Requital by Msscribe
Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.
Ships: H/Hr
Type: Angst\ Romance
Summary: A story of Hermione Granger coming to terms with her greatest loss, finding her own voice and strength, and coming of age in a world battered by a never-ending war.
Disclaimer: No profits are being made off the fiction on these pages. Harry Potter, associated characters and the associated Harry Potter universe is © J. K. Rowling and respective publishers. Fanfiction is fiction--it is not meant to be taken seriously in the least.
A/N : Cirque du Sorcieres = Sorcerer's Circus
Chapter 5 - Cirque du Sorcieres
Hermione decided to walk around the dimly lit room, with no destination in mind whatsoever. They had two hours until they were to meet Harry and Ron.
She would steal the occasional glance at Cho and Locust. The round man sat, intense and hardened, like a statue made of stone. Cho could not seem to pry his porphyritic fingers from her thighs, and resigned herself to staring off into the flickering lights above the crowd.
Hermione found another table then. The current occupants were firing off rude quips and nonsensical anecdotes. She couldn't catch onto the thread of their conversation.
"The show will start soon enough. I suppose you can sit here, " a heavy woman grumbled, giving Hermione the once over.
The woman's rude charity aside, Hermione was tempted to resort to her learned manners, but decided it would only be misplaced in her current environment. She licked her lips instead, acknowledging the invitation with a glance.
"What show?" Hermione questioned.
Her answer was the roar of sudden and unexpected applause from the crowd, most of whom had attended this event before. Hermione locked eyes with Cho, who mirrored her expression of surprise.
The lights fell even darker now, and tiny explosions erupted from every corner of the room. Laughter and some screams escaped her fellow onlookers.
Where was Cho?
Her fear was only overshadowed by her sense of wonder. There was a swirl of smoke now and it smelled like heaven to her, like everything desirable she had ever known. She clutched the side of her chair, saliva filling the inside of a mouth that suddenly felt thirsty. What was this? What was happening to her? Some people seemed frozen. Others were writhing in ecstasy. Hermione could not suppress her own moans.
It ended as quickly as it came, and a pool of light flooded a tiny spot at the front of the room. A man who stood almost as tall as the ceiling was illuminated by it.
"Welcome, friends, to our private show. We desire nothing more than your pleasure…and of course your fortune."
Laughter. Applause.
His voice was oily and wheedling, as he raised his gloved hand to them, bellowing out an incantation Hermione didn't recognize. His face looked almost childlike, but his body was frail and battered.
All the inventions of her imagination came to her now, her past and her future, playing out like a movie being watched through a kaleidoscope designed by a madman. It was all in disarray. She struggled to break the trance, needing to know if the others were seeing the same. Hermione heard the woman beside her cry out in agony. Some others were snickering like children.
Hermione tried to pray to the God that had so recently forsaken her.
The man was laughing at them all now. She quietly whispered any and all counter curses she could. Nothing helped. She struggled to block her visions enough to look for Cho.
And there she was, sitting behind the ringmaster of this circus. Cho was in a trance, and the material of her blue dress rose and fell with each labored breath she took. Hermione panicked as the man went to touch Cho's head, stroking her hair back.
Hermione couldn't break free. She couldn't move.
There stood Locust now, wearing an ornate powdered wig and a dressing gown. He was babbling to himself, and the room erupted with a brilliant flash. The transfixion was gone, momentarily throwing them all into the harshness of reality, like walking into fluorescent light after spending the night under a blackened sky.
Cho rose into the air like an angel falling up. Her arms were spread out, and her eyes were open and glazed over. There were rising murmurs throughout the frenzied crowd. Locust smiled a toothy sneer from ear to ear, his voice calling out another wicked incantation.
Another spell she didn't recognize. She tore her eyes away from her friend long enough to see his victims fall to him. The Muggles were flooded with emotions. Some were crying out in joy, others sobbing onto their tables. She struggled not to be completely affected.
Ivan's eyes locked on her. He must have noticed her calmness. Hermione erupted in false tears and he looked away, satisfied with her impromptu performance.
Locust and the other man walked through the room now, touching each person on the head as if they were offering them eternal salvation. When they were touched, the person would fall into a silent stare, free from any feeling at all.
