It was true. All of it. Everything Ron had postulated. Every guilt inducing thought she'd had about the person she assumed to be a friend. All of it was true.
Hermione turned on instinct, her back pressed into the counter behind her for support, and felt her fingers twitch towards the holster on her thigh.
"Don't," Sarah warned with a cruel twist of her mouth that Hermione had never seen on her before. But there was something...something that caught at the back of her mind, something familiar about it. She couldn't waste time wondering right then however; she had to figure a way to get out.
Harry and Ron wouldn't notice her absence right away. She probably had at least ten minutes before anyone got worried. That was entirely too long. The best she could do was to try and get Sarah to talk and find an opening.
Much like what had happened during the war, when death seemed imminent and she had no one but herself to rely on, her thoughts cleared and became focused on only that which could help keep her alive. Like a wave was washing over her, the fear got shoved into a back corner of her mind; it would be dealt with later.
She stood a fraction straighter and looked Sarah in the eye, please to see a small twitch in response. Sarah had never known Hermione Granger the soldier, and that gave her something to work with.
The main concern was not that she wasn't armed, it was that she wasn't armed and, as it was becoming even more obvious, she had either been drugged or poisoned. Adrenaline was helping keep the effects at bay for now, but she had no idea what she had been given and how long she had before she succumbed.
Hermione took a slow, deep breath, and tried not to wince as another pain went through her; never taking her eyes off of Sarah. "So...how did you do it?" she asked evenly.
Sarah didn't respond.
"How did you manage to live amongst Muggles for three years and never drop your cover?"
Sarah readjusted the grip she had on her wand, and Hermione thought that just maybe this was the way to get to her.
"Three years. That's a very long period of time. You had to talk like a Muggle, dress like a Muggle, act like a Muggle. That must have been difficult."
"Shut up, Granger," Sarah warned, taking a step closer.
"We went to pubs, Sarah. Went to the movies. Spent hours in the library, or over coffee in your flat. How'd you do it? How could you stand living like that?" Hermione actually managed to move forward a fraction of an inch. Sarah seemed frozen.
"You're obviously a phenomenal actress to be able to pull that off for so long. And to only ever have messed up once...very impressive."
Sarah's eyes narrowed, and her shoulders dropped slightly.
"What? You didn't know? Remember when you begged me to give you a key to my flat? It was the one thing the stuck out. The one thing that was odd. You were desperate to get that key." Hermione sounded much calmer than she felt.
There was recognition in Sarah's eyes and a flare of anger. "You think it was easy? Becoming friends with you. You were supposed to be this force to be reckoned with. That's why they sent me. I'm the best. The ginger wasn't worth the trouble, and Potter couldn't be found. You were our main focus. And then I find out instead of a lion I got a mouse. My talents were wasted on you!" she spat out. "So depressed all the time. It was pathetic!" Her voice was scathing and Hermione tried not to let the words phase her even though they stung and were close to the truth.
Hermione wasn't about to back down now. She didn't drop her gaze, and steeled herself for what she was about to say. "Tell me, after all that time living as a Muggle, does that make you a mudblood now?"
Sarah let out a roar of rage and advanced. Hermione was bent backwards over the sinks with a wand pressed against the underside of her throat. "Shut up, right now, or I'm going to reducto that brain of yours clean off."
With Sarah so close to her, she couldn't see where Hermione's hands were. Hermione used the distraction to her advantage. Her fingers had just brushed the end of her wand when a hand clamped hard around her wrist, tore her away from Sarah and threw her to the floor.
The breath was knocked out of her and her vision blinked for a moment, either from whatever she had ingested or from where her head hit the unforgiving tile.
"No, no, little one. We can't have that." A voice that sounded familiar but she couldn't place purred in her ear.
Her hair was pulled out of her face and she saw the smirking visage of Lazlo. She tried to scramble backwards, but he clamped a hand on her waist and pushed down hard to hold her still. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain, and tried to swallow down revulsion as her shirt had been raked up and he was touching her bare skin.
