Requital

msscribe

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 28/12/2002
Last Updated: 23/01/2003
Status: completed

**COMPLETE** Hermione Granger suffers a great loss, joins Harry and Ron as Aurors, and fights her demons...Literally. Murder, Sexual Tension, Snogs, Shags, and Sexy!Cho. Lots of Draco/Ginny.

Chapters

1. Consumed

2. Evolution

3. Shadow Dancing

4. The Locust Lair

5. Cirque du Sorcieres

6. Gods and Monsters

7. Bloodlines

8. Encore

9. Hide and Seekers

10. Beauties and Beasts

11. Ashes to Ashes

12. Uneasy Alliances

13. The Hours In Between

14. Armageddon

15. Author's Notes

1. Consumed

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.

Chapter 1 - Consumed

The blackness almost overtook her. It almost ate her alive bit by bit as she sat in silence watching her childhood home being consumed by a fire so bright, it looked as if a second daylight had arrived. A miserable ache clawed around inside of her and her head felt heavy and dark.

Her heart pleaded for any sign of life. Perhaps her mother was in one of the ambulances, crying desperately for her. Maybe her father had to work late, like she had, so he hadn’t been home when…they…came. She knew that her parents were gone. Her life was gone. She felt as if she were sinking into the ground below her. She could taste her tears now. She should have been there to protect them.

The Muggle police swarmed the area. She recognized some of those faces as Wizards who worked in the Muggle world. They were here to clean up the mess, the overwhelming evidence of what had actually happened at the Granger house that night. They would most likely fail. There was too much. The Dark Mark was burned into the grass. There was no hiding that. The death of Voldemort didn’t mean the end of the war. The enemies' celebrations were short lived when a new leader emerged as quickly as the old one fell, and their ranks remained true to their cause.

The enemy had come, and they had taken everything she had.

“Miss…are you all right, Miss? Are you hurt, Miss?”

Questions. There were too many going through her head to answer anyone else’s.

“Hermione?”

Harry. It was Harry. His voice cut through the chaos like a ray of light, but she couldn’t seem to find her own will to speak. Nothing would come out.

She turned to look at his face. She could read it like her favorite book. She felt his misery, his sadness. His eyes were apologetic and sorrowful. Behind him were Ron and his father. They must have known the attack was coming.

Harry read her mind.

“We didn’t get here in time,” he said. “We didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

All she could do was stare into the flames looking for faces…for anything. A low and painful noise escaped her as she felt Mr. Weasley’s cloak around her shoulders and Harry lifting her from the ground.

She fought him. She struggled against his embrace, not ready to give in to its comfort. She wanted to feel the pain of her loss. Tears ran down her cheeks, flowing like two small rivers through the caked-on soot that had only moments ago blackened everything in its path.

But he was stronger than she. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe, and after a brief attempt at breaking free from him, she slumped against his chest as he carried her farther away from the house. Everything smelled like death. Even him.

The inside of Mr. Weasley’s car was warm. She was between Harry and Ron now. They both held her, Harry stroking her hair lightly, and Ron holding her hand, trying desperately to catch her glance. They rode. Fast.

“Hermione…we can’t let the Muggle police get a hold of you. They already suspect it was something other than a typical house fire. You’ll need to be with us. I’ve already asked Ginny and Mrs. Weasley to pack up essentials from your apartment. They will certainly get your address quickly and come looking for you…I’m sorry dear,” he said quietly.

She understood. If this were linked to witchcraft it would be linked to her. Many witches and wizards had already been sent away for testing, or marked for death. Since massive attacks had been launched, keeping the two worlds happily separated had become virtually impossible.

Hermione Granger was forever changed. When the change came, it ripped through her like the fire that had consumed her world, and she silently grieved for her innocence lost. The sadness and anger Harry had lived with day in and day out was now hers to share. For the first time she understood why he fought with every ounce of his being, not fearful of his own death.

#

For three weeks, they left her in precious silence, occasionally popping in to fill her in on small details. The funeral was lovely, they told her. Her relatives grieved their loss, and many came out. According to the papers, they were all feared dead -- although only two bodies were found. To the Muggle world, she was now a statistic. To the Wizarding world, she was someone to be pitied. She wasn’t sure which felt worse. She felt like letting go…

Her job as Lead Researcher at the Ministry was there when she wanted to go back. Arthur Weasley was head of the Ministry now after all, and he knew what a state she was in first-hand. She could barely manage coherent thought, let alone work. She was afraid of what she had stumbled onto to make them attack her family. What had provoked this? She couldn’t even remember her last assignment very well because it seemed so long ago. The only thing worse than the pain of loss was the pain of guilt.

She would lie in bed dreaming of her mother's voice singing her into sweet slumber when she was a child... Her father would call out to her that he had finally managed to do the crossword puzzle she'd put together for him. She visited them each night, remembering her life. She would garden with her mother, and cry on her father’s shoulder after nasty fall from her bike. She was only alive when she was asleep. She’d wake up suddenly, praying to find herself back in her apartment. It was just a nightmare, she'd hope. But when she'd wake in Ron's old room, the sadness would sink in again, and hope would fade away, blackness once again creeping up around her.

Her only pleasure was when, every evening, Ginny would run her a bath and wash her hair. She craved Ginny’s delicate fingers running through her long brown locks. It was a temporary escape from madness. Sometimes Ginny would talk about her last year at school, careful not to mention the almost daily affronts, and sometimes Ginny would just sit in silence and run the warm sponge down Hermione’s back, stopping only to soak up more of the soothing water and hypnotic blend of rosewater she used. The warmth would momentarily soothe Hermione’s anxiousness, and allow for her to drift off into sleep under the homemade quilts on Ron’s bed.

Harry and Ron sometimes came to visit, but Mrs. Weasley insisted they not stay too long. There apartment was nearby, but the Ministry had them working overtime almost every night. When they did come to visit, Harry’s eyes would plead with her to talk to him. He’d bring her flowers and books to read. She wanted to thank him, but she couldn't. She wanted to embrace him, but her skin felt sickly. She had overheard Ron commenting to Harry about how quiet she had become. She couldn’t hold back a smile as she thought of the irony of Ron actually missing their constant bickering.

Hermione’s days and nights blended together. She managed to eat enough to stay alive and occasionally come down for dinner with the Weasleys. Most nights it was just herself, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but winter break was coming to an end, and Ginny would be going back to school soon. She knew it was time to leave.

#

With a trembling hand, she reached for the suit that hung neat and pressed in Ron’s closet. Ginny had tended to all of her things quite nicely, and until that moment, they had sat untouched aside for a few tattered and comfortable clothes she wore to lounge around all day.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Ginny asked, handing her the items she had requested from the store.

“Yes.” Hermione answered, her voice wavering.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione’s waist and kissed her cheek.

“Call me if you want to talk at work. All right?” Ginny offered, turning to leave her to her task.

Hermione sighed, and pulled at her hair again, taking one last look in the mirror at who she had been before.

#

Mrs. Weasley couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her as Hermione came downstairs. Hermione was dressed in her best suit, but had traded in her normal free-flowing brown curly locks for shoulder-length straight red hair. It was necessary if she had to go into Muggle London. She mustn’t be recognized, and although she was assumed dead, she had to leave her Muggle identity behind. In the Wizarding world, she would still be Hermione Granger. In the Muggle world, she was no one. Mr. Weasley stood, and looked on for a moment.

“Now you really do look like one of my own. I would love nothing more to accompany you back today Hermione, if that’s what you’d like,” he offered.

“Thank you. I’d love that.”

She glanced over at Ginny, who was sitting on the couch. The lovely redhead smiled reassuringly at Hermione. Hermione thought she caught a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

“Are you leaving tonight too?” Ginny asked quietly.

“No…but hopefully by next week. I’m looking for an apartment. I think it’s time I went out on my own again,” Hermione said, staring back.

Mrs. Weasley came over to hug her tightly.

“I’m proud of you dear. I know you’ll get through this, but if you need to come back, you have a home here.”

“Thank you.”

Hermione and Mr. Weasley nodded goodbye and they apparated. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased at the request she was going to make. She knew he would give in to her, but it wouldn’t be easy. Especially since…well, she’d deal with that later.

She held tightly to the necklace her parents had given to her for Christmas, only three days before their deaths. She would have to find the strength. She didn’t want anyone else fighting her battles for her.

2. Evolution

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.

Chapter 2 - Evolution

The seriousness and resolve behind her voice made it impossible for Arthur Weasley to deny her request. She had grown thinner in this last month, when she had nothing to lose, but there was a strength there that was hard for him to ignore. She clung tightly to the arms of her chair, waiting for his answer, although he suspected what he said wouldn’t matter anyway. She had already decided to fight this battle – with or without the Ministry’s help. She got her answer when he reached into his desk and handed her a new badge.

Hermione was overwhelmed with his faith in her. She had never wanted to take this route before, comfortable in the tedious task of putting things together behind the scenes. She had once boasted to Ron and Harry that while they were out there waving their wands around, she was the one making all of their convictions stick. But that wasn’t enough anymore. The events that transformed her life had also taken that opinion away from her and she longed for nothing more than to hear the last dying breath of the witch or wizard who had murdered her parents. Only Aurors were given the power to assassinate criminals, so an Auror she would become.

“You’ll need to be trained. Cho Chang trains all the female Aurors, after which you will be reporting to Harry’s unit,” he said, searching her eyes for any change of heart. “Harry, Ron and Neville are in Evangel right now, following up on a lead. As you know, their unit lost Penelope last year, along with Percy,” his voice quivered with the words. “But they will return in four weeks. By then you should be ready to join them.”

“Thank you. I won’t fail you.”

Arthur Weasley hoped he had made the right choice. Hermione was like his own daughter, and he didn’t want to lose anyone else to this war. It had already taken Percy, Penelope and Charlie from them.

Hermione walked out of his office and stopped as she felt the stares penetrating her. The endless sea of Ministry personnel gave her sympathetic smiles and small nods. She forced a nod back to a couple of people, but hurried to pack up her old office. There was so much to be done.

#

“Welcome to the wild side,” Cho Chang said as Hermione walked into the large training room downstairs.

She managed a smile for her teacher. Today she had traded her professional “librarian” clothes for a tight black body suit bearing the Auror symbol. She would have been embarrassed to wear such a shape-revealing outfit before, but now it hardly seemed to matter. Cho’s matching outfit, with the exception of a small red stripe declaring her superior rank, fit equally as well.

“You look beautiful,” Cho said, walking towards her now with her hand outstretched.

Hermione took it, and Cho let her eyes linger over Hermione’s newly revealed curves.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, shifting uncomfortably.

She watched as her instructor flung her long shiny black hair back and motioned for Hermione to pick out one of the long sticks hanging on the side of the wall.

“We will start with these,” Cho began. “They are called flacks. They are simple in design, but ingenious. You can take down a 400-pound man with one of these to the right zone.”

Cho pulled out her own stick and swung it beautifully around her back and above her head. It was like watching a dancer. Hermione was entranced.

“I’ve long admired your intellect, Hermione. I’ve always wondered why you and I never became close friends. Perhaps we will now,” Cho said ,walking towards her, and standing close enough so that Hermione could feel her breath.

“I’d like that,” Hermione said, meeting Cho’s gaze and then awkwardly pulling out a flack of her own.

She knew physical contact had been her weakness, but she also knew she had to become the best she could in order to stand a chance. The enemies often quickly disarmed wands and one had to use other means…other magic. Personal contact was essential and fighting was something she would learn to do. Cho was the best. She could even take down Harry in non-magical combat, and Arthur Weasley had asked her to help Hermione become good enough to fight along side of the other Aurors.

Cho swung her flack, knocking Hermione onto the mat. Pain shot through her, but she stood up, this time determined not to get lost in her thoughts again.

“You can never let your mind wander from the task. Always be prepared for those who fight unfair,” Cho sneered.

Hermione glared back, gripping the flack with both hands. Cho looked serious for a moment, and dropped her weapon. She moved behind Hermione, grabbing the girl’s waist and repositioning her hips. Cho kicked Hermione’s legs apart and guided her hands to the proper position on the flack.

“Let your weight shift with your weapon. Use whatever force your body can hurl against it,” she whispered in her ear.

Hermione swung into the air with great force, looking around at Cho who stood behind her smiling now.

“This will come naturally to you, Hermione,” she said.

Hermione turned and swung, only missing Cho by an inch. Cho retaliated quickly, knocking her to the ground again. Cho lent Hermione her hand, pulling her up. She put one hand on her shoulder and let it fall gently down to the hand Hermione held the flask in. Hermione shivered.

“Close…but you’ll have to be faster than that.”

And Hermione stood ready again. Let the Dance begin.

#

A very tired Harry Potter returned to his flat to find an owl from Arthur Weasley. He groaned. Couldn’t he even have a moment’s rest? He opened the letter reluctantly and sat down on his couch in front of the fireplace.

Dear Harry,

I’m pleased to report that we have found you a new Auror for your team. Hermione Granger is almost through with her training and will be ready for assignment in one week. She is currently sharing a residence with Cho Chang, and needs all the support she can get. She will be helping you and Ron track down the wizards and witches responsible for the recent Muggle assassinations. She will be invaluable with her Muggle upbringing. You’ve worked together before, I’m sure you can do it this time. Please owl back once you’ve received this message.

Arthur Weasley, Head of the British Ministry of Magic

Harry was livid. How could Mr. Weasley do that? How could he send Hermione into a dangerous situation like that? Sure, her spell-casting ability was solid as a rock but she was never very good with anything as physical as the fighting they were exposed to every day. He thought she’d still be at the Weasley’s house, recovering from her loss. It seemed too soon. He needed to object to this. His own bruises and cuts were proof of what happened when you did his job.

“Dammit, Hermione!” he muttered under his breath.

He heard a movement and grabbed for his wand. There was a red-haired woman standing near his couch.

“Dammit what…Harry?,” Hermione asked. “It’s me”

He relaxed his grip on his wand, as she moved to sit next to him. He tried to control his temper. He didn’t want to upset her anymore.

“I’m glad you’re out of bed and getting better…but…I’m not sure about this,” he said, offering her a sympathetic gaze.

Hermione met his eyes with a steely resolve.

“I can do this, Harry.”

He had never seen her this way before. He was frustrated at the situation he was facing now. He knew when they were out there he couldn’t protect her.

“So you asked for this? I can find them for you Hermione…Ron and I can find them and make sure they are punished,” he said, taking her face in his hands so she couldn’t look away from him.

She gripped his wrists and pulled his hands into hers.

“I need to do this for myself, Harry. I’m ready. Cho has been wonderful. She says I’m the best she’s ever trained.”

He studied her for a moment, reluctantly dropping her hands and standing to close his door. He couldn’t let her do this. He couldn’t let her die like this. It was hard enough for him to order Ron into situations that could cost Ron his life, let alone Hermione’s.

Harry disappeared into his kitchen for a moment. Hermione noted the eerie lack of noise.

She felt his hand go over her mouth and his other arm restraining her from behind. The sneaky bastard had apparated behind her.

“What do you do if this happens to you?” Harry said to the struggling girl in his arms.

With a force he didn’t know she had, she flipped him onto the couch, knocking the wind out of him, and drawing her wand to point directly at him.

“I’d probably start with this.”

He chuckled a little in defeat, raising his hands in the air to surrender.

“I’m tired. And you got lucky with that move,” he mumbled, staring into her familiar brown eyes.

“Maybe, but I’m with you now, whether you like it or not.”

Harry knew that much was true. He noticed the subtle changes in her as she moved confidently into his kitchen, snatching a beer out of the refrigerator.

“The flowers you sent were beautiful. Thank you.” Hermione said, sitting down next to him again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there more.”

She smiled at her friend.

“You and Ron had the greater good to fight for. And now we all do.”

“What you did before helped the greater good. Probably more than we have…”

She chuckled at his modesty. He had only saved the world once or twice.

“Well, I guess I needed a change.”

His eyes wandered up to her hair again. The hair would take some getting used to.

3. Shadow Dancing

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.

Chapter 3 - Shadow Dancing

Hermione stared at the sexy witch in the mirror. Her startling red hair and deep pink-colored lips looked like someone she barely recognized. It would be her first time out as an Auror. She couldn’t seem to move her legs. She was filled with terror.

The beautiful Cho Chang opened Hermione’s bedroom door and smiled approvingly at her student. Hermione wore leather pants and a pink halter top, which made her hair stand out even more. She wouldn’t stand out at the club they would visit tonight. She would fit right in, along with Cho, who wore a blue mini-dress and red streaked hair. Harry, Neville and Ron would meet them there. She had mixed feelings about that. She wasn't sure how she felt about being out like this. She had to suppress that voice now. It would only interfere with her mission.

Hermione took a deep breath and focused on her goal. She was nervous. They’d be visiting Club Mistress tonight. It was suspected to be a money-making front for the Dark Army. The sad irony hit her; Muggles were funding their assassins by spending their nights dancing away in a drunken frenzy.

Cho disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of water and handed the nervous girl a small pill.

“It will help you.”

“What is it?”

Cho laughed.

“An aspirin. You’ll have to have a drink or two, but try to stay focused. This is information gathering only. No confrontations tonight.”

Hermione took the pill and let it slide down her throat; barely making it past the lump that had recently formed there.

Cho wrapped her arms around Hermione’s tense shoulders.

“You’re ready.”

#

The hypnotic lure of the music flooded her ears and momentarily dulled her senses. Cho took Hermione’s hand intertwining their fingers. Then she planted a soft kiss on Hermione’s lips.

“Tonight you are mine, you lovely little witch.” Cho hissed at her.

According to the report, their target Locust Daviz had a thing for women who were...together. Hermione smiled back nervously, accepting a second, more sensual kiss from Cho. She didn’t see Harry in the corner, still recovering from the shock of her scantily clad entrance, let alone her sharing a kiss with his grade school crush. Ron and Neville were beside him, gawking at the two women.

“Did I just bloody dream that?” Ron began. “Because if so, let me keep sleeping.”

Harry flashed Ron a look of warning.

“It’s in the M.O., that’s why we invited Cho in the first place, remember? They’re trying to get noticed so they can get invited into the private area.”

Neville nodded coolly, with the hardened demeanor he had picked up over the years. Ron gawked.

“I think they’ll succeed.” Harry said finally, not able to take his eyes off of them. Off of her. He had never seen her that way before. He forced himself to look away once or twice, and then he finally gave in.

#

They walked the club a few times, stopping to have a drink or two. There were maddening swirls of light as Cho led her to the crowded dance floor. Flashes of color burst through the room. No magic, just an expert play on lights and rhythm. A beautiful blonde woman tried to pull Hermione away, and she resisted her, clutching Cho’s hand again.

“Taken darling.” Cho said sweetly. “Maybe next lifetime…”

The blonde glared at Cho.

Hermione noticed the three guys sitting in the corner. They couldn’t meet up with them just yet.

Hermione managed to stifle the panic rising up in her and began to relax as Cho let her hands fall to her hips and rocked her friend’s body close to hers. Every man, and a few women, in the club were staring at the exotic duo. Hermione began to get into the act, letting her hands run through Cho’s hair and initiating a small kiss of her own. She felt this sudden surge of electricity. She wasn’t attracted to Cho in that way…but there was something wonderful about what they were doing, about the way they were dancing. Then she caught Harry’s eyes. They held something she’d never seen before. She couldn’t stop staring at him.

Harry finally broke their trance. What the hell was that? Why was he feeling like this? Everything was going perfectly, what was the problem? He got up to make a mock attempt at picking up a woman. To his chagrin, she accepted his offer to dance and he moved her close to the dancing women. The witch was fortunately very drunk and didn’t seem to notice how distracted he was by the two women making out on the dance floor beside him.

“It’s powerful, isn’t it,” Cho whispered to Hermione. “A hundred men in here would give anything to be locked between us.”

Hermione felt Cho’s lips gently graze her neck. She sucked in her breath as she also noticed a large man moving towards them. She smiled seductively at him. Cho had noticed him as well.

“You ladies are making the club more beautiful then it’s ever been. Drinks are on the house compliments of Mr. Daviz, and there’s a party later in the back that he’d be honored to have you attend,” the man said, letting his finger trace down the curve of Hermione’s neck, and his other hand fall to Cho’s pretty chin.

The man signaled to the bartender and the bartender nodded.

“We’d love to…right lovely?” Hermione replied. Cho nodded in agreement, proud of her prodigy. Hermione barely recognized her own voice.

Mission accomplished. Heading for the bar, Cho signaled to Harry who was very close to them now.

#

Harry felt his hands clench up as he watched the Gorilla-like man fondle Hermione’s neck. He wasn’t surprised when he got the signal from Cho. They had succeeded in infiltrating the back room. He watched as Hermione and Cho walked to the bar. He looked over at Ron, who nodded and walked up to him and his dance partner.

“May I cut in?” Ron said to the pretty lady. She looked up at Harry who nodded yes. The woman was happily led away by Harry's accomplice.

Harry walked over to the bar and sat next to Hermione. His whole body was tense, and he fought not to let his eyes wander past her neck. He had to focus.

“Would you mind if I stole her for just one dance?” Harry asked Cho.

“Hmmm…” Cho said in mock jealousy. “Just remember who she belongs to.”

Hermione gave Cho a small peck and smiled up at Harry. He took her hand. There were going to be no slow songs, so he pulled her close to him and stared very seriously into her eyes.

“You know what we need to find out? You're ready?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

Harry looked away, carefully watching to see if the large man had returned.

“Just be sure you meet us in the morning at the pancake house. We’ll exchange information there. Neville managed to get an interview to be a bouncer. That would definitely give us another in. These attacks are getting more devastating, we need to find out what these people know."

His body was tight against hers now, and she was already flushed from the drink she just had. She let her arms fall over his shoulders and moved her hips towards him. He stifled a groan. She had never seen him dressed like that before, with his hair spiked up and his tight black tank top revealing every muscle in his arms. She was thoroughly enjoying his touch. She fought the feeling. She had a killer to catch.

“Don’t worry. I can handle this.”

“I don’t know if I can…” he mumbled, hoping perhaps she hadn’t heard that last part.

She had.

4. The Locust Lair

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.

Chapter 4 - The Locust Lair

It was strange, and a little scary, how they had to crouch and squeeze through the doorway leading to the elusive back room of Club Mistress. Hermione wouldn’t have believed the large man who had invited them inside would have ever made it through, if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Only three others were with them. One was an older lady dressed in elegant beads and the tackiest shoes Hermione had ever laid eyes on. The other was a handsome man of Asian descent, who was dressed more for the office than a nightclub. The last was Neville.

They were in a tunnel then, crowded together. There were no flashing lights and the music was drowned out as quickly as the door had shut behind them. There was the smell of something dark and painful in the air. Almost like rotting meat mixed with ammonia. She struggled to get used to it, her body not wanting to breathe too deeply.

After what seemed like an unusually long walk, the tunnel emptied out into a crowded room. The dark smell was gone, replaced by the scent of lilacs and mint. There were only two windows, crisscrossed with some sort of molten steel rods. There was music again, but it was subdued and quiet. The people were sitting around small tables having private discussions or playing Muggle Cards for what looked like great sums of money. The bar was small but exceptionally well stocked, with racks overflowing with wine and champagne.

