Author's notes: IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT :p I changed Yatyel's name to Ivan. One of my Russian readers pointed out that Yatyel is not a Russian name; that it sounded like it was Polish. To make up for my idiocy, I have taken a safe Russian name. Ivan is also the name of my husband. He's delighted that I used his name in one of my stories, mainly because he knows I avoid those insertion thingies like the plague and that I only did it now because it was him. He's not Russian, though. The only thing Russian about Ivan Alexander is his penchant to bring my father his favorite vodka, which is why daddy loves him.
A surprise awaits us in this chapter and it's about Ron.
Thanks to Lady Diamond who beta-read this chapter and the next one in record time! (I sent her both chapters in quick succession.)
Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter Rating: R
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Chapter Sixteenth: Found
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Tonks simply refused to let him go alone. She was, in fact, standing in the middle of the men's locker room as he armed himself.
Harry sighed as he strapped his sword to his back and various other weapons to his body. "Look, I could've snuck out on you, but I didn't. I chose to let you know that I've got something to do and this is how you repay me?"
Hands to her hips, she was not amused. "Harry Potter, if you don't tell me where you're going right now, I'm going to tell Molly Weasley that you lied about trying to get Cho Chang back after she dumped you!"
"What! You wouldn't!"
"Watch me, Potter!"
No self-respecting adult man wanted to get it from Molly Weasley when she got it into her head to make his love life her business. Tonks wasn't playing fair.
"Well, you lied to her about making that cake! I know you didn't make it. You bought it and pretended it was home made!" Harry shot back.
Tonks gave him a smug smile. "Go ahead. Tell her. She didn't believe me when I said I made it, anyway."
He stood there, quite undecided. He used the last weapon in his footlocker: He channeled the Boy from the Cupboard Under the Stairs and stood shuffling uncertainly as he pleaded her with his brilliant green eyes. Without his auror robes, he looked like a muggle messenger boy with scruffy jeans and a rumpled buttoned blouse. His trainers were looking a bit worse for wear and the shirt underneath his blouse had a horrified cow on it that said, "Hamburgers are made of WHAT?!?" Honestly, if he weren't so good at his job, Shacklebolt would get on his case about his hopelessly unprofessional couture.
It was working. "Don't look at me like that," Tonks said sternly. "How in hell did you convince Finnigan to let you go by yourself, anyway? I thought the fool was your partner?"
Harry shrugged one shoulder, maintaining the pitiful look on him. Really, he was quite expert at this. "Didn't tell him. Told him I was going home," he muttered.
Tonks stared at him another moment before sighing and throwing her hands up. She was broken.
Harry grinned.
"Alright," said Tonks. "I won't involve Molly in this, but you must understand why I worry about you. Don't do this to me, Harry. If something happens to you, Ron and Remus will never forgive me. Please."
He sighed and ran his hand through his unruly hair. "I'm not even sure what this is. The thing is, if I drag you into this and something happens to you… Tonks, I simply can't face Remus-"
"Then take someone. Take Seamus. Or take Ron. Just don't go alone!"
"I have to do this alone. Give me a tracing charm, then. I'll activate it when I'm in the kind of trouble I can't handle by myself."
"Oh, wonderful, Harry. By the time we get there, you might be dead."
"It's that or nothing."
Tonks cursed and dug into her purse for a tracing charm. She brought out a tube of lipstick and presented it to him.
Harry stared at it for a few seconds. "Is it at least my shade?"
"It's all I have on me right now. Be a man and take it!"
"Fine." Harry took the lipstick and stuck it into his jean pocket.
"It's Mystic Plum."
He ignored her parting shot. He just knew she was punishing him for not telling her. She probably had a comb, or at least a hairpin in her huge purse, that served as tracking charms, but she gave him the lipstick so that when they found his dead body, the examiner would fish the lipstick from his jeans pocket and think Harry Potter led a double life as a big, bad auror by reputation and a man who liked wearing make-up in secret.
Shrugging on his coat, his weapons were instantly concealed. Grabbing his ski hat, he slammed his locker shut and headed out.
"Be careful," said Tonks.
"How do you cast a patronus, again?"
"Shut up, Potter. Don't get killed."
Chuckling, Harry left her in the boys' locker room.
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The letter had been signed in Yasmin's beautiful curving script, though he'd never seen her handwriting before. The note was more… flirty than instructional, but he supposed he'd be more suspicious if the letter wasn't playful and coquettish.
~~
Dear Mr. Potter,
It has come to my attention that you tasked your funny little elf to deliver a message to me, a message that the owner of Gossips decided to deliver himself when he confiscated it from the poor thing. It's the most amusing thing I've read in ages, and ordinarily, I would have just kept the letter in storage for future use: in case I need something to laugh at on a bad day, but I find you terribly endearing-adorable, really. Your letter made me feel all ticklish and delighted, especially when you said that I'm the only hope you have. You flatter me with your awe. And I do thank you for your sincere condolences. Rashad and Abraham were MINE. That someone dared take them from me breaks my heart still, so yes, breaking THOSE who took them was quite orgasmic. And since you asked so nicely, you precious man, you, I will most certainly explore this proposal of yours. I am most intrigued. And I want to know what you can do for ME, Mr. Potter.
Go ahead. Give it your best shot. I want you to.
Be at 18 Dublin Avenue, London, WC2E 8DY, midnight, 9th of October. Come alone or the deal is off.
Ciao, baby. I know you won't disappoint.
Sincerely,
Yasmin ibna Omar al-Khwarizm
Cover Master and Keeper of the Blood
~~
He recalled the first time he ever saw Yasmin ibna Omar; those fabulous legs; the lovely behind and of course, those unbelievably perfect breasts. It was like some angel from hell had come to deliver them from death to the damnation of life. Of course, when Hermione's voice had cut through his daze with an amazingly vicious, "Took you long enough!" he realized with great astonishment that Hermione knew the woman and expected her to be there.
Harry hadn't thought to ask questions. All he knew was Hermione had managed to get them out of trouble by summoning her secret vampire friends, and all admiration he had for Yasmin's curves disappeared at the shock that the woman he loved had managed to meet a bunch of dangerous vampires without him knowing it.
The bitter memory of that fight in the forest gave him a dull ache in his heart. Sometimes, when he was feeling extra miserable, he asked himself whether Hermione would have decided to stay if they hadn't been fighting previously. Of course, he knew that fight had very little to do with Hermione's decision to leave, but when one was wallowing in self-pity, it was easy to get carried away with one's memories. Still, he wished they hadn't been fighting before she left. He wished he could exchange every angry word he yelled at her with those wonderfully consuming kisses they shared, so then those would have been the last memories of him she would have taken with her, and maybe she wouldn't have been able to stay away for so long.
He looked at the parchment in his hand then took stock of his current location. He had the address right.
The painful familiarity of the ten-story structure almost made him laugh. Of course this was where Yasmin wanted to meet him. She was notorious for her dramatic flair.