The fear she had tucked away began to make itself known. She tried to tramp it back down, but her limbs were heavy and not responding like they should and her head was getting foggier by the second.
"So...is it poison or did you use a Muggle drug?" she asked, slightly breathless, but trying to keep her voice even.
He was crouched next to her, a wand dangling casually in his hand as if he didn't think she was any threat to him at all. "I wouldn't want to give up all my secrets," he replied. His hand fell from her waist to move slowly up and down the exposed flesh of her thigh, making her skin crawl.
"How'd you do it, Lazlo?" Her only option was to keep him talking.
"Ha! That was the easy part. That idiot ginger let me carry a tray of drinks back to the table," he sneered.
"That `idiot ginger' was on to the both of you before anyone else," she threw back, and briefly regretted it as his wand flashed up and snapped a cutting curse across her cheek.
The wound stung fiercely, and her head was knocked to the side from the blow. The taste of copper filled her mouth.
"Who are you working for?" she tried, anything at this point to keep him talking.
A hand trailed down her cheek and across her lower lip and she had to restrain herself from biting him. "You have no idea. Do you?" he responded.
"We know more than you think," she countered, wincing as he wrapped a hand in her hair and tugged her closer.
"You have no idea." His voice was deadly, and her stomach dropped with fright. He pulled her in even more. His face was now inches from hers. "You and your `Golden Trio'," he said mockingly. He pushed his nose into her neck, breathing deeply before he licked a long path up to her ear. She tried to squirm out of his way but he held her fast. "You're not getting out of here. You may have tracked us to the school, but you're not getting any further. And after tonight, it won't matter."
Tonight! The school was being attacked tonight, and she had no way of stopping him or letting Harry and Ron know. While Lazlo was gloating and she still had some command of her body, she decided she needed to act.
Turning to look at him, she locked eyes and gave him a small smile. "You know what you purebloods always forget?" she asked, not waiting for him to answer. "You can live with Muggles, and act like Muggles, but you'll never actually be a Muggle. And that's why even though you think I'm helpless without my wand, I can do this!" As she said her last word she spat blood in his face and then used the only weapon she really had, her four inch stilettos, bringing one of them up right between his legs.
Lazlo howled in pain, and stumbled back from her. His ability to retaliate was non-existent.
Sarah, who had been merely observing, sprang into action. Before Hermione could get her uncooperative arms to do her bidding, Sarah blasted her from behind, causing her to go skidding across the bathroom floor into a stall door.
White hot pain seared across her ribs, and she couldn't catch her breath. She knew they were advancing on her but there was nothing she could do, and helpless fear began to creep in.
She tried to reach for her wand, tried to muster the ability to summon it to her hand, but she was too weak and she could see Lazlo out the corner of her eye as he staggered towards her.
The Cruciatus curse was not unfamiliar, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. Her body bowed at the pain, and spots danced in front of her eyes. She wanted to cry out, but couldn't draw enough breath to do so.
When he finally released the curse, she was barely conscious. He knelt beside her, a hand ruthlessly gripping her hair as he pulled her back to see her face.
His hand wormed its way beneath her skirt, under the pretense of searching for her holster, but he located it quickly enough and his hands kept going. She had to swallow down the bile that was threatening. The whine of panic was back and she was truly frightened.
"What's wrong, little one? You dress like this, you must expect..." but his words were cut off by an explosion from the entrance to the bathroom.
The lights flickered twice before they began exploding one by one. One dim bulb remained and she was able to see around Lazlo's arm.
Harry.
She'd never seen such righteous fury on his face before. She could feel the magics rise in the room and the hairs on her arm stood on end. For a second, cool relief flowed over her, and then she saw the change. Harry spied where Lazlo's hand was, still under her skirt.
It was over.
She didn't even see Harry's wand move, just the hot spray of blood as a curse cut across Lazlo's chest and he dropped to the ground, wand clattering to the floor.