Neville and the large man, whose name she discovered was Ivan, walked almost immediately to a woman behind the bar.

“If he gets the job, it will be much easier for us to get close to Locust,” Cho whispered in Hermione’s ear.

Hermione smiled and nodded knowingly, looking again at Neville and Ivan. Ivan was pointing to the various areas of the room and Neville seemed to be paying close attention to his lessons.

“Be alert,” Cho warned, leading her over to an empty table by one of the barred windows.

Hermione was. She scoured the room looking for anyone who stood out. They had only a couple of vague descriptions of Locust Daviz, but when she found herself staring into a pair of the darkest black eyes she had ever seen, she knew she had found him. Cho hadn’t missed this, and moved Hermione’s face towards hers.

“It isn’t polite to stare. Let him find us…” she warned, kissing Hermione again, hoping to lure him over.

Hermione was disappointed when she glanced around for Locust and he had moved. Her disappointment was short-lived, however, when she found him suddenly sitting at their table.

How did he get here so quickly, she thought to herself. He couldn’t have apparated with all of these Muggles around?

“Everyone here is used to my trickery, “ the man said, noticing the surprise on Hermione’s face. “Don’t be frightened; I’m just a magician. My name is Locust, and this is my party.”

Hermione forced an adoring smile. Cho swooned with mock interest, declaring how brilliant his “trick” was.

Locust Daviz had pale skin, but it was flushed, especially his round cheeks which were unusually large. His eyes were glassy and glittery with whites that seemed just a bit too bright. He was a stocky man, with a thick muscular neck that rippled when he spoke, and she found herself trying not to stare at the way he had carefully combed a few stray strands of dyed black hair over his bald spot.

“I’m Rasa,” Cho said, “and this is Hailey.”

“Pleasure,” Hermione said, letting the words tumble off her painted lips, now wet with the champagne she found herself absently sipping. “I suppose we should thank you.”

He flushed more, searching her face carefully.

“It’s people like you that keep my club at the top of the A-List. Rasa…was it?” he said, suddenly looking at Cho again.

“Perhaps Hailey wouldn’t mind if you accompanied me to a particularly rough game of blackjack. I need a lady luck and you look like just my type.”

“So long as you bring her back.” Hermione teased, mimicking what Cho had done earlier.

Locust led Cho to a table that included the old beaded woman and the Asian man. When they both pulled out large sums of money, Hermione realized why the two non-trendy people had been invited in the first place. Money made everyone more popular.

Locust sat Cho down on his lap. Hermione felt guilty at her own relief, as Locust let his hand wander up Cho’s dress. She was glad he didn’t choose her. She noticed Cho clench her teeth for a moment, but manage to flash a quick smile at Locust. Cho would have to continue to work with them on this case; that much was clear. The slimy git already seemed taken with her. Harry’s informant was right. Locust seemed like a clever man, but with a weakness for beautiful women.

Hermione settled down at a table with a tiny brunette who seemed to be able to do nothing but stare into space. She decided she’d take in the scene. All she could do was keep her eyes open, and keep a mental checklist of the things Harry asked her to look for.

#

Harry and Ron sat at the bar drinking beer, nervously watching the door that their three companions had disappeared through earlier. Ron noticed Harry was unusually tense that night. It was normally Harry who kept a cool head during these missions. Heck, Ron even began to enjoy the information-gathering outings because they rarely ended in anything but a mean hangover. Percy used to pretend to drink. Everyone else, Penelope included, figured that one drink might be their last, so they’d better enjoy it. Lots of good it did Percy in the end.

Ron grimaced at that last thought, and then glanced back over to Harry. Harry was tracing a finger along his scar, thinking. Ron chuckled to himself. At least in the Muggle world, no one knew who he was. There were a few witches there who knew, but they certainly couldn’t risk saying anything to Harry out in the open. The witch that Harry had asked to dance earlier knew. He could see her eyes continuously glaring at the scar, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Or, perhaps she was too drunk to care all that much. Anyhow, he was glad when she found someone else to dance with. She was attractive enough, but her anecdotes were almost as boring as Professor Flitwick’s history class used to be.

“I don’t see the point in hanging around. Cho and Neville are in there with Hermione,” Ron said finally.

Harry looked curiously at Ron.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Harry. It’s obvious that you’re worried about her. She’s done great tonight. We’ve got to meet them at the pancake house in three hours. That gives us time to go over next week’s plans and figure out our strategy. And we could visit the informant…”

Harry pursed his lips, stifling a snort.

“Sounds like you have a handle on everything, agent Weasley. Except the informant part,” Harry laughed.

Ron had been trying to find out for weeks who was leading the Ministry to the various leaders of the Dark Army. Harry had flat out refused to tell anyone, even Arthur Weasley. Ron was hurt at first, but he accepted it now. The informant would be slaughtered instantly if anyone were to find out who it was. Harry would protect the informant with his life after the lives that informant had managed to save by leaking information. Harry only wished he had found out about the attack on Hermione’s parents sooner.

Ron shrugged and swatted Harry on the back.

“Let’s go then, I’ve had enough of this scene.”

Harry nodded, following closely behind Ron, only stopping to take one last look at the door.

“Be careful, Hermione. For God’s sake don’t screw up,” he muttered.

#

Draco Malfoy could smell her hair, and it was driving him to distraction. Madness even. She had come to him using the passage under Malfoy Manor he had shown her in his last year of school, so she could still go to him. Her scent was intoxicating. Her soft young skin and her beautifully freckled arms clung to him, as she had done so many nights before.

She came to him for this. To feel loved again. For relief from the cares of her ever-changing world. This is familiar to her. This is safe. They have been here before. They have stepped across the lines so clearly drawn around them defining what they can…and cannot…be. He promised himself he wouldn’t do it again, but he knew he would. His father was in the room above theirs. Why did she keep risking this?

“Ginny…”

“Shhhh…” she said.

He tried to make sense of it. To her it made perfect sense. She knew he was powerless over her when she stared up at him with her round blue eyes and red lips. It was torture to him. Things were different now. He was no longer at school and they couldn’t play those games they used to play. They had simply sworn each other to secrecy then, when things were less complicated.

She let her fingers dance on his neck, snuggling into the crook of his arm. His bed was always so warm, so familiar. His hands were on her thighs, beckoning them to open for him…to let him inside again.

5. Cirque du Sorcieres

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.

6. Gods and Monsters

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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.

Chapter 6 – Gods and Monsters

At 2:23 am, metal slammed against painted glass; there was a gasp from his wife, and then the lights in the Goyle estate flickered off. A familiar face hovered above the startled couple.

The man struggled against his captors, but they managed to drag him through the doorway despite his pleas. On the way to the long black car that was parked in his newly paved driveway, they laughed at his misery, reminding him of his promises and his failure to keep them.

When they had reached their destination, they left him alone in the only room he hadn’t visited before. They were hesitant to enter it, shoving him forward and slamming the door behind him while they held their breath. His nostrils burned with the foul odor. Rancid meat? Sulfur? On an instinctual level, he knew what was about to come.

“I’ve served you to the best of my ability. I swear it.” Gregory Goyle said, looking at the dark shadow that seemed to be edging closer to him. Small streaks of weak light came from under the door.

Had his vision adjusted more quickly to the light, he would have seen her pale dead eyes coming towards him.

She struck his face, flailing him backwards. He screamed. He turned to try to flee. It was in vain.

She laughed.

“But you promised…” she said, mimicking the disappointed voice of a child.

He could feel her close to him. Part of him wanted to see her, had to see her. But another part of him, knowing something of the diabolical thing that she was, was grateful for the darkness.

She screeched and hissed, chattering in a language he didn’t understand. He cried out again.

She came down on him, tearing into his flesh, he struggled some, and then mouthed a pathetic plea, slumping to the ground as she dragged him deeper into the dark.

She screeched again, happy to be able to feast upon some magical flesh instead of her usual subsistence of mere Muggles.

#

Neville Longbottom was halfway out of the tunnel, on his way to meet his companions at the pancake house, when he heard the hoarse scream. It wasn’t shrill or piercing. It was a low and guttural cry that conveyed stark terror.

He froze. Another scream.

He fought against being hit with blind panic.

There were sounds of a struggle, a loud thump, and the slick movement of something being dragged across the ground.

Then something else screeched. It was an unholy, inhuman sound that rattled his senses and left Neville slightly shaky. The foul stench of the tunnel became even more unbearable and he quickened his pace towards the door.

Neville reached out to turn the knob.

“I would think you’d like to at least stay for breakfast. Perhaps get to learn your new position?”

Locust Daviz stood behind him now.

Over the years, Neville had gained a reputation for taking any job, regardless of how dangerous it was. But his fear now made his legs weak. The way Locust stared at him…through him… was making his skin crawl.

“ Looking forward to it.” Neville said softly, hoping his shaky response would go unnoticed.

Neville reluctantly began the journey back through the tunnel, hoping that soon he could contact Harry.

#

“Planning to spend the rest of the day in bed?” Cho Chang asked, pulling the covers off of a soundly sleeping Hermione, almost sending the startled girl scurrying for her wand.

Hermione released a long sigh and pulled the covers back over her head. Suddenly noticing she was in bed by herself, she sat up again, looking around the room.

“Harry already left. He had to meet his informant and he didn’t want to wake you.” Cho explained.

Hermione collapsed onto the bed and groaned.

“You mean the bastard didn’t want to face me.” Hermione muttered groggily. “So what time is it anyway?”

Cho snorted, shaking her head and tossing some clothes at Hermione.

“It’s already 1:30 in the afternoon, and we only have another day and a half until we have to meet with Arthur. I suggest you and I try to figure out what happened to us last night. Especially why is it we don’t remember how we got back to the bar.”

She paused for a moment, grabbing some of Hermione’s perfume and spraying a little on her neck.

“ I assumed it was a memory charm of some sort but there aren’t any side affects like there would normally be. Not even a headache,” Cho said, looking puzzled.

Hermione pulled her t-shirt over her head. How was that Cho could stay up all night and still look like a bloody Barbie Doll.

“I’m still tired,” Hermione complained.

Cho gave her a serious look, sitting on the bed next to her.

“You’ll get used to it.”

They were quiet as Hermione continued to dress, catching a quick look in the mirror.

Christ. No wonder Harry left. She was surprised he hadn’t run screaming like a banshee.

“So what happened with you and Ron?” Hermione asked, trying to take her mind off of Harry.

Cho stood and laughed, pursing her lips together.

“Absolutely nothing, although it wasn’t from his lack of trying,” she confessed.

The thought of Ron trying to snuggle up to Cho almost made Hermione laugh.

Hermione tried to organize her thoughts. She’d go to the ministry today to retrieve some old research items, but she wanted to make a quick stop somewhere else first. It probably wasn’t smart, but it felt necessary.

“Feel like tagging along somewhere with me?” Hermione asked.

Cho questioned her with a look.

“Please? I don’t think I’m up to going alone,” she said, hoping for a positive response.

Cho sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“I suppose, so long as we accomplish what we need to today.”

“I swear it.” Hermione said.

#

“And so,” Draco began, offering a seat at the table for Harry, “here we are again. I hope that you being late wont become a habit Potter. It would benefit you to make these things as convenient for me as possible.”

A tiny disdainful smile dimpled the corners of Draco’s mouth. Harry thought to himself that it was this sort of smirk that had caused him to break Draco’s nose in their fifth year.

“Sorry. It’s often hard for me to convince the rest of the world that it should always revolve around your schedule Malfoy,” Harry answered, sitting down across from him.

Draco’s smile deepened.

“Well, let’s get on with it,” Harry said, not wanting to drag this on any longer then necessary.

Draco looked around the small Sushi bar. It was crowded enough to block them from being seen from the outside.

“My father came home rattled this morning. All I overhead him telling my mother was that Gregory Goyle was dead. Not that I cared about that bastard. He couldn’t even be bothered to come to his own son’s funeral. That man’s picture should be under the word asshole in the dictionary,” Draco said.

Exactly what he thinks of you, Harry thought.

“But I’m sure you’re not worried about that,” he continued in a soothing voice Harry found slightly repulsive.

“Not at all.”

Draco face twisted, but it wasn’t hurt or sorrow, it was more confusion than anything.

“My father is never rattled. I’ve seen him take down creatures as large as this building without so much as a quiver. He screamed at my mother about some book, and then he mentioned the Mudblood’s parents. Seems that Goyle ordered the attack on them.”

“Hermione’s parents? Why?” Harry said, his stomach getting that sinking feeling again.

Draco leaned back in his chair and his eyes narrowed slightly. The waitress came and Harry tried to manufacture a smile. It felt false from the inside, but it must have looked all right to her because she smiled back pleasantly and took Draco’s order. Harry ordered a drink and then turned his eyes back to Draco.

“Please continue…what did Goyle fail to do?”

“Don’t know. My guess is it was to retrieve or destroy that bloody book. But apparently it was a failure. Looks like they weren’t particularly interested in blowing them up. My father said Goyle failed and now it was his responsibility to pick up his pieces. I overheard him ordering his hoods to search another Muggle’s house. Apparently she’s some relation to Granger. They think whatever book it is might be there. Her name is Lois Mills.”

Harry was still recoiling from Draco’s last statement as the waitress brought their order.

“They know Hermione’s alive. I’m shocked they haven’t decided to go after her,” Harry said.

Draco grinned.

“I don’t know that they haven’t. Or perhaps they know she doesn’t have what they want and she’s unimportant to them. I don’t think my father even knows exactly why he needs to get this book.”

Every time Draco mentioned his father, Harry cringed. Lucius was untouchable for so long, even after Harry had taken down Voldemort. It was an enormous sacrifice Harry made, allowing Lucius to remain out of Azkaban, in order to keep getting information from Draco. At least Harry had some consolation knowing that Lucius wasn’t at the top of this chain of command. That remained unknown. If they had the answer to that, his life would be a whole lot easier.

“When will the attack be launched?”

“Tonight. I overheard them saying they had to wait because of some conflict.”

Death eaters with busy fucking schedules, penciling in appointments to kill innocents.

Harry stood, gulping down his drink and nodding at Draco, who seemed busy devouring his lunch.

“I’ll contact you,” Harry said pulling on his coat.

Draco gave Harry a resentful glance.

“I suppose you and Weasley are off to save the innocent.”

Harry waited, looking thoughtfully at Draco. The way Weasley slipped from his mouth, Harry knew what he wanted to ask and spared the pompous git the shame of it.

“I suppose we are…and Ginny is fine.”

Draco mustered a grateful look. It clearly took a lot of effort, and not wanting to make the scene more awkward, Harry left him there to finish his meal.

#

The soft dirt beneath Hermione’s feet felt a like plush carpet. She thought to herself how inappropriately sunny the weather was today. They had walked only a few steps from where they were parked when they reached her parents grave. Cho was hesitant at first; Hermione could see it in her eyes.

“Relax, no one would ever recognize me like this,” Hermione told her.

Cho had understood in the end, and so they now stood there, paying their respects to the two headstones at their feet.

Closure. Without a word, Hermione knelt and began pulling away leaves as Cho stood the flowers they had brought between the two gravesites. The last of the leaves cleared, she looked towards Cho who was standing there reverently. Hermione slowly rose back to her feet.

She felt numb. There weren’t any tears, just a sense of finality. She knew Arthur Weasley would be horrified at her taking a risk like this, but she also knew that he himself would likely not have been able to resist. Besides, she had waited almost three months.

There was so much she wanted to tell her them. Her mother would hate her hair. She’d complain that it made her studious daughter look cheap. Her father probably wouldn’t notice.

Hey Mom. Hello Dad. I hope God is taking better care of you up there.

Cho put a gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder and looked at her with her dark eyes, filled with compassion.

“We shouldn’t stay too long.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed.

They started to walk back to the car. Hermione had done a lousy job of parking, driving partly up onto the curb.

“At least I have a license to drive a Muggle car,” Hermione said.

“They must give those things out like candy,” Cho said shaking her head. “I think apparating is less risky.”

Hermione flashed her a look pretending to be offended.

“To the Ministry then,” Hermione declared, getting behind the wheel.

Cho opened the passenger side door and slid in next to Hermione.

“Pray we make it.”

#

When Harry repeated what Draco had said to Ron, he fell quiet.

“Any word from Neville?” Harry asked, looking around for a note or an owl.

“Nothing yet.”

Harry was concerned, but Neville was smart. He’d been in stickier situations and lived to tell about it.

“Lets go then. We’ll need to summon help from the Ministry.”

After searching through their directory, Harry had found the address of Lois Mills. He was thankful there was only one listed. Her home was in the heart of Muggle London, so that meant they would need to take Muggle transport. They couldn’t risk being seen apparating. Ron grabbed his wand.

“Not that I’m your mom or anything, but you never came home last night Harry Potter,” Ron said as they walked quickly towards the train station.

He flushed some, feeling the bottom go out of his stomach as he thought of Hermione. They had to, at least at some point, talk about what happened.

“I think I’m old enough to be out all night.”

“But nineteen is still a boy young man,” Ron joked doing a very respectable imitation of Mrs. Weasley.

He was right. Nineteen was so young.

7. Bloodlines

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I’m encouraged by the feedback and I promise to update as frequently as possible.

Chapter 7 - Bloodlines

Ron and Harry cautiously approached the driveway leading up to the small brick house that had somehow found its way onto the Dark Army hit list.

Checking to be sure there were no prying eyes, they both felt for their wands and climbed Lois Mill’s freshly swept stairs. Harry pressed the doorbell, and then waited. Ron looked around impatiently.

The wide-eyed, grey-haired resident inside peeked through her floral curtain to find two young men standing at her door.

“We’re friends of Hermione Granger, Ms. Mills. Could we please come in?” Harry said.

Lois thought that they looked presentable, but one of them made her nervous with the way his eyes, a stunning shade of green, kept darting around as if expecting someone else.

“Please Ms. Mills, it’s important that we speak with you,” Ron said, his voice well mannered and calm despite the chills starting to creep up his spine.

Harry released a pent-up sigh and braced himself to have to break into the house by force. He hated to do that, but they weren’t sure how much time they had before the arrival of her unwanted guests.

To his relief, she unlocked the door and motioned for them to come in. She was a plainly dressed woman with unremarkable features, but her home was an eclectic collection of tiny statues and candles. The music playing in the kitchen was big band, a stark contrast to the restful feel of the den in which they were standing.

“My niece and her parents were the only decent living relatives I had. But God’s cruelty is refining, isn’t it?” Lois said, still a bit nervous.

Harry and Ron moved to the couch, catching a whiff of the cinnamon rolls she had baking in the oven.

“Ms. Mills…” Harry started.

“Mrs. Mills. I’m widowed, but I still call myself Mrs.,” she corrected him, sounding an awful lot like Hermione.

Harry needed to quicken the pace of this discussion.

“We need to get you somewhere safe. We believe you’re in danger. My name is Harry Potter and this is Ron Weasley,” he said, hoping that she would hear the urgency in his voice.

Lois Mills knew who they were then. Her niece had spoken of them often, especially the black-haired one. They had attended boarding school with Hermione. Despite the familiarity, she would have sent them away immediately if it hadn’t been for the intensity in Harry’s voice.

“We think someone is going to try to hurt you, do to you what they did to the Grangers. We’ll be happy to explain more, but now you need to leave, “ Ron pleaded.

Lois was skeptical.

“I think any explaining can be done right here. How do I know what your intentions are? I know you were Hermione’s friends but that doesn’t mean I am just going to walk away with you!” Lois argued, slightly irritated.

On the radio, Harry James began playing From the Bottom of My Heart and a young Frank Sinatra began singing.

It was at that moment that the air suddenly got cold, and wind started to whirl throughout the room. Not just a light breeze, but the sort of wind you would feel standing outside on a city street.

The two young wizards looked around curiously; there was nowhere that a cold wind could have gained admission. The windows were all tightly shut.

Mrs. Mills raised her hands to her mouth, frightened and confused. Ron backed her against the wall and stood there, waiting for Harry’s command. Harry’s hands were rigid and at his side.

A split-second later, something that could have been an innocent knock, but wasn’t, rattled Lois Mills’ front door.

Click. Tick. Click.

“Run towards the back!” Harry screamed, hoping that they wouldn’t be hit with the blast.

They ran. The noise was incredible. Lois thought at first that she had been immediately deafened, but she could still hear the red-haired man issuing commands to her. She followed, best she could, with the two young men pushing her out of the back door.

She was in shock. The one called Harry pushed her to the ground, and the two took out small wooden sticks, pointing them at the strange figures that now surrounded her backyard.

They were stepping all over her petunias.

“STAY DOWN!” Ron cried out to her.

There were screams, and strange mutterings that made Lois think of the sort of darkness her minister preached about every Sunday. Her protectors were dodging rays of light from the other figure’s sticks, and they were firing with their own. Lois covered her ears with her hands, mouthing a prayer.

But then, an even stranger thing happened. The firing didn’t stop, but it began to fade, as if someone were turning down the volume on a television. A white light illuminated the sky, giving the yard an eerie glow, and the angry voices died down, leaving almost as quickly as they came.

She lay there, afraid to move for what felt like a good long while. She gained the courage to raise her head and saw that there were more people then, with wooden sticks out, wandering about in her yard. She could hear Harry and Ron converse, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Something about a book.

A young red-haired woman ran to assist her, helping Lois to her feet.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the older woman looked up to thank her.

Gasp.

Ron Weasley caught Lois Mills before she could hit the ground.

“What happened? Is she hit?” Harry asked.

“No,” Arthur Weasley said softly, glancing over at Hermione, “I think she just saw a ghost.”

#

Lucius Malfoy was not a happy wizard. When he was inside Lois Mill’s disgusting little flat he did manage to take possession of the thing for which he was searching, but the relief he felt from having accomplished this task was clouded by the fact that Potter and Weasley had arrived shortly before him and his circle of Death Eaters.

Restlessly circling the master bedroom, Lucius let his thoughts linger on what had gone wrong.

He plucked a piece of Muggle debris from his robe, wincing at having to touch it.

This sort of work was beneath him, and maintaining composure under these circumstances was not always easy, even when you were a Malfoy.

Lucius looked down at the small brown book secured in his long thin fingers. It looked like a Muggle child’s book of fairy tales. Bedtimes Stories was its title, written in a sickening shade of pink. He slipped it inside of his cloak’s side pocket. He couldn’t feel anything powerful about it.

He would do what was asked, but in the meantime he needed to know how Potter and Weasley had almost thwarted his plans. Only one other person had known far enough in advance to alert the Ministry.

Narcissa.

Lucius now regretted confiding in his wife. It was one of his weaker moments.

She was in their bathtub now. He would have liked to watch her bathe longer, for Narcissa Malfoy was a bewitching sight; however, Lucius was weary and he smelled like commoners.

He and Narcissa had only ever had one argument that resulted in Lucius having to curse her, when she had betrayed him before. Unpleasant and painful, yes, but he thought it was necessary then. That wouldn’t be enough now.

