for Harry to have a drink.

He comes back quickly - and fully dressed, thankfully. Without a word he comes and joins me on the bed and pours Firewhiskey into both small glasses, handing me one and clinking his own against it. We both down the fiery liquid in one – my face screwing up against the burn as it travels down my throat. Instantly the warmth flows through me and I do feel better.

Harry pours another one straight away and we repeat the ritual again without speaking. We both put our glasses back on the tray. He runs his hand through his wet hair and I catch sight of the welt across his arm, still red and angry. I shake my head.

“I’m going to get you something for that.”

He ignores me, just sitting there and waiting. I know he deserves an explanation, but now it feels like the last thing I want to give him. I start to pour more Firewhiskey because I’m fairly sure I’m going to need it.

“Ron asked me to marry him.”

To his credit, he doesn’t look as surprised as I feel. He runs a hand over his face and then accepts the drink I give him.

“And I take it you weren’t expecting that.”

“No!” Suddenly he’s Harry again; my friend who I’ve never felt uncomfortable around, not one day in my life. “I wasn’t. I don’t know what he was thinking”

“So you said no?”

I turn, realisation dawning as I look at him.

“Well...not really...”

He raises his eyebrows at me, suppressing a smile.

I stare at him, feeling stupid. “Shit.”

He laughs. “Yeah.”

I throw back my drink. “Shit. Shit, shit.”

Harry scratches his hair and then leans on his hand.

“You don’t want to marry him?”

I stand up, suddenly unable to keep still. “I don’t want to marry anyone! I’m only barely out of school! I don’t want the pressure of a wedding...my careers only just starting...not to mention the pressure to have kids and I don’t...”

Harry stands up and grabs me gently by the shoulders.

“Hey. Calm down.”

I stop; trying to focus on his steady gaze. He contemplates me for a moment and then turns and heads to the chair by his bed. He grabs the jacket hanging over the back of it and walks back.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I frown up at him; confused. “What?”

He turns me to start walking to the door. “Let’s go and have a drink. Blow off some steam. We both need it.”

My feet start following. He picks up my handbag that I’ve left by the door and hands it to me. I think he realises that I’m going along with this before I do.

“Where will we go?”

He smiles and grips my arm, pulling me in tight against him. I hear his answer as we start to apparate.

“Anywhere.”

*

The low thump of the bass vibrates through my chest; thrumming through my whole body. It’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think, and I realise then, that was exactly the idea.

Harry elbows his way through the last few people in his journey from the bar and hands me a short glass filled with a drink I don’t recognise. I try and make out what it is but it’s impossible in this low light, punctuated only by sharp shafts of coloured light flashing through the dark club. He clanks his against mine and I take that as my cue; tipping my head back to empty the contents down my throat.

“Whoa..easy.” He yells to be heard; grabbing my glass from my lips and helping me right it. “It’s not Firewhiskey. You just sip it.”

“Oh.” The liquid that I’ve already swallowed leaves a fiery trail down my throat. He smiles at me and then looks out to watch the heaving crowd.

I’ve been to a few muggle clubs, but none this busy. It’s four different levels just in this one room; and there’s three rooms like this in the whole place. I watch Harry as he watches the sea of bodies swell and pulse and wonder if he’s been here many times before and if so, who with. He catches me watching and leans down to my ear to speak.

“Alright?”

I nod and raise my glass to show him I like the drink. And then I realise I am alright. The music pushes through my ears as the muggle alcohol shifts through my veins and I take my first deep breath of the day. Harry smiles at me again and I feel like I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.

*

I make friends in the bathroom, a group of muggle girls who like my hair. And surprisingly I find that their giggling and inane talk of clothes and lads is exactly the kind of frivolous company I want. When we go back out into the club, I go dancing with them, after waving out to Harry. He nods at me and motions to the bar; to say he’s getting us another drink I guess.

One of my new friends - I think her name is Terri - pulls me close to speak loudly in my ear.

“Who’s that?”

“Harry. He’s my best friend.”

She follows him with her eyes over my shoulder.

“He’s fit! You’re not seeing him?”

I shake my head. “He’s got a girlfriend though.”

Terri dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand. “Not tonight!” She smiles at me and loops her arm through mine, tugging me to the dance floor.

“Come on!”

*

I find my way back to him, falling in to the sanctuary of his corner of the bar. He smiles at me and passes me a drink. I take a large gulp.

“Having fun?”

Swallowing, I nod. “Yes!! So much fun!” I grab him in an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Harry – really, I mean it. I needed this.”

He tucks a curl behind my ear – escaped from the ponytail I put it in about an hour or so ago. I’m sweaty and in a shoestring singlet that I’d never usually wear as a top but it’s so damn hot in here, I had to strip off a few layers.

“That’s good.”

His eyes wander over me and I’m not too drunk to notice that.

“Yeah.”

He hasn’t looked away and my stomach completes a slow and lazy flip.