The body was heavy as it lay partially on her legs and she couldn't muster the strength to push him off or move, but his hand was still there and she was beginning to lose every bit of control she had.
Sarah froze when the door exploded. Out of her periphery, Hermione saw Sarah's wand go flying as she was disarmed. Ron caught it in mid air, and stepped out from behind Harry who still had his wand pointed at what used to be Lazlo.
"Alright, Hermione?" Ron called out, his voice tight.
She tried to reply, but her throat felt small and she didn't know if it was from shock or whatever they gave her. She couldn't take her eyes off of Lazlo. His head was turned away, but she could feel the warm blood beginning to pool beneath her and panic started to set in.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand," Harry said, his wand now trained on Sarah, who for once doesn't look sure of herself. The tone he used was one Hermione had never heard before. It was beyond hard, beyond dark. It was powerful and frightening, and she thought she was the only one who can stop him.
"No," Hermione managed to get out. It was a whisper, and so quiet she wasn't sure they heard her. "Don't, Harry."
"Take care of her," Harry said suddenly, and for a brief moment Hermione thought he was telling Ron to see to her and not Sarah. Her brain felt fuzzy and her thoughts were jumbled. She was even more confused when Ron stunned Sarah and put her in a full body bind.
Hermione couldn't keep her head up to look at them any longer, and she let it fall back to rest on the floor. Then the weight on her legs was lifted and her skirt tugged down as far as it would go. That sent a flare of panic through her, and then it was gone because all she could see was Harry.
That hard look was still on his face, as if it had been frozen, but his eyes...his eyes were both young and old with uncertainty and fear; she wished she wasn't the reason.
The tenuous grasp she had on consciousness was rapidly fading and she needed to get what little information she had to Harry as quickly as possible.
His hand ghosted over her jaw and slipped behind her neck to support her head. Tears sprang to her eyes at the contact. "`Mione," he said shakily.
She wanted to tell him it was okay and she would be alright, but she didn't have that kind of time.
"Poison or a muggle drug," she said, slowly and carefully. Harry's jaw went rigid at the information. "My clutch. At the table..." She shut her eyes tight as a wave of nausea came over her. "Small potions kit." Her words began to slur.
"Get her bag!" he barked to Ron, over his shoulder.
" `Mione, just hang in there ok. We'll get you fixed up and take you back to London." His voice shook, and she realized that he thought he was going to watch her die again. She tried to bring her hand up to his, but she could barely twitch a finger.
"I'm okay," she managed to get out, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Don't leave me again," he murmured into her, and her heart broke for him.
His wand was raised over her as he performed the diagnostic spells. His eyes closed tight and she watched him struggle for control before healing her ribs and other obvious injuries. Her ability to breathe eased and she gave him a grateful smile.
Ron skidded to a halt on his knees next to them and thrust the bag at Harry. "Here," he said, out of breath, and when he looked at her, his face was pale with fear. She felt him grab her hand in his but couldn't manage to squeeze it back.
Harry Accio'd the kit and started rifling through it. "Veritaserum," she said and tried to look towards Sarah.
Harry looked confused at first, before realizing what she was trying to tell him.
"Wake her up," he ordered Ron, and soon enough they had Sarah wrapped in conjured ropes and seated against the back wall.
Ron was not gentle as he poured the liquid down her throat. She sputtered and tried to fight but failed.
Hermione assumed that Harry would conduct the interrogation, but it didn't seem like he intended to leave her side. In fact, he didn't take his eyes off her as he let Ron do the questioning.
"What did you give to Hermione?" Ron demanded
The internal struggle was evident, but the potion was stronger. "Muggle drug," Sarah gasped out.
"What does it do?"
"Makes her weak and tired, and causes stomach pains."
"Is there an antidote?" Ron asked, the grip on his wand getting tighter as he struggled to hold back from hexing her.
"No antidote. Just a muggle drug. They give it to the girls here." The implication of what the drug was for was not lost on any of them, and this time it was Harry calling out to Ron to keep him from reacting out of anger.