Lucius was suddenly filled with a mix of sentimental longing and sullen resentment at having spent his all life providing for her and his son. He thought he’d be with her forever, but he was highly averse to taking risks. Especially if it meant he would end up like Gregory Goyle.

He entered the bathroom now and she smiled mischievously, expecting him to join her.

Pity.

Lucius would have to do this quickly. There was the slim chance that Draco could hear her cry out in despair and the silly boy would probably try to do the honorable thing and protect his mother.

“Lucius?” Narcissa said with an innocent look he nearly succumbed to.

He sat on the edge of the tub and let eyes look onto her exquisite face one more time. She relaxed and fell against him. He moved his hands to her shoulders, then down to her perfect breasts. She laid her head back onto his lap, closing her eyes with pleasure.

So many regrets.

Lucius reached for the razor beside her and quickly slit Narcissa’s willowy throat.

He waited, watching the color of the tub grow darker as the blood descended the length of her body and into the water.

He’d be inconvenienced without her, but he’d make do.

#

Neville Longbottom almost thought his cover had been blown when Lucius Malfoy walked into the back room of Club Mistress pulling a small brown book out of his pocket. The shockingly tall man who had headed the charade the night before looked pleased, and escorted Lucius quickly into a small office near the bar.

Neville held his breath until he realized that Lucius hadn’t recognized him. He was thankful, for once, that he hadn’t been an extrovert while in school. Neville had never played Quidditch like Harry or Ron and had pretty much kept to himself, studying in secret to pursue his private dream of becoming an Auror. When he got a position at the Ministry, everyone was shocked. His Grandmother had almost suffered a stroke that day.

Locust Daviz ate his dinner like a wild animal, licking the plate, and not bothering to wipe from his chin the blood from the rare steak he had just devoured.

Neville couldn’t get what he had heard in the tunnel out of his mind. He tried to deny those terrible sounds – and the even more horrible thing lurking behind them – all through the morning.

He kept trying to think of a reason to leave, having been there for nearly twenty-four hours. When he had claimed fatigue, they had shown him to a private room, very cozy but dark, and allowed him to lie down. It seemed as if they simply weren’t comfortable with him leaving just yet.

When he had a break from the monotonous chatter of Ivan, apparently Neville’s equivalent in rank at Club Mistress, he would cautiously explore the Club’s various chambers and passageways. It was during this strange, fraught period that Neville discovered disturbing sounds emanating from the locked room behind the stage area.

He was so repelled by the odor that seeped from underneath the door, however, that he couldn’t stand to be within five feet of it.

Neville stood up from the table.

“I have to take care of some things at home. Any reason I need to be here until tonight?” Neville said finally, looking down at the round, beady-eyed man.

Neville had never seen such unbound fury in a pair of human eyes before. He hadn’t even known such fury existed. His immediate instinct was to recoil, but he resisted the impulse and stood firm.

“You think trust is so easily gained? It takes time to prove yourself here. You will be paid for your time,” Locust said through gritted teeth.

A serpent. This man had the eyes of a serpent.

Neville shrugged, hiding his nervousness and sat down again.

“Look, whatever you want me to do I’ll do, so long as I get my money.”

Locust calmed down some, the fire leaving his eyes. Neville was trapped there. He knew if he didn’t get in touch with them, Harry and Ron would return looking for him.

Neville reluctantly bit into his steak, blood dripping from it down onto his plate.

“The pay is wonderful. Enough to live like a king,” Ivan chimed in from the bar.

Live where, Neville thought, Hell?

#

Complete sensory numbness, as well as the sudden desertion of the part of her mind that allowed her to think clearly, were the two major problems Hermione Granger faced as she sat between Harry and her aunt in the back of Arthur Weasley’s new Ford Anglia. A large box of books taken from the collection of Lois Mills occupied the front seat.

Recipes for Fresh Zucchini, Fifty Nifty Ways to Cross-Stitch, A Christian Woman’s Guide to Boring Television Programs…

They were silent. Their friendship was deep enough to make them comfortable with silence. This silence, however, had an edgy quality. Maybe because Hermione was surreptitiously watching Harry for signs that he was feeling what she was.

Lois Mills was still gasping and puffing like a marathon racehorse.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Mrs. Mills,” Arthur Weasley said, looking back at the three.

Harry watched the buildings fly by as they made their way towards the Ministry office. His eyes then stopped wandering and centered on Hermione’s.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice, which was not quite steady. “I didn’t mean to run out like that, but I was already late...”

And you were so peaceful lying there, Harry thought, not daring to say that aloud.

Hermione turned her head suddenly towards her trembling aunt, laughing with gentle contempt.

“No apologies necessary. It’s not such a big deal, really,” she said, not even believing herself.

Her leg was close to Harry’s, and he could feel her desperately trying to keep it from touching him. Harry knew she was lying. It wasn’t hard to put together.

“It’s a big deal to me,” he offered. “And I’ll make it up to you.”

He let his arm fall around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. She was voiceless then.

A few minutes passed, and they arrived at a building that seemed to rise endlessly into the clouds. Ministry radio calls blared out as the car now glided up to the curb.

Arthur Weasley turned around.

“Hermione, could you take your aunt to the victim’s lounge? Harry and I will be along shortly.”

Hermione let her leg fall against Harry’s, forgiving him. He breathed out softly, flashing her a temperate smile.

Damn him.

“No problem, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said, helping the elderly woman out of the car and through the glass door.

#

Ron Weasley and Cho Chang were in a Ministry car behind Arthur Weasley’s. Ron was driving, and Cho noted to herself that he was actually doing better than Hermione.

Of course, she thought, a monkey with a map could drive better than Hermione.

As they went cruising down the main street, they talked with the ease of two friends out for a Sunday brunch. He hadn’t felt this comfortable with a girl, besides Hermione of course, in a long time. He was surprisingly relaxed after the Death Eater ambush.

“We certainly do have a lot in common,” Ron quipped, flashing her his most charming smile as they pulled up behind their counterparts parked on the curb.

A very handsome researcher, Terence Higgs, was escorting an equally enticing administrative assistant, Hannah Abbott, into the building. Ron watched as Cho’s eyes locked onto the couple, obviously annoyed by their presence.

Ron couldn’t help but laugh at her a little. They stepped out of the car, and he let his left hand fall to the small of Cho’s back while he opened the door for her. Harry and Arthur Weasley were waiting for them at the elevator. Hermione and her aunt were going towards the other hallway, most likely to the victim’s lounge. Ron was still busy reveling in Cho’s obvious jealousy.

“Didn’t you date him for a while?” Ron teased, watching as Terence planted a small kiss on Hannah’s cheek.

“Yes,” Cho said, glaring at Ron while tilting her head back girlishly. “Her too.”

The image that flashed in his head was one that Ron wanted to recall later, when he could make good use of it.

#

“Lucius did not fail you, even though his wife betrayed his plans. He has disposed of her,” the ringmaster said, taking off his shoes to let his long clawed toes spill onto the floor.

A child stepped out of the darkness. Her long hair was flaxen blonde and her eyes were empty, limpid pools of grey. Her tiny fingers reached out to hold the offering of the small brown book. She flipped through its pages and smiled up at the tall creature. Her teeth were yellow and stained with her last meal. An older woman who tasted like she had drank too much wine.

“I have often thought that perhaps I should have chosen Lucius instead of my Tom. My sweet, lovely Tom,” she sighed wistfully.

“You have many servants, Maedon. Many are loyal to you.”

“None know me but my minions. No others even know my name.”

The child-like creature glided across the room, sniffing him.

“The human scent is repulsive,” she voiced dryly.

The ringmaster stretched his toes again, anxious to alleviate the pain of his binding shoes. He moaned as they began to sprawl out across the room.

“Have we eliminated all magical descendants of Nora Mills?” Maedon asked.

The ringmaster shook his head, peeling the mortal flesh from his face so he could breath a bit more.

“All but one. Whom should I send?”

Maedon sat on the antique chair near her boarded-up window, her small legs swinging from it playfully. In her death suite, the remains of three ravaged bodies lay still where they had fallen.

“Send no one yet. If she has Mills’ blood, she will come to me.”

“Whatever pleases you,” the ringmaster said, bowing before her.

8. Encore

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

(A/N: Danielle7, there’s a line in here just for you. Nappa, that last scene was to wish you a Happy Honeymoon!)

Chapter – 8 - Encore

The still battle weary Harry, Cho and Ron revealed everything they had learned to Arthur Weasley, who for the most part, sat with his hands flat on the desk staring intently at his team of young Aurors. Arthur grew more nervous with each passing day. The Death Eater attacks were becoming more frequent, and even though they still fled from the Ministry Wizards, Dark Wizards and Witches were growing bolder and fighting longer.

“Mrs. Mills will be well protected at a ministry safe house, but there is much work to be done. I’m afraid we lost more good wizards last night in a raid in Cairo. Sirius Black and his team are currently investigating this,” Arthur Weasley informed them, his voice dispirited.

“Where is Neville?” Arthur Weasley asked, looking back and forth from Ron to Harry to Cho. “You do all remember Neville? Agent Neville Longbottom?”

Ron looked towards Harry for an answer. Cho bit down nervously on her pencil and Harry began explaining their plan to get Neville hired at the nightclub. Arthur lifted one brow with marked skepticism when they informed him that Neville hadn’t been in contact with them since they left the night before.

“Your team will go and make contact with him tonight. Including you Cho. We need to regroup and devise a more solid plan. You’ve got tonight to gather what information you can about what it is we’re dealing with, and then five days research time before the club opens again. Harry, I’d like you to owl Sirius Black. He should be returning from Cairo on Monday. Your leadership is solid Harry, but my instinct tells me you might need someone with more experience to help you along this time.”

Harry never minded an opportunity to work with his godfather.

“What about the book?” Harry asked.

Arthur Weasley glanced at the mountainous pile of them in the box next to his desk.

“We have every book that she had in the house. It’s possible the death eaters got what they came for, and if so, God knows what they’ve planned. All we can do is keep our ears open. I’m going to head down to the victims lounge and see if Mrs. Mills can tell me anything, whether this is it or whether or not a book is missing.”

“She will if she’s related to Hermione,” Ron replied, rolling his eyes.

#

“Please aunt Lois,” Hermione pleaded, “Believe me when I say that being a witch doesn’t mean I worship Satan…and I swear on my parents grave we are most definitely not going to sacrifice you. We need you to help us find what the people who tried to hurt you were looking for.”

The elder woman still refused to listen to a word Hermione had to say.

“How dare you bring your poor parents into this! I will throw myself onto the street before I let you use me for your evil!” Lois Mills shrieked, eyeing her niece with intense fear and mistrust.

Hermione Granger sighed, trying desperately to be patient with her aunt’s justifiable reaction. After all, her niece, whom she had thought was dead, was standing before her confessing to be a witch trying to explain to her why her home was nearly blown apart by dark wizards. She threw her hands up in defeat, signaling that she wouldn’t come any closer.

“And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them [1] ,” Lois prayed, pulling back the large green curtain and unlocking the window.

“It won’t do any good to throw yourself out of that window,” Hermione said, “Please sit down so that we can talk.”

Hermione’s hands were outstretched to her aunt, who promptly refused her gesture.

“You cannot fool me with your trickery!” Lois bellowed, now solemnly determined to throw herself to the ground.

Lois struggled to get one leg through the opening, summoning all of her courage.

“We’re on the first floor aunt Lois,” Hermione sighed, growing tired of her aunt’s theatrics.

Harry, Ron and Cho burst into the room with Arthur Weasley right behind them. Ron was carrying the large box of books they had acquired from Lois’ home.

Lois screamed at them to stay away.

“Hermione, I’ll try to calm down Mrs. Mills. You will need to be briefed by Harry before tonight,” Arthur Weasley said, turning bright red as Lois tossed a small plant towards his head.

“What’s happening tonight?” Hermione asked, disappointed that her plans of going to bed early were now ripped to shreds.

“Looks like we’re back together darling…” Cho said wrapping an arm around Hermione’s waist and kissing her playfully on the mouth.

It was all too much for Lois Mills.

“Mrs. Mills…. Please wake up Mrs. Mills…” Arthur Weasley said, fanning the woman while pulling her down from the windowsill.

#

The ringmaster grew weary of this song and dance, but it was still necessary. Their temporary prison seemed so quiet now. Not a sound was heard in the normally booming club except the occasional footsteps from one of their hired thugs. Locust had finally found someone to replace the tall Italian man that had opened one too many doors.

He was the one who milked the human’s anger, their lust, and their hate… even their love. He was truly her provider. Not Locust. It was he that collected the human emotions into the pool from which their leader drank. It was he that truly loved her.

It had only been a year, but Maedon grew stronger everyday. She could withstand the sunlight better, and her senses were returning to what they were before they left the underworld.

It is always an easy task to go from Earth to Hell, but not so easy to return.

Tom Riddle had opened the door for Maedon; giving her a chance to come back. In exchange, she gave him great power, powers only seen from where they had so recently risen.

It had been good when they were first on the surface three hundred years ago. They didn’t have to entertain the humans. They simply had to keep them in close enough proximity so they didn’t have to go far to find their next meal. These humans, even the magical ones, didn’t have weapons that could destroy them. They were sheep, used for pleasure and survival. They were quite content ruling their corner of the surface world. Powerful kings were puppets, and princes became their slaves.

A betrayal cost them this enjoyable life, and despite Maedon’s return, there would be a long battle to regain the power lost.

Their existence became more complicated when Tom Riddle perished, finally killed by the same human that nearly killed him once before. The dilemma he left them in cost them valuable time. The humans working for the Dark were loyal only to Tom. The ringmaster didn’t want to expose Maedon so soon, but they had to let their forces know that their real leader hadn’t been killed. It was through the ringmaster and her other minion, Locust Daviz that she let her voice be heard. That was a good night. The ringmaster had devoured three dark wizards before the night had ended and the rest had surrendered to them immediately based on nothing but their pathetic human fears.

Locust Daviz. He had so willingly accepted a human name. Not the ringmaster, he’d remain nameless, only to be summoned by her. His love.

Maedon wasn’t ready to yet reveal from where she came, but soon she would. Soon she would be strong enough to effectively control the magical humans as well as the Muggles without any human puppets like Riddle to give their orders.

If lust was Locust’s weakness, impatience was his own. The ringmaster could barely tolerate Locust, and had no patience for these games he so loved to play.

Locust was responsible for their downfall once before. He had adopted an attractive human, Nora Mills as his own personal pet. Eventually, they all learned to tolerate her smell, for they were dependent upon Locust for his ability to communicate with humans so well. When Nora Mills betrayed them, it was this gift that saved Locust from Maedon’s full wrath. Maedon punished him by entrapping him in the same human flesh he craved, engulfed by its horrid scent and physical limitations for an eternity.

The only trace of how Nora Mills performed the task of returning Maedon and her servants to Hell remained in folklore and fairy tales, detailed in books written, and rewritten by her descendents, including the last by Emma Mills, the first of them to discover magic running through her veins.

The ringmaster let his hand brush the head of the python that started to whirl it’s way around him, dreamily letting his tongue hiss to it about better times and a better future.

Neville couldn’t understand a single word of this monologue as he stood outside of the ringmaster’s door, but he recognized the language with which the man was speaking, and perhaps it was the same one a very good friend of his could understand.

#

It was starting to get late, and there were some loose strings to be tied up at Malfoy Manner. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity for Draco Malfoy to come of age.

Lucius stepped cautiously into the large bedroom, went to Draco’s bed and clicked on the lamp. He almost hated to awaken the blonde boy sleeping so peacefully, blissfully unaware that he would never see his mother again alive.

Lucius thought it was the proper thing to do; after all, the boy should be able to say his goodbyes.

Ordering a drowsy Draco out of bed, Lucius waited for his son to throw on his cloak before leading him outside, down towards the catacombs. Fear rose into Draco’s throat as he walked swiftly behind his father. He suddenly wished he had brought his wand, in case his father had discovered his treachery. At least he’d have a chance.

Lucius muttered a somber spell, and the solid stone door swung open. Lucius had placed Narcissa’s corpse there earlier, before his visit to Club Mistress. He couldn’t stand the mess. He had dressed her carefully in that blue gown that she adored so much, before laying her alongside the now mummified body of his own mother

Upon seeing her, Draco dropped to his knees and gasped at his mother, who was only hours ago, so alive and vibrant.

“There will be no service. She died by her own hand and it would cause us great embarrassment,” Lucius said casually, unmoved by his son’s display of emotion. “She took a knife to herself after we argued.”

Draco nodded numbly, wishing he believed it.

“You will tell anyone who asks that she left us. You will speak nothing else about it, not to me, not to anyone…or you will find yourself lying next to her.”

Tiny wisps of steam were rising from her body, kept warm by the walls of the tomb, now exposed to the cold night air.

“I want you to prepare for tonight. There is a meeting I’d like you to attend, and wizards I will introduce you to. It’s time you stopped lounging around all day and made good use of yourself.”

“Yes,” was all Draco could mutter, raising now to stand beside his father. His hands were trembling, even though he fought against it.

Lucius despised signs of weakness. He grabbed Draco’s arm so tightly that he could feel the boy’s blood pooling around his grip. Draco clenched his teeth together, biting back the pain.

“You have a responsibility and a duty to fulfill the tasks which I assign to you. You will not bring shame on me. Pull yourself together,” he snapped finally releasing his grip, “it’s only death after all.”

#

Hermione and Cho paused at the entrance to the nightclub, giving the patrons a good viewing. Hermione’s shiny black dress fit her like a wet suit in the few places it bothered to cover. Cho’s own matched hers, except in a shimmering white that, despite its color, looked anything but innocent. Hermione’s nipples strained against the material managing to rise to the occasion of all the attention.

As the two approached the bar, they could feel the watery eyes of flaccid, red-cheeked men gazing longingly at them. Among this sea of beautiful women coiffed to perfection, they still stood out.

Ron and Harry, once again, were treated to their grand entrance. Being unsuccessful at finding Neville, they resigned themselves to that same corner table. Ron had been talking to an attractive brunette woman, who shot condescending arrows of disgust towards Hermione and Cho.

Cho enjoyed this reaction immensely. Ron’s lustful stares made her feel powerful, and Harry’s uneasiness at watching her hand running through Hermione’s hair excited her.

Rising out of the middle of the dance floor, the pulsing lights of Club Mistress seemed brighter then they were before. They hoped that the fact that they had come prepared with counter-potions would make them less vulnerable to whatever magic filled the air between those walls.

The music was so loud tonight that Cho’s voice was almost inaudible, even though she stood next to Hermione, stroking her pretend lover.

It didn’t take long for Locust to spot them, her pale outrageousness next to Cho’s dark sensuality. She and Cho strode across the room to the secluded corner where he stood watching them.

Cho let her body brush full against his. Hermione let her hand trace his fat repulsive face, swallowing back the urge to vomit. Locust felt too cold, like he wasn’t alive. He didn’t notice her loathing. He was lost…helpless… theirs.

Hermione knew that it was only a matter of time before they had to go back into that dark, dirty and cavernous tunnel towards the back room. Relief flooded her when Locust motioned to someone in the corner.

Neville.

#

When Ginny Weasley opened her eyes, Draco Malfoy stood over her.

“Narcissa is dead. I’m going to have to run… he’ll figure it out soon,” he said, sounding strangely distant.

He kissed her. Her ginger lips tasted sweet on his tongue. She opened her mouth wider. When she sat up to embrace him, her hands slipped behind his neck, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. Comforting him. He breathed her in for a while, struggling with his thoughts.

Draco let his hands fall to Ginny’s back. She skipped a breath.

A tiny freckle marked the onset of her cleavage. He caressed it, and moved his hand, cupping her.

She gazed at him, anxious and interrogating, but remained silent. His hands slipped beneath the thin fabric of her nightshirt. She didn’t find it strange that he would want her now… that he would need to meld with something warm.

He pulled the garment down her shoulders, and she sat before him, wantonly on display. He drank in her exquisite vision. The color of her nipples were a pale pink, blending with the overall pallor of her body. He was detailing every facet of her features, the way her nose turned slightly upwards, and the way her fiery red hair fell against her face.

She was still, her eyes piercing through him, her sadness touching him in parts he didn’t know he had.

His mouth moved to taste hers again. Her watery eyes remained open.

She’s shedding my tears for me, he thought. It touched him intensely.

Draco fell on her, moaning and crying into her skin.

#

The red light of the back room gave it a surreal, dangerous quality. Hermione and Cho sat with Locust and Neville at the center of that strange universe.

Cho was next to Locust on the threadbare sofa in the back; one leg sprawled across his lap, snaking down between his legs. Hermione sat on Neville’s knee, letting her head press against his chest, getting close enough to exchange desperately needed information.

“We need to get Harry back here somehow,” Neville whispered to her, smiling as he put his arm around her hip, “Perhaps we can do a switch.”

“Why Harry specifically?” Hermione asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“How about you and I head somewhere private before the show starts beautiful? We’ve got an hour…” Neville said loud enough so Locust could hear him. The round man passed him a knowing glance and nodded his approval, wanting to be more alone with the exotic beauty he knew as Rasa.

Hermione planted a kiss on Neville’s lips. Neville flushed red, even at this charade, as he took her hand and led her to a dirty rest area near the ringmaster’s office.

“Do you have any polyjuice potion?” he asked staring at her small purse.

“Just what’s in the Auror kit…it’s the three hour concentrate,” Hermione said, glad that she hadn’t listened when Cho said the kits were just dead weight, “But you never answered me… why Harry?”

“I heard the ringmaster speaking in parseltounge,” Neville said, growing more anxious as he glanced at the clock.

She handed him a tiny vial and he turned to leave.

“No, wait,” she said smearing some of her lipstick on his shirt and tousling her hair a bit.

“We have to make it look good,” she said putting her arm through his before they walked out.

#

Harry and Ron were sitting at the bar; experiencing déjà vu, as they waited patiently for their companions.

“Wonder if they play cards back there,” Ron pondered out loud, glancing towards the door they had disappeared through.

Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was paying attention to the man who had just come through it a moment ago.

“Neville. Good to see you again,” he said as the large man sat next to them.

Ron smiled.

“Knew you’d still be kicking around back there.”

Neville smiled back at the red head.

Harry’s eyes focused in on the lipstick on Neville’s face and shirt.

“You got a chance to talk to the girls I see,” Harry said, his voice going flat.

Neville didn’t blink.

“We don’t have much time. You and I need to go in the back. We need to exchange faces. Meet me in the men’s room in five minutes.”

Ron and Harry understood. Ron ordered another drink. More waiting around for him, so he may as well enjoy the calm while it lasted.

#

“Had to take a leak…where are the girls?” Harry said, still not used to being Neville, to the big burly man whose name was Ivan.

Ivan stood standing at the entrance to the back room, taking in the scenery, waving playfully at a short blonde woman who was losing badly in a card game. Ivan finished the drink he was milking and passed him a sly glance.

“Was that whore a nice lay?” he asked crudely.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced a macho smirk. Ivan slapped him on the back.

“These guys are weirdoes, but they pay well… and the ass is plentiful. You wouldn’t mind if I gave her a whirl would you?” he slurred, leering at Hermione.