It was Cicero's office building, or used to be, at least. Five years ago, it was gutted and covered in soot, ruined by fire. It was an unsolved arson and murder case, of course, and the only evidence that Cicero was killed at all was Cicero's head mounted on the sword of the warrior statue decorating the building's façade. To say that the evidence of his death was overwhelming was a gross understatement.
The building was now condemned and no one really knew how to get rid of it. Cicero's living relatives were still fighting over the rest of his money, mainly because they hadn't even known they were related to someone like Cicero. A mesh fence surrounded it to keep people from wandering into the structure and hurting themselves, but tonight, the gates were swung wide open. He was being welcomed.
The anti-apparition wards were palpable. They were the same ones Cicero had up when he was still using the building. Harry supposed it came with the property.
Dublin Avenue was a busy street during the day, but at night it was eerily quiet.
Great. No witnesses.
Harry was well aware that this may be a trap, which was another reason why he didn't want to put anyone else at risk. When it came down to it, he could take care of himself, and it was so much easier to survive when he only had himself to worry about.
He looked up and saw that the moon was full. Somehow, that didn't bode well.
Harry had just crossed the street to the abandoned office building when a figure moved from within the shadows of the gutted lobby. He froze, waiting for who or what would emerge.
He saw the beastly yellow eyes and knew what saw out of it.
The werewolf was one of the biggest he'd ever seen. Broad shouldered and muscled, its spindly hair was thick and luxuriant.
Harry swiped out his crossbow, cocked it and took aim. Threatening as the beast was, he wasn't about to shoot impulsively. All werewolves were dangerous, but not all of them meant harm.
The werewolf growled as he slowly stalked Harry.
"Down boy…" he said softly, bracing himself.
Another werewolf emerged from Harry's left, his size and mane just as magnificent as his pack-buddy's.
Harry pulled out his sword while maintaining his aim with his crossbow. His wand wasn't going to be of much use to him in this situation. Worse came to worse, he can cast some spells without a wand, anyway. "I'm thinking you pooches aren't here to welcome me," he said.
A third and fourth werewolf appeared at Harry's far right.
Shite. He might have been able to handle three, but four was cutting it.
There were suddenly five werewolves and they were all advancing in on him from all sides. He was getting the distinct feeling that they weren't there to make friends.
You're a genius, Potter. Twenty points for Gryffindor.
Harry sighed. "Let me guess, none of you got the memo about playing fair." It was moments like these when he somewhat understood where Draco found the stomach to be a smart-ass in the worse of circumstances. When one was caught in a bad situation, being snarky was about all a person had left.
Take one down right between the eyes then take care of the other four from there.
Oh, sure, Potter. Because you're such a hotshot auror, you can handle 'em.
Shut up. This is no time to be sarcastic.
He was just about to take a shot at one of the wolves and hope he was fast enough to defend himself from the others when a shrill whistle pierced the night air.
It came from above and every single gaze swept up to look. Above them, just slightly within the gaping hole punched through the façade of the fifth floor, stood three indiscernible figures, the darkness cloaking their features.
"What say we even the odds a bit?" cried a voice Harry didn't recognize in the least.
It belonged to a man who sounded like he was enjoying himself immensely. Harry wished he could share in this enthusiasm.
The werewolves were not pleased. All five of them roared in outrage, turning their backs on Harry as if he wasn't a threat at all.
Harry frowned. He hadn't liked the idea of five against one, but there was no need to be disrespectful!
The figures stepped into the light of the pale moon and Harry couldn't help but gape at the sight.
He couldn't make out the details of her features from his vantage point on the ground; couldn't tell if there had been any outward changes, but there was no doubt about it. It was her. It was Hermione, and so many emotions came rushing through him that he couldn't tell exactly what he was feeling.
~~
Toast was bland without butter but there was very little point in enjoying anything right now. He just needed to eat something, he supposed. People needed to do that to survive.
He could feel all their eyes on him. He wondered which one of them would speak to him first.
"Erm… Harry?"
It was Ron.
Harry lifted his eyes to him but said nothing.
Ron fidgeted and Tonks, who sat beside him, nudged him with her elbow. Remus gave a barely discernible sigh.
"I'm going to Diagon Alley today," said Ron. "Care to come with?"
Come with?
It was all so very pointless.
Harry didn't reply and went back to eating his tasteless toast.
Again they nudged elbows.
Remus cleared his throat. "Harry, we're just worried about you, you understand. You haven't said a thing in a week. I think in this situation, talking about it would help."
Talking about it? What's the point of talking about it? Will it make her come back? Would I be able to see her again?
There was no point.
Harry rose from his seat, taking his plate with him as he tossed the remainder of his toast in the trash. Without a word, he went to the sink, washed his plate and put it on the tray to dry.
He left them in the kitchen and headed to the library. He wasn't going to speak to anyone ever again. Talking hadn't kept her from leaving. Talk-in fact-led to fighting and hurt feelings and break ups. It was better when they weren't talking. When their hands and lips and bodies said things for them. All was perfect then. Now it was all fucked up.
He was done with talking.
Talking was absolutely pointless.
~~
Of course, he eventually did begin to talk again. Two and a half weeks through his vow of silence, Draco decided that Mute!Harry was much more boring than Talking!Harry.
Draco's strategy was quite simple. He had said, "I spoke to her before she left."
Nothing-absolutely nothing could have given Harry enough strength to resist. He had paused, gave it a moment's thought and spoke. "What did she say?"
And that was it. Draco had told him a slew of stupid things, equal parts fact and equal parts Draco-commentary. Harry couldn't remember ever being less enraged with Draco, and when Harry told him to shut up or else, Draco had called him a cupboard-raised-bitch-whipped-four-eyed-glory-whore. Harry didn't even know how Draco found out about the cupboard, but the insult was a Draco-original, tailor made to summon whatever monster Harry had residing in his chest. Harry shot back with something along the lines of unloved-little-ferret-who-bought-friends-and-whose-mother-wanked-Voldemort-off.
Naturally, it was Draco who threw the first punch. In retrospect, Harry thought that he should've left Draco's mother out of it. It had been despicable of him to say that. Even Draco had the decency to keep Lily Potter out of the fight, but Draco had-as per usual-brought out the worse in him. So when Draco landed that swing on Harry's jaw, Harry indeed felt the need to retaliate.
It was an honest-to-goodness fist fight and poor Draco was terribly outclassed in strength, skill and weight, but Draco, when he applied himself, could hit back pretty well, even when he was getting beaten to a pulp. If Ron and Tonks hadn't caught them at it, Draco might never have gotten the shattered bones on his face put back to normal.
To this day, Harry hated to admit that it was Draco who knocked him out of his downward spiral.
~~
Harry stared up at Hermione with his thoughts and emotions jumbling without rhyme or reason. He couldn't think. He couldn't act. She had the power to destroy him, just as much as she had to power to make him come back to life.
Five years and all he could think of right now was that she was standing on the edge of a ledge, and she looked like she was ready to jump.