Terri and one of the other girls appear at my shoulder. I turn to look at her as she smiles flirtatiously at Harry.

“Hey. Do you wanna dance?”

I turn back to see his reaction. He smiles and shakes his head.

“I don’t dance.” I remember the Yule Ball suddenly and it makes me laugh. Ron in those ridiculous robes...

“So you drink then? What are you having?”

I miss the rest of their conversation; she steps closer and speaks with her lips near his ear.

Time passes in a blur of drinks and dancing and hilarious conversation with my new friends that I forget instantly after it occurs. But it’s fantastic; just...fun. It makes everything seem far away; Ron and the horrendous proposal, Ginny and her pestering, The Den. Aberforth and his criticism. When I think about his comments about me now, it just makes me laugh.

“You alright – sitting there laughing to yourself?”

I smile up at Harry, his face is kinda close.

“I was thinking about Aberforth. How obsessed he is with my hair.”

He laughs. “He’s a little over the top about it, yeah.”

I find that hysterically funny. He grins at me as I lean off my bar stool laughing, and then glances down at my arm. I feel his warm finger on my skin as he drags my strap back up to sit on my shoulder. He straightens me up to sit again and I realise then that he’s standing between my legs. It sobers me a little and I try and muster a solemn expression.

“When did everything get so crazy, Harry? Are we ever going to get a shot at normal?”

He glances around and then leans close to my ear to be heard, his hands resting on my knees.

“You’re a witch and I’m a wizard. Normal was never really an option.”

I nod, smiling and turn to him. His jaw is right by my temple and then he draws back further and his lips are close.

I can see enough of his face to see that his smile drops gradually. I study his mouth, lips slightly parted, his breath a little shallow. My face tilts up towards him, as if of its own accord and then his hand moves from my knee to my thigh.

I guess if I hadn’t had so much to drink, I would have some control. I’d say something sensible, or look away or laugh or something. As it is, the music is pounding through my skull and I can’t think of anything but how close he is and how it’s making me feel as if I’m on fire.

His face tips down just a fraction and it seems that’s all I need. I move my mouth up the inch necessary to meet his.

His lips are warm against mine; he hesitates for a split second. Then he reacts; his palm flattening against the outside of my thigh, and moving up to my hip. His lips open and I respond embarrassingly quickly; my tongue darting out to taste his. His other hand comes up and grasps my jaw, his mouth moving against mine so that I’m lightheaded – I don’t know anything but wanting to get closer to him. My hands grasp his shirt and I forget entirely where I am.

“Woooooohoo!!!”

A loud shriek near my ear bursts into my reality; I break away from his lips and turn towards it. Terri and two of her friends are grinning at us, their arms around each other, swaying on their feet. Terri points at us with the hand that holds her bottle.

“Yooou two! I knew it! I knew you were shagging!!”

I stare at her in shock and the embarrassment, gripping Harry’s shirt and turning my face into his chest. I feel his hand on my back and his chest rumble as I think he laughs too. They weave away and his hands come up to cup my face and bring it to him. I focus on his eyes as he speaks.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I nod, and let him turn and lead me through the crowd.

*

6. Chapter Six

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.

*

7. Chapter Seven

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. Tumblr fans might recognise a scene in this; I borrowed it because I love it.

Words: 6,564 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 Seven

*

Corvus’s booming voice rings out over the crowd.

“We have a new revelation! A surprise...twist, you might say.” He smiles cruelly back at us and then sweeps his way back up on to his stage; up on to the crucis. Clearly enjoying the theatre, he explains the new development.

“Whilst they were going to fight tonight anyway, it seems that Mr Potter and Ms Granger can’t seem to get enough of our ...hospitality.” His black eyes shift across to me and I glare back up at him. “They volunteer to extend their contract with us in exchange for these two.”

He gestures to the girls who swing wide eyes across to us; following Corvus’s finger which is pointing in our direction. They whisper frantically to each other as the crowd around us murmurs with a mixture of delight and disappointment. Harry moves towards the crucis and I follow closely behind.

“No!”

The word comes from our left, a short sharp bark. I turn to see a bolt of red light slicing through the air towards us and I raise my wand arm without thinking, producing a shield charm that encompasses both Harry and myself.

The curse rebounds and it’s then that I realise it wasn’t meant for either of us – and that thankfully, Harry had seen it coming too and extended it to include the two girls standing shell-shocked in front of us. Harry’s arm has gone out to move me behind him slightly; I step around him just a little to see who it was that attacked.

Rodolphus stands there, breathing angrily through his nostrils, glaring first at Harry and I and then Corvus, before his eyes rest almost hungrily on the girls.

“Corvus! These are not my opponents. I did not agree to fight these mudbloods.”

I feel Harry’s body tense and I put my hand on his bare arm, gripping him tightly. Corvus steps forward, his smile tight and his expression hard.