Sarah just laughed, and Hermione saw again the way her mouth twisted. Suddenly she knew Sarah's identity.
"Dolohov!" she gasped out. The way her mouth turned was the same as Dolohov's. Sarah must be his daughter.
Harry's eyebrows rose at her outburst and she knew she had to explain. Her vision tunneled down to what is right in front of her. "Dolohov's daughter." Harry understood, his eyes alight with comprehension.
"The school. She knows about the school." She felt like she was talking from the end of a long tunnel. She could hear Harry but couldn't make out what he said even though he was right in front of her.
"So tired...love you," was the last thing she could manage to say before she gave in to the darkness.
When she came to, the first thing that registered was the pounding headache. Her eyes opened slowly, and even in the dim light she could tell they were still in the bathroom. Relief came over her as she realized she couldn't have been out that long if they hadn't left the club.
Sarah was still tied up and unconscious. Lazlo's body had been covered with a conjured blanket, but the blood stain was still there.
Hermione realized they had moved her. She was laying on something soft and Harry's jacket covered her.
Ron and Harry stood between her and Lazlo. The tension in both of them was palpable. Harry's shirt sleeves had been rolled up and she could see his trousers were stiff with blood from the knees down.
They were both looking at something in Harry's hand, but she couldn't discern what it was. She could make out speech, but not the words that were being said. She tried to push herself up to her side, but her head throbbed harshly and she let out a low moan.
Immediately Harry was beside her, his hands skimming everywhere. " `Mione, Gods...you have to stop doing this."
She clasped his hand in hers and squeezed hard. "Then people really need to stop trying to kill me."
Her voice must have broken something within him because he hauled her into his chest with a ferocity she'd never seen before. His hands clenched in the material of his jacket where it hung off her frame, and he buried his face in her neck.
She found herself shaking, and wound her arms around his back, fingers scrabbling on the too slick material of his shirt to find any purchase, as the events of the night started to resonate with her.
Harry stroked a hand over her hair and held her until she pulled back on her own and looked at him with red rimmed eyes.
"Alright?" he asked and she nodded once.
Her head still pounded, but the weakness and pain in her stomach was gone. Her body ached from the Cruciatus, but there was nothing to be done for that.
"Help me up?" she asked.
" `Mione, no. Just stay there. We're...we're almost done and then we can go back to London," Harry said, his eyes darting from her to Ron, and she knew there was something he wasn't sharing with her.
"London?" she exclaimed. "What do you mean? We're not done here. Did you ask her about her father? Was I right? What about the school? Lazlo said they were planning something tonight. Are we too late?" Her questions became more frantic and she used Harry as leverage to pull herself to her feet.
As soon as she was upright, she regretted the action. Her head swam, and she wasn't sure her legs were going to hold her, especially in those damn shoes.
Ron was the one that caught her by the middle and steadied her. Harry looked defeated and wouldn't look in her direction.
"What happened?" she demanded, taking two steps so she could touch Harry. His hand grasped hers desperately.
"She's Dolohov's daughter," Ron said, his voice strained. "Her real name is Seraphina Dolohov. She's been trained by him her entire life. After the war he suggested that she be the one to follow you. Sarah...Seraphina doesn't know anything about anyone above her father; she was never privy to that information."
The news was shocking, but not unexpected, and it didn't explain Harry's reaction. "I still don't understand why we're going back to London."
Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly before taking both her hands in his. "We're too late to save the school."
She heard the words, but they didn't register at first. "What do you mean?"
"The museum break in, the one where we thought something had been replaced but we didn't know what?" She nodded, not wanting to interrupt. "The item taken was an ancient magical artifact from hundreds of years ago. It was supposed to be dormant."
"Dormant?" she repeated with a shaky voice. "What did the artifact do?"
"Once opened, it...strips the magical core of anyone within a set radius." He was barely able to grind out the words.