Oh, God, she's going to hurt herself. She's going to-
She stepped off and he didn't know just how the scream building in his throat hadn't crawled right out of him.
Hermione plummeted to the ground, feet first, arms lifted as if preparing to fly.
Harry expected her to crumple to the pavement, legs shattered while her screams of pain filled the night, but when she reached the ground, she landed gracefully, on her feet, knees bending a bit to absorb the impact while the dust of five years rose around her in puffs. With her feet planted firmly on the ground, she began to advance towards the werewolves without losing stride in the least.
He could only watch her with hypnotized fascination, barely noticing the two figures flanking her.
The werewolves did not stand around to wait. Throwing their heads back, they howled just before hunching over and seemed to grow bigger.
Harry had never seen that before.
The five werewolves closed in on Hermione and her two companions.
In a blink of an eye, the two men flanking her were gone; the clash of vampires and werewolves on both sides shattering the stillness of the moment a heartbeat later.
Harry had to dodge and throw spells to deflect the debris that flew in his direction. He cursed and was completely aware of the fact that three werewolves were still heading right for Hermione.
She didn't look like she was going to back down.
Echoes of Ron's favorite tirade bounced through his head: You're MENTAL!
And-oh, God-she had to be! She couldn't possibly take on three of them. Not Hermione. She thought Quidditch was silly, and she had often said that a quill was mightier than a sword, or something like that.
Throwing a shielding spell over himself, he cut through the melee and rushed to get to her.
The werewolves were upon her and the lead pulled back his massive, razor-sharp paw.
The roars that escaped them drowned Harry's yells of warning.
But in the next heartbeat, Hermione was gone. Claws fell, jaws snapped.
She just wasn't there.
And then she was.
Harry fell back in surprise as she rematerialized, or maybe reappeared-he wasn't sure-in front of him and several feet behind the werewolves.
Their gazes met, emotions flaring between them in that split heartbeat just before she turned to face the beasts, pulling out guns from within her coat and aiming at the two werewolves who had double-backed to come at her.
The sound of weapons fire exploded and the quick whimper of werewolf spiked through it. Two werewolves dropped, blood pooling beneath them on the loose dirt. One was instantly dead with two silver bullets in his brain and the other stumbled to the ground with blown kneecaps. He wasn't getting up to attack anytime soon.
Harry felt like he had stumbled into an alternate universe but knew he had very little time to mull over the details, particularly the one where Hermione had guns and was really good at using them, not to mention the fact that the guns weren't going haywire with all the magic it was swimming in.
There was no time to think, period, because the third werewolf had gone around and was well on his way into attacking them from behind.
Harry had no time to take aim and fire an arrow. Werewolves, while not as fast as vampires, were still three times as fast as humans. The best way to get them was to first slow them down.
He flipped a vial of liquid silver upward and cast a quick spell that exploded it into the air.
The silver spray caught the werewolf in the eyes and it roared in agony.
Harry pulled his sword, sliding himself behind the werewolf and plunging the sword into the werewolf's side. He felt the resistance of rib-bone and he heaved harder. It sank right in. He ducked to avoid the werewolf's claws, rolling into a crouch to get behind it. He fired an arrow from his crossbow and its swift silver tip sank right into the werewolf's spine.
The werewolf gave a gargled roar just before it flailed at him one last time.
He could hardly believe the thing was still alive as he tried to dodge the blow.
Fucking hell, die already!
Harry felt the glancing blow of the werewolf's backhand right on his face. Even deflected, a werewolf's swinging arm had incredible strength and as Harry stumbled to the ground, silver stars burst in his vision.
A body fell right on top of him. It wasn't moving but it weighed a ton. Breathing would be difficult, but at the moment, he was too dazed to care.
Nice show, Potter. Ready to take on four, you say? Right.
Well, how the hell was I supposed to know they were on steroids?
When they grew right before your eyes, stupid.
Harry sighed, exasperated with himself.
Several heartbeats later, his vision began to clear. His glasses were still on him. Thank Merlin for sticking spells. His ear was still ringing, and there was, indeed, a dead werewolf on top of him. He could see the hilt of his sword sticking out from its side and its blood was already beginning to ooze out of its mouth. The butt of the arrow was a little further down, but Harry knew it was there. He was a good shot.
Now, if only I can get this thing off me… sometime in the next century would be nice.
He pushed, using some of his magic to lighten the burden. It budged.
Moments later, the weight was lifted off him by an unexpected force and he was staring up at the vampiric face of a beautiful man with long, platinum blonde hair. He had a smile that looked like the cat's that just brought in a very fat, sumptuous mouse.
"Hello," said the man. It was the same voice that had called down from the fifth floor. "Well, you look a bit peaky. Have you been eating your vegetables?"
Another face appeared. His smooth chocolate colored skin and amber eyes were terribly exotic. His short, dreadlocked hair framed his attractive face. "Oy, you took a bad hit there, mate. Are you alright?"
He really did sound concerned. Harry had to wonder where these vampires came from. Vampires who put others ahead of themselves were definitely not commonplace.
"Get out of my way," came an urgent voice from beyond them. "Could you please let me through? I have to see if he's alright. Thank you!"
It was a voice he knew well; had heard it in his sleep so often that it had broken his heart in dreams more times than anyone could imagine.
She was like a beautiful apparition in the night. Her glossy brown hair longer, more luxuriant; he longed to run his fingers through them. Her honey brown eyes and red lips were as mesmerizing as ever and God, she smelled great. Like lilies and sweet pea.
She wore leather. He could see swathes of lace, too… and such lovely cleavage.
I've died. And I've gone to heaven. It has to be that.
She bent over him, her gentle hands running over the side of his face, mostly where it was going numb.
"H-Hermione?" he said. Oh my God. I'm speaking to her. She's… she's touching me… and she's… oh, Merlin, is she worried about me?
Her gaze met his and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to kiss him. If she didn't in the next second, he would.
But then she turned his face to the side, her soft touch searching.
He felt the iciness of her fingers. He had forgotten how cold her skin could be.
Her hands traveled to his shoulders and arms, and if she didn't stop that, he was afraid he was going to have a very embarrassing reaction soon.
That's me. Harry the Boy Scout. Always prepared.
But then the gentleness in her gaze froze over, as if suddenly, she could care less about him. "His face is going to bruise," she said. "But there's no broken skin. The lycan didn't seem to scratch him anywhere. He'll be fine."
Her touch was gone, and through his sheer need to feel her again, he struggled to get up after her. It was more difficult than he thought. One side of his head was throbbing.
"Help him up, Solomon," she said, walking off.
Solomon was the one with the dreadlocks, and Harry felt the firm grip on his arm. He was brought to his feet quite easily.
Harry took a moment to steady himself, straightening his glasses. His face felt like someone had whacked it with a paddle.
The platinum blonde, tall, svelte and pretty, was chuckling. "Those moves were wicked, for a human. Should've expected it, though. How many vampires have you killed? Six, was it? Good numbers for a scrawny guy such as yourself."