“Maybe next weekend. She’s mine tonight though,” Harry replied.

Christ, what a lowlife, Harry thought, I need to remind myself to find him after this is all over and hex him into the next millennium.

Ivan nodded, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal.

Hermione strolled over to the two men, looking into Neville’s eyes.

Harry forced himself not to stare at her too long. He certainly didn’t want to have a reaction while in Neville’s body.

Neville’s eyes were the same, the expression was not.

Harry, she thought, taking his hand and leading him towards the blackjack table.

“The shows about to start,” she whispered to Harry, sitting down on his lap as the lights dipped lower and the crowd began to cheer.

It was different tonight, she thought, as quiet music began to play and Locust began to dance around a ring of fire. Cho was seated beside them, watching as Muggles around them began to laugh uncontrollably.

A fight broke out between two men at the bar and the flames rose higher. The ringmaster grew more excited.

“Little slut! I saw you staring at him!” a woman screamed at Cho, lunging at her with a wine goblet. Cho threw her to the ground and restrained her.

There was chaos again. The ringmaster stood spraying small explosions over their heads.

Harry could hear him. He could understand the ringmaster. Neville was right.

Give us your hate mortal vermin; feed our goddess, feed our beloved, and she will rule you. Give us your souls…

“We don’t pay you to sit and stare, I need you to take care of something,” Locust spat at Harry pointing him towards a small office in the back.

Harry nodded and quickly looked back at Hermione and Cho, struggling to fight off the spells that didn’t seem to affect him.

Harry walked in behind Locust and immediately noticed an Asian man slumped in a chair. His eyes were blissfully glazed over, lifeless.

“He owed us money and he’s already dead. Here is the key… take the body to the locked room. I’ll only warn you once not to linger too long,” Locust said.

It’s time to feed her, hissed the ringmaster in parseltounge towards Locust.

It will be done, Locust hissed back.

Harry held his breath and lifted the man from the chair, dragging him towards the hallway. He groaned with disgust at their callousness.

At first he wondered which room it was, but as the stench grew stronger, it became obvious. When he reached the door he let the body fall to the ground, silently apologizing to the deceased man. He unlocked it and opened the door slowly, almost passing out from the odor. He pulled the cadaver through and looked around the dark room. He could see nothing, but he felt something. Something darted behind a large chair in the middle of the room. It didn’t come into the light that the door was letting in. It was hissing and clamoring as if it were whispering urgently to itself.

Harry backed out of the room, deciding to heed Locust’s advice and not meet the creature he was feeding. He locked the door behind him. Harry’s knees buckled at the sound of tearing flesh as he walked towards the main room again, to finish the show.

He was surprised to find that the room’s continuous hum of voices had gone nearly silent, replaced by quiet sobs…and even more surprised to find Hermione being pulled into a corner by a short man with sharp features, his arm wrapped possessively around her. Hermione struggled against him some, but seemed lost in the fog along with everyone else in the room.

Harry walked swiftly towards them.

“This lady is with me,” Harry said, grabbing her arm and suddenly grateful for Neville’s intimidating build.

The man let go of her and walked off towards another table, unconcerned, weepy eyed.

Hermione’s eyes were red with tears. A dark purple cloud was swirling above their heads. Harry could feel the intensity. The counter - potions hadn’t worked on Hermione.

“Where is Cho?” Harry asked, searching the room while practically carrying Hermione.

Hermione tried to shake the feelings racing through her. It was like a tornado of emotions swirling around inside. She was angry, sad, and confused.

Harry found Cho sitting in a corner by herself sobbing loudly. Harry pulled her to her feet.

Locust had joined the Ringmaster again, and it looked as if they were about to end the show. It was the perfect time to flee, when they couldn’t interrupt the frenzy to stop him. Harry started to pull the girls towards the exit. Ivan was still standing there.

“I’m taking these two outside. Be right back,” Harry said.

Ivan was too caught up in his own sorrow to care, nodding quickly as the three disappeared into the tunnel.

When they reached the other side, Harry motioned to Ron who came over to help with the girls, still intoxicated by the foreign magic. Hermione was the most affected, clinging to the door as Harry pulled her away.

Harry was momentarily startled to see himself standing beside Ron. He could never get used to that.

“We need to get out of here. I’ll owl Sirius tonight,” Harry declared.

#

Neville, Hermione and Cho sat, two hours later, in Harry and Ron’s apartment trying frantically to put together everything that they knew thus far. Fortunately, Neville and Harry had managed to make it back with time enough to switch clothes again. Neville had some real concerns about how tight Harry’s pants would fit on him if they hadn’t.

They knew some things for certain; Harry was unaffected by their magic, the two leaders spoke parseltounge, and they were apparently feeding people to a creature both Neville and Harry had heard, but had never seen. They still couldn’t understand what that had to do with a book that Hermione’s aunt possessed.

“Well, we know that their magic forces people to feel all of these things. No potion we took worked to overpower them, although we seemed better off then the Muggles. At least we knew we were under a spell,” Hermione said, suddenly conscious of how little she had on as Harry’s eyes strained not to linger too long.

“You know we can’t go back now, especially after being seen with Neville,” Cho said, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Ron nodded in agreement, opening a bag of crisps.

“I’m not sure that we need to just yet. I think the first thing we need to do is try to figure out what this thing is,” Harry said, putting his head between his hands.

Cho threw her legs onto Ron’s lap, stretching out. He didn’t seem to mind her intrusion.

“Maybe this thing is some sort of a Demon. And maybe that book can kill it, so it needs it,” she muttered, stealing a crisp from Ron.

They stopped and stared at her. Hermione thought that Harry looked like he had been hit in the head with an anvil.

“What? Jesus, hadn’t the thought occurred to anyone else? Not exactly rocket science is it? Snakes, magic not belonging to Wizards, eating people… Sounds like a Bloody Demon to me,” she continued, now popping the crisp in her mouth.

“Demons are just myth. They don’t actually exist,” Harry said, trying to hide his own doubt.

Cho yawned, and stretched her arms above her head. Hermione, Neville, and Ron were frozen, still thinking about the unthinkable.

“Well, according to most humans…neither do witches and wizards,” Cho said finally.

Neville broke the contemplative silence that followed.

“I’m leaving before we pull out the Ouija board. We’re all too tired to be rational tonight. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said reaching for his coat wondering if his girlfriend Danielle would still be awake. If so, she was probably pretty pissed off.

Cho stood and grabbed her coat as well.

“I’m going too, this dress is making me itch,” Cho said, scratching at her stomach.

So take it off, Ron thought, letting his eyes trace her curves for the millionth time that night.

When Hermione stood to gather her things, Cho snatched Hermione’s coat away.

“Oh no! You two need to talk… so hand me the keys,” she began, throwing her head back to look at Harry.

Hermione knew better then to argue. She gave up her car keys without a struggle.

Cho pulled Ron’s coat from the rack and tossed it at him.

“It’s your lucky night red head. I’m going to let you drive me home, and if your play nice, you might get to stay.”

That was good enough for Ron. Without a word, he was out the door following her like a brand new puppy.

#

Lucius looked his best. He had the house elves fetch the finest dress robes for himself and his son. They had to meet with his loyal circle tonight, and Lucius was going to allow Draco to take his place next to his father.

Do a little bonding, if you will. His lips curled up at the thought.

When he rounded the corner to Draco’s room, he was surprised to find his son’s bed empty, neatly made up. Draco’s cloak was gone, his wand missing.

Lucius had the unsettling feeling that his son wasn’t simply out for an evening walk. He threw his fist onto Draco’s desk, shattering the lamp that illuminated the now vacant room.

#

Harry and Hermione were alone. They were best friends. Had been for years and years. From the moment they first met, they shared an intimacy and trust that went deeper than anything they knew with anyone else, including people they had dated. People they had thought they loved. They had somehow been fortunate enough as friends to experience that rare and precious gift of complete accord. They could sit for hours on end, holding hands, speaking or not speaking, attuned to a communication which could go from words to silence and back to words without an interruption in the flow of thought. Unaware of themselves, they sometimes struck suggestive postures, getting lost in each other’s eyes, their fingers intertwined, sighing openly.

It made sense somehow, but Hermione wasn’t sure if she was capable of formulating and articulating the nuances of their current situation, having made love the night before, and finding themselves alone again now.

“So…” was all she managed.

Harry felt a quick impulse to go back to discussing the day’s events, but stifled it. They sat silent for a moment, before Hermione decided to walk into the kitchen to grab a beer, hoping it would loosen her tongue. Before Harry even realized what he was doing, he moved towards her, stepping up behind her.

She wasn’t completely surprised. She had felt him coming closer.

He put his hands on her shoulders.

She relaxed and leaned against him.

“You were right, Hermione,” he said, pulling her hair aside and kissing her neck, sweeping his lips over her smooth sweet skin, “You aren’t my sister.”

She sighed but said nothing.

He kissed her ear, his breath getting heavier. She seemed to melt back into him. She tried to turn around, wanting to feel his mouth on hers. He denied her, pressing his lips instead onto the supple flesh of her neck again, feeling one of her arteries beginning to throb faster, and faster still.

She turned to face him.

He was growing hard so quickly he was beginning to ache.

Feeling his arousal, she pressed her body closer to his and his hands moved over her breasts in tranquil exploration.

They kissed.

The kiss was slow and long, and when they broke apart only to breathe, their eyes met. Hers were more vivid, more alive then he’d ever seen them. No one had ever felt so warm to him.

He followed her from the kitchen into his bedroom. He wished he’d cleaned up a bit, but she hardly seemed to notice.

She was laying on his bed now, her thighs trembling, her beautiful breasts heaving, and her face a mask of joyful anguish.

Harry began to undress her, peeling away the whorish dress, revealing her. She looked like she was made of sugar and cream. He let himself taste her again, darting his tongue between her lips.

She undressed him, allowing him to look at her fully, as she removed his jumper, then his trousers. He helped her complete this task, pulling down his boxers.

She was seeing him for the second time. She reached out to touch him, letting her hand wrap around his erection, looking at him, touching him, and moving her mouth closer to him.

Harry closed his eyes. Quidditch, Dumbledore’s Wart, Snape, was his mantra as he fought back the surge of excitement that ripped through him when Hermione’s lips wrapped around his penis. She was uneasy at first, and then quickly grew bolder taking him further into her mouth.

Her lips were slick and fluent on his skin.

He wanted to return the favor. He pulled away from her, shifting her knees apart, diving down to swallow her. When she sucked in her breath, Harry knew he had found her clit. She stiffened each time his tongue brushed across it, and every time he felt her shudder, his resolve quickened.

Harry had to be inside of her. He moved up, looking down at her exhilarated face before pushing himself between her legs and entering her, saying her name with a small gasp of wonder, engulfed in her heat.

They fell into a quick, satisfying rhythm on the softly squeaking mattress beneath them, until they both came with a tremendous shudder, tearing at flesh, panting, and finally clinging to one another, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the sound of their slowing breath.

[1] Ephesians 5 – King James Version of the Holy Bible

9. Hide and Seekers

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

(Again, thank you for your kind reviews. I’ve been dreaming this story every night, writing when I can. I’m thrilled by the emails I’ve gotten. Thank you so much.) Chapter 9 – Hide and Seekers

Freezing rain tapped frantically against the window as Ginny Weasley fumbled through her desk searching for a quill and paper.

“What will you say to him?” Draco asked, staring at the hardened droplets now icing over the glass.

“Just that we’re coming,” she replied, finding the floral notepaper Ron had given her for Christmas.

No more bloody diaries, Ron had said to her then.

She began to write. They wouldn’t understand, but she had to try to help him.

“You are everything,” Draco whispered. It was the closest he had ever come to saying I love you.

He had released all of his anger and sadness inside of her, and she had withstood it, renewing his strength, comforting him in the most intimate way possible.

“I won’t let Lucius find you,” Ginny said, unsure of how she would keep that promise.

She loved Draco. Even with his repressed sadness and unrepressed rage.

Draco knew Lucius would come after him.

Malfoy’s didn’t run. Malfoy’s didn’t disobey.

He was afraid. The only person he’d ever shared that emotion with before was his mother. He knew Lucius had lied to him. His mother would never have killed herself.

Draco hoped Narcissa hadn’t seen it coming. He hoped his father had been mercifully quick.

#

They lay on their backs, side by side.

Hermione had thought perhaps the night before last had been an aberration. She didn’t think it would happen again.

But it did.

Harry looked at her then.

“What’s happened to us?” Hermione said, her voice still not quite awake.

“I thought it was pretty obvious,” Harry replied, raising his hand to touch her shoulder.

“Not entirely,” she said.

A pause.

“We’ve become lovers,” he answered for her.

Another pause.

“Why didn’t we become lovers sooner?” she asked, turning towards him and sliding one leg between his thighs.

“I guess we were too determined not to be,” he said.

Harry rose up on one elbow, looking down at her face. He decided he liked the way she looked laying on his pillow.

“Do you love me?” she asked, flicking her tongue at a lock of hair that had pasted itself beside her mouth sometime during the night.

Harry laughed.

“I’ve always loved you, Hermione,” he said, moving his mouth to hers.

There was a soft knock at his bedroom door. Harry groaned. Ron must have come back already.

“Give us a minute Ron,” Harry said, annoyed at the interruption.

Silence.

“Harry, It’s me…Sirius.”

#

“Mrs. Mills, I know that you love your niece. I’m not going to pretend I understand how you’re feeling right now, but please believe me when I say that we are on the side of good. Hermione has saved many lives with her gifts.”

Lois Mills sat quietly, staring at the middle-aged wizard who seemed most sincere. The room they were keeping her in was far from a prison after all, and no harm had come to her. In fact, everything she had requested the night before had been done for her. And the breakfast cakes were exceptional…

“I will look through the box this morning. I’ve read every book I own. I can’t say I will remember them all, but I’ll try,” she said finally.

Arthur Weasley breathed a sigh of relief. He hoped Sirius had received his owl. He knew Harry would remember to send one, but he had needed to let Sirius in on information he had just received from Calypso that he wasn’t yet comfortable telling Harry, Ron, or Hermione…especially Hermione.

“Thank you Mrs. Mills. Perhaps you’d like your niece to come by and visit in a day or two? She was terribly worried about you,” he suggested offering her more tea.

“Yes, that would be nice. If she’ll see me after how I behaved,” Lois confessed, suddenly feeling foolish.

Arthur stood, smiling down at the now very mellow Mrs. Mills.

“I know she will, as soon as she gets a chance. I know it’s unlikely you’ll know what’s missing or what’s not missing…but please try.”

Mrs. Mills looked down at the sizable pile as he left.

It would be very unlikely indeed.

#

“How could he have walked off?” the ringmaster said, his voice seething.

Locust shuffled, moving farther away from him.

“What does it matter? He is replaceable,” Locust said.

The ringmaster could feel his hands starting to tear into the bar he was leaning against. The wood paneling began to crack under his grip.

“You are a puerile fool. If he could leave, then he wasn’t wholly affected by our magic. He must have had resistance. The other called Ivan let him go?”

“The other was affected by our spells. He barely remembers him leaving…said he left with those two whores,” Locust sounding as if he were speaking from a distance.

The ringmaster could feel the heat rising under his skin. He struggled to maintain control, for her sake. Everything was for her sake.

“She will need to be taken elsewhere. Somewhere well protected where little light can get in…until her day of revelation. You are most fortunate that we are almost prepared to move forward.”

Locust nodded somberly, finally realizing the magnitude of his error.

“The time is so near now. Should we open the gateway and allow some more to pass through? They would be most useful,” Locust suggested.

“We will open the gate and allow a few more to pass beforehand. It will be difficult sustaining them, but we will use the wizard Malfoy,” the ringmaster said, “after all, they brought us great success in Cairo.”

Excitement began to build in Locust’s distended stomach. It was all coming to pass sooner then he had thought.

#

Harry hurried around the room searching for his discarded jeans.

Christ, he couldn’t have gotten my owl already. I only sent it six hours ago.

Hermione sat up in bed, unsure of what to do next. She certainly didn’t want to cause Harry any more embarrassment.

Not to mention Sirius told her once that she had become like his own daughter to him, she thought.

“I’ll be right out. There’s coffee in the kitchen…Ron set the pot on a timer…” Harry shouted, pulling on a pair of wrinkled black jeans that lay at his feet.

There was an uncomfortable cough on the other side of the door, and footsteps heading towards the kitchen.

“Harry, I can’t wear this!” Hermione said, holding up the tiny dress she had worn the night before.

Harry reached into his dresser tossing her a shirt and some pants. Her face went blank.

“It’ll have to do for now, unless you want Sirius to see you in that dress,” he laughed.

She collapsed back onto the bed.

Why couldn’t they ever wake up and have a nice normal morning after.

#

Reflected light danced across the marble statue of Lucius Malfoy’s father, a man he had never once defied. He contemplated where he had failed his own son.

It was, of course, Narcissa’s coddling of the boy and her insistence that they indulge his love of childish things that had done this.

Lucius made nearly a full circuit of Malfoy Manor before he found evidence that Draco had fled from him. The gold he kept in the cellar was gone, as well as two envelopes of Muggle money that Lucius kept whenever he was forced to dwell among the non-magical.

At least the boy wasn’t a complete idiot.

A chill ran up his shoulders, and the familiar feeling of being watched gave him pause. Wind drifted in from the now open glass panels of the room. The intruder smelled of burnt flesh.

“I’m surprised you were able to enter unaccompanied,” Lucius said, feeling calmly for the wand in his pocket.

Locust Daviz smiled, showing more of his yellow teeth. Lucius watched the saliva dripping from the man’s mouth and wondered if he were being set up.

Locust laughed, sealing the windows behind him.

“We are going to bestow upon you a great honor, ” Locust said.

Lucius smirked, his hands loose and relaxed now.

Locust detested this place; even with all of it’s darkness it smelled like wildflowers and running water.

“You are a man of considerable power, and being so, we know that we can rely on you to further our mutual cause. You will be receiving a visitor shortly. I expect you will prepare everything as is dictated to you…and of course you will be greatly rewarded,”

“Of course,” Lucius said straightening up, displeased with the condescending tone of Locust’s voice, but intrigued by the promise of reward.

“Very well then. You will gather only the most senior wizards to meet here. There is much to be done,” Locust directed.

Locust had something in his hand. His face was fixed, pale, his teeth bared.

“What is that?” Lucius said, examining the large blood flecked bag with interest.

“We are giving you servants… it will sustain them,” Locust said, a strange lucidity in his voice.

Something wheezed and bubbled in the dark, their eyes narrowing in on their new master. As Lucius looked down at the dark, pulsating creatures, a cold trickle of sweat made its way down his cheek.

#

Sirius Black stood at the kitchen counter, having the worst cup of coffee in his life.

The occasional cup of coffee he had gotten while in Azkaban was better than this.

He had tried to sleep peacefully night before, but sleep came in the form of edited segments of his memory. He had awakened repeatedly hearing the voices… the screams.

“I didn’t say it was good coffee, but it’ll wake you up,” Harry joked, noting the pained expression on Sirius’ face.

Sirius looked exhausted, as if he had just tumbled out of bed himself. His graying unkempt hair was longer then he usually kept it.

“Arthur Weasley owled me. He told me that you would be contacting me too, but I decided to take the nearest portkey here. I wanted an excuse to regroup sooner, especially after witnessing what happened in Cairo,” Sirius began.

Hermione sneezed, still in Harry’s room. Harry flushed. Sirius looked at him apprehensively, not happy to have interrupted this scene.

“I didn’t know you were having company. I wouldn’t have apparated inside.”

Sirius sat down on the couch now, a Muggle pistol, .38, strapped to his hip.

“ I suppose we’d better wait to talk further until your lady friend leaves,” Sirius said, still trying to swallow the high-octane sludge.

“She’s…well she’s…” Harry stumbled, trying to pick words out thin air.

His bedroom door creaked open, and Hermione walked out, swimming in Harry’s trousers and shirt with her face as red as her hair.

“So good to see you Sirius! I was glad to hear from you when I was staying with the Weasley’s” she said embracing him warmly.

Sirius shot Harry a threatening glance over Hermione’s shoulder. Harry looked back apologetically.

“I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do dear. It’s wonderful to see you too,” Sirius replied, not removing his eyes from his godson.

“So I suppose some catching up is in order,” Harry began, desperate to cut through the awkwardness.

“I suppose it is,” Sirius said.

Alohamora, Ronald Weasley whispered, abruptly finding himself in the midst of this graceless reunion.

“Hiya, Sirius!”

#

Draco and Ginny followed the continuous walkway towards the Ministry building with their hands in their pockets, quickly passing unseeing faces.

Draco could feel the sting of vomit in his throat. Ginny’s eyes focused on her own footsteps following the curve of the concrete, hoping that the hood Draco wore would be enough to let them go unnoticed until they reached their destination.

Her father should have received the owl by now. He would be waiting for them. She knew as much as he hated Lucius Malfoy, he wouldn’t refuse Draco.

But there was so much more they’d have to explain. Why he’d chosen to come to her, for example. She’d have to explain that.

Draco was grateful for her lead. Ginny seemed as if she were continually on the verge of colliding with the Muggles they passed, but the people seemed to know to step aside, making room for them.

She slid her hand into his, the sensation pushing him forward.

They stopped in front of their destination. There was a stillness, soft voices of people caught up in their everyday tasks. Draco longed for the luxury of not fearing for his life. Not fearing for hers.

They stepped inside. No one seemed to notice. The people who buzzed by were young; a few of them barely out of Hogwarts, much like himself. The front reception area was lined with silver statues, figures of Muggle presidents and a computer sat in the corner, dust gathering on its surfaces. Central Consulting, the sign read above the receptionist’s desk. There were two elevators, and a hallway off to the left of the main entrance.

The receptionist, a young girl with short brown hair smiled at them, recognizing Ginny.

“Hello Ginny, is your father expecting you?” she asked, too busy examining the blonde man beside Ginny to notice Arthur Weasley suddenly standing beside her.

“Yes Sarah, I was expecting them both,” Arthur Weasley said, noticing Ginny’s hand intertwined with Draco’s.

They boarded the nearest elevator and followed the elder Weasley along the hallways fitted with electronic doors that opened at the sound of his voice. Muggle technology at it’s finest.

#

Cho arrived freshly showered, slightly less caustic then she was last night. She handed the clothes she had brought over to Hermione.

Honestly, she could have at least brushed her hair.

Ron moved out of his chair so Cho could sit down. He received a sweet smile for his chivalrous act.

Hermione gave Cho a sincere look of gratitude.

“Thanks,” she said, while Cho looked her over, obviously displeased with her current state of disarray.

“Ms. Chang is it?” Sirius said, standing to shake her hand.

Cho smiled politely, taking it. She gave her hair an involuntary toss.

“Neville’s not here yet?” she asked, noticing the empty spot on the couch he’d normally be occupying.

Harry was rubbing his palms across his knees nervously.

“Probably trying to convince Danielle to let him leave the house again,” Ron said, looking up from his plate of defrosted waffles.