“Rodolphus. You don’t wish to fight the couple responsible for your beautiful wife’s demise? I thought surely...”

“My wife was killed by a pure blood witch, not by some muddied, inferior...teenagers.” He spits his words out and then literally spits on the floor at our feet. “I would not honour them with my participation.”

Corvus steps closely, his expression still calm but I see the tension under his cool veneer.

“Not even to avenge our Dark Lord? Rodolphus?”

I see the look in the dark wizard’s eyes – contempt, hatred. His face, this close, shows clearly that he doesn’t hold the memory of Voldemort at all precious. But his eyes dart around quickly and I realise, as I suspect he does, that this would be the wrong crowd to admit that to. He takes a step back, bowing his head and raising his wand to hold it horizontal in front of him.

“I step down. I will not fight tonight.”

Corvus face freezes, his smile nearly completely gone now. I look back and forth between them and realise that whatever hold Corvus and this Dome have over us, it doesn’t seem to have such power over Rodolphus Lestrange.

He turns, and with one last look of distaste thrown over his shoulder towards Harry and me, he walks off the crucis.

The crowd erupts in a chorus of loud boos and taunting but Rodolphus ignores it, walking purposefully through the crowd, away from us. I feel Harry’s body tense even more, as if he’s considering following. I grasp his arm tighter and glance over at Corvus who still looks a little stunned. Then he seems to gather himself, stretching what is left of his smile across his face.

“Pay him no mind. Rodolphus has never been the same after the tragedy of watching his wife die for her true love.” The crowd sniggers cruelly and I watch Rodolphus’s broad shoulders as he slows his walk. “And being unable to save her himself, well...it’s heartbreaking.” Corvus’s voice is dripping in sarcasm but his eyes are fixed on Rodolphus’s retreating back. The wizard stops for a moment and I wonder if he’s about to turn back. But after a short pause, he continues to walk away without another glance in our direction.

Corvus grimaces slightly and then motions towards Bole, muttering an instruction. “Find a partner.”

Bole nods, and then gestures into the crowd. Another wizard of similar height and build to him begins to travel through the audience towards us.

Harry makes a short humourless laugh. “Peregrine Derrick. The other Beater. Exactly the same as Bole.”

I nod, removing my outer robe now. When I turn to place it somewhere off the crucis, I see Aberforth by the edge, near where we’d been standing in the crowd. He has Harry’s jacket and holds his arm out for mine. I walk over.

“Both fast and agile despite their size but stupid, not a brain cell between them. Out think them, don’t outrun them.” He gestures me closer with a quick flick of his fingers and I lean in. “But they’ve worked as a team before, remember that too.”

I nod to his instructions and move back to stand beside Harry, repeating them quietly in his ear. He nods once quickly to me and then to Aberforth and then turns to face them.

The two frightened girls are still grasping each other off to our side, glancing from Harry to me and back again, and I try and throw them a reassuring smile. Corvus reinstates the dome over our heads and sections them off against the wall; I try and put them from my mind and concentrate on the two solid men in front of us.

“Duellers, starting positions!”

The crowd begins to whip itself into a frenzy and it’s only then that I realise I had nearly forgotten they were there. My focus is acute; all the training with Aberforth is coming to the forefront and as I stand there, next to Harry, I realise I know exactly what he’s going to do to start – and he already knows my first move too. I raise my arms above my head and tilt my head to the side to stretch a little. Harry raises up on to the balls of his feet, and circles his arm quickly, stretching out his stiff shoulder I know. I glance at the welt still visible across his bicep and resolve not to let him get hurt at all this time.

“Duellers, bow.”

We perform the traditional wand gesture and bow to our opponents. Bole sneers as he barely makes the movement; eyeing me like I’m a particularly delicious meal he’s about to consume. I smile coldly at him, shaking my head.

“Begin!”

Immediately, Harry and I both produce our Patronus, sending them directly towards our opponents, swirling in a bright silvery mist around their heads. My otter winds nimbly around them; temporarily blinding them as Harry’s stag circles them quickly and increases the effect. I quickly dig my fingers under my bra strap - to where I’ve hidden the small capsule. I throw it to the ground, releasing the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

Harry and I both apparate straight up to the ceiling of the Dome and simultaneously fire our curses at them, completing our unorthodox move. My Confundo charm hits Derrick right in the centre of his skull but Bole is slightly quicker; he blocks us with a shielding spell that encompasses him like a bubble.

I hear Harry swear and then we’re flying around the interior of the dome, me following an inch behind him. The crowd roar louder with cheers and some with boos but the noise is definitely more rowdy this time. The darkness in the centre of the ring starts to clear just as Harry turns and dodges a red curse from Bole. I counter with a strike of my own that just misses him.

Derrick turns to gaze through bleary eyes at us; fighting the haze my curse has put on him. He fires a blue shielding spell, but not quickly enough to deflect Harry’s curse; I see him yelp and clutch his forearm as a bright red mark appears there. Bole has apparated upwards into black smoke and I chase him, noting that the column of white smoke that is Harry plummets to the ground to gain Bole’s attention.