Harry frowned. Scrawny! "Mr. Robust talking, here."
"Oy!"
"Leave him alone, Lucien," Solomon said as he looked to Harry. "Seriously, are you alright? Those were morphmagi werewolves. They're rare and as tough as fuck. If one of them gets a hit in… it's not the best feeling in the world."
"Yeah, I figured that," Harry muttered, his attention gravitating towards Hermione. Blinking away the vertigo, he stared at her. It could have been the five years he hadn't seen her, but those leather pants really did wonderful things to her figure. Allan wasn't kidding when he said she looked good.
Sod "good". She's abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. Like she bathed in a tub of sexy just before she dabbed on some worship-the-ground-I-walk-on perfume.
She had a sword diagonally strapped to her back. He wondered if she knew how to use it.
No, Harry, she only carries it around as a fashion accessory. Of course she knows how!
So… how well does she handle this sword?
DON'T go there.
Harry shook himself out of the haze.
"What is up with those glasses?" asked the one called Lucien, breaking into his reverie. "I'm sorry, but they are not working for me. There's retro chic and there's retro geek. Three guesses where I think those glasses belong."
Harry wasn't going to stand around and take it. The thing about being on the Order's governing board and being an auror was one grew tough, whether or not it was in his nature to do so.
"Fuck off." He left Lucien gaping. Harry had more important things to talk about than fashion.
"Well, that wasn't very nice," Harry heard Lucien muttering.
Hermione was crouched beside the werewolf with the shattered kneecaps. She was-to Harry's great astonishment-petting it.
The weakened werewolf could only growl softly in protest.
Harry watched the scene with curious fascination.
"Frekki Liam," she said softly. "The bullets in your knees are silver. I'm afraid your knees will never be the same after this. I leave the choice to you. Do you desire to live? Or do you prefer death?"
Frekki? Harry thought, shocked. They sent a beta male to do me in?
The werewolf growled a bit more before replying with his thick Scottish accent. "Pack kills the weak…"
Hermione ran her finger gently through his grey hair. "Yes, they do. But you don't have to go back to your pack."
"Pack is everything. I choose death."
"Death is the end."
"I choose death."
Hermione paused then nodded. "I will give you death if you tell me who the mole is."
"That is information even Ulfric Tiernin isna privy to."
"Then who told you to come here?"
"Bellatrix…"
A small, amused smile lifted the corners of her lips. "Good ol' Bellatrix Lestrange."
Yeah, thought Harry disdainfully. She's a real sweetheart.
"Is that all you know?" Hermione asked, staring intently into the werewolf's eyes.
"That is all I ken."
"Did you come here to kill Harry Potter?"
The werewolf was quiet for a moment. "No."
"Were you ordered to kill me?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for your honesty, frekki." She straightened to her feet and looked to Lucien. "Kill him."
Harry's breath caught. There was no regret in her voice. No compassion. Just the cold, definitive order to have Liam's life taken.
Lucien frowned. "B-But his blood will get on my shirt-"
Hermione merely stared back at him, her beautiful face a dead calm. She didn't seem to have to say anything. Lucien understood her completely.
Lucien cursed and pulled out the sword strapped to his hip. With one swift motion, he turned his sword and sliced it through Liam's neck. The frekki's head rolled back. Blood spurted and true enough, it got on Lucien's immaculate white shirt.
"Son of a BITCH!" he wailed. He spewed several other profanities to no one in particular, injecting something about Armani.
Solomon sighed in exasperation. "Now he'll never shut up."
"I got this shirt right off the runway from the very model wearing it!" Lucien cried.
"Is he still alive?" Hermione asked with the tiniest hint of a smirk.
Lucien glared at her. "I didn't kill him, alright?"
Solomon grinned. "Is he still of the male persuasion?"
"I didn't fuck him, either. And just so we're clear, I'm mostly heterosexual. I only like men every fifty years or so, when shagging women gets old."
"Or goes out of style," added Hermione with affected gravity. "Like platform shoes."
"There she goes again," Lucien muttered. "Mocking me. I have feelings, too, you know."
"What do we do with the bodies, Hermione?" Solomon asked, gesturing to the carnage around them.
The other werewolves were already returning to their human forms. Liam would be a while yet.
"Leave them," Hermione said. "Yasmin would love the drama of it. Five werewolves dead on Cicero's property."
"Sheer poetry," agreed Solomon.
"Harry, you might want to get your sword back. It's a good sword."
It was only then Harry found the sense to speak. Mechanically, he retrieved his sword as he began to speak. "Hermione-"
"Yasmin summoned you here, I know," she said, nodding to Solomon aside.
It wasn't what Harry was going to tell her, but Solomon vanished and that distracted Harry enough to miss his place in the conversation.
"I'm sorry if she used you," Hermione continued. "She does that a lot. It gets annoying, but hey."
Harry blinked. He was only beginning to wrap his mind around this situation and again Hermione was jumbling his thoughts. He shook the blood off his sword before wiping it clean with a scrap of cloth he had found on the ground. "Umm… used me…?"
Hermione shrugged, walking towards the gates of the property. "She could have just told me to meet you at Grimmauld Place, but she dragged you out here as bait. She wanted to find out if there was a mole in the Coven. She sent you her instructions, and of course you'd show up. If the enemy showed up too, that meant someone from the Coven-someone high up, is spying for the enemy. So… you've served your purpose. Now Yasmin just has to find out who this mole is."
Harry didn't know what to say.
"I-" She hesitated.
Harry waited, detecting something powerfully familiar in her cold eyes.
The familiar gleam washed away and she went on. "I was still sent to see you, though, to talk about your proposal. Shall we do it at your place or mine?"
He blinked, the phrasing catching him off guard. "Excuse me?"
She might have smiled, but it was so quick he couldn't be sure. "Where do you want to talk? About the proposal?"
Oh. He seriously had to get his mind out of the gutter. It was proving immensely difficult, though. With her looking so fine and throwing out suggestive phrases like that… she had to have been teasing, wasn't she? She had to know what she was doing to him.
The question was: Did it mean anything to her at all? Maybe she was just toying with him. Could she be so cruel?
Damn mind games…
Except for the way she had touched him while his ear buzzed from Frekki Liam's backhand, he hadn't felt any warmth from her at all. If he didn't have so much history with her, she might have been a complete stranger.
"G-Grimmauld Place is fine," he grumbled, sheathing his blade. "If you don't mind me asking… where have you been staying?"
A tiny, mischievous smirk turned up the corners of her lips. "My parents' house."
Harry stared at her incredulously. Her parents' house.
Her. Parents'. House.
"I'm an idiot," he hissed under his breath. "Argh!" He kicked a nearby swathe of aluminum, which made a satisfyingly loud sound, and berated himself with a slew of colorful words.
Lucien cackled. "Clever, isn't she? Makes you feel stupid, doesn't it?"