Hermione held her breath as the ringmaster touched her forehead.
There was no pain, there was only blackness and a calm she had never known.
#
When Hermione opened her eyes, she was sitting next to Cho at the main bar near the entrance of the club. Cho was clutching Hermione's trembling hand.
"We…we need to leave," Cho said.
The club was more alive then ever, and as they headed for the door, Hermione recognized some of the faces.
Hermione suddenly didn't want to go. She pulled back at Cho. She wanted to stay and be there among them, dancing her life away. She wanted…no, needed…to feel those things again.
"I feel it too, but fight it. Concentrate, Hermione," Cho whispered with tears streaming down her face, pulling Hermione closer to the door.
Hermione made her legs follow Cho. Cho groaned when she opened the door. There was the Asian man. He had made it outside, but he couldn't seem to let go of the door. Hermione reached out and touched his arm.
She freed him, and he stumbled backwards, surprised and frightened. The pull grew weaker as they walked further away from the club.
She and Cho were holding onto each other now, staggering towards the street filled with laughing Muggles, so blissfully unaware that they were anything but intoxicated.
#
They arrived at the pancake house looking like a pair of streetwalkers who had more than filled their quota for the night. Ron stood and motioned to them. Hermione saw relief wash over Harry's face, his green eyes closing momentarily, and then looking thoughtfully into her own.
They sat down at the round table. Neville wasn't there. Hermione had been so busy keeping an eye out for Cho, she hadn't even noticed when they had lost sight of him.
"I was hoping everyone would be here by now," Harry said. Hermione could tell he was slightly worried. "We'll start now anyway, I'll try to reach Neville later. He probably couldn't find an opportunity to leave."
Hermione hoped that was all.
Cho spoke first, while Hermione stared out of the window. Her reflection in the glass seemed haggard. She felt drained. Cho told her story. Hermione concurred. It was obvious what was happening at Club Mistress, but that left them with more questions.
"Why isn't it that we haven't detected the use of Dark Magic down there? Wizards have disguised themselves as magicians before, it certainly isn't original, but it never goes undetected," Ron said. "And I'd think with magic being used as powerful as that it'd be impossible to hide as long as they've managed to."
"My informant says that club has been there for ages. Hermione, did you recognize any spells used?"
"I couldn't recognize any except an overly dramatic version of Wingardium Leviosa. The spells were so powerful that I could barely fight them. I didn't recognize them, and I've studied thousands…" she began.
Cho looked down at the floor, nodding her head. She hadn't recognized the spells either.
"I'll need you to play researcher in the two days we have off, Hermione. We need to know what we're up against. If you and Cho couldn't fight it off, it's got to be pretty powerful magic. Especially if it affected a room full of people. Even Muggles have at least some powers of resistance."
Hermione exhaled. She was nauseated from hunger now.
Harry put his arm around her, drawing her head to his chest, like he had done a million times before.
Ron and Cho exchanged a quick glance, and then looked away as if caught in the middle of an indecent thought.
"We'll meet with Arthur before our next move. Are there any questions we haven't answered tonight that need to be discussed before our meeting?"
Hermione pulled away from him and laid her head down on the table.
"Yes."
Her companions eyed her with contemplative stares, expecting one of her infamous monologues filled with thought-provoking inquiries.
"Where the fuck are my pancakes?"
#
Draco had left her lying on the gray satin sheets that covered his bed. Ginny rolled over onto her back. Her freckled skin was damp and pink.
He came back into the room now, wearing white shorts and nothing else. He had combed his glassy blonde hair, and she could smell the soap from his shower.
She regretted the later, inhaling his scent from his pillow.
"You have to go Ginny."
"Of course."
He came forward now, and kissed her neck.
"Goodbye."
She understood. They never had this time together. They never had time to just hold each other. She had learned not to need it.
Draco put his mouth on hers, sucking in her breath, tasting her one more time. She pulled away from him, leaving him wanting more. She had played this game too long not to know the rules at this point.
She stood to dress and he watched her.
He hated that he needed her.
She casually opened the door to the tunnel, and walked out.
He would have cried for the pain of it, had not remembrance of her flesh sustained him. Later she would find him. Or he would find her.
#
Hermione Granger had abandoned all reason. She hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours and what little she chose to say seemed strained or incoherent.