It works, and as soon as he materialises and aims for Harry, I hit him square on the back, sending him flying forwards. He falls to the ground, only just keeping his footing and stumbles towards Harry; Harry throws a fist and connects soundly with his jaw, sending him to the floor and earning a deafening cheer from the crowd. I glance over and even the two girls are smiling from their position at the edge of the dome as they watch.

I land next to Harry who throws me a quick grin before we both turn to stand back to back as Aberforth has drilled into us. Bole groans and turns over and I see his nose is bleeding. It gives me a thrill, knowing that Harry has spilt some blood and I barely recognise myself as I whip a stinging curse down on him, causing a couple of surface cuts that draw a little blood too. He clutches his arm and I feel a twinge of regret but I can see Aberforth gesturing to me and I know what I have to do.

“Now, Hermione.”

I nod shortly, and raise my wand. I feel Harry move in the corner of my vision, and see Derrick flying across the crucis before he moves to follow him but it feels far away; my focus has narrowed to a point and I study my victim on the floor, almost marvelling at my own detachment. I think of Fred suddenly; his warm easy grin. Bole rolls over and leers at me, sluggishly raising his wand.

“Expulso.”

I don’t make it strong but it snaps his head back violently. There’s no satisfaction, there’s no regret. There’s nothing – I’m simply numb. He’s instantly knocked out cold and I let my wand arm fall to my side. I stare down at the mass of Bole’s frame, emotionless.

Suddenly, a huge shape comes flying at me, colliding painfully with my arm. I cry out, feeling the bone snap as the force of the object connects. Waves of pain wash over me and I fight to keep my vision clear; swimming stars threaten to turn to blackness.

I hear a growl that sounds like Harry and then Derrick is lying at my feet, also unconscious. Harry appears beside me, his wand raised and pointing down. He aims a non verbal curse at Derrick’s form but when I see Derrick’s body twist and writhe on the crucis floor, I know which curse it is. Harry’s face is livid, intent on the pain he’s causing.

“Stop.”

The word falls out of my pain slackened lips. Harry doesn’t notice and so I speak louder.

“Stop...Harry...that’s enough.”

I stumble forward and catch his arm; he finally breaks off and stares at me unseeing for a moment before he refocuses.

“Hermione...are you alright? I’m so sorry...”

I shake my head, clutching my elbow. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

He grasps my shoulders, staring down at my arm and then at my face.

“I’m so sorry...I’d thought he was down and then he just came barrelling for you...”

“Harry, stop, really...I’m fine.”

He looks at me, anguished and so I try and smile reassuringly. He gathers me gently in to him, wrapping his arms delicately around my shoulders. I press my face into his neck and he kisses my hair.

“Touching.” Corvus’s voice bounces off the ceiling and I realise then that the Dome has dissolved. His long hair ripples as he walks towards us, his face set in distaste. He throws a scornful look at the bodies at our feet and kicks out viciously at one of them. “But ultimately...disappointing.”

Harry turns and frowns at him, his jaw set. I grasp his arm with my good hand. Corvus smiles his humourless smile.

“You too need to learn to draw it out. Why not take your time? Put on a show!” He gestures grandly with his hand to the crowd that I’ve forgotten all about again, who seem subdued, most of them going about the business of exchanging money with grimy hands. Corvus looks back at us.

“Won’t you stay? Go another round?”

Harry looks like he’s a second away from hexing Corvus into oblivion. But he holds still, clenching his jaw and fist.

“No. We’re done here.”

He dismisses a disappointed looking Corvus and walks me carefully to the edge of the crucis, towards Aberforth who is currently helping the two girls down off the platform. Each step sends a jolt of pain through me but I grind my teeth together, determined not to let it show.

When we make it to Aberforth, I see the girls are looking paler with every passing minute and I push Harry gently away.

“Look after them. I’m fine.”

He watches me uncertainly for a moment and so I perform an immobilizing charm on myself, strapping my arm against my chest with a glowing blue rope. He nods and then turns to one of the girls, throwing her arm around his neck. The other leans on Aberforth and the five of us make our way through the path made by the sneering crowd, out towards the front door.

We’re almost there when I catch sight of Lucius again, glowering at me from the shadows. I stare back, feeling nothing but pity. My eyes reflect something he wasn’t expecting I’m sure because he looks taken aback suddenly. Then he disappears into the dark crowd.

*

When we finally arrive back at Grimmauld, I’m exhausted to the point of wanting to collapse on the spot.

It was nearly light, we’d spent the whole rest of the night getting the girls back to a room at the Hog’s Head and nursing them as they descended into the same fever I’d had when I’d first been struck by the curse. Lenore and Navine were sisters, lured there by someone offering hope to find their parents who hadn’t been seen since the beginning of the Second War against Voldemort. My heart had gone out to these two girls, searching for their family and only finding the worse kind of trouble.