The vampire was really beginning to get on Harry's nerves. "Shut up! I'm not talking to you," he spat before going back to his tirade.
"Bugger me, what a grouch!" Lucien cried. "I swear he's being so mean to me!"
"Hush, Lucien," she said gently.
Harry couldn't help but glare at them both. How could she address this vampire with such tenderness and treat him, Harry-the one she supposedly loved so passionately before if not anymore-so coldly? Who were these blokes, anyway? He should've heard about them. He should've known about them, but he hadn't expected them in the least.
Were they her Blood Kin?
Harry couldn't help it. His jealousy spiked. If they were her Blood Kin, they were sharing her blood, and he found that he couldn't bear the thought.
God. I'm jealous. I'm still jealous. I'm… GODDAMN IT!
He was still in love with her. He was still so in love with her. It mingled with his anger, his hurt, his need to get answers for the millions of questions he had formulated for her over the years, but above all, his longing for all of her-his whispered name from her lips, the touch of her hands, her smile, her body-was almost more than he could stand.
In the course of five years, he had sometimes dared to refer to his feelings for her as love. Sometimes obsession, but no matter how many times he thought of it that way, he was WHOLLY unprepared to feel the full effect of these emotions. To have her standing in front of him and to have him feeling things for her again was almost crippling. His thoughts were scattering already. He could feel the irrational tendencies niggling at his reason.
He stood there, shaking. Was it possible for a man to be so consumed by the mere proximity of the woman he had never stopped loving?
Her gaze caught his. He could almost see the impenetrable wall she had raised. If he could, he would've banged his head against it repeatedly.
A car pulled up on the curb. It was a four-door Jaguar and Solomon was in the driver's seat.
"Let's go," said Hermione.
Harry hadn't ridden a car in years. It was surreal. "You came here in a car?"
Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. "Did you think we turn into bats to get from one place to another?"
When she put it that way it sounded silly. "N-No. Of course not."
Lucien laughed and got into the left passenger side.
Hermione opened the door to the back. "Well, come on, then. You might as well ride with us. Apparating's no fun when everyone else can't manage it."
He hesitated. Technically, he should be reporting this entire incident to his department, but there were factors to consider, like keeping a low profile about Hermione's existence. In spite of Hermione's enigmatic reputation with the vampires, there were very few humans who knew that she was still alive, not to mention the fact that Harry's role in vampire society was still "classified" Order information.
There was little to gain from having the entire area swarming with aurors. He would report this night's events to the Order. The ministry could know about it later.
Harry followed after Hermione.
She slid further into the car to give him space. The inside of the Jag was luxuriant with soft black leather seating. It had enough space for both of them to sit and not touch, which was just fine with Harry for the meantime. He was still contending with his burgeoning feelings of desire. Last thing he needed was to make an ass of himself and jump her.
Settling himself on the seat, he closed them in. With everyone settled, Solomon began to drive.
Lucien looked over his shoulder at them and grinned. "I prepared a mixed disc for this occasion." He waved a shiny compact disc and popped it into the player.
The song Ex-Boyfriend by a group called Three Witches began to play.
Harry was definitely not liking this Lucien character.
Hermione gave a tolerant sigh as she turned her gaze to her window. The uppity beat of music and lyrics blared in the car.
~~
Boy, we really had what it took
But then life was a bitch
Closed the chapter in that book
Of the broken hearted witch
~~
Harry gritted his teeth. "Wonderful."
"It's a good song," said Lucien. "Wait 'til you hear the next one!"
The "next one" was When You Walked Away by the wizard boy-band Tyrell's Spell:
~~
Turned your back on me
Had no words to say
It just hurt so much
When you walked away…
~~
And Harry thought life had been cruel before. He didn't know what made it worse, the adolescent voice singing the chorus or the fact that he was a captive audience.
Solomon sighed but said nothing.
It was pop song after pop song of their tragic past all throughout the trip. Harry didn't know if it was Hermione's complete non-reaction that bothered him or whether it was the songs themselves.
One thing was certain, he wanted to whip out his sword and bring it to Lucien's neck.
It was the longest twenty minutes of Harry's life.
They pulled up the wrong street and Solomon scratched his head. "I could've sworn…"
"It's not your fault," Hermione said flatly. "The house probably has a new Fidelius Charm."
She really was unbelievably clever.
She finally looked at him. "Harry?"
He nodded. Under his direction, they were able to pull up the correct street. He had Solomon park the car up the front curb.
After Solomon cut off the engine, the two vampires up front turned to look at her, as if to await instructions.
"Wait here," she told them.
They nodded without protest and settled comfortably in their seats, as if they were ready to wait it out the entire night.
Harry expelled a breath softly. So it was true. Hermione was their alpha.
In retrospect, it wasn't all that surprising that she was. She had always shown an inclination to take charge, even if she used to say that she never stepped up when the need arose.
After they exited the car, he couldn't resist engaging her in small talk. To Harry, it was ineffably wrong that he was engaging Hermione in such niceties. Once upon a time, they were more than this, but if she wanted to play mind games, then he'd indulge her for the meantime. "So, Hermione, how are you these days?"
She seemed to have been caught off-guard because she looked at him with apparent shock. She didn't seem to think they were the small-talking types, either.
He pretended not to notice and nonchalantly led them up to the house.
Finally, she replied. "As well as could be expected."
"Good. I spoke to Allan the other day. He said he saw you in Gossips. It's an interesting place. You go there often?"
"Not often at all. It was my first time then and it's likely I won't go back. Too crowded."
"I'm not one for the club scene, myself. It's pointless, I think."
"Yes, it is. I only went there because Lucien wanted to go, and Solomon only went because I did."
Harry took full-advantage of this new opening. "So Lucien and Solomon… are they your Blood Kin?"
She stared at him for a heartbeat. "No. They're willing to be, but I'm not ready for that, and I think they shouldn't aspire to bind themselves to me like that. I'm only five years old, for God's sake."
"You're the Queen of the Vampires' first pick. I think they know what they're doing."
"Still. Lucien's more than a hundred fifty years old. Don't you think it's silly he'd want to become the Blood Kin of someone as young as I am?"
"Silly? Not at all. I think it would be an honor to be your Blood Kin."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously. He wasn't surprised. There was something very much packaged about what he said.
He continued. "So if not Blood Kin, they're your Shadow Kin, then?"
"That's what they call themselves," Hermione said cautiously.
"A vampire's loyalty is no easy thing to come by." He led both of them into the house and they walked the long hallways.
He said nothing after that, implying that it was her turn to ask him how he was. She bit.
"And how about you, Harry? How are you doing?"
He went right in for the kill. "I'm utterly miserable. Mainly your fault, but I manage."
She stopped in her tracks to stare at him. He stared back without a hint of a smile.
"Harry-"
"But we can talk about that later," he interrupted. "I have loads of other questions for you. For instance, where have you been? Why did you abandon me? And what's the big idea about leaving without so much as a face-to-face goodbye? Your letter was a total cop-out. I didn't appreciate it in the least."