"You mean...they're...they...oh gods!" Her hands came up to cover her mouth in horror, and Harry couldn't seem to confirm what she was thinking.
"They're squibs now. All of them." Ron looked sick as he spoke.
"How...who could do such a thing, it's horrific!" Anger swept through her, as she unconsciously pressed her hands into her chest, as if she could physically touch her magic and keep it safe.
"Is there a chance there are any survivors?" she asked, hoping there would be some way to mitigate the horror.
"No. There's nothing we can do. The artifact is active for twenty four hours, and it was opened earlier tonight. That's what Lazlo was doing before he got here," Harry said, his jaw clenched so hard it must have hurt.
Her mind raced, trying to find some answer, some way to make this right. Then a thought so horrible came to her that she couldn't verbalize it at first.
Harry and Ron stared at her in sympathy and she knew they already were aware, but she needed to say it out loud to believe it. "If it's active for twenty four hours then...then no one else can go in. All those kids are trapped in there, without magic, and without knowing what has happened."
Ron nodded, and she staggered back to lean against the wall. "Kingsley's contacted the German Ministry and they're going to provide support through floo and owl..." he trailed off, aware that such a response would be nowhere near adequate enough to truly help the people trapped.
"Is there any way to restore a magical core?" Her voice sounded weak, even to her, and she knew enough about how magic works to know it's probably a pointless question.
Ron just shrugged, and the room was silent except the frizzing sound of the overhead bulb.
"They just lost an entire generation of wizards," she said softly. "And we failed them."
A low tremble ran beneath her feet, and her eyes flew straight to Harry.
He was standing stock still, his hands clenched at his side, chest heaving as he tried to control his magic.
She eliminated the distance between them, and grabbed Harry's face in her hands. "Harry! Look at me!" she commanded.
So incredibly slowly, his eyes opened and she could see it all: guilt, despair, anger, and frustration.
"No. This isn't your fault. They're ahead of us on this, but we're getting closer." He tried to look away, but she wouldn't let him. "We've got one of their people now. We can use her to get more information. We know for sure it's the schools they're going after. You have to see the good here."
"How many more people are going to die, or have their lives destroyed because I haven't figured it out yet?" he threw back at her, his eyes locked on the floor.
"I don't know, Harry. There may be more deaths, but that's a part of this. You have to remember that you didn't start this, they started it. So the deaths are on their souls, not yours."
When he looked at her again, there wasn't as much guilt, but still plenty of anger.
She stroked her thumbs under his eyes and gave him a tight smile before she stepped back and looked at both of them.
"What are we...um...what are we doing about..." She couldn't bring herself to turn and look at Seraphina, or Lazlo's remains.
"Kingsley authorized an emergency portkey to send them back to Auror headquarters," Ron supplied.
Harry stepped forward and pulled a matchbook out of his pants pocket. He twirled it twice through his fingers and then cast the spell before tossing it on top of Lazlo's body.
He hadn't mentioned Lazlo and what he had done. How he had killed him without chance, and without remorse if Hermione had read him correctly. Harry looked at her then and his eyes begged her to wait. They told her he couldn't discuss that right then, and could they please wait. She answered back, yes, and the fingers that ghosted over the back of her hand on his way to set the second portkey was his thank you.
Then it was just the three of them. The only evidence that anything had happened were the blown out light fixtures and the bloodstained floor.
Ron sat himself on the counter and stared at the now vacant spot, the freckles stark on his pale face. When Hermione walked over to him, he didn't acknowledge that she was there.
"Ron," she said quietly.
He was still for a long moment, and then his hand came up and engulfed hers. "You okay?" he asked gruffly.
"No," she answered honestly, "but I will be."
"Good," he replied, his gaze still locked on the floor. She stifled a yelp when he suddenly pulled her to him, her arms locked to her side underneath Harry's jacket and trapped by his embrace. She felt a flare of panic, and had to remind herself it was only Ron. He felt her shake, and mistook it for something else.
"You gotta stop almost dying Herms. He can't take much more," he whispered into her ear, and all she could do was frantically nod and blink back tears.
Harry was right behind her when Ron let her go.
"Ready to get back?" he asked in a clipped tone, and they both nodded.
Her body shuddered with pain, and Harry put an arm around her waist. "What is it?"
"Just the after effects," she said as if it hadn't been that bad.
"I've been hit with Crucio before, `Mione, don't lie to me."
She gasped again at another one. "I know. It's just...there really isn't anything you can do about it. You just have to wait it out." She saw the pained expression on his face and wished she could make it disappear. "At least it's not as bad as last time."
His face fell as soon as she said it and she cursed her poor choice. No doubt he was hearing her screams at Malfoy Manor in his head.
"I'm sorry," she whispered in haste.
"Don't. Just...don't ever apologize, for that. Okay?" He sounded so raw she could do nothing but agree.
"Let's go," Ron said suddenly, and with a quick turn the bathroom faded away and they were once again on the steps to Grimmauld.
The second she pushed open the door, she realized she had no idea what time it was. It was late, it was dark; that was all she knew.
The house was quiet. As Harry entered behind her, she turned and saw his shoulders visibly sag in relief; the place he had never wanted was slowly beginning to turn into home.
"It would be nice to come through that door once without blood all over us," Ron deadpanned, and immediately winced at his timing.
"Yeah it would, mate," Harry agreed, and clapped a hand on Ron's back.
A light flickered underneath the door to the library to let them know that someone was still awake and waiting.
They pushed open the door to find a blessedly small group. Hermione wasn't sure any of them could have handled a full Weasley onslaught.
Percy, Ginny, and Bill were the only ones in the room, grouped in the chairs around the fire.
They rose when the door squeaked out their entrance, and Bill had his wand half drawn when he turned.
"Bloody hell!" Ginny exclaimed. "What's happened now?"
Harry didn't respond. He guided Hermione to the fire and pushed her into the chair Ginny had just vacated.
"Where have you been?" Bill asked, gesturing towards their less than normal apparel.
Hermione looked up to see Ginny studying her and thought she actually saw her raise an eyebrow in approval.
"Nice shoes, Hermione, I may want to borrow them," Ginny said, in an attempt to add levity to the situation.
All it did, however, was make her remember using those shoes to fight off Lazlo while he was trying to put his hands on her.
She must have blanched at the memory because Harry crouched in front of her, being careful to keep his hands on the chair and not on her. She almost wept at the gesture. It made her ache, to have him believe she wouldn't want him near her.
She reached out a fumbling hand to find his and clung to it desperately.
The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire, and could feel herself begin to sway even while seated.
A hand with a glass half full of amber liquid entered her field of vision and she looked up, startled to see Bill kneeling next to Harry.
She started to protest, but he stopped her. "It's got some restorative properties as well. Just give it a try." She took it with a shaky hand.
She took a small sip and it burned her throat, but the warmth that grew inside her made it worthwhile. Bill was rewarded with half a smile, and he returned to stand by the mantle.
"Can we do this later?" Ron asked from behind her. She gave a small jump as she hadn't realized he'd made it no further than the back of her chair.
"Of course," was Bill's immediate reply, but she saw Percy's mouth flop open in disagreement.
"Hermione," Ginny started off slowly, as if she were about to approach a scared animal, "Do we need to call Madame Pomfrey? Are you injured?"
She almost gagged when she looked down and saw how the light from the fire flickered off the now rust colored blood that had dried on her legs.
Ginny reached forward in time to catch the glass before it tumbled from her loose fingers.
"It's not hers, Gin, at least...not all of it," Harry said in a low tone, barely audible.
Images replayed in her head as if on a loop: A wand to her throat, Lazlo's mouth on her, his hand under her skirt, his dead body on her legs.
A hand softly resting on her shoulder broke her out of her memory, and she turned quickly to see that Ron had leaned over the back of the chair. Harry was lost in his own thoughts, his hands now braced on the mantle, while he stared unseeing into the fire.
"They really need to go get cleaned up," Ron tried again, acutely aware of how quickly everything was going downhill for the three of them.
However, this time there was no stopping Percy and he stepped forward and cleared his throat before speaking. "We haven't had much information from the Minister. He floo'd in once to say he'd talked to you, Harry, and that there had been an incident at the German school, but that was all."
"Give us a few hours and we'll fill you in. Right now there's not much anyone can do, and we need some time." Harry's voice got more tired and dejected the longer they were down there, and she knew she needed to get him out of the Weasley eye.
"Well, I think that can wait don't you?" Percy asked in that horribly haughty tone he'd been so fond of when he was Head Boy. "I'm sure you're tired, but.."
It had taken all of Hermione's considerable patience to keep quiet, but she suddenly found that she couldn't any longer and rose angrily to her feet, the jacket slipped off her shoulders to pool on the floor.
"No, it can't wait, Percy! I've been drugged, beaten up, hit with Crucio, and am covered in the blood of the man who was threatening to rape me to get what he wanted. And Harry and your brother saw him do it, which is why I'm covered in that man's blood, because Harry cut him in half to save my life." Percy flinched at her words and staggered back two steps. There was a gasp from Ginny as she covered her mouth with her hands. "Right now, what we're going to do is go get clean, in every possible sense of the word. I'm going to take a potion that won't do a damn thing to stop the effects of an Unforgiveable, and then I'm going to go work damage control on Harry's psyche, since it's what I do best. So, I'm sorry, but this really can't wait. If you want answers, you can get them when we give them to you or you can bloody well try my patience once again and see what happens." Her voice was shaking by the time she finished and her breath was ragged, one hand pressed over the ribs that had been broken.
No one moved. She wasn't even sure if anyone breathed.
"This is tabled for now, Percy," Ron said from behind her, his voice hard as he locked eyes with his older brother. Finally, Percy stuttered out an apology and acquiesced to waiting for information before he excused himself from the library.
Her outburst had taken the last of her reserve and she was never as grateful for Harry as she was when he pulled her in close to his side and took most of her weight.
"Let me go grab the potion," Ginny said helpfully and raced from the room before anyone could speak.
Before the door could fully shut behind her, Luna slipped in and drifted over to Ron. She didn't say a word, just slid her hand into his and turned back the way she came, Ron in tow.
Ginny was back quickly and held two potion bottles. "Here," she said, and started to press them into Hermione's hands, but thought better and handed them to Harry instead. "There's a dreamless sleep there too, just in case..."
Harry nodded his thanks and turned towards the door.
"Hermione, if you need anything..." Ginny started, but didn't know how to end.
Hermione gave her a tight smile, and more mouthed than said, `Thank you.'
Harry steered them out of the room, to the staircase. Halfway up, a flare of pain tore down her legs and she stumbled, knocking her shins hard on the riser before Harry caught her.
With a flick of his wand he vanished the potions to their room and ignored her protests when he picked her up.
She was too tired and in too much pain to fight him, so she turned her face into his chest instead.
Harry paused at the top of the stairs, and she heard a soft gasp and a muttering of French that could have only come from Fleur.
"Will she be alright?" Hermione heard her ask, and Harry paused far too long for her liking.
A soft hand brushed the hair off her face and she remembered when Lazlo did the same thing and let out a whimper. Harry pulled her in closer and took a step back.
Fleur's touch, was the proverbial straw. She could no longer hold back everything she had been keeping contained. Her body began to tremble and something in her chest was climbing north, trying to get out.
She felt Harry begin to walk again. The first moan emerged before he made it to the door. She tried to shove her fist in her mouth to stop it from escaping, but the harder she tried the harder it fought, and finally a keening wail, much louder than she would have wished, broke free.
Harry's pace increased, and she could feel him shush her as he hurried her into the room. As soon as the door shut, she felt wards and silencing charms go up.
She was breaking for her and for Harry, for what had happened, and what could have happened.
She was hearing sounds, but not really registering them. She clung to Harry's shoulders like it was the only thing keeping her from completely flying apart.
He was talking to her, and she knew he was trying to calm her. Her body was set down and then shifted as her clothes were removed. Before she knew what was happening, Harry had stepped inside the steaming shower.
As soon as the hot water hit, her eyes flew open. Harry set her gently on her feet, but kept an arm wrapped around her middle. She made the mistake of looking down and saw the rust colored swirls as the blood washed off of her. She bent over and retched.
When she was done, she let the water clean her and leaned heavily into Harry's chest. "He was going to..." She couldn't finish the sentence, her throat clogged with tears that finally made their way out.
Harry's arms tightened around her and she could hear the frantic beat of his heart beneath her ear.
When she was out of tears and her legs had completely given out on her, Harry wrapped her in a towel and carried her straight to the bed and under the covers. He made sure she was warm and then went to step across the room.
Hermione sat bolt upright. "No!" was torn from her throat. "Don't leave!" she cried and latched onto his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong. He crawled in next to her without making her move. She burrowed into him and finally felt the fear start to abate. Here, with Harry, in this bed, in this room, in this house, she was finally safe.
Her body still shook from the occasional Crucio aftershock, and after a particularly violent one she felt Harry reach across her and grab a potion. "Here," he said gently, "Take this. I know it won't make it go away completely, but..." He helped her bring the vial to her lips and grimaced with her at the taste. "Do you want the other one?" he asked, indicating the dreamless sleep.
"No," she said with a voice stronger than she felt. "Not yet."
The longer they lay there, the more present she felt. However, she could tell that however Harry had managed to keep control all this time was beginning to fade quickly.
His breath became ragged, and his heart rate increased beneath her hand.
"I'm not sorry," he ground out, his teeth clenched.
"I know," she said soothingly, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "I'm not sorry either."
"He was...his hand was...and…he was touching you and...I heard what he said." He buried his face in her neck, and the fingers around her waist were almost painful.
She held him and stroked his head, just as he had done for her.
"I didn't even think, Hermione...I just did it. And I'm not sorry."
"I know you're not, and that's ok, Harry. He was a horrible man doing a horrible thing. You saved me," she told him, and she told him what seemed like one hundred more times before he finally lifted his head and looked at her.
"I need you to be safe, `Mione. I need it." His voice broke with conviction and she tried to get closer to him.
"I'm with you. I'm safe," she promised, pressing her forehead into his. She grabbed his hand in hers and laid it very purposely on her thigh where her holster had been.
His hand was stiff and very still, and it looked as if he was holding his breath.
"It's okay," she assured him, running a hand along his jaw, and down his neck. "It's okay."
He didn't respond immediately, but after she leaned in and pressed her lips to his she felt the slightest movement in his fingers. She kissed him again, and very slowly he kissed her back.
Then, it was as if a dam had burst. In a blink she found herself on her back, Harry's mouth fused to hers, with the hand on her thigh no longer still. His lips were everywhere. Every scar, old and new, he covered.
Her fingers were clutched in his hair when he suddenly froze, and scrambled back from her.
"I'm sorry. Oh, gods, `Mione. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." He looked ashamed and disgusted with himself and wouldn't look at her.
"Harry!" she said sharply, and rose to her knees in front of him. He was frozen as she leaned in and picked his hands up to place them at her waist. She pressed her head into his shoulder. "I need you," she exhaled.
"Are you sure? I don't want to..."
"I'm sure," she said with conviction. She needed him to erase Lazlo's touch from her skin.
His first kiss was hesitant, but as she returned it he raised a hand to her face, tracing her cheekbone, and the shell of her ear before deepening the contact. As his lips trailed down her neck she heard him murmuring and was able to make out, "I'm sorry," over and over again. He was still repeating this mantra as he laid her down slowly and made her forget about her pain, and that night, and everything that had happened.