I’d wanted to stay with them but Harry had insisted I come back and rest, and get under the Sanatur blanket. Aberforth had set and healed my broken arm but it was still very tender, and very obviously still healing. So I’d let him lead me away, with reassurances from Aberforth that the girls would be fine and he would make sure of their care.

And now that we’re back in his room, in the familiar darkness of this space, the fatigue finally hits.

I sit heavily down on the floor where I am, not caring about the hard floorboards in the slightest. Harry falls just as solidly into the chair beside me. I wonder if we’re going to talk about the girls or maybe about the duel but it’s just quiet between us. I have just enough time to find the silence uncomfortable when he speaks.

“So.” He makes a motion with his hand, gesturing back and forth between us. My heart leaps, even in my tiredness and I remember everything suddenly – memories of the other night in this very room come storming into my head in sharp focus. “This is awkward, huh.”

I don’t know whether to smile or cry at that and so I just sigh and push my fingers through my hair, letting it fall in a curtain hiding my face.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He blows out an audible breath; stretches his denim clad legs out long. I lean on my knees and wait.

“Wow. That sucks.”

I do smile this time, and shrug.

“Yeah, it does.”

He pauses, sitting motionless in the chair beside me.

“You think there’s anything we can do about it?”

My lips fall open slightly, and I know this is the moment. I know that I can lie and hedge and keep saving face. Or I can be honest and let the chips fall where they may. Neither option sounds appealing, because both seem to mean things between Harry and I will change irreversibly but it’s becoming clearer to me that, whether I like it or not, that’s already happened.

I turn to look up at him in the chair. He’s watching me; his fingers gripping the arm rest that’s level with my face. His eyes are dark and his expression hooded but he doesn’t stop studying me intently.

“Yeah.” I nod and bite my lip, glancing down at his wrist and then back up at his face.

“You could just kiss me and get it over with.”

He stares at me in something like shock for a second; his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, echoing through my body; setting it humming with nerves.

Then he leans forward and I know then, from his expression. There’s no hesitation, no internal struggle in his eyes. He grabs for my upper arms and I rise to meet him, allowing him to drag me easily into his lap. My lips find his instantly; I grasp handfuls of his hair with my good hand and he presses me against him and I realise truly then how much I’ve been craving to feel this again – ever since that night.

He seems to mirror my urgency; while being careful of my arm, I realise. He only tolerates the confines of the chair for another minute though before he lifts me effortlessly up against him and walks us to the bed. I don’t let him lose contact with my lips, not even when he walks us up the small stairs to the mezzanine level but he navigates it well, not stumbling once, holding me safely against him.

I clutch his shirt tightly with my good arm. He lays me down on the bed, taking my weight so I don’t have to. Truthfully, it’s hurting badly, but it’s a distant inconvenience – I barely register it. He kneels up and takes his shirt off in one swoop; I kinda can’t help but stare. I reach up and run the palm of my good hand over the ridges of his lean stomach. He looks down at me, a smile tugging at his lips. I run my hand down further until I curl my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and yank him gently down towards me.

He leans down over me, careful to hold his weight on his own arms and I slide my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine again.

And this time it’s slower; still with that obvious need but it’s different, maybe because I’m injured and he has a few cuts and bruises that draw a couple of sharp breaths from him at times also. We touch each other’s damaged, bruised bodies with hands as gentle as we can make them, with lips soft on skin that’s scratched and battle weary.

This time it’s so much slower, almost painfully intimate. I catch his eyes at times and I want to hold his gaze, I do. Instead I bury my face against his shoulder or close my eyes because I’m petrified of the feeling bubbling up within me, threatening to overflow.

When we’re finished, he pulls me into his shoulder and holds my head, kissing my temple and moving his lips in my hair. I grasp him as tightly as my arm will allow, fitting my whole body into his like I know it as well as my own because right now it feels like I do.

“I’ll be right back.”

He rolls away from me and I miss the warmth of him for a moment when he leaves but he’s back quickly. I mould willingly back into his side but I notice he’s taking the blanket down from my shoulder. I glance up at him and he’s concentrating on something. I feel an unusual warmth spread through me and then I realise that he has the Santaur blanket, and is stretching its golden fabric to cover the both of us – which it does, easily.

I curl into him, feeling the warmth of the healing settle over us as his fingers stroke the middle of my back. After a while, he gently reaches for the hand of my sore arm and lifts it, moving his head to look down at the welts on my forearm.

“Better?”

I nod; it does feel considerably less painful already.

“Thanks.”

He gently rubs my fingers, still looking at my hand. It feels like he’s going to say something significant and suddenly, whatever it is, I don’t know if I can bear to hear it. I speak first so that he can’t.

“Those girls were lucky you were there tonight. You saved their lives.”