A tiny frown tightened her lips into a line. "I apologize, but it was the only way."
Harry was only mildly surprised by the formality of her delivery. "Well, that explains everything, doesn't it? I s'pose I should forgive you." His sarcasm was not lost on her.
The lines disappeared from her face and returned to that dead, unaffected calm. "Huh. You shouldn't have to do anything for me that you don't want to do, Harry, even if you think you have to do it. That was the whole point of my leaving, so that you didn't have to put up with me."
He could hardly believe his ears. Were they back to that? Well, obviously! But much, much worse off than they ever were before. At least then she loved him. "Haven't progressed much since last we talked, have we?"
"No, Harry. I never expected we would. What I had wished was that you had progressed to other things. Other people. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
He smirked sardonically. "By other people, you mean other women."
"Well, what the hell else did you think I meant? You could have progressed to other men, if you so desired. So long as you progressed from me."
It then occurred to Harry just what she was doing. "I can't believe it. You haven't changed a bit! You're using the same technique!"
"Technique?"
"Misdirection! When you don't want to answer my questions, you change the subject! Well, that's just brilliant, innit!"
Color rose in her cheeks. It was the most Harry had gotten out of her all night. Never mind that he had to rile her up to get it. One did what had to be done.
"Look," she hissed. "I didn't come back to London to talk about what happened back then-"
"To us?" He could see her jaw tightening with annoyance.
"Yes," she finally spat out. "As the song says, it's a closed chapter in our book-"
"Your book. The song was about the girl talking about her ex-boyfriend, remember?"
She turned even redder. Oh, but she did look lovely when she was furious.
"Whatever!" she growled. "If Yasmin hadn't ordered me, I wouldn't have come back. I was hoping five years was enough for both of us to get past the history and actually get some important work done. I'm here to discuss the merits of the Coven collaborating with the Order of the Phoenix against the vampire-separatists joining Vol-"
Past the history! I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that! "And do you always do what Yasmin says?"
She stopped speaking, and the vampiric rings forming in her eyes were the only indication of her indignation. Harry thought she was going to spring him. He almost wished she would, but then her shoulders eased, the angry tension disappearing completely. She was back to her impassive self again.
Damn.
"So far, yes," she replied calmly. "She hasn't asked me to do anything I didn't agree with."
"And how about Bobbin and Leonard? Did you agree that they deserved to get tortured before they were cut to pieces?" He couldn't help himself. He bluffed, because he had to know. He had to find out if she was so far gone that he wouldn't be able to reach her.
She met his hard gaze, letting his words sink in before she replied. "I didn't torture them. Yasmin did that herself. She wanted to do it. Rashad and Abraham were hers, and believe it or not, she loved them. She needed revenge. And just so you know, if she asked me to do it, I would have refused. I know that's what I would've done, because I killed them myself. I brought them to Yasmin, so it was my responsibility to deliver them from her. I couldn't stand their suffering anymore than they could, and there was mercy only in death."
Harry trembled from the conviction in her tone. She killed them.
"But be that as it may," she continued in that same, emotionless tone. "You might see things as black and white, Harry. That's your nature, but in the last five years, I've had to live as a vampire, and in my world, everything's almost always gray."
The cold shock of her tone; of her words, struck him. She had misunderstood his intentions. Or had she? Maybe he had been ready to judge her, even as he stood there, six vampire deaths to his name, even more with werewolves and Death Eaters. He had called it self-defense; survival, but his reasons hardly mattered to the ones he'd slain. They were still dead through no desire of their own. If in a situation where it would matter to the other person; if that person asked him-begged him-to perform the ultimate act of mercy, would it be principle that drove him to refuse? It seemed like hypocrisy to say so, since he had already taken lives with split-second decisiveness. He might refuse a man's wish to die, simply because he didn't have the strength to do it. It took instinct to kill in battle but it was something else entirely to deal death when it was asked for.
"I didn't mean to sound judgmental," he said. "I apologize."
"I wasn't fishing for an apology. I suppose I deserve everything you throw at me. I did abandon you, but I had my reasons, and given a time turner, I would do it exactly the same way." She turned to head further down the hallway but he held her firmly by the arm.
She turned in astonishment, first at his gripping hand then at him.
He let her go. "You can't just come back here and say that we're not going to talk about what happened to us. It doesn't work that way, Hermione. We'll talk about the proposal, and the Order, and the Coven, but I'm not going to pretend that our personal issues aren't there. The history we have isn't going to go away just because you want to ignore it."
She said nothing for several heartbeats. "Do we even have time for this?"
"We'll make time. Heck, I've been waiting to make time for five years."
"Fine. If you insist, fine."
He tried not to think about her tone; how it implied that they had separated in anger. He wanted to tell her that she was the one who left him; that he had every reason to be angry at her, but then, she already said she deserved his anger, and whatever else he dealt her. No, her tone wasn't of anger, it was of cold annoyance, that he had insisted.
God, what have her feelings for me come to?
He had to take what she was willing to give. "Later, then, when we're done with Order and Coven business."
"If we're done before sunrise."
"Business shouldn't take long. It's the other stuff that's the trick."
She frowned at him.
He didn't bother to explain.
Without a word, he led them through the hallways and straight for the dungeons. Remus and Tonks would undoubtedly be there.
Harry waved his hand towards the mounted torch and fire burst from its tip. He took the torch down.
"You don't need a wand anymore?" she asked, looking mildly surprised.
"Of course I do," he replied without batting an eyelash. "For the bigger spells, I need it, but I can manage without the wand for the easier charms."
"Creating fire isn't easy."
"Use it enough times in battle to survive, conjuring fire when you just need a light is easy."
"Fire can kill vampires."
"This I know."
It looked as if she was waiting for him to say more. He didn't.
As they descended the stairs, Harry began to hear Tonks, Ron and Remus arguing. Ron was saying something about Harry doing the stupid thing and going it alone again.
Harry frowned, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs and headed to Remus's cavern, he called out. "I heard that, Ron."
"Harry?" Tonks squeaked. "Oh, thank Merlin! Remus, Harry's back!"
"I'm going to kill him," said Ron just when Harry crossed the cavern threshold. Draco was at the corner, sulking, while Tonks sat on a stool a meter away from Remus's bars.
Tonks saw the bruise on his face and she gasped, horrified. "Oh, goodness, what happened to you?"
Ron whirled to face him, glaring.
Draco scowled. "It amazes me that you still ask him that even when he comes home looking like a prize fighter every so often."
Harry didn't feel much like giving them answers. They wouldn't care in the next second, anyway.
Sure enough, as he felt Hermione stepping into the light, everyone in the dungeon fell silent.
Tonks, Ron and Remus were frozen with shock. Draco's mouth had simply dropped open. For once, he had nothing clever to say.
Harry let them process. He wasn't sure if he was over it, himself.
He mounted the torch as he tried to figure out where to begin. He transferred his gaze from his housemates to Hermione. The impenetrable look on her eyes had been replaced by a thoughtful expression, though it was still bereft of her old warmth.