Sirius laughed. Neville moving in with that Muggle woman, lovely as she was, had complicated his life a bit. As if on cue, the missing agent knocked on the door.

“Sorry. Just got tied up a bit,” Neville said, his mouth turning into a childish grin upon seeing Sirius, “so…what do we do now?”

Sirius pulled a crimson envelope from his pocket. Portkey passes.

“We leave for Calypso in two hours. There is someone there we need to see.”

#

Ginny’s mouth was hard, her lips pressed into a thin line. Arthur Weasley, who stood peering out of his window, was infuriated by his daughter’s deception and unsure of whether to trust this young Malfoy.

Seeing him behind our backs for two years? Lying to us for two years?

Draco rose to walk out, a mindless reflex. Ginny stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Dad, please believe us, Draco isn’t lying,” she said.

Arthur Weasley took off his glasses, closing his eyes for a moment.

“We will find you somewhere secure, but you will align yourself with us. No Malfoy loyalty, no dark wizard ties.”

Draco nodded, gripping Ginny’s hand.

“We will investigate your mother’s death, but we can’t afford to raid Malfoy Manor,” Arthur Weasley confessed, “We simply don’t have the resources.”

Draco knew this to be true. His old dwelling was well protected.

“Thank you sir,” Draco said, finding his newfound civility slightly uncomfortable.

#

“Fucking Freezing,” Ron said, stepping out from the shadow behind Harry onto the icy street.

Sirius was the only one who had visited this place before.

Hermione thought that Sirius was the loneliest man she had ever known. He was lonely with his walk, his posture…even the mellow low tones of his voice rang out with isolation.

Hermione’s confidence waned as they looked out into the city before them. Everything they laid eyes upon was ominous. The streets were worn and broken, filled with things that were normally unseen. A small boy with one arm, an old gray haired woman dressed as if she were a whore.

Sirius pointed towards a building that seemed miles away.

“That’s the Calypso Ministry Headquarters,” he said to them calmly, hardened to the scene.

Sirius guided them to the train station. There were animals lying in the street, decaying without disturbance. Hermione moved closer to Harry, trying to keep up with his stride. A woman with her lips wrapped around the short stem of a metal pipe lunged at Cho, begging at the girl’s feet.

Cho swerved to avoid her, moving closer to Ron.

When they boarded the train, Hermione picked up a newspaper that was left lying on a seat. She turned its pages with such crispness, that someone who didn’t know her quite so well would have thought her to be impatient.

“What are you looking for?” Sirius asked.

Hermione stopped reading, looking up at him.

“For what thing devastated this place.”

Ron turned his head towards the train’s window. Cho looked down at her feet.

“Nothing,” Sirius said finally.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. It’s only Muggle poverty. Our office is very small here,” Sirius explained.

Behind the door in the next car, it sounded like something was dying. Hermione watched Harry carefully, observing his gestures and expressions. He was as perplexed as she was as to the purpose of this visit.

Sirius reached into his bag, handing Ron and Harry neckties.

“They are very formal in this office. Muggle businessmen in this town all wear these,” he said.

Hermione was, for once, happy that Cho had chosen something decent for her.

With the Dark Army attacking every day…some people are still worried whether or not they’re wearing ties?

The train moved quickly, buzzing through a series of tunnels that linked overhead buildings. As they walked up the corridor leading to their destination, Hermione noticed the windows were all mirrored and remarkably clean. A striking contrast to the filth they had seen earlier.

Hermione could somehow envision the building shattering to pieces. She pushed the thought from her head.

“They are quite anxious to meet the man who defeated Voldemort,” Sirius added, pride flashing in his eyes.

#

Ronald Weasley understood the force of Harry’s presence here. And he would once again be standing behind him, the fellow with the fixed smile.

The personnel at the Calypso Ministry had a spirit of generous welcome, and Ron would have liked to remain longer in their company. They watched Harry’s every move and hung onto his every word. Harry remained humble, of course. He was Harry Potter after all. Modest, strong…his bloody best friend.

Like a God damn brother.

Ron loved Harry, but he did envy him. He had only openly confessed this once; to a Muggle woman he had met in a bar shortly after Harry had defeated Voldemort.

Sure, he had almost lost his own life as well, but it was really Harry’s victory after all.

He had taken the voluptuous woman to a small motel near Hogsmeade, and afterwards, while she lay pretending to fall to sleep, had confessed his jealousy to her.

It’s funny how you withhold things from those closest to you, but can confess your innermost thoughts and feelings to a stranger in a numbered room.

The team of Aurors and their hosts exchanged courtesies, and Sirius asked for someone Ron had never heard of.

Shara Fonta

There was a knowing nod as one of their hosts left the room briefly. He returned alongside a woman with small blue eyes, full lips and a nose that was slightly too large.

Sirius held his hand out to her, she took it, and they all lapsed into a long pondering silence.

10. Beauties and Beasts

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

(A/N: So happy you are still here, reading. Thanks to Clarabella_21 for the supportive emails and to Missy for the plug on portkey.org. Enjoy.) Chapter 10 – Beauties and Beasts

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you Sirius,” Shara said.

Sirius guffawed. “Must be that you have a wide definition of what’s pleasurable.”

“Not at all,” she whispered, her eyes staying fixed on his a little too long.

Shara walked across the office and unfastened the door of a cabinet that held a meager stock of wine and butterbeer.

“Have you all decided where you will be spending the night? If not, I will offer my home to you. I have five bedrooms that go unused most of the time…I’m sure you will find it very comfortable,” Shara said.

Hermione hadn’t considered that she would be spending the night. When she looked around however, no one else looked surprised.

Sirius could have mentioned that before.

“We would be honored Madam Fonta,” Sirius replied.

“I will bring my sight crystal home with us…it will be a more intimate setting there,” Shara said.

Christ, thought Hermione, a bloody divination expert.

Shara paused for a moment, as if she had heard Hermione’s thoughts, and began to pour the wine.

#

The ringmaster looked upon the Hellions being born in silence, lost in wonder …awed by their beauty. He found them to be majestic. Even a human as dark as Lucius Malfoy would probably only look on them with disgust, but the ringmaster looked on them with much admiration. It was true, they were the lowliest of all Hell’s creations, but they were something to behold.

He would have to close the gateway soon. They could only sustain a few more until Maedon’s revelation.

A transparent curtain of blue light encompassed the room, and one by one they rose from hidden patches in the ground. They were nearly one quarter the height of a human, with flat round faces and arms as long as their bodies. Their eyes were clear, and they reflected what they looked upon like a mirror. The curve of their mouths overflowed with powerful teeth, strong enough to tear through flesh as easy as a hot knife slicing through butter.

It still amazed him, watching them teeter around on their short, but powerful limbs; legs and arms that could carry them gracefully and quickly even over the largest obstacles. He adored running his hands over their luminous green skin, and their huge necks that were thick as a tree stump.

Beloved children.

They began to chant, whining and crying.

“Shhhh…. you will be fed. I promise you will soon be fed.”

The Muggle man in the corner, who had thought he was only in for a brutal beating after failing to pay his gambling debt, had his eyes locked on the creatures in disbelief.

It was all a dream, some horrible dream, the man thought, hot tears now blurring his vision.

“Kasssshhhhhhhh….ssssaaaaa….” the ringmaster hissed, letting the creatures get the scent of a hat he had removed from the pathetic human who had begged the tall man for more time to pay what he owed.

He would be paying his debt now.

The Hellions were upon him then, and as blood sprayed from the man’s jugular like a thick red waterfall, the ringmaster thought to himself how satisfying it all was, watching their hunger being satiated.

#

They sat in a circle in Shara Fonta’s living room, the rhythm of her grandfather clock ticking away in the background keeping them all remarkably focused.

The night was so quiet that it seemed as if the whole world had stopped breathing.

Shara spoke in a low, boozy voice as Hermione let her eyes wander, scrutinizing the pictures on Shara’s wall. Her eyes fell on a picture of Shara with Sirius, standing in front a mountain. They were both much younger then, and Hermione wondered what exactly their relationship had been.

“The first time I laid eyes upon the evil I believe you are facing, I did what I thought was right, running to the Ministry for help. They didn’t believe me then, and it is true that some do not believe me now,” Shara said, glancing at Hermione, “but I have seen them. I have seen them devour men alive. Sirius and I believe they took part in the attacks at Cairo.”

Shara stopped then, swallowing hard at the thought.

“What are these things, and what is it that they wanted in Cairo? I thought death eaters were responsible for the massacre there,” Harry asked.

Shara looked over at Sirius.

“These things aren’t human. They were looking for objects of power. They left with quite a few of these things, I only managed to save a few,” Sirius said.

Sirius looked solemnly at Hermione, who seemed sealed away inside of herself.

“Time is everything now,” Sirius said gravely.

Hermione’s grandmother once told her that she was always safe so long as she didn’t lose her head. The thought of Death Eaters in possession of the wizarding world’s most powerful objects threatened to knock it right off of her shoulders.

“Demons,” Cho Chang said once again announcing her theory without much emotion, “straight from hell.”

Harry and Neville sat motionless while Ron nervously tapped his hand on the ground. Hermione brought her knees up to her chest, breathing out slowly, gaining control of her thoughts.

Harry adjusted his position and turned to look at his godfather. “You and Shara believe Voldemort was working for Demons, and these Demons helped to raid Cairo?”

Shara Fonta blinked mildly and grimaced. “I have come to believe that Tom Riddle was working with these entities…demons or otherwise…for something else. Something I can’t seem to see, no matter how hard I try,” she said moving about the room now in a slow and downcast way, “I am denied sight of it…but I do see you Hermione Granger. You are key to it; I see your face every time I have one of these visions. I only wish I could fully understand how you fit into the puzzle. That’s part of the reason Sirius brought you here, so we could try to see more…see why it is that your parents were taken from you…why they are looking for, or have found a book that your family possessed that no one else ever did,” she explained, sitting next to Hermione and taking her hand. Hermione pulled it away.

“This is crazy! You actually believe her?” Hermione said turning towards Sirius, then looking at her fellow Aurors, all entranced by Shara’s words.

“Hermione…please hear Shara out,” Sirius said.

Harry gave are a pleading look. Ron refused to meet her gaze. She was outnumbered. She’d be forced to go through with this now.

I think this is wasting valuable time. Time we could be spending tracking down these things, she thought as she relented, holding her hand out for the divine Madam Fonta.

#

The air in the Burrow seemed too warm for Draco Malfoy. It was hot, and filled with dust.

When Ginny had brought him there that afternoon, Draco wasn’t sure what to expect. He had bowed over Mrs. Weasley’s hand, as he was used to doing for the wives of so many of his father’s cohorts, but she had pulled it away and out of sight, shoving her sweaty palm into the pocket of her apron.

Mrs. Weasley was dressed in a robe of the dullest purple, and her hair was frizzy and dried out. There was a sticky plaster like substance on her lip that Draco later learned was icing from the birthday cake she was baking for Fred and George. Her cheeks looked puffy and sullen, like she had been crying.

She was kind to him nonetheless, her first words expressing sympathy for the loss of his mother. She was less kind to Ginny, and they vanished into the kitchen without him, for a mother daughter “chat”. When they returned a few moments later, Ginny’s eyes were swollen, filled with emotion.

Draco looked soberly at the cabinets, the simple furnishings that filled the room, a collection of old drapes and worn pillows.

He felt like he was going to burst into flames at any moment.

Mrs. Weasley offered him pumpkin juice and he gladly accepted it. She then sat back in her seat with a vacant face, staring at the young man her daughter professed to love.

Draco could feel the blood draining from his face.

“I could lie to you if you’d prefer,” Mrs. Weasley said finally, “but I’d rather not. There has never been a Malfoy that could be trusted, and while I accept my husband’s decision to keep you safe from harm I do not trust you. So long as you are under our roof, under our protection you will abide by our rules. I do not approve of your involvement with my daughter and I would have preferred you stay at a safe house, but Mr. Weasley has informed me that security at the Ministry has unfortunately been compromised. He believes your father may seek you out, and he wishes to keep you near.”

Draco couldn’t think of what to say or do. Since he had the cup in his hand, he took a sip. For a moment, the pumpkin juice carried him back to Hogwarts, the only place he had ever really felt safe.

Tears welled up again in Ginny’s eyes and she grabbed Draco’s free hand in defiance of her mother’s frank words.

“I don’t hate you, but please try to understand,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice softening some.

Draco Malfoy understood.

He hated his father, almost dispassionately now, but was still doomed to forever live in his shadow.

#

Hermione’s brain was working at rapid speed, trying to solve the complexity of this mad fantasy she had been propelled into the instant Shara Fonta took hold of her hand.

A beautiful woman is standing with sad eyes, in the corner of the bright blue room in which Hermione now stands. She can’t quite see her face. As she draws closer to the woman, Hermione sees something familiar about her…what is it?

“Nora, do it. You must destroy them,” the woman begs, staring at Hermione who is still the same distance away… even after she has taken at least ten steps forward.

She walks through a tall black shadow and an image of a beautiful child, with silver hair…an angel perhaps… flashes quickly. Hermione tries to focus again, but her eyes burn.

Someone trips her, and the wet dirt slips through her hands. She can feel it. It reminds her of her backyard playground…

“Do it Nora…do it please.” the woman pleads again, this time with an unnatural calmness.

“What is it that I must do?” Hermione asks, standing again, trying to see the woman’s face more clearly.

The woman tries to speak, and something lashes out at her face. A blur.

Hermione is frozen. She struggles to try to break free, enraged by her sudden immobility.

“Nora Mills…find the words,” the woman says, now trembling, eyes wide with fear, dabbing at the blood that is seeping from her lip.

Hermione crouches, cowering against the back wall as strange beings pass over her head. The entities ensue the woman, dragging her back into the shadows.

Wet hot liquid sprays on Hermione’s face…She can taste it…its blood, a mix of old iron and mysterious sweet.

They watched as Hermione thrashed on Shara’s living room floor. She was unconscious, and Sirius was trying desperately to wake her. Harry wiped the sweat from her forehead, holding her hand. He was helpless, barred from her violent visions.

#

In the shadow crowded room, Lucius Malfoy stood, staring at his eager horde of butchers.

The foul smelling creatures that had remained when Locust had left Malfoy Manor were standing perfectly still now, resting against the back wall like gargoyles. Lucius hadn’t yet called upon them to do his bidding, but he thought perhaps it was time.

Locust had left instructions after all, and they were a gift to be utilized, not to simply become the distasteful decoration they were now.

He held out an old tattered Quidditch shirt to the beast in the front. It’s eyes opened and its mouth began to drool. Lucius could see himself reflected in them.

It gnashed its teeth, groaning and hissing in anticipation.

“Draco Malfoy,” Lucius said.

It sped away then, out of the window and into the black night… in search of it’s promised meal.

#

“Hermione…Hermione,” Harry said, standing over her.

Shara knelt beside her with water, offering it to the girl. Hermione sat up to accept it, and looked around the room. Harry wrapped her in his arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She nodded yes, but she was still unsure if she was or not.

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

Cho looked over at her with concern and relief.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” she said.

Ron stood next to Sirius, his eyes filled with worry. Neville returned with a chocolate frog, handing it to the terror-stricken Hermione.

Hermione tried to pull herself together. She needed to be clear about what she saw.

“Nora…I blacked out and a woman was calling me Nora…” she began, as they helped her to her feet.

#

It was 9:00 pm at the Burrow, and other then the noises Mrs. Weasley made as she cleaned in the kitchen, the only sounds were the buzzing of the television in the den and the wailing of the cold winter wind as it constrained against the back door.

Mrs. Weasley stopped sweeping the floor at the sound of something rushing by.

“Is that you Ginny?” she demanded.

Silence.

She felt a little foolish then, but looked behind the counter anyway.

Nothing there.

She had had a terribly stressful day. Perhaps she should go to bed.

She walked up the stairs, checking in on Draco along the way.

There will be no sneaking around in my house, she thought as she put a locking spell on Draco’s door.

#

“I need to see Mr. Weasley,” Lois Mills demanded.

The guard at her door gave her a questionable glance.

“I know what’s missing. There is a book missing from my box, a book my sister and I had as a child.”

The guard pointed over to a pad and paper on the desk in her room.

“Mr. Weasley isn’t here, but we can send him an owl.”

“A what?”

“An owl,” the young man said again.

Damn Muggles

“Couldn’t we telephone him?”

The guard was most uninterested.

He was missing an important Quidditch match tonight, and he was less than happy about having to put up with this finicky Muggle woman.

#

“Are you planning to share a room with Hermione tonight?” Sirius asked bluntly, when Harry walked into the room.

Sirius sat in Madam Fonta’s kitchen, smoking a cigar. The others had gone to bed. Harry had held Hermione until she drifted into sleep.

“Ron is already in a room with Cho, so I guess I was,” Harry confessed, taking a chair beside him.

Sirius took a drag of his cigar, offering it to Harry who turned it down.

“We’re together now,” Harry said finally.

“I know.”

“So what’s wrong then?”

Sirius’ expression grew bitter.

“Nothing is wrong, except she’s gone through a lot of changes since her parents died. I think she’s still grieving her loss and I think that you sleeping with her is probably complicating things more. I can’t help but think you might be taking advantage…I thought…” Sirius said, stopping himself short.

Harry sharply drew in his breath.

“You just thought I was more responsible then that…is that what you were going to say?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was going to say. …”

“I didn’t plan it Sirius…it just happened,”

“Well, it happened right before what is going to be the fight of your life! Her life!” Sirius replied angrily.

Harry was gripping the side of the table so hard that the muscles in his hands ached. The knots in his stomach were painfully tight. They had never had this sort of tension between them before.

“It’s always the bloody fight of my life! When the hell is it that I actually get to live this precious life I’m so frequently risking death for!”

They both sat, red faced, silent.

“I love her, and I promise I’m not taking advantage of her,” Harry sighed, still bewildered by Sirius’ reaction.

“I know.”

“So why is it wrong to be with her?”

Sirius turned to Harry with a thoughtful, paternal look in his eyes.

“It isn’t,” Sirius said, “I’m sorry for being a bastard, but time is not exactly on our side this time Harry.”

“Loving her won’t cause me to lose sight of what I need to do. And it won’t do that to Hermione either. You know Hermione…she’s like …a daughter to you…” Harry said, finally understanding.

Sirius squashed the cigar in the oddly shaped ceramic ashtray, and they sat there, like two soldiers waiting for the war to start.

#

Draco lay in Ronald Weasley’s bed hoping to God that Mrs. Weasley had washed the sheets.

He had seriously contemplated sleeping on the floor.

Ginny was sound asleep down the hall and Draco was tempted to sneak down to her room, but he didn’t exactly want to find himself at the end of Arthur Weasley’s wand.

It could have been worse. Ginny said Ron’s room used to be in the attic.

So he lay there, grieving for his mother, unable to sleep on Ron’s lumpy mattress.

He laughed a little to himself. Ron would be in absolute Hell if he knew Draco was sleeping there.

That’s when he heard it, panting like a dog on the other side of his door.

Did the Weasley’s have a dog?

He waited.

There was only the sound of Arthur Weasley’s snoring at the end of the Hall. Draco thought that it sounded like the elder Weasley might have some sort of sinus disorder.

Someone tried to turn the knob. The door was locked.

Christ, they locked me inside, he thought, not knowing it was a blessing.

There was another breathy pant, and something began violently shredding through Ronald Weasley’s bedroom door.

Draco Malfoy scrambled to his feet, grabbing for his wand.

He saw its flat head through the now gaping hole, and it’s arms struggling to pull the length of its body through the splintery opening.

He screamed like an eleven-year-old girl.

“Draco!!!” Ginny Weasley cried.

“Stay Back!” Arthur Weasley said ordering his wife and daughter into the closest bathroom and watching this monster rip it’s way into Draco’s room.

Ginny didn’t listen. She tossed her shoe at the thing, hitting it across its hind legs. The creature didn’t seem to notice.

“Impediamenta!” Draco managed to stumble out.

It had no effect, and the beast continued to make it’s way through the door. Draco Malfoy pried open Ron’s window shutting it behind him. He climbed outside in the cold wearing nothing but his shorts, carefully scaling the wall to get to the ground. He hung on to protruding panels of mismatched siding; thankful the Weasley’s were always too poor to get them fixed. His wand was tucked into his waistband.

Arthur Weasley had run back to the bedroom to get something, but when he returned, the creature had whizzed passed Ginny and was headed downstairs. Ginny was following it, screaming at the beast. It was ignoring her. Arthur Weasley followed close behind them.

It only wanted Draco.

When Draco’s feet hit the ground he heard it again. It was running towards him. He lifted his wand.

“Avada Kedavra!” he said.

The burst of green flame from his wand went straight through the beast, and it continued towards him, not missing a step.

He ran. As fast as his feet could take him.

Draco could hear Ginny’s voice fading. Arthur Weasley was shouting some sort of rhyme.

The creature was getting closer.

It grabbed onto Draco’s foot, pulling him to the ground.

Draco cried out in pain, as it ripped into his skin. Ginny screamed again.

Draco heard a loud and violent explosion, and a flash of white light. There was an inhuman shriek, and the creature collapsed on top of him, drenching him in its warm sticky blood. Draco pulled the creature’s large teeth from his calf, moaning as Ginny helped him to his feet.

The creature lay on the ground in a bloody heap. Arthur Weasley stood behind it with a small glass triangle, an object he didn’t know he’d have to use so soon.

Draco tried to catch his breath as Ginny embraced him. His own blood was gushing down to the ground, and Ginny ripped off the sleeve of her pajama top to tie around his wound.

Arthur bent down to get a better look. The creature’s skin had started to bubble and boil, just like Sirius Black said it would.

My God, Sirius was right all along, Arthur thought.

They stood and watched as it melted into the ground, leaving nothing behind.

11. Ashes to Ashes

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

Chapter 11 – Ashes to Ashes

“But some mysteries bite and bark

And come to get you in the dark.”

- The Book of Counted Sorrows

When the Hellion didn’t return as quickly as he had expected, Lucius Malfoy was only slightly worried. He supposed it was possible his idiot son could have defeated the creature alone, but he suspected Draco had needed help from someone else.

Nontheless, Lucius remained tempered and refined. He was chosen for this Destiny. The decisions he had made these last two days were an example of his own evolution as a leader. No one would stand in his way.

A God in training, if you will.

When his guests arrived, they didn’t disappoint him.

The ringmaster was carrying something in his arms. Locust bowed to Lucius, and nodded approvingly at the arrangements Lucius had made. Everything had been done well ahead of their arrival.

“One of your servants is missing,” the ringmaster said, looking over the large room and zeroing on the Hellions standing guard.

Lucius looked up at the tall man with a cool expression, “I sent it after a traitor.”

“How long ago?”

“It’s gone. Destroyed,” a voice hissed.

Lucius froze at the sound of her voice. Locust closed the door, and directed Lucius to lead the way.

“No matter,” Locust said following Lucius down the spiral staircase towards the undermost layer of Malfoy Manor.

When they rounded the corner into the room Locust has chosen, the ringmaster set his package onto the bed and began to remove it’s covering. There was a moment of hesitation, and then her shield was lifted.