He rolls on to his back a bit more, pulling me with him with one hand and grabbing a handful of his messed hair in the other. He shakes his head.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

I don’t reply to that, I just twine my fingers with his.

He looks down at me but I stare steadfastly at his collarbone until he pulls my chin up gently with his fingertips. I meet his eyes and he frowns at me, looking for something it seems. I don’t know if he finds it but then he kisses me again and I forget about everything else anyway.

*

In the morning, I wake and I’m still wrapped tightly in his warmth.

I don’t even contemplate leaving this time.

I can’t justify what I’m doing, I know that. Stubbornly, or maybe even childishly, I just want to ignore everything that’s wrong with this. I want to pull the covers over my head and disappear here with him, and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Nothing else exists except for us, here in his bed and wrapped in blankets.

I watch him while he sleeps and wonder if things could possibly still be awkward between us when he wakes up.

But when he does, it seems like he has the same idea as me because once he looks around in his sleep haze and sees me; he grabs me in close and pulls the covers over our heads. I laugh and he does too and I think, for just a second, maybe the rest of the world really doesn’t exist anymore.

*

I’m embarrassed when Kreacher brings us breakfast in bed.

It’s silly because he just goes about his work with no change in expression but I grasp the sheets protectively to my chest as Harry sits up in bed to put the tray on his lap. Once the little house elf is gone, I peer at the tray, realising how hungry I am. Harry is already tucking in. He gestures at me, seeing if I want some. I’m too famished to be shy and so I sit up and eat too.

It’s strangely normal. After we eat, we get up and shower together, barely speaking, just handing each other soap and towels like it’s something that we’ve always done. There’s some sheepish grinning and a little nervousness but mainly I feel surprisingly comfortable just being alone like this with him.

Then we lie back into the bed, curving into each other again by some silent agreement. It’s so warm and right and I don’t find it at all difficult to forget all the things wrong with it. As if for one suspended moment, we’re stuck in some alternate reality that subsists only in this room. Only the light falling on us from the skylight turning the sheets a blinding white is a witness to this and so maybe it’s not really happening. I guess, with all the strangeness in my life, it’s no surprise I can come up with such a theory.

I’m not sure what he’s telling himself about it all. He seems relaxed, almost happy at times. His body language is calm, even after everything that’s happened over the last week. I begin to think he might be practicing the same art of denial as me.

But then, when it starts to rain late in the afternoon and we tangle further into the blankets and each other, I feel his mood change. I rest my head against his chest and listen to the steady drumming of his heart and wait for him to speak.

“I really dropped us in it last night.”

“What do you mean?”

He runs his thumb absently in circles on my shoulder.

“Making this worse. We’re never going to get away from the Den. We’re stuck fighting there until we ...get unlucky.”

I push up on my elbows and frown at him.

“Don’t say that, Harry. We’ll find a way out of it...I know we will. We’ll get the whole thing exposed and shut down – as soon as we can figure out how.”

He puts one arm up under his head and then tucks some hair behind my ear with the other, smiling slightly.

“Yeah. I know you will.”

I shake my head, impassioned. “WE will.”

His face turns suddenly serious and he looks down at my lips, his thumb moving to trace them now. His eyes find mine again.

“We.”

I swallow nervously, not sure what to say now. All the confidence I’d just felt rushes away from me and I want to hide away again, suddenly unsure of what we’re doing and if we’re ever going to really talk about it. I can’t bear the silence anymore or the questions within it so I lean forward and catch his lips with mine. He responds quickly, grasping the back of my head and pulling me closer.

*

“Master.”

Kreacher gives me the fright of my life when he appears at the bedside again.

“I told you no messages please, Kreacher.”

That surprises me. Maybe he did that when I was sleeping.

“I’m sorry, Master, it’s Mr Aberforth sir. He says it’s urgent.”

Harry nods and sits up.

“It’s okay. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

I watch him sit on the edge of the bed and tug on some jeans.

“Shall I come? I should come.”

He shakes his head as he pulls on his boots.

“No stay here. You still need some rest for that arm.”

I sit there frozen for a moment; feeling rattled now that the bubble we’ve existed in for the last day is threatening to burst. It throws everything into sharp relief suddenly, and I feel abruptly nauseous. When I look back at him he’s standing now, and shrugging into a jacket. He looks at me and I stare back, drinking in the sight of him because it feels strangely like he’s leaving for a long time.

“We should talk. When I get back.” He gestures at the bed; at the sheets that I’m still twisted in and then pushes one hand through his hair and shoves the other in his jeans pocket. “About everything.”

I feel my heart sink for some reason but I nod, looking away.

He bends to me, kissing me on the temple and then my lips; his hand grasping my neck. He presses his forehead briefly to mine and then he’s gone.

*

I last about ten minutes by myself alone in the bed before I admit I’m too agitated to just lie here anymore. Besides, it’s a very different bed without him in it.