"Well?" Harry said when he thought they'd had enough time to absorb the shock.
That seemed to break the profound silence.
"My, my, my!" Draco began. "Look what the kneazle dragged in!"
Tonks had stood from her seat, fingers to her lips in absolute disbelief.
Ron stepped forward, fists to his side. "You-I can't believe-"
Amazingly, a blush sprayed on her cheeks. "Hello, Ron."
Ron stiffened as his name fell from her lips, and to Harry's utter astonishment, Ron's eyes blazed. "Nice of you to drop in out of nowhere after five fucking years!"
And with that, Ron stalked out of the cavern and left them.
Harry wasn't sure where that came from. He had been under the impression that Ron wasn't angry about it anymore; that Ron had somehow forgiven Hermione after all these years. But then again, Ron never said he wasn't angry. He just hadn't talked about it and Harry had just assumed Ron was fine with all of it. Looking back, Harry realized that he should have known. When Ron spoke about Hermione, it was always, "She's not here, is she?" or "Move on, Harry," or "Harry, she left."
Hermione didn't even watch Ron leave.
Tonks seemed to regain her senses. "Oh, dear! Ron didn't mean that! He didn't-"
"It's alright," said Hermione. "I probably deserved it. How are you doing, Tonks? Remus, it's been a long time."
"It has been," said Remus, looking somewhat dazed. "To tell you the truth, I don't quite know what to say right now. Ron's right. We haven't heard a word from you in five years!"
That was the thing with Remus on a full moon. He never sounded quite as kind.
"Remus!" gasped Tonks.
"I probably deserved that, too," said Hermione.
"I have to admit, Sunshine," said Draco, looking her up and down. "The years have been most accommodating to you."
Hermione arched her eyebrow at him. "You, I don't deserve. I was hoping you were dead."
Harry wondered if she meant it and realized that she actually might.
"Take a number," said Draco, jerking a superior eyebrow.
"I can't believe it," said Tonks, cutting through their conversation. It was Tonks's way to ignore Draco when he began to get snarky. She approached Hermione and held her gently by the shoulders, as if to test if she were solid. "Blimey, you're really here!" Tonks looked up at Harry. "How?"
"Well, Pocahontas, when I got to the meeting place…" replied Harry, half sheepish. He explained what happened at Cicero's abandoned office building.
"Five morphmagi werewolves?" said Remus with a grimace. "Didn't skimp on the arsenal, did they?"
Hermione shrugged. "We were expecting it. Lucien and Solomon like these scuffles. Keeps them tuned, they said. We would've been able to handle all of them, but I suppose Harry was in the mood for a fight. He took one out all by himself."
Harry scowled. "It had nothing to do with my mood! He came up from behind us!" he cried, just before he realized that she was actually teasing.
He badly wanted to ask her, right there, what game she was playing when Remus jumped in with another question.
"And these Shadow Kin of yours, where are they now?"
Harry was surprised Remus knew they were Shadow Kin, or that he assumed correctly that they weren't Blood Kin.
"They're waiting outside in the car…" Hermione replied, looking puzzled. "How did you know they were my Shadow Kin?"
Remus smirked. "I just assumed they weren't your Blood Kin. You're only five years old. And your boys are… what?"
"Lucien's a bit more than a hundred and fifty. Solomon's my age, though. I mean, in vamp years. He was turned at twenty-five."
"Interesting. So Lucien decided you were his alpha because…?"
"I saved his life," she said blandly. "I took him in when no one else wanted to. He was a junkie."
Everyone's eyes perked in surprise. There were rumors, of course, of vamp drugs, something that gave vamps a high even more potent than blood drinking, but it seemed impossible. Now here was proof that it was true.
"I got him off the drugs," she continued. "And I took him into the Coven. Yasmin doesn't like him, but I made him my responsibility. He's been with me ever since."
"And Solomon?" Remus asked. "What compelled him to make you his alpha?"
She shrugged. "Oh… he needed someone to tell him what to do, and you know me, bossy little know-it-all."
"It's all very interesting, Sunshine," Draco said, the evil gleam in his eyes coming alive. "But what I want to know is… what brought you out of hiding? Certainly ain't Potter."
Harry shook his head in disgust. Trust Draco to get right to the guts of it so he could rip it out.
"Isn't this about the time you send him out?" Hermione asked. "Or is he a member of the Order now?"
Remus's wolverine chuckle bounced through the cavern. "The Death Eaters certainly think so."
Draco sneered at him. "Why don't you and Tonks play fetch in the traffic?"
"Now, is that any way to speak to your cousin-in-law?"
"Quiet, you two!" Tonks hissed. "Hermione, pretend Draco isn't here-"
"No problem," Hermione interjected with an amused smirk.
Tonks frowned at her, and at everyone else. "Let's talk about the important Order stuff, shall we? Some time in the next century if it's all the same to you."
Miracle of miracles, Draco heeded her.
"Now, Hermione," said Tonks. "And Harry-"
"Haven't heard that in a while," Draco muttered under his breath.
Tonks ignored him. "Where do we go from here?"
Harry could have sworn Tonks asked that heavily pregnant question on purpose. Even Draco was unable to hold back a hefty burst of laughter.
Summoning all his dignity, Harry pretended he didn't catch the double meaning and replied. "We call a general meeting of the Order. We'll have Mad-Eye work out the logistics. In the meantime, we keep Hermione's re-emergence secret, or the fact that she contacted me in the capacity of the Coven. Hermione, is your parents' house secure?"
Hermione seemed to give it a moments' thought. "A few warding charms, but nothing particularly reassuring. Solomon and I can only do so much, being vamp-wizards. Lucien none at all. He was muggle."
Harry nodded. "Then you and your Shadow Kin will have to move here."
She visibly hesitated.
This irritated Harry. "It's a tactical arrangement. And as you vamps would say: I don't bite."
Color rose in her cheeks, but she nodded afterwards. "If you think it's best, then alright. We'll move in."
Everyone else seemed in agreement with it.
Harry thought Ron was going to have a fit, but Harry already decided Ron wasn't going to have a say in it.
"Hold on," said Draco. "Am I the only one uncomfortable about the fact that there's going to be three vampires in this house?"
"You've nothing to worry about with me, Malfoy," said Hermione. "I wouldn't touch you to kill you, and Solomon's just a teddy bear with fangs when he isn't slicing vampire and werewolf heads off. Lucien might be a problem, but most times I can threaten him into behaving. My only advice to you is not to tee him off."
Draco glared at Harry. "You're mental if you invite such things into your home, Potthead."
If Ron didn't have a say then Draco was a nonentity. "They're staying here. It's not my problem if Lucien takes a fancy to your pure blood."