When Lucius tried to catch a glimpse of what was being unveiled, his eyes burned. He felt as if he were going blind. Lucius stifled his cry of agony, a trick he had learned to hide any weakness, and reached for his wand.

“Your magic has no real power,” she laughed, “Wait, and you will see more clearly then you have ever before.”

Her voice...it called out to him. It touched him.

Lucius could hear the hissing communication between the two men and he stood in unbearable pain for a few moments longer, clinging to the wall, until a strange power rippled through his body. He smiled through the pain of it all. He was being gifted.

Directly in front of him, obscured by the two closer figures, stood someone else. Lucius still could see no details, but by sound of the voice it was a female. A girl. Her image was sharper at the edges, but he still couldn’t discern what he was looking at.

“It will take some time to get used to your new sense of sight,” she said, moving closer to him now.

The two men’s hissing began to make sense to Lucius, and the girl slowly began to take focus.

When Lucius finally gazed upon her, her face inspired not just fear, but a chilling reverence.

He would waste no more time, an Empire was about to fall.

#

Most people believed their parents were moral because they had seen their morality in action, and If you had a father like Lucius Malfoy, you made something up and held onto it as long as you could.

But Draco was letting go now.

They all stayed in the family room together, deciding to not to leave the Burrow until the light of day. Mr. Weasley had locked all of the windows and doors, but they knew sleep wouldn’t come for any of them that night. Not after what they had just witnessed.

“What was that..thing?” Ginny said, slumping back into the chair as Mrs. Weasley started tending to Draco’s wounds.

“Some sort of creature…a servant of the dark army,” her father answered.

“No. I mean what did you use to kill it?”

“Not sure just yet,” Arthur Weasley said, clutching the tiny triangle in his hand, wondering if any more of the creatures would show up that evening. “Sirius Black sent it yesterday. It’s was quite simple to use actually, just like he said it would be."

“Sod …Woman!” Draco cried, as Mrs. Weasley poured a clear, steaming solution onto his leg.

“Oh shut up and keep still! You’re lucky this was all you got,” she said as Draco ground his teeth together.

“Aaaargh…It hurt less when that thing was gnawing on me,” Draco said, as he watched his flesh slowly come back together.

Ginny Weasley straightened up, and sighed.

“First thing in the morning we’ll all head over to the ministry. I need to contact Harry’s team. Sirius Black is with them,” Arthur said quietly to the group, “We aren’t safe here.”

Mrs. Weasley sat, worried about the mysterious look on her husband’s face. He knew more than he was letting on.

#

The soft illumination of the darkened room had awakened them early from their intermittent slumber. Shara Fonta’s home was quiet, and no one else was yet awake.

The word’s that fell now from Harry’s lips were incoherent, but Hermione understood their meaning. She moaned her response.

Harry was lodging himself between her thighs, asking her to accept him. His possession of her still took her by surpise.

Her legs were closed tightly around his waist, and her lips brushed against the skin of his shoulder. He drove himself into her again and again, raising his head up so he could witness every expression, every sigh that came from her mouth. She was sheathed so tightly around him that he thought he might drown.

Her parted wet lips, her tightly closed eyes … her soft, quick breath.

It was unbearably fulfilling.

This was their calm before the storm.

#

They were on the train and headed for the portkey home when Ron noticed that Harry was sweating.

“What is it Harry?”

“Just a lot on my mind,” Harry replied.

Harry took off his glasses and wiped them onto his pants, and then he pushed them back up on the bridge of his nose. They slid down, and he repeated the effort.

Ron recognized this nervous habit.

If Harry was nervous, they must be in for quite the fight.

Cho was restlessly moving about the car, and Hermione stood near Harry biting her lip, looking like a frightened kid. Hermione's vision from the night before was still haunting her.

Sirius still looked as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep, and Ron, for once, looked more thoughtful then concerned. Neville was the only one who looked fairly normal; carefully sipping the cup of hot coffee he’d gotten from Madam Fonta’s.

“When we return, I think Hermione should do some research. We need to see if she knows anything about a relative named Nora,” Sirius said.

“I agree,” Hermione chimed, needing to find out what her vision had meant, if anything.

“And I will arrange for us to meet with Arthur Weasley tonight,” Harry said.

Ron sat down in a seat next to a window. He couldn’t see anything but streaks and blurs.

Why even put windows in these things? It isn’t like the scenery is pleasant, he thought.

“Hey,” Harry said, sitting down next to him.

“Hey.”

“You and Cho seem to be playing nicely,” Harry said under his breath.

Ron smiled insidiously.

“You could say that,” Ron said, “And I see you aren’t doing so bad yourself these days.”

“That’s true.”

Harry thought he detected a flash of something in Ron’s eyes.

“It doesn’t upset you does it?”

“What do you mean? The fact that you’ve bedded our mutual best friend?” Ron gave Harry a reassuring look. His schoolboy crush on Hermione had ended years ago, but he was appreciative of Harry’s concern nonetheless. “I’m happy for you. Of course… getting laid by the hottest woman in the universe makes me slightly more receptive to your newfound joy,” Ron quipped.

“Second hottest… and I’m glad.”

“Well,” Ron added, "I at least hope you’ll let us borrow her sometime for a threesome.”

“Funny, very funny. You're a regular comedian,” Harry said laughing.

Cho and Hermione were looking at them now. Ron moved his face closer to Harry’s, so they wouldn’t be heard. The conversation they were having would have probably gotten them both into hot water.

“Seriously, Cho apparently has a thing for redheads…” Ron teased, pushing the envelope even farther.

Harry was armed and ready. “So I guess she’s dated Ginny then?”

Ron growled in defeat, “Ugh...Touché Potter…”

Ron was growing increasingly impatient with getting back home. He had this sinking feeling something was wrong.

Hell, something was always wrong.

#

Lois Mills barely slept that night because the normally peaceful ministry building had begun buzzing in the wee hours of the morning, and hadn’t yet died down. The guard had checked on her at least three times in the last hour. Something wasn’t quite right.

Lois was still grappling with all that had happened to her in the past two days. At first, she had wondered if she wasn’t on the receiving end of some elaborate practical joke, but it was highly unlikely with the company she chose to keep, mostly retired schoolteachers and a few widowed housewives.

And she had seen things now.

She was rummaging round through the box Mr. Weasley had brought to her again, when a piece of paper fell from the pages of one of her books.

Wise Investment Advice for Women, by Martha Stewart.

But it wasn’t a stock tip; it was a page from the book…her missing book. It had been ripped out and taped back in years ago, and the tape had finally given way. The rhyme made no sense, but so far everything she was dealing with now was outside of her experience. She would send it with that bird to give to Arthur Weasley.

For she who’s close enough to dare,

A shiny lock of a maiden’s hair,

If prayed upon by one schooled well,

Will send the devil back to hell.

She wrote Arthur Weasley’s name on an envelope, and tucked the page inside with a quick note. Then she reluctantly placed the letter at the feet of the waiting owl.

An awfully inefficient way of mailing things, Lois thought.

The tiny, fidgety bird picked it up in its mouth and flew from her window.

Then there was a rapid succession of footsteps. Running.

People were running?

A Pause. Then more footsteps.

Clank! Clank! Shriek!

“They’re breaking through! The magic isn’t holding up the barrier!” a man screamed. Lois recognized this as her guard, but his voice was suddenly muffled by something that had moved over top of him.

She looked then and saw it. It’s mirrored eyes reflecting her fear back at her…

#

Hermione Granger couldn’t believe it. The ministry building had looked like it always did from the outside…

Harry felt a surge of rage, and slammed his fist against the wall. The normally busy ministry reception area responded with a powerful silence, lying in disarray before them.

“Where is…what…it can’t be…” Harry stammered, his anger giving way to confusion.

They could see no signs of life anywhere. Shocked, Harry moved forward, trying not to lose his balance as he navigated his way through the broken glass and the bodies of friends, strewn about like tinsel. Even though the sun shone brightly outside, the building was well shaded from prying eyes. They could barely see a foot ahead of them, and it was probably to their benefit.

Hermione found at one point that the floor she was walking on was torn apart, and she could feel the soft ground beneath her.

They could have come through the barrier underground...it was the weakest protected area.

Sirius cocked his pistol, leaving his wand untouched.

“Spells won’t affect them, but this slows them down,” he said, deliberately deepening his voice.

Cho lost her balance and fell on one knee, but scrambled up quickly, preparing to defend herself.

“Sorry,” Neville said. It was he who had blundered up against her. His breathing was shallow and quick.

Gone. Torn to bits.

They stopped …then turned slowly when they heard some movement in the side stairwell.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound moved down from floor to floor, and Sirius pointed his pistol at the doorway, ready to fire at will. Harry stepped in front of Hermione and Ron moved up beside Cho, who had grabbed a plank of wood from the damaged floor.

Sirius broke away from them, moving closer towards the descending noise. The door began to open and they braced themselves for the worst.

Ron could see four figures standing in the dark. He felt one of the beings eyes lock onto his own for one horrifying second. The face was sneering at him.

“Who’s there?” Sirius called out, aiming the gun carefully at the tallest of the shadowed silhouettes.

Ron recognized the sharp sinuous movements of the person he was now glaring at.

“Sirius? It's me, Arthur. We just got here as the beasts were leaving..,” Arthur Weasley said, his voice a mix of relief and horror, “Molly, Ginny and…Draco Malfoy are with me.”

They had no time to speak again, before something impacted the building, knocking them all off of their feet. They tumbled, rolling on the floor while the walls began to creak and groan.

Hermione pulled herself to her feet. She watched as a metal beam collapsed on top of Neville.

Neville!” Ron called out, crawling towards him. Harry was right behind him, and they managed to lift it off. They helped Neville to his feet, but Hermione could see blood coming from his forehead.

By now, the building had begun to shake like they were standing in the middle of a violent earthquake.

“Oh God…Dear God in Heaven…” Mrs. Weasley whispered.

Hermione could smell smoke.

“We need to leave!" Sirius screamed.

They began to make their way towards the front door, crawling…standing when they could. They clung to broken panels, desks,... and bodies trying to keep moving forward towards the faint light that was leaking in around the doorway.

Muggle Firemen, Sirius thought as the door swung wide open. They all shut their eyes, not wanting to see what was beneath their hands and feet.

The uniformed Muggles struggled to get to them, helping them out quickly.

They watched...motionless...as fire spit from the windows, the walls finally gave way, and then a cloud of dust blackened the sky.

#

When he saw her cowering in the corner of the room, Lois Mills had given him her name and he had told her that he knew Hermione Granger. She had mistaken him for a hero, begging him to help her. She had even asked, when she noticed his eyes, now a vibrant shade of green, if he was related to Hermione’s friend Harry.

Lucius had laughed then, and silenced her immediately with his wand. Then testing the strength of his new power, he had uttered a destruction charm that rocked the foundation so hard the building collapsed

It was a pleasant surprise, quite dramatic.

Lois Mills lay beneath the rubble now, gone like the rest of them.

He was disappointed in one thing however, that Sirius Black still possessed one of the gateway keys. Their mission had failed in that respect, but at least they had eliminated a good amount of their opposition. Lucius’ had hoped Harry Potter’s team would be there at the time. That would have saved him loads of trouble, but he’d deal with them when they came after him. And they would most certainly come after him.

He was the Dark Lord after all.

#

After managing to separate themselves from the gathering crowd, they walked in silence towards the nearest Muggle subway station.

“Were you all near that building that went down?” a man had asked the motley crew as they stepped onto the train.

They didn’t realize the spectacle they were, their bloody clothing…dust all over them.

“Yeah,” Neville said stoically, blocking the too recent memory.

Arthur Weasley found his voice again.

“Lets get off at the third stop. I know where we can go,” Arthur said.

“Hogwarts?” Neville asked.

“No. I imagine they’ll be sending students home from Hogwarts after what’s just happened,” Arthur said, “There’s an old Muggle estate that’s been up for sale for years. It’s not too far from Hogsmeade. We will all be safer there then anyplace known to Wizards right now.”

“Even Malfoy?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowing in on the blonde boy standing too close to his sister.

Harry put his hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Not now Ron,” Harry said, as Ron angrily pulled from his grip, “He’s been helping us.”

Malfoy? Malfoy was Harry’s informant?

Sirius and Arthur ignored Ron’s outburst.

“Did they get it?” Sirius asked

“No. I still have it,” Arthur whispered back, “It saved Draco’s life.”

More people began to come into their compartment, and their conversation was stopped short.

“We’ll talk more when we get there.”

They all held on and waited, silent now, their critical faces holding back the emotions that flooded them. Cho broke first, tears streaming down her face, washing away her hardened exterior.

#

The ringmaster was pleased when all of the Hellions assigned to the Ministry Attack had returned to him, virtually unharmed. When Lucius walked into the room, the ringmaster sniffed at him, as if detecting a foul odor.

“I hope you have completed your work,” he said.

“I need to speak with her,” Lucius muttered, looking over at the room in which she stayed.

The ringmaster nodded, “Be quick, she needs to rest. She’s still tired from your transformation.”

“Of course,” Lucius replied, opening the door.

She was standing there, up against the wall with her arms flung to either side like she was being crucified. Her hands were guiding some sort of light into her body and when she noticed him, the flow of light stopped.

“I despise them, yet I must exist off of their essence,” she said, lowering her hands and gliding towards him.

She seemed so delicate, but he could sense her power.

“We did not retrieve the third key.”

Maedon snarled, her wide stretched jaws flashing her sharp yellow teeth, and her head tipping contemptuously to the back.

“Where is it then?” she hissed.

“With a man named Sirius Black,” Lucius hissed, in his newly acquired language, “And I believe he will come to us.”

“I’m tired of waiting. You will seek them out,” she said reaching out to touch his hair.

He was so different then her Tom.

“It will be done then,” Lucius said, shuddering from the feel of her fingers running through his locks.

#

(A/N: I worked as a consultant on the 106th floor of Tower 1, World Trade Center for two years. I was on maternity leave during 9-11. We moved shortly after. I didn’t realize what I was writing until I had already written it. I guess it’s a reminder that some monsters are very real.)

12. Uneasy Alliances

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

Chapter 12 – Uneasy Alliances

Arthur Weasley was right about the Muggle house. Although it was only two miles away from Hogsmeade, the neighborhood it stood in looked to be an empty, forsaken place. It was their first night in hiding, and the Diagon Diatribe newspaper was already reporting that Arthur Weasley, along with Harry Potter weren’t among the dead and had apparently fled the scene. Arthur had scoffed at the article.

Hermione could feel fear inching up her spine like a parade of ants. Her tongue was blistered and dry. Harry stood up, and without asking, poured two big glasses of pumpkin juice. Hermione took the cup he offered without hesitation.

He said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

Hermione’s eyes automatically flickered down to the floor. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“No, maybe not," Harry said uncertainly, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing.”

Hermione became rigid in her chair, an intense expression on her face.

“It’s only a matter of time before we have to come face to face with all this…and a big part of me is sick and tired of risking everything. ”

Harry waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.

“Risking everything sounds less crazy to me then living a life with no higher goal than to just simply stay alive,” he said, “And I could give you the same speech you gave me one year ago…but I think I’ll spare you that and just say that whatever it is you have to do, it won’t be alone.”

Hermione was a little startled when Draco walked in. She was still getting used to him being in their midst.

“Potter. Granger. I think you’ll find the upstairs accommodations quite suitable…considering this place was a rat hole before. It’s a pity we have to leave it the same on the outside,” he said grabbing a cup of juice for himself.

“I didn’t know you were into interior decorating,” Harry said.

Draco scowled, and without another word walked out.

“Well…he didn’t insult me. That’s a plus,” Hermione said, “Harry?”

Harry sat down; testing out the recliner he had just tranfigured from what used to be a milk carton.

“Yes?”

“Did Ron ever find out that there was something going on…between Malfoy and Ginny?” Hermione asked, desperately needing to discuss something other than the latest battle for their lives.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve never had the guts to ask, but I’m guessing not, since Malfoy’s still breathing.”

They sat in comfortable silence a minute or two, absorbed in their own thoughts.

“So what if we win Harry? What is there now? I know the other Ministries are sending help, but even if we survive this…we’ve lost so many people…I’ve lost all of my family now,” Hermione said.

Harry could hear the dull pitch of sorrow in her voice. She had accepted that her Aunt Lois most likely didn’t survive the attack.

“I think this thing is connected to you somehow, and not me for once. And I think you’ll survive it. I think that we will.”

She sighed deeply, and then she spoke again. She talked about her parents, her aunt, their friendship with Ron. She talked about her hair, and wanting to let the color fade and her curl return.

Her face was pensive, and her hand clasped with his. And they sat there, listening to the others bustle around the run down house, not yet ready to move.

#

“C’mon Ron, stop acting like such a prat!” Cho said growing increasingly frustrated at his rants about Draco Malfoy. “He's been helping Harry all along, not to mention that he and Ginny seem to be hitting it off.”

“What? That’s stupid! Ginny wouldn’t stoop to his level!” he replied hotly.

Cho raised her face to his, daring him to move closer. Then her eyes narrowed into angry slits.

“Malfoy is here, and for once he’s on your side. God knows how many people died today at the hands of his father, the same father coincidentally that Arthur suspects murdered his mother and attempted to murder Draco,” she snapped.

Cho threw back her head and watched as Ron’s heated flush began to slowly subside. Something in her voice had stayed him.

“Alright, I’ll lay off but don’t expect me to be nice to him. And don’t even kid about him and Ginny.”

Ron shook his head, leaning in to kiss her, “At least I don’t have to share a room with Malfoy. Neville and I have decided to let Harry put up with the lousy git.”

#

Sirius had a murderous, pounding headache. It made every word that came out of Arthur Weasley’s mouth seem ten times louder. Molly wasn’t talking, but worked in the kitchen preparing dinner for all nine of them, hardly a great feat for someone who had raised seven children. She hummed to herself as she worked, her song a subtle background to the serious tone of their conversation. Her eyes however were distant, and Sirius could tell she was still recovering from what they had witnessed that morning.

“If Shara is right, then they cannot go much farther until they obtain the object currently in our possession,” Arthur said pointedly.

“Yes, but according to Shara, we can’t destroy them without the other matching objects. When I recovered the one, it was joined with two more. I only managed to free the one before I was attacked. Before we…we were attacked,” Sirius responded, his voice faltering.

“I head about Remus Lupin. I’m sorry Sirius. Does Harry know?”

“I’m sure he does, although I hope he is trying not to think about all we’ve lost so far.”

There was a moment of dutiful silence.

“So once we have the other two objects, we can banish the creatures?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“There’s a piece we’re missing. It involves Hermione.”

“You mean the book they were looking for and the connection to a distant relative of Hermione’s…. Nora Mills?” Arthur asked.

“Yes. We’re pretty sure we know it was Nora Mills who banished these beings the first time, but what we don’t know is how. It was probably described in the missing book.”

Arthur thought back to the meetings with his team of Aurors after their visits to Club Mistress. “Harry had said two of the men at the club spoke parseltounge. They had ordered him to feed the body of a Muggle to a creature they were hiding in the back, perhaps the same thing that attacked Draco?”

“I doubt it. These beings seem to be only soldiers. The Death Eaters who were with them in Cairo seemed unconcerned when we were able to eliminate some of them. It must be something else they are hiding.” Sirius responded, laying his head down onto the cool of the counter.

The Weasley’s owl interrupted them, fluttering into the kitchen. Molly Weasley smiled, pleased that Pigwidgeon had heard her summoning spell and had found them so quickly. She was anxious to send word of their safety to her other children.

Pig dropped a letter in front of Arthur Weasley. It was from Lois Mills.

#

Neville didn’t think his ill and battered body, whose suffering was equal to that of his spirit at the moment, would be willing to acquiesce to any sort of epic adventure that evening and hoped that whatever Sirius and Arthur were planning, it would be after a couple of nights of much needed rest. His only consolation was that he had gotten through to Danielle to leave the flat, and that he would contact her when he could. Surprisingly, she didn’t argue with him, and sensing the anxiety in his voice, had promised to flee that night.

He was almost certain that at least a few Death Eaters had been at the attack. The receptionist Sarah looked like she had been executed with the killing curse. He also doubted they would forget that the Ministry kept records of where their Aurors resided.

Predators were probably out now, in search of survivors, he thought.

So he found himself here, in a run down Muggle house, using his transfiguration skills to make candles and other supplies out of dead rodents and empty bottles of malt liquor. Draco Malfoy stood next to him, changing the color of his comforter for the third time.

“Who cares what color it is Malfoy?” Neville said.

Draco waved his hand dismissively. “I suppose I can’t expect you to have any knowledge of these sort of things Longbottom, but considering we don’t know how long we’ll have to reside here, I should at least have some comfort before I march in to be slaughtered alongside of you bumbling idiots.”

Neville sighed, waving his right arm in a dramatic flourish and bowing to Draco. “Whatever you desire your highness.”

Ginny Weasley laughed, watching the scene from the doorway.

“Draco Malfoy has impeccable taste,” she said.

Draco looked over at her then, taking her by surprise with the seriousness of his voice.

“That my lady, I do", he said lowering his mouth to hers for a quick kiss.

Arthur Weasley stood nearby watching the exchange, and Ginny only saw him as he walked away.

#

Lucius Malfoy rummaged through the stores of his memory, seeking what he knew of Sirius Black. He knew the man was a formidable enemy, having been the only one to ever escape from Azkaban. He also knew that Black was Harry Potter’s godfather, and would most likely be with him now, especially after the attacks on the Ministry.

He didn’t want to disappoint her. Lucius knew too well the terrible power she possessed. He had seen her feed upon an unfortunate Muggle earlier that morning, and she was quick and efficient in her kill.

Lucius was indecisive about where to begin, and because of that, his mood was less than amiable. He was not one to be bothered by blood and death, but he had to admit that his encounter with the hollowed out corpse she had asked him to dispose of had left his stomach queasy.

He knew that she wanted the third key that Saturday evening. He had three days. When he had asked why she had chosen that particular day, she had replied that it was when human emotions ran the highest. Saturday night was the easiest night to feed off the sins of humanity, and use the power of it. Saturday was always the most successful night down at the defunct Club Mistress. With the third key, she could lock the Gateway behind her, never having to fear being cast down again.

Lucius had decided that Black and his team would come to him sooner then he could ever seek him out. He had pacified her with his dutiful reply, but she didn’t understand these particular humans like he did. They, unlike him, were bound by loyalty and responsibility. It was their greatest weakness.

But they were arriving now, the darkest wizards and witches the world had known. McNair, Parkinson, Bulstrode... Lucius was pleased by their promptness. They would free the prisoners in Azkaban soon, adding to their ranks.

They were bowing to him. Recognizing the role he played.

From the luxurious rooms of the upper level, they descended down the staircase towards the nether regions of Malfoy Manor. They were guided by torchlight that fell onto the gray brick wall casting ominous shadows behind them.

Lucius could hear the slow breathing of the ringmaster, and the undignified stomping sounds Locust made as he moved around the meeting room. It was quite the crowd.

This would be a night of victorious celebration.