I’ve been mulling everything over anyway, and I know what I have to do. I have another shower and get dressed quickly, feeling myself fill with an acute sense of purpose at every passing minute.

I throw one final look around the room and at the now neatly made bed before apparating to Ron’s.

*

“What the hell are you telling me?”

Ron breathes heavily through his nostrils, his anger just barely in check. I recognise it well, and I realise then that I’ve been catering to it – doing everything I can not to upset him, even at the expense of my true feelings. Now, through everything I’ve been through lately, his anger seems like a trivial thing to be scared of.

“I’m telling you what I should have told you a long time ago, Ron. We’re not right for each other. We’re friends, nothing more than that. I know that for sure now.”

His eyebrows raise and I realise I’ve revealed too much.

“You’ve found someone else.”

I look down at the ground, unwilling to reveal anything but just as unwilling to deny it and lie. He laughs humourlessly.

“That’s it, isn’t it. It’s someone else.”

I shrug at him, feeling the guilt at hurting him slice through me.

“What difference does it make, Ron? You and I...we weren’t ever going to work out.”

He nods, still appearing dazed. Finally, he looks up at me, speaking quietly.

“You’re not the only one you know. It wasn’t my fault we could never...I haven’t had complaints from anyone else.”

I stare at him, registering what his comment means; seeing the defiance in his eyes. I feel my guilt melt a little, just watching the stubborn jut of his chin.

“Right. Nice, Ron. Real nice.”

He looks a bit stricken; torn between apologising and holding his ground. I make it easier for him.

“Well, at least now we both know where we stand.”

He nods, a myriad of emotions playing out across his familiar face. I take a few steps back towards the door.

“I’ll see you.”

I turn and apparate, leaving him standing there, fixed to the spot.

*

The lights of the Hogs Head are low and uninviting; it looks barely open. It’s confirmed when I enter and see Aberforth isn’t behind the bar; it’s the other guy who seems to do odd jobs around the place and who I’ve always suspected is part troll. He gazes uncomprehending at me when I ask after Aberforth so I just walk straight past him and through the door leading to the rooms.

I find my way easily to the room where the two girls are; realising then how familiar the halls of the Hog’s Head have become to me now. The wind whistles ominously around the crooked building as I walk, but I find the now recognizable scent of the damp halls somehow comforting – reminding me of our training sessions and the enjoyment I’ll admit I get from them now.

The door to the girls room is open just a crack; I knock gently and enter.

Lenore is sitting up and smiles at me; Navine is still lying down under the covers but manages to wave a weak hand in my direction. I’m surprised to see that Madam Rosmerta is perching her ample bottom on the edge of Navine’s bed. She turns and smiles warmly at me.

“Come in, love. The girls have been asking after you.”

I smile and greet them all warmly, sitting myself opposite to Rosmerta on Lenore’s bed. I look at both girls, happy to see that at least Lenore is eating some soup from her lap.

“How are you feeling?”

Lenore nods between mouthfuls.

“Good. Much better. Thank you for everything you and Harry did for us.”

I shake my head. “Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Madam Rosmerta leans forward, reaching for the other bowl of soup on the table and coaxes Navine to sit up which the girl does slowly and reluctantly. Rosmerta waits patiently, smiling warmly at me.

“Now don’t be too modest; you two did well.” She nods, watching me closely. “Aberforth tells me everything. I think you two ought to be very proud. And I told Harry that too.”

I watch her as she hands the soup to Navine who’s now sitting gingerly upright.

“Harry’s been here then?”

His name sounds strange falling from my lips suddenly and I think I see a knowing smile from Rosmerta but it’s gone so quickly I’m not sure. She nods.

“Yes, he came and saw the girls earlier and then went somewhere with Aberforth. I agreed to keep an eye on these two.”

Navine nods enthusiastically, the first sign of animation I’ve seen from her.

“Yes, he came to see us. And we told him how grateful we are...to both of you of course.”

I note the red flush in her cheeks and her glance at her sister who’s wearing an identical flush. I try and suppress a smile at their obvious adoration of their rescuer.

“You don’t need to be grateful. We’re just happy you’re alright.”

Navine watches me, her eyes alight with curiosity. I spy her wrist, and elect to change the subject.

“You have the tattoo.”

She glances down and then smiles, rubbing it gently.

I frown. “But I thought they were released from the curse?”

Rosmerta nods and leans forward to look at Navine’s wrist. “Aberforth thinks because they stepped into the ring that they’ll still feel some illness and still have the marks but they should fade within the week.”

I nod as Navine holds hers out to me, running her fingers over it and shrugs.

“I kinda like it.”

I smile and lean forward to study it a little closer. She looks over at her sister and smiles warmly, sharing a look that shows their closeness.

“We both love them actually.”

She holds it out for me to see it better. Hers has the same thorny design as mine, nearly identical, except for in the centre. Where mine clearly displays the letter H, hers is an unmistakeable ‘L’. I reach out and run my finger lightly over it.