Harry and Ron had walked her and Cho home, thinking it too risky to apparate after what they had just been through. Harry mumbled something about them both needing to see Ministry medics to be sure they were free of any lingering spells. She was unconcerned. The lure of the club was completely gone now. Cho and Ron had taken a short walk after falling into a lengthy discussion about Quidditch. Hermione was jealous of Cho's stamina, but was grateful for the opportunity to be alone with Harry. She hadn't even realized she had wanted to be until they suddenly were.
Hermione let her hand fall to Harry's chest, running her fingers up and down. She was so tired she was delirious, wanting desperately to give into her current lack of impulse control. She searched his eyes. It was there, as clear as the night sky.
"Stay with me, Harry. Stay here."
At first he didn't understand her. His mind struggled not to wander in that direction, although by the increasing rhythm of his pulse, his body didn't share his concern.
"Are you afraid to be here by yourself?" he said, giving her an out.
"No."
Hermione let her lips graze his neck. She felt him swallow. She was violating their unspoken pact. She felt his shock as he tensed up, momentarily unsure of how to respond to her gesture.
His hand involuntarily moved to her hair, stroking the unfamiliar red. When she lifted her face to his, he accepted her kiss. He had had moments before with her when he was in danger of losing control, but he found himself becoming lost to her now.
"You're like a sister to me, Hermione," he argued, firing one last desperate shot.
The longing in his voice contradicted his words.
She covered his mouth again, coaxing his lips apart with her curious tongue. The remaining coating of her pink lipstick dissolved through their kissing, and he saw that the skin of her unpainted lips were darker than he remembered. They didn't quite belong to her.
It was agreed then, as she led him to her room. They were surrendering to that particular war.
#
Hermione thought that if she and Harry ever ended up making love, they would magically fall together. But it was awkward at first, her lips were trembling, and despite her brave advances, she was nervous.
He restrained his hands as they stood against her door, caught up in each other's mouths, separated from the rest of the universe. She knew he wanted to give her a chance to back out. His body was rigid but she could feel his hardness rising up against her, betraying him.
Harry surrendered to her, gently pulling her body into closer contact with his. She embraced him back, allowing him to feel her. Their tongues darted around each other, slowing down and speeding up, drawing back, then hurrying on for more.
She loved to kiss him, she thought to herself, licking the tiny ridge under his lower lip.
Their bodies pressed into one another, moving up and down.
Then he stopped. Taking her hand, he pulled her to the bed, laying back onto her pillows and pulling her over him. He sought her tongue again, letting one hand reach out to cup her breast.
She shuddered at the contact through the thinness of her halter-top. Slipping his hands underneath, he brushed her erect nipples, running his fingers over them delicately. Then he removed her shirt from her, nuzzling his head between her breasts, pillowing into her with a sweep of his head, taking as much of her breast as he could into his mouth. She let her fingers run through his hair and she moaned, feeling a connection between her breasts and the ache that was growing between her thighs.
When he stopped, she sought his mouth strongly, falling into him and opening herself up to his eager lips. She groaned as she felt his hard cock through their clothes, delighted...but almost alarmed by its hardness, her wetness, and the sudden urgency for this act to be complete.
Then his hand took hers, cupping it and pressing it against him for a moment. He sought for an answer in her eyes. He got it, as she gently caressed him through his jeans. Rolling her off of him for a moment, he rose to shed them. She sat on the bed, taking in the sight of his body, nearly naked now, except for his underwear.
He returned to her, gently stripping off her pants and moving her beneath him. Hermione opened her mouth to take his tongue inside her again, gulping him down with tiny sucking motions. She thrust her hips up towards him and felt his strong hand move below the elastic of her panties, diving into her wetness. She gasped and raised her hips to meet his gentle strokes, sighing as a finger slipped expertly in and out of her.
She began to kiss his face, his eyes, and his scar, tracing the rough skin with her tongue.
Her hands pulled at his waistband, wanting to return the favor, wanting to free him. He understood her cue and he was exposed to her now. Beautiful. Her body loosened and lengthened below him as his hips settled in between her thighs.
When he entered her, she relinquished everything she had ever imagined she might lay claim to in the world, and bade farewell to herself.