#

Arthur Weasley walked outside onto the back porch. Ginny had followed him downstairs after seeing the glance he had given her earlier after she had shared a kiss with Draco.

“Dad?”

Sullenly, he looked towards the back gate. He turned then, to stare at her for a minute.

“You’re in love with him aren’t you?” he asked.

Ginny didn’t answer.

Arthur slammed his fist onto the back door. “You don’t understand their history……he may not be as bad as his father but he is still a Malfoy!”

“That’s right, he isn’t his father! You said so yourself that you thought Lucius had tried to have him killed. He’s also been Harry’s informant for the past year, doesn’t that prove anything…Draco and I are more than just lovers…” she said going too far.

Arthur slapped her face. He had never done that before. Ginny was more stunned than hurt. She wouldn’t actually feel the hurt until much later.

“We’ve sacrificed everything to raise you and your brothers to be loyal to the side of good. Percy and Charlie lost their lives fighting men like Malfoy and my only daughter decides to become one of their whores!”

Her cheek still burned. Angrily she looked away from him. She couldn’t quite bring herself to move as the hot tears ran down her face.

“When Voldemort came to power, “ her father said, “people like the Malfoy’s were the first to sign up. They are lazy, self-indulgent people who don’t know how to love. Lucius murdered Narcissa without regret.”

“Draco isn’t Lucius, and I’ll make my own decisions about him,” she spat.

Arthur Weasley acted as if he hadn’t heard her. Ginny could feel her anger giving way to more grief, and she'd had her share that day.

“I’ll be upstairs,” she said quickly brushing by her mother on the way to her room.

#

With the pistol heavy in his hand, Sirius Black left the house that night after they had all met in the downstairs sitting room. Arthur and he had laid out their plans carefully. They would strike in two days. He hoped they could get the other two mysterious objects taken from Cairo without a direct confrontation, but he knew it was unlikely. Harry, Ron and Neville would go into the Muggle town to get some weapons. Draco would draw a map of the estate.

It was ironic how magic had no effect on the ravenous beasts they’d have to fight, but how simple Muggle devices could handicap or wound them to the point of making them harmless.

Everyone else had gone up to bed, but Sirius was not quite ready to rest. His breath tasted sour from licking the cut on his lower lip, a souvenir from the building collapse. Otherwise, he was okay. Besides, he had an appointment he needed to keep. It could very well give them the last piece to their puzzle.

This man, as Sirius had at first glance suspected and through conversation confirmed, was a bit of a rogue – more than devious but less than merciless – and he was the best in the business.

“I’m sure you are aware of how important your role is now Mr. Moody,” Sirius said taking a quick glance around the public Muggle pub.

Mad-Eye Moody lifted the saltcellar to season the chicken the waitress had just served. He let some time pass before choosing to respond.

“I find it ironic how the Ministry comes to me now, after writing my theory off as crazy seven years ago, when I first discovered this information.”

“Even so, you can certainly understand our reasoning. And here is a chance to revel in the glory of having been right,” Sirius said appealing to the man's vanity.

Mad-Eye was now looking in the back of his head, a useful skill if you were one of the most hunted wizards on the planet, having put more people in Azkaban than anyone else.

“Well, I managed to hunt down who Nora Mills was. She was Hermione Granger’s great, great, great, great, great, great…great grandmother. That’s seven greats…”

“All right…and,” Sirius said cutting him short.

“And…that’s pretty much it. Apparently she was non-magical; there are only Muggle records, and those are sketchy since they didn’t keep many back then. Hermione’s first magical relative was Emma Mills-Benton, and she didn’t accomplish anything but write a children’s book. I couldn’t even manage to find that.”

Sirius thought back to the note Lois Mills had sent, and the rhyme that accompanied it.

“Thanks Moody,” he said seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, “I’ll be in contact.”

“For the good of all I say!” Moody said, raising his glass to Sirius.

#

Things were going smoothly for now, but the third key and the Mills descendent were still out there somewhere. The ringmaster hoped they were not together.

But of course, even if they were, it wouldn’t mean she’d have any idea of how to use it. Nora had been clever, but perhaps this one was not as wise. They had defeated the one called Emma after all.

Maedon had begun to change. The collection of two of the keys had increased her power so much that light no longer burned her skin. He despised the way she looked in human form, but she had grown fairly comfortable in her childlike body and insisted on using it.

He hated Lucius Malfoy, like he had hated her Tom. Perhaps when she was on the earth permanently, she would find Lucius useless. But he had often suggested killing Tom, and much to his dismay she always refused claiming that they needed his humanity in order to rule over it.

The humans were gathering now to pledge their allegiance, and the scent was burning his nostrils.

The Muggle man that was being offered as a sacrifice to her greatness hung cold, damp and motionless.

“We will have our revolution, “ Lucius said, “and true wizardry will become the standard. We have aligned ourselves with the truly powerful and be will be successful where we have failed before.”

The ringmaster listened patiently to their pep rally. They were nothing but useful pawns. Foot soldiers. He’d let them believe they were more if it served their purpose. He’d let them believe that for now.

#

It was late, and Harry Potter needed sleep. He climbed into his bed, acknowledging the blonde lying on the other bunk in the corner.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

“Surprised you didn’t room with Weasel.”

“Nope, I had the honor of being put here.”

“How wonderful for you,” Draco said, missing the sarcasm.

“Let’s just get some sleep,” Harry said taking off his shirt and lying back onto his bed. He carefully flicked off the lamp that still had the Coca Cola label on it, from the soda can it was in a prior life.

“I don’t know exactly how I’ll confront Lucius…but I’ll do it,” Draco said, tossing under his covers.

“That’s a tall order,” Harry said, his thoughts drifting to Narcissa.

“Not as tall as the one Granger has, according to Black,” he added.

It was the second time that day he hadn’t bothered to call Hermione a mudblood, Draco's favorite nickname for her.

“I only wish we knew exactly what she had to do. A lock of a maidens hair is so generic…and it might not even be the right rhyme,” Harry said, thinking out loud.

Draco answered. “It is.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because one thing you three have always had going for you is luck,” Draco said.

Despite himself, Harry laughed at the resentment in Draco’s voice. Then they lay there, listening to the sound of the girls stirring in the room next to theirs. Draco said something then, but Harry had missed it.

“What did you say?” Harry asked.

“I asked if you had told Weasel about Ginny and I,” he muttered under his breath.

Harry thought of telling him yes, but don't ever bring it up. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell that sort of boldface lie, not even to Draco Malfoy.

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you,” Harry said, “besides, what exactly are you and Ginny anyway?”

Draco looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m not sure. We’re close, more than friends, but not just shagging partners,” he said in a mellow tone not normally heard from him.

“Do you love her?” Harry asked.

Draco took a deep breath. “The meaning of that word still eludes me.”

And they ended their conversation saying the things that you say when you spoke with people you didn’t exactly feel close to.

13. The Hours In Between

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

Chapter 13- Hours in Between

It didn’t take an Auror to figure out that something major was afoot.

“Police don’t have any suspects just yet, and they are asking anyone who was a witness to the events of yesterday morning to …” the downstairs radio blared.

Hermione could hear the wind screaming against her window, and the shuffling and whispering of Ginny and Cho as they woke from their much-needed rest. She had awakened earlier, and was taking the time to memorize the rhyme that her Aunt had managed to send to Arthur Weasley.

“I hope maiden doesn’t mean virgin,” Ginny Weasley said, who had been listening to Hermione’s whispered words.

“Well, if it does, we’ll have to take a little field trip to find one,” said Cho, already busy transfiguring yesterday’s soot filled clothes into something slightly cleaner and less covered in blood.

With despairing eyes, Hermione looked up from the paper. “I’m not sure exactly, but it would probably be better to be safe than sorry.”

There were noises coming from next door. Harry or Draco must be awake. Hermione missed the feel of Harry next to her that morning. When she had reached out for him instinctively; her hands had ended up clinging to nothing but the sheets.

“I want to go with you tomorrow. I want to help,” Ginny said.

There was an awkward pause, in which Hermione sighed quietly. Ginny’s belly shrank, and she contemplated dropping the subject, but her words and feelings just kept on coming.

“I can do this. If I fuck it up, it’s my fault, “ she stuttered.

Cho looked over at Ginny with something similar to condolence on her face. “If you fuck it up you die, plain and simple. Besides, Arthur will never let you go.”

But Ginny had made up her mind already, especially after realizing she’d be the only one left behind.

“You need my help. I know you do…”

“You’d end up getting yourself killed!” Hermione snapped, instantly sorry for the firmness in her voice.

Ginny moved her attention from her hands to Hermione, meeting her stare.

“I’m stronger than I look Hermione, and I’m not afraid,” she said, “plus I know the secret entrance to Malfoy Manor…to Draco’s room.”

Hermione bit her tongue, fixing her gaze on Ginny. Cho stopped transfiguring her ripped blouse and sat beside Hermione.

“She could be useful,” Cho said softly, "And she’s got a point about knowing Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione said nothing, leaning her back against the wall.

She’ll be killed if we don’t win anyhow.

#

Lucius Malfoy awoke the next morning, unable to stop himself from smiling. His houseguest’s voices drifted up to his bedroom, laughing and bantering. They had tasted long awaited success, and for the first time since the rise of Tom Riddle, they were once again rising to power. He felt fresh and whole again. A whim of fate had brought him to this state and he meant to keep it.

“Ah, good! You’re up.”

Locust stood in the doorway neatly dressed in a brown and gray suit.

Lucius had gone to bed wearing nothing, and in the moment he realized Locust was staring, he slipped a black robe over his shoulders.

“Good Morning,” he said smoothly, “I hope you’ve found that the servants have prepared a suitable breakfast.”

Lucius crossed room, his brief moment of euphoria slipping away as he thought of the task ahead. He lifted a glass of brandy to his lips, first taste of the morning, and wished he were like other men to the extent that a strong drink would ease his tension.

“Satisfactory, although the meat wasn’t as fresh as I’d like. I must say that my partner finds you very distasteful. Most likely jealousy of her fondness for you,” Locust said.

Lucius turned his eyes full up the round man. Locust smiled.

“He would prefer we no longer use a human as a Dark Lord, he’d much prefer he and I remain her most loyal servants. He suggested last night that we eliminate you all together, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She speaks your name quite a bit, and no doubt your rewards will be great after she comes to full power.”

Agitated, Lucius paced the room, trying to keep his composure from faltering.

“Tell her I will be down once I’ve taken care of some business for the estate. Are all of my guests ready to leave?” he said, pulling his silver hair back.

“All but a few stragglers. They are packing now, and will return tomorrow evening. She was very satisfied with their emotional responses…very much indeed.”

Lucius nearly laughed at the thought. She had feasted upon the emotions of the darkest and most ruthless beings around. The taste must have been heaven for her after all of those Muggles she had sustained herself on previously.

#

It was Ron’s turn to lose control. “You are pretty bold Malfoy, pretending that you’re on our side. I don’t trust you, and if you so much as take a step in the wrong direction, I’ll kill you myself.”

Draco smirked and continued searching the woods behind their temporary home for anything that could be easily transfigured into a weapon. He stopped to pick up a large stick that could be made into a flack.

“Got nothing to say for once?” Ron began again, ignoring Harry’s protests and temporarily forgetting his hasty promise to Cho. Ron’s eyes were filled with contempt. Draco met them with a cool gaze.

“Cool it Ron! Christ, why can’t you just let things go?” Harry yelled, standing between them now.

“I was thinking last night…and I think that this piece of shit could be leading us all right to the slaughter! He could be part of some elaborate scheme Lucius has cooked up and here we are, stupid enough to trust him! I mean, why the hell would he show up at my house looking for help? Has anyone thought of that?” Ron said not letting his eyes look away from Draco’s.

“Ginny...because Ginny was there... he went to her for help,” Harry said, looking at Malfoy who had now turned away from Ron’s gaze.

Ron drew his breath and closed his hands tightly on nothing.

“What do you mean Ginny? What do you mean?”

Harry grabbed Ron by his shoulders, restraining him and trying to get him to look away from Draco.

“Ginny and I are together Weasel. We have been for a while now, but everyone thought you were too much of a baby to handle that so they kept it from you.”

“You’re …not…helping …Malfoy!” Harry said through set teeth, now struggling to keep Ron from lunging at the blonde boy. Neville ran over to help him in the knick of time.

“GOD DAMN LIAR!!” Ron screamed.

Malfoy stepped closer, pulling his wand from his pocket and dropping it on the ground nearby, egging Ron on.

“Let him go. It’s time we settled this, “ Malfoy said calmly.

Neville opened his mouth, closed it, then wet his lips and said, “Maybe Malfoy’s right. I say we let them fight it out.” Neville released Ron, leaving Harry still struggling against him.

Harry sighed, and let Ron go. Ron charged towards Draco like a wild rhinoceros, winding him and knocking him to the ground. Draco, not one to simply take a beating, landed a solid punch to Ron’s face and rolled him over onto his back. Then he stood above him.

“You’re right, I could give a shit about you, or Potter, or any of you poor excuses for Wizards!” Malfoy said bitterly, kicking Ron in his stomach.

The red head spat on the ground and stood up, landing a punch to Malfoy’s grimacing mouth.

“So you admit it! Your nothing but a fucking traitor! I’ll kill you!”

Harry and Neville stood in the shadows watching them exchange blows. Sirius and Cho saw the commotion and ran over. Neville put his hand on Sirius’ chest before he could break up their rumble.

“I think they might need to do this,” Harry said, noting the anxious look on his godfather’s face.

Malfoy returned Ron’s shot, knocking him up against an oak tree.

“I’m a traitor only to my family name you obnoxious… ill mannered ass, and I’ll probably die tomorrow too!” Malfoy said right before he pummeled Ron in the stomach again.

Ron was undeterred. He grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders and struggled to pin him to the ground.

“Why should we believe that? I don’t believe a word you say!”

Ron began to wrap his hands around Malfoy’s throat. Harry and Neville began to move, thinking they may have to stop the fight after all. Cho looked on, entranced, having never seen Ron this violent before.

“Because…I…would…die…for …her,” Draco stammered.

Both of their breathing was labored. Ron’s face washed blue, like someone who was recently deceased. Draco wrenched himself from Ron’s grasp, rolling out from under him.

Ron stood slowly, Cho rushing over to help him. His mind was somewhere else now. Harry went over to them.

“Ron…”

“Just leave me alone, Harry,” Ron said, walking silently back towards the house with Cho.

Neville went to help Malfoy, who pushed him away proudly. Sirius stood firm, thinking maybe they could finally move on.

“Malfoy…think you can manage to have that map by tonight?”

Malfoy spit a large wad of saliva and blood onto the ground. Then he dusted himself off, recovering his dignity.

“ I’ll start on it now.”

#

Hermione sat in the Muggle beauty salon listening to the non-stop chatter.

“And can you believe they have no idea who’s bombing these places? It makes you afraid to leave your house at night!” a stylist said to her client, who was too busy reading the magazine on her lap to respond with more than an “uh huh”.

Hermione wished she could have added, during the day too to that declaration.

She was trying to remain patient as the woman worked the strong smelling dye remover through her hair. She kept eyeing the little girl in the corner, who was waiting for a haircut. She was so young, most definitely a virgin.

All I need is one lock, she thought hoping they didn’t throw away the clippings immediately.

#

When Lucius’ eyes met hers again, she had aged some. She stood before him now, fully grown. He found her appearance shocking, to say the least.

“I am quite fond of the form I keep, but I sensed it was making you uncomfortable,” she said, stepping closer to him.

“There was no discomfort as I hardly know you, although I serve you now most loyally,” he answered, bowing before her.

“You are very skilled with your words.”

She crossed the room, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly.

“Tom knew me. He preferred the form I have now, but I prefer the child. That form is small and disarming to most, giving me an advantage over those who wish to harm me,” she said, walking back to him.

Lucius let his eyes wander to her new flesh. She reveled in his longing gaze.

“You say you do not know me?”

He brought his eyes to meet hers. She let the simple garment she wore fall to the floor.

“Come…. know me then,” she hissed

#

“This could be our last night on earth Ginny, and I don’t want you hating me,” Arthur said, sitting down next to his only daughter, “I stand by what I say but I should have never hit you.”

Ginny nodded thoughtfully. “I know, but please trust me. I know him Dad…better than anyone ever has.”

His daughter was strong, alive and determined. He had raised her to be all of those things.

“I trust you,” he said, feeling slightly indulgent because of his actions that previous night.

Ginny smiled. “I’m coming tomorrow.” She waited for his reaction, surprised when it wasn’t immediate.

“I was expecting you to say that, although I hoped you wouldn’t. You’re like your mother, once you’ve made up your mind…”

She cut him off with a hug. He held onto her, remembering the first time he held her in his arms and hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

#

“So you say the ministry in France is sending some help?” Harry asked Sirius as they looked over the map that Malfoy had drawn. It was highly detailed, and Draco had carefully labeled it with the various security mechanisms that were being used.

“They are reluctant, but they will send some Aurors. They are sending four.”

Harry wasn’t surprised. He had hoped for more support, but he wasn’t surprised at all.

“Well, I guess that means a long night tonight.”

Sirius shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s what we need. I think whatever happens will happen and frankly I’m not anxious to spend what could be my last evening locked in a room with all of you. I suggest you catch up on some sleep, or , if you're anxious...alter your appearance and go into Hogsmeade.”

Harry lay his head back onto the chair. “You're probably right, but Hogsmeade doesn’t have the appeal it once did.”

Hermione walked in, looking like a stranger from the past. “It’s shorter, but it looks more like me don’t you think?”

Sirius eyed her suspiciously, “You went and got your hair done?”

She passed him a resentful look, pulling a snippet of blonde hair from her pocket. “It’s from a little girl…a virgin, or maiden. I went to the salon to collect it and thought they would grow suspicious if I were just hanging around.”

“I’m glad. I missed your hair that way," Harry said.

Sirius stood to leave, “I’m gone, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Where are you going?” Harry said.

“To Calypso. I have an old friend I never got to spend enough time with.”

#

When Hermione opened her eyes in the middle of the night, Draco Malfoy was standing over her. She was about to let out an instinctive scream until she saw Ginny standing close behind him, smirking. She looked over at Cho’s bed, which was empty.

“Longbottom took off to be with that Muggle woman, and Cho is a fairly smart girl…so how about we play a game of musical beds, Granger?” he said.

“Beautiful music to be made in private of course…C’mon Hermione…last night on earth, lets make it count,” she said, throwing her arms around Draco’s shoulders.

Hermione sat up, letting her eyes focus in the darkened room. “What about the Weasley’s?”

“Mom and Dad are fast asleep…along with Harry, but we have a feeling you can wake him up without a complaint,” Ginny giggled.

Hermione thought, why not?

She threw on her robe and tiptoed out, checking the hall for any signs of movement. She thought she could hear a bed squeaking in Ron and Neville’s room.

Cho Chang, no doubt.

When she opened the door to Harry and Draco’s room, Harry was fast asleep, a tiny trail of dribble coming from his mouth. She giggled, and he woke with a start, reaching for his wand.

“Good reflexes,” she said, sitting on his bed next to him.

“What? Where’s Malfoy?” he said sleepily, “Is everything alright?”

Hermione could make out his expression in the semi-darkness. He was awfully slow to catch on, but once he did, he smiled.

“Malfoy and I are playing musical beds,” Hermione whispered, removing her robe.

He took his wand and whispered a silencing and locking charm. Then he reached up for her, pulling her down on top of him. They became entangled in a kiss with their tongues probing, pushing, exploring and Hermione scratching her cheek against his rough, stubbled one.

She became restless in his arms, but her lips stayed on him. He moved his hands down from her back and begun rocking her hips as he moved his thigh between her legs. He put his hand on the nape of her neck, feeling the soft down that grew there, and pulled her lips even tighter to his. A hot little quiver of anticipation ran through her body as she let her hand reach down to find him already rigid. When she did this, his fingers pressed into her hips, grinding her onto him.

Her hand groped his penis again, and he stroked her hair, which was soft and full of curl now… as he wriggled out of his boxers. Hermione’s trembling fingers traced his length. Harry caressed her narrow shoulders, then her slim body, which tensed momentarily as his hands slid down to her thighs, and up under her nightgown.

"I want to make you come..." he whispered, fixing his eyes onto hers.

When he found her, she moaned under her breath, raising herself so she could pull her nightgown over her head. She closed her thighs around his hand, rocking above him, his thumb pressed firmly against the bundle of nerves between her folds.

"Oh God Harry!"

She cried out in pleasure at her own release as she pressed herself fiercely against him, her body grasping him, pulling him inside. Despite their urgency, each movement became longer and slower. Her arms began to tremble with supporting her weight above him, and he rolled her over, plunging himself as deep inside of her as he could.

When he came, it seemed to last forever. There was a sense of all encompassing peace as Hermione lay under him, shivering. He could see the lines of her face in the moonlight that seeped into the room. He stroked her affectionately, breathing hot breath onto her neck.

“I think it’ll be alright if I stay until morning…before the Weasley’s notice we’ve switched things around,” she said.

Harry let his fingers remove a curl from her forehead, now moist with perspiration. “Good,” he said cupping her breast, “I’m not ready to let you go just yet…”

#

“Molly…Molly…are you still up?”

The sleepy Mrs. Weasley rolled over to face her husband again. “Alright honey…once more,” she mumbled reaching for the buttons on her sleep shirt.

“No…although,” he paused contemplating her offer, “no…no…what I mean is it’s way too quiet out there. Usually I have to throw a silencing charm on Ron’s room to stop the sound of his snoring at this point.”

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “They’re probably having a hard time sleeping. I know I am,” yawning in contradiction to her previous statement.

“There better not be any funny business going on there…I know Harry’s seeing Hermione now, and it seems to me Ms. Chang has taken a liking to our son.”

“Give it a rest Arthur, they aren’t children anymore,” she moaned, rolling over onto her side.

“I swear it, Molly,” he said pulling the covers up around him again, “If Draco Malfoy is out there fooling around with my daughter, this will be his last night on earth whether we are successful tomorrow or not.”

“Whatever you say dear. Whatever you say.”

14. Armageddon

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

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’s not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

(A/N: Thanks to all those who have followed along in my sick world! I hope you enjoy the final chapter!)

Chapter 14 – Armageddon

There were strange sounds emanating from the bottom of the hill. Slithering, hissing seething sounds. They had waited impatiently all day for the cover of nightfall to seek out the boundaries of the Malfoy estate, and they were currently second guessing their choice.

The only ones who seemed unconcerned were Ginny and Draco, who had moved ahead of the group now, treading lightly, even on familiar ground.

“This is where we should split,” Sirius said, looking towards Arthur for approval.

They had their assignments. Ginny would go with Ron and Neville, Draco would go with Sirius and Hermione, and Harry would go with Arthur and Cho. The four from the French ministry had said they would be there, but there was no sign of them.

They stopped at the top of the hill, and looked down at the vast estate. Hermione stepped out of the shadows into a dark hollow space right on the edge. The wind was fierce, and the cold even more bitter then she had anticipated. Somewhere nearby she could hear water rushing. Draco had told them about this, and she pulled her rubber boots up as high as she could.