“Navine, right?”

She nods and gestures to her sister. “And Lenore.”

I frown in confusion. “But you have the ‘L’ on yours.”

Lenore nods, casting a quick glance back at her sister and then to me. She lifts up her wrist and shows me her own tattoo.

“And I have the ‘N’ on mine.”

I shake my head slightly, feeling disoriented for a moment.

“But, shouldn’t it be the other way around? You have the letter of your own name?”

Lenore shakes her head back, leaning forward to let me study hers further.

“No, Aberforth explained it to us. The initial that appears is the first letter of the person dearest to you. The one who’s also part of your curse.” She smiles sadly across at her sister and they reach over the short space between the two single beds to clasp hands. “So I’m bound to her, and she’s bound to me.”

I sit back, my ears ringing loudly.

The person dearest to you.

“Where’s Harry.”

I don’t realise I’ve spoken aloud until the girls exchange a look and Madam Rosmerta throws me another shrewd smile.

“I’m not sure, love. He went with Aberforth but I don’t know where. Said they wouldn’t be long...though it has actually been a while hasn’t it? I think they were meeting someone.”

The girls nod and I stand abruptly. All three faces glance at me in surprise and I force a calm smile.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I’ll pop back shortly I...” I back towards the door, shoving my hands in the back pocket of my jeans. “I’ll just go and see if I can find them.”

Madam Rosmerta smiles kindly.

“You do that, love.”

*

The training room in the cellar is stone quiet.

I cast the illumination spell for the lights and they crank into life; but the room is clearly deserted, with no evidence that anyone has been there recently. A heavy sense of foreboding starts to prickle its way up my neck.

But I turn and mount the steps, dismissing it. Truth be told, I can’t trust anything I’m feeling at the moment. Since seeing the girls and their tattoos in the rooms upstairs, I’ve been a strange sort of numb.

And suddenly, as I climb, I realise I’ve kept everything on the surface, not allowing how I feel about him to really permeate my denial. Keeping him at arms length and pretending that it’s all physical and that I’m okay with that. Not wanting to admit how I think about him and how I’ve wanted to tell him but being too petrified of the silence that might follow if I did.

Now, as I arrive back at the statue of the goat, the urgency rushes over me in a wave. He might not feel exactly the same as I do but I have no doubt now that I’m the one on his wrist and he’s the one on mine. And whatever that means, all I know now is that I have to see him.

I search the hallways and rooms a bit longer until I find myself standing outside the Hog’s Head, frustrated. The night is cold and my breath forms white clouds in front of my face as I look around, trying to think of where they might be. I close my eyes; thinking about what Rosmerta said.

I think they were meeting someone.

Footsteps. I can hear footsteps approaching; crushing the tightly packed snow. I turn, instinctively pulling out my wand as a shadowy form draws closer.

I watch as it seems to weave unsteadily, nearly stumbling as it approaches.

“Who’s there?”

My voice sounds strangely loud and I light my wand.

The figure draws closer and with one more step, the face is visible by my wand light. I let out a strangled yelp.

“Aberforth!”

His face is bloodied and beaten, I see that immediately. I lurch forward to take his arm and he leans into me heavily.

“Couldn’t help...Harry. They got Harry.”

My heart turns to ice. I pull back to look into his face, trying to hold his gaze but his eyes are strangely unfocused.

“Who? Aberforth, who’s got Harry?”

“Confused...Imperius. Taken.”

“What?” I can barely make out the words falling from his slack lips. I glance around quickly and then back at him, sure that he’s in no state to apparate. I see then that he’s clutching his hand; one of his fingers is bleeding heavily.

“Hurry. Go.”

Fear lurches through me again and I fight to think straight. I quickly perform a charm to stop the bleeding and then tuck under his shoulder, supporting him up the path to the front door.

“Help us!” I shout at the bartender who stares at me numbly, but thankfully, somehow, Rosmerta rushes out from somewhere. She catches sight of Aberforth’s face, and dashes forward to support his other side.

“What in Merlin’s...”

“Something’s happened to Harry. I think Aberforth has been put under Imperius but he’s resisting.” Rosmerta nods sharply, taking Aberforth’s arm right around her neck to support more of his weight. I position myself right in front of his face and force him to look at me. He peers at me through squinted eyes; one is already surrounded by an impressive bruise.

“Where. Where is Harry?”

He frowns under the strain of concentration but I see some steeliness back in the blue of his eyes.

“Den.”

I close my eyes briefly, praying I’m not late. “Who has him?”

The old man screws his face up in effort, the effects of the curse still making his brain addled. He shakes his head, unable to form any more words.

I squeeze his shoulder and glance up at Rosmerta. She nods at me.

“I’ll look after him. You go. And for Merlin’s sake... be careful.”

I close my eyes and apparate.

*

8. Chapter Eight

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