Draco looked furious. "Fine, but you might want to ask your she-vamp over there just how much of a teddy bear Solomon is. She says his name so tenderly." And with that, Draco stalked out of the dungeon.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Hermione looked terribly annoyed, shooting Draco a glare as he left. When he was gone, she rolled her eyes. "Well, aren't I just the life of the party? First Ron and then Draco… at least Remus can't walk out on me. What's the big idea having Malfoy prancing freely about, anyway? Isn't he supposed to be in a cell? I know he takes after his father but this is too much…"
Harry almost wanted to laugh at that. Almost. He picked up where they last left off on the original conversation. "We'll have the governing board meet in advance, just so they're prepared for the general meeting."
Remus and Tonks exchanged looks.
"Sound good?" Tonks asked.
Remus nodded. "It works for me. I'll make the arrangements when the full moon's passed. One last thing before we get to the interesting part of this meeting… is Yasmin still in London, Hermione?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. In any case, she may or may not have gone or stayed. She does what she wants and just lets me know when she thinks it's necessary. Right now, my instructions are to gauge how this… collaboration could be undertaken without having to compromise my society's…"
"Alienation of humans?" suggested Remus.
She smirked, un-offended. "Exclusivity."
Harry's gaze lowered to the ground briefly, hoping he didn't look as sad as he felt. "We're you're society too, you know. At least, that's how I see it."
He looked up and their gazes met. She didn't look like she agreed, yet she didn't seem to want to disagree out loud, either, perhaps to spare his feelings. That was something. Harry was most willing to grasp at straws.
Remus's feral eyes lit up. "Ah, interesting how you brought that point up, Harry-"
Tonks cleared her throat. "Remus, I believe that's their business. Harry, you and Hermione should go upstairs and talk… alone."
Harry shot Hermione an "I told you so," look.
Sparing him a glance, she made for the cavern door. "Harry and I can talk later. Right now, I have to get myself and the boys settled in Grimmauld Place."
Tonks frowned. "Can't that wait?"
Harry had to appreciate Tonks for advocating his side, but considering the general attitude Hermione's given him in the past hour, he thought maybe he knew Tonks was fighting a lost cause.
"It waited for five years," Hermione replied. "It can wait two more hours. I'll see you later, Tonks… Remus. You'll be walking me up, Harry?"
Harry stifled a sigh and nodded, following her up the stairs as he summoned the torch to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry couldn't believe he was just going to let Hermione leave. It was surreal to have such feelings of paranoia; a need to take hold of her and say, "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not letting you out of my sight, again." But as Harry told Remus, if she walked away now, then he'd lost her forever. Anyway, it wasn't as if Hermione would gainsay her "boss" just because she had personal issues. Somehow, Harry couldn't see anyone gainsaying Yasmin. The woman simply got what she wanted. As Hermione crossed the threshold of Grimmauld Place's front door, she paused in her step and actually looked over her shoulder. "I'll come back."
Harry could've chosen to be bitter and say, "Fat lot of good your word does," but he couldn't find it in himself. It just wasn't in his nature. And given that she was telling him this quite possibly because she was being sensitive to his feelings, it was something to be grateful for.
He nodded, accompanying it with a resigned sigh. He couldn't be bitter, but he could certainly tell her what he thought. "Not like I could do anything if you don't. At this point, if you decide to disappear again, there's just no reason for me to try and find you a second time."
Something in her eyes flickered, and then it was gone. "I'll come back." And she left.
After the door closed behind her, he could only roll his eyes in resignation.
They seemed so far gone from their days of If-You-Hide-You-Know-I'll-Find-You routine that it was truly depressing.
He headed for the rooms, surrendering to the tragic-comedies of his life.
He reached Ron's room and knocked on the door.
"If it's Hermione, I don't want to see you right now."
Harry sighed. "It's me."
Seconds later, Ron opened the door and let him in. "Is she gone?"
Harry had to wonder if Ron meant everything he was saying. Last time he sounded this angry, he had socked Harry in the face. "She is, but she's coming back in a couple of hours. I told her she and her Shadow Kin can stay here while we're negotiating with the Coven."
Ron's face turned so red, Harry was afraid it would explode. "You what?"
"Look, Ron, I've been trying to find her for five years. What did you expect I would do? Flip her off? If you had told me you were this angry with her, I would've prepared you for this meeting, but no. You had to harbor all this hate in secret!"
Ron expelled a breath of frustration, turning to collapse on his bed. "I don't hate her, and honestly, Harry, I didn't know I was so teed off until I saw her. But when she walked into that dungeon, I just remembered what she had done to you, and then to me. It seemed preposterous to welcome her back with open arms. I didn't know how I was going to go about it, so I just let my emotions take over and that's what came out of my mouth. It actually felt… it was bloomin' cathartic!"
Harry didn't know what surprised him more: The fact that Ron had been angry for him or the fact that Ron was using big words to explain why. "Ron, we all have our issues with her. It's best that you let me deal with my issues and concentrate on yours."
"Don't give me that! I've been hauling your piss-drunk arse out of bars for five years, Harry. Did you think it was easy? Most of the time, I didn't even know which pub you were in! So yeah, I sure as hell can make your issues with her my issues with her."
Harry blushed, embarrassed. "Christ, Ron… I believe I never apologized to you for all that. Thanked you, yes, but-"
"Shut-up, Potter. All that was hardly your fault… well, it was, to a great extent, but Hermione's still to blame for your five years of misery. And it's not like I couldn't understand where you were coming from. She left me, too! She might not have loved me like she did, you, but I really, really…" Ron sighed, rubbing his army-cut styled head. "I cared for her, you know? It's bad enough she didn't return my feelings, but she thought it would be easier for me than it was for you. Maybe it was. I certainly got on with my life sooner than you did, but… I couldn't forget. Whenever I dragged you home, half-dead from firewhiskey, I'd remember how I felt that night she walked out of the library, and it-it hurt like hell, you know?"
Harry didn't know what to say, but he nodded. It was good to know Ron understood to some extent. It beat explaining things. "So are you going to keep treating her this way? I won't stop you, you know. I just… I need to know how you'll handle this, just so I could… establish myself in this set-up."
Ron shrugged grudgingly. "You know me, Harry. I always come around. Besides, how can I stay angry with her when she looks like that?"
Harry had to summon all his powers of poise to give a dignified reply. "Yeah, she does look good."
Ron scoffed as if it were the understatement of the year.
"Gorgeous."
"Doesn't even begin to describe it."
"Like the entire Holyhead Harpies team doing a synchronized Wrongski Feint and having their uniforms malfunction all at the same time?"
Ron got a wistful look in his eyes and sighed. "Took the words right out of my mouth. There ought to be a law…"
"Ron?"
"What?"
"Now that you've seen her, are you still…?"
Ron chuckled. "I care about her a lot, still, but… I think I really am over her. Blimey, Harry, it's been five years after all!"
"Well, gee, now I feel dumb."
"Oh, well, it's different for you. Sure, you're just sad-"
"Thanks."
"But she did leave you hanging, mate. At any rate, you still managed to get laid in the last five years. Not as often as you should have, probably, but you got some, so you're not that pathetic."