And they walked their separate ways. Harry turned to look at Hermione quickly, and she returned his gaze, but refused to say goodbye. This wasn’t going to be their goodbye. She wasn’t going to let it be.

Hermione commenced her slow deep breathing and recited her rhyme. She would not die here in this valley. She would make someone pay tonight for what they had done. Her need for justice would not go unrequited.

There will be no tragedy.

They climbed down the mountain slowly, hidden by the brush. Hard and brittle rocks crumbled under her feet and the ground grew slick and treacherous the closer they got.

Hermione gathered all of her spiritual strength. Draco had said that the danger wouldn’t come until they had reached the bottom. He warned them of the serpents his father used to ward off enemies, and how to deal with them.

When her feet hit the bottom of the hill, she didn’t expect them to be upon her so quickly. They wrapped around her waist and her shoulders, hissing and spitting in her ears. They tangled themselves in her hair and she felt a terrible crushing weight on her chest.

“Remain calm,” Draco reminded them.

Hermione’s stomach knotted and twisted with horror, and she released her breath slowly, thinking of her mother, thinking of pumpkin pie, and thinking of Harry. She held tight to the knowledge that this wasn’t real, and that they could not kill her unless she gave them what they wanted. Fear.

At long last, the crushing weight seemed to taper off, and she could feel them unraveling. She allowed herself to open her eyes and could see she was the second to fight them off. Sirius was still entangled. When finally, he was released from their grip, they pushed ahead.

Soon water began creeping up over her feet. The blood in her veins seemed to slow down, as the moat they were wading through grew deeper and deeper. The water was almost black, and disturbingly warm.

“Ginny had to do this to come see you?” Hermione asked.

Draco didn’t bother to turn around.

“No. She used my secret route from Hogwarts, but I’m fairly certain Lucius has found it by now.”

There was a soft light glittering a few feet ahead, and Hermione recognized it as a doorway. The gate that covered it was barely visible under the oozing vines of the Devil’s snare that grew around the perimeter.

“We will have to move quickly once we are inside,” Draco said, hesitating before opening the gate.

“Hermione, you will follow Draco and you will seek out the other two objects,” he said, his boots squelching against the mud, “do you have the third?”

“Of course,” she said feeling in her pocket for the triangle and the lock of hair.

Sirius felt for his pistol and his wand. He knew that once the gate was opened, Lucius would be aware of the intrusion. Sirius would stay and wait for him, hoping he could distract him long enough for Draco to get Hermione to her hiding spot.

“Now!” Sirius said. Draco obeyed, reciting the spell to open the gate and pulling its bars apart. And they were inside.

#

A gate had been opened, and Lucius knew it was them. All of the servants had been instructed not to return, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the guests of honor arrived to his party.

Another gate opened now. Then another. He wondered how many there were?

How cowardly, Lucius thought, to sneak up on a man when he is supposedly sleeping required no great cleverness or courage.

He was, however, pleasantly surprised at how quickly the first gate was opened. It was a spell only his son knew, and that spell responded only to Malfoy blood.

My prodigal son has returned, he thought.

Thrust through Lucius’ belt was a thick, sharp knife of polished silver, a magnificent magical weapon that he preferred to use on special occasions such as this one. It would lie beside the offering table later, but he would keep it close for now.

A door slammed. Hellions leapt from bureaus and bookcases.

“My patience is growing thin,” she said, a child again.

“You will have to remain patient no longer,” Lucius answered, “we have guests.”

“Then I suspect we should send someone to greet them.”

And the Hellions started to gather, leaping and yelping excitedly. They bent before her, as if burdened.

“Seek them out…bring me the key,” she hissed.

#

Not the faintest ray of light penetrated where Harry, Arthur, and Cho stood, yet the hallway was dimly lit by an eerie glow. Their eyes were trying to adjust to the dull blue light. They hadn’t bothered to draw their wands, because they weren’t sure exactly what they’d be facing. Cho’s flack was strapped to her back and she instinctively felt for it.

All at once, hideous, waist high creatures boiled out of the now open doorways and started towards them. Cho stifled a scream. Arthur aimed his Muggle pistol and fired, throwing a startled Hellion back against the wall. It bled and it lay there, shrieking.

He fired again. But there were so many.

Harry and Cho pulled their flacks out, knocking another aside. They stood with their backs together, as Arthur meticulously took aim at another.

The beasts kept coming closer, and with despairing eyes, Harry looked at Cho who was preparing to take aim at one nearing her leg. Harry swallowed and cried out, with a rebel yell. He forcefully plunged his weapon into the chest of one of the beasts. Its grimacing eyes met his briefly before it stumbled to the ground.

But another was upon him now. It came at him more swiftly then he had anticipated, knocking him to the floor. It stopped suddenly, lost in Harry’s eyes. He pushed it away and it scrambled, looking confused. It grunted and hissed at the other beasts in their ancient language and they moved back. Harry stepped towards them and they moved back again.

“Why didn’t it…what happened?” Harry asked Arthur, still in shock from the scene.

“I don’t know. It looks like they’re afraid of you.”

Cho and Arthur moved behind Harry who walked farther down the hall.

There was a half eaten carcass lying on the floor that Harry recognized as Ivan, from the club.

I wouldn’t have wished that on anyone, he thought, cautiously stepping ahead and thinking of how close he had come to meeting the same fate.

#

Ginny remembered that the three hallways met up in the middle on the bottom floor of the manor, spilling out into a common room. They had surprisingly walked most of the hall without a problem. She found little consolation in this, knowing the others were probably facing what hadn’t gotten to them yet.

BANG!

She heard a pistol fire, and Ron moved protectively in front of her. They all froze again when they heard another.

“How unexpected,” said the short round man whose gaze settled on Neville, “to meet up with you again.”

Ron’s hand suddenly felt like a steel band around Ginny’s wrist as he tried to keep her hidden from Locust’s view. Locust’s tongue fell from his mouth and licked at the bottom of his chin indelicately.

“I believe you’ve taken something from us, and we’d like them back,” Ron said boldly, finding courage Ginny didn’t know he had.

Locust Daviz laughed and a foul humidity poured into the hall.

“I think the keys were taken from us first, and we’d like our third. So before I destroy you all, except perhaps the delicious vixen you have behind you, I will need this item from you.”

Neville gritted his teeth. “We don’t have it Locust.”

And then Neville didn’t know him anymore. Locust’s gaze engulfed them in a flood of light and they were paralyzed.

#

Hermione saw a sudden flash of light coming from one of the other Hallways, shortly after she and Draco had heard the gunshots.

God, please let them be all right, she preyed, as Draco led her to the storeroom.

“You’ll barely fit, but the door’s more solid then any room door,” he said.

She knew what the plan was. She would have to remain safe in order for this to succeed, and she carried the object everyone so desperately seemed to want. Still, she wished she didn’t have to be stowed away like an object herself. Now all she could do was wait.

Draco closed the storeroom door behind him and made his way towards the common room of the lower level. Each hall housed sixteen rooms, eight on each side, so he couldn’t make out what was going on as he crept further along.

Pant. Pant. Click. Slurp.

But he was ready this time. He fired the gun at the creature spattering its head in several directions, including back onto him.

Christ.

Draco could see another clawing on the storeroom door where he had put Hermione. The door was metal, and he relaxed when its teeth couldn’t penetrate it. Then Draco shot it in the neck.

These Muggle weapons certainly are useful.

“So you have stooped to using Muggle tools have you?” Lucius Malfoy said, stepping out of his well-hidden corner.

An out of breath Sirius Black ran up behind Draco.

“He isn’t alone Lucius, and he’s standing with us by choice,” Sirius said.

Lucius laughed and moved closer to Draco, who stood directly in front of him.

“Young Draco has had many choices, and I gave him many opportunities to succeed. But he tossed it all aside.”

Draco drew his wand, noticing finally the change in his father’s eyes. Sirius drew his wand as well.

“See the power you could have had?” Lucius said, throwing his hand into the air and sending Draco and Sirius both flying down the hallway.

“Where is the third key?” Lucius screamed, releasing his fury again.

#

Hermione could hear everything. She held her breath as she listened to Draco and Sirius struggle against Lucius Malfoy. She let a tear fall down her face when the only screams she heard now were from Draco.

No God please… please don’t let this happen.

Then there was silence.

“Tell me Draco. Who has it? I was surprised it wasn’t Black…is Potter with you? Perhaps Granger? Tell me and I will reinstate you as my son. You will have everything you lost,” Lucius said in a hushed tone.

There was silence again, and Hermione thought that perhaps Draco was actually considering Lucius’ offer.

“I had NOTHING before!” he yelled and fired a spell at Lucius, enough to send the man to the ground with an audible thud.

Hermione clutched the triangle tightly.

“Lucius Malfoy!” Arthur Weasley’s voiced called out.

Hermione froze again, needing desperately to hear Harry’s voice.

“Step away from Draco, Lucius!” Harry said.

Her heart leapt at the sound of it.

Thank you God. Thank you.

#

They were blinded only for a moment when Neville swung his flack into the air. He hit his target, sending Locust back onto the ground. Locust had expected a magical attack, not a physical one. Ron ordered Ginny to stay back as he and Neville confronted Locust in a direct and brutal assault. Locust stumbled back, enraged. He began to burble and froth at the mouth and his mouth grew slowly, expanding to the size of his head.

“Where are they?” Ron yelled at the creature, even though his lungs were beginning to shrink from the rancid air.

They were interrupted by the sound of Lucius Malfoy. Then there was the sound of something else...hissing. Locust turned towards the noise, and reluctantly moved away from them. The three stood stunned for a moment. Then they followed.

#

Hermione could hear the fight on the other side of the door, she just didn’t know who was winning. She listened for voices to rush past. Harry. Neville. Ron. Cho. Harry again. The spells rattled the walls around her and a jar fell onto the floor, crashing and exploding onto her boots.

The rhyme…what was it again? I still have the triangle…and the hair.

Explosions were all around her now. She struggled to remain calm, wondering if she should go out to help. She heard Ginny screaming and footsteps rushing past. Something was clawing at her door again. She held her breath, and it left. The struggle seemed to go on for an eternity, but would be nothing compared to the silence that followed.

She abhorred that sort of silence.

After a while, the prolonged inactivity began to take not only its physical toll, but it’s emotional one. Their circumstances required her to be hidden, and so she had to wait. Wait for Harry. She fought of feelings of despair, but tears still pooled in her eyes. Her cold feet and her throbbing back pain she could tolerate, but there was so much anguish in not knowing.

Still silence. She looked at her watch, a gift from her father.

One hour. There were some lizards making their way across the ceiling, mocking her with their freedom. She heard some more running. Another gunshot.

An hour and a half. The jar that had broken smelled like beans. She couldn’t imagine the Malfoys’ sitting down to family dinner, but she supposed everyone had to eat. She hadn’t eaten for a while now. She might never eat again.

Two hours. There was a strange hilarity in what she was thinking then, I wonder if they have anything I could kill myself with in here if Harry doesn’t come.

She wouldn’t dare weep. She flexed her toes, then her calf muscles. She shifted her weight from side to side. She had to stop thinking. She couldn’t allow herself to become consumed by it. Too much time had passed. Where were the French Aurors?

Two hours and fifteen minutes. Everything was starting to itch and the door that barely touched her chest with her back tight against the shelves felt like it was going to crush her.

By then, Hermione had worked herself into such a state of panic that she found herself having to remember to breathe. Her whole body was in pain and she wanted to surrender to the tears that were begging to be released. Her mind wandered against her will, violent and detailed fantasies seeping into her brain.

What if Lucius were to find her? He would kill her, perhaps raping her first if the thought occurred to him. Then he wouldn’t bother burying her. But that wasn’t the worst. He would take power then, and everything she held dear would be destroyed. Harry would be dead. Everyone would be dead. She would never see her friends again.

Wincing at the pain radiating from her back down her leg, she thought she heard footsteps. There were a lot of them, and a sliver of hope permeated her fear when she heard some voices. Laughter.

Party… there was a party.

#

The prisoners had been taken to a locked room, bound in thick rope. Lucius had decided he wouldn’t allow their deaths to be easy. Locust and the ringmaster watched over them. Locust especially watched over Ginny and Cho. When he gave Cho a mock sympathetic look, she spat on him. He had seemed to enjoy it, grazing his hand along her thigh when the ringmaster had stepped away.

Ron glared at the man, promising himself that he would see Locust burn.

Harry was too busy keeping his eyes on Sirius, who lay bound, and near death on the floor. Arthur Weasley, who was badly wounded, was slumped in a corner and Ginny whimpered for her father. Neville, Harry, and Ron were tied together. Their wands were all taken. Their weapons were gone, surrendered to stop the ringmaster from slicing Ginny Weasley’s throat. It didn’t buy her freedom, but at least it bought them all time. It was the only thing on their side, especially since Hermione still had the third key.

Hermione.

Was she still waiting for him? Did they find her? They had all denied she was with them, but Lucius had become anxious and irritable when a thorough search had left him still without the third key. Harry heard the ringmaster hiss that they were searching every room, and then every closet big enough to hold a person.

Please don’t let them find her, Harry thought.

Draco was bound to Arthur Weasley. He had been given no special treatment. After a couple of hours of damp silence, Harry could hear voices. Then Lucius came into the room again, along with two other Death Eaters.

"Bring Potter. He will die first.” Ron and Neville kicked at the men, trying to defend Harry. They hexed the unarmed men aside swiftly, untying Harry’s arms and legs and pulling him away. Lucius grabbed Harry’s arm and brought his face in too close.

“She will be very pleased to meet you.”

“Who is she?” Harry asked.

Lucius gripped Harry tighter. “She is the one who will rule everything. Lucius led him to the common room, which was overflowing with Dark Wizards. In the center stood a stand with two shiny glass objects side by side. The other two keys.

Next to it was a slab with more ropes.

I’m an offering…to who…or what?

Lucius parted the sea of Wizards with Harry in tow. Harry struggled now. He had smelled death before, almost knew it instinctively. Lucius hexed him again, sending him to his knees this time. Two men lifted Harry and tied him to the slab. Lucius began to unbutton Harry’s shirt, and Harry turned his face away in disgust.

“Barely a man,” Lucius said haughtily, drawing laughter from the crowd.

#

Harry Potter will be the first to be sacrificed!” a passing voice said on the other side of Hermione’s door. It was followed by a burst of applause.

No. Please no.

Her body was weak from the confinement and her hands trembled mercilessly. She reached for the latch of the door; now knowing her Harry wouldn’t come to rescue her. She would do this alone.

Dear God.

The door to the storeroom slowly opened. No one noticed right away.

Please let this go quickly. Let me die fast, I know I won’t be able to do this.

One thought steadied her, and she was able to move.

Harry.

She had to do it.

She walked some. Her legs were wobbly now, but she soon regained her stride. The hallway was empty, and there was a blue light in the common area. She could hear Lucius Malfoy’s piercing voice.

#

The dreary blue light lit their sacrifice strangely.

“We bring you an offering…to tide you over until the third key is found,” Lucius hissed.

Lucius speaks parseltounge now? Harry thought, trying to focus on the shadow moving towards him.

The shadow stopped, stepping into the blue light that Harry discovered was coming from the two triangles.

“He is gifted? How?” she hissed back.

“Tom Riddle gifted him inadvertently when he tried to destroy him. He is not like us,” the ringmaster hissed in a voice Harry thought sounded almost affectionate.

The child-like being stepped closer to Harry. “Ahhhh…. when he was only an innocent. It is always a mistake to try to curse the innocent. Tom was warned. And he is an innocent no more.”

She let her tiny fingers run along Harry’s chest.

“The Hellion’s were confused by him,” Lucius said.

She removed her hand, annoyed by Lucius’ interruption.

“Of course…they were unsure of where his gifts came from. They fear him. But I do not,” she replied, “And he will be a fitting sacrifice.”

Maedon let her eyes pan the crowd who had fallen to their knees upon her entrance into the circle. Then she turned and displayed her long teeth to Harry, who bore down in anticipation of the pain.

“I have your key!” a small shaky voice called out, brining gasps from the crowd.

Hermione Granger stepped into the circle.

#

“Hermione! GO!!!! LEAVE!” Harry screamed.

Maedon turned her attention to the young woman standing there. This would be easy enough. She swiftly made her way towards her.

Hermione grabbed the hair and pulled it out, reciting the rhyme. The ringmaster and Locust stood perfectly still, and the child-demon rushing towards her stopped. Then laughed. They all laughed.

Hermione had failed.

Maedon hissed at her and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders. Then she suddenly let her go, stepping backwards. She hissed at Locust, then at the ringmaster.

Lucius joined in their chattering that made no sense to Hermione.

The child-demon spoke again, and Hermione was shocked as Harry threw himself against the ropes unrelentingly now, like an animal.

What were they saying to make Harry react like that?

This brought more laughter from Lucius.

Hermione found herself surrounded by Death Eaters now. She pulled out the triangle and used what Arthur had taught her. A fiery blue light jumped out causing one of the men to fall to the ground, burning him into ash.

“Get it from her! A human will have to be the one to destroy her!” Lucius called out to them, hissing again to the child-demon, caller her by her name. Harry’s eyes opened wide and his voice was dry and cracked, but Hermione heard him.

“Maiden is her name, Hermione,” Harry said.

Hermione understood, and directed the triangle towards more wizards now. They fell around her. She made her way towards the child. Something in her chest seemed to fail, but she forced herself to continue and she dared to get closer. The child was actually backing away, looking towards Lucius, who, after seeing the last man to try to reach Hermione disintegrate before him, started to back away slowly. He had been unaware the power could be used like that.

Before she could think about it, she was reaching towards Maedon. The hair pulled easily away from the creature’s scalp, which felt like the consistency of mud.

Hermione’s voice was clear as a bell as she recited the rhyme. The ringmaster was upon her now, and she closed her eyes expecting pain. There was none, and when he tried to sink his teeth into her throat; the flesh from the tall creature began to skid off of his bones.

Why couldn’t he hurt me?

Hermione saw the other two keys next to Harry. She ran towards them, placing the one she held next to the other two.

Please let this work.

She said the rhyme again.

Maedon stopped. The blue light intensified, and the keys joined together. The ground beneath them began to tremble.

#

Hermione’s fingers were not strong and her nails were broken or worn down, but she worked the knots that bound Harry’s hands to the offering table with determination. It seemed like an eternity before she made any progress, but in time the binding began to loosen.

The floor was beginning to cave and Hermione screamed as men began slipping into the crack. The Death Eaters were only concerned with their own escape, even Lucius, who was noticeably absent.

Harry bent to untie the ropes at his feet. “We need to get to them. They’re still alive,” Harry said. Hermione held onto the keys tightly as the child demon, strangely lit now, started towards her.

The floor had stop crumbling and now a thick blue light shot out from the crack. It pierced through the child-demon, and Hermione watched her face grow calm and solemn as Maedon was pulled back towards Hell, quietly and without a struggle.

Locust Daviz ran, but a ray of light reached him and wrapped itself around his thick middle, splitting him in half like an egg before it carried him below.

Beams of light began to surge from everywhere, selecting fleeing Death Eaters and pulling them down below the earth.

Harry grabbed Lucius’ knife lying beside the offering table, and they ran towards the makeshift prison that their friends were trapped in. They flung open the door of the room and Harry began cutting ropes as Hermione worked to untie those she could.

The Manor was beginning to shake. Ron and Neville worked to drag Arthur, and Draco and Harry dragged Sirius down the Hallway towards the window. A fleeing wizard who was attempting to exit was going by them, cursing anything in his path as he was sucked back towards the ground. Cho ducked, barely avoiding his hex.

They reached the exit, opening the doorway. The bodies of four lay in a neat row at the entrance, torn to pieces.

The missing French Aurors.

Ginny closed her eyes as they all walked over them. She tried to avoid stepping on them, but it was impossible.

“When can we disparate?” Harry asked Draco.

“Just a few more feet,” he answered.

The house trembled again, this time; a gust seemed to be trying to blow them all back inside. They fought it, and managed the last few steps to the bottom of the hill.

“Here! We can do it here!” Draco screamed.

“Alright, I’ll disparate with Sirius, and Ron, can you disparate with your father? Let’s meet at St. Mungos.”

Ron nodded. Harry had taken a good deal of time training Ron in this specialty of disparating and apparating someone else. It was an exceptionally difficult thing to do, but both had become one of the few wizards skilled at the art.

Ginny went first. Then Neville. Then Cho. Then Draco. Then Ron and Arthur. Then Hermione, who held onto the keys. And finally…Harry and Sirius.

They disparated only a few seconds before the ground caved in, and Malfoy Manor took its place in Hell.

#

The mediwitch at St. Mungos said that both Arthur and Sirius would be fine. Sirius would need to stay longer, due to some internal injuries, but would eventually be his old self again. Harry wasn’t surprised when Shara Fonta arrived by his bedside.

The media began to gather outside of the hospital, but they all agreed that no one would say a thing until Arthur Weasley was awake. Mrs. Weasley greeted them all warmly, even Draco who she surprised with a kiss on the cheek.

Harry kept watching Hermione from his examining table. She couldn’t figure out what the flash of concern was on his face, and she questioned him with her eyes. He smiled sweetly at her and mouthed, “I love you”. She smiled back at him and said the same. When they were finished with him, he walked over towards her, taking her hand in his.

“I can’t believe we did it,” she said.

“You did it Hermione. Not me, you.”

Hermione smiled, feeling overwhelmed with relief, joy, and sadness for the ones they couldn’t save. She thought about her parents, her aunt, their friends at the ministry, and the French Aurors that they never got to meet. Here she was, with only a couple of scratches.

Hermione flushed. “Harry…why was it they couldn’t hurt me?” she asked, “Was it because I have Mill’s blood?”

Harry swallowed and took both of her hands in his. He brought his eyes to meet hers and hesitated.

“I heard them say it was because you carry the blood of the innocent. The tall creature was destroyed when it tried to harm you because you have innocent blood running through your veins. That’s why the child-demon couldn’t harm you, and why even Lucius, couldn’t harm you. That’s what they were talking about when the child demon halted her attack on you, that's why they ordered the humans to kill you.”

Hermione laughed and leaned into his ear. “That’s ridiculous Harry, you and I both know I’m no innocent…”

Harry’s face remained serious, and he paused, thinking of a way to explain. “No, but the someone inside of you is,” he said searching her face for understanding.

She got it this time, choosing to sit quietly, trying to absorb what he had just told her. That’s what they said that had seemed to incense Harry so. He was struggling to save her.

Them.

“It would be way too early…how could they know that?”

“I don’t know. I guess she sensed it,” Harry said, moving Hermione’s hair from her face, and kissing her mouth.

Hermione panicked. “Oh my God, what are we going to do?”

“Shhh…. it’s alright. We’re alive, we all made it, we have something to look forward to,” Harry said quietly, “and an announcement to make.”

She made an unladylike choking noise and tried to calm down as her lover took her hand. This was unbelievable.

There was always another adventure ahead, she thought, letting one hand trail down to her stomach.

~~Fin ~~~

15. Author's Notes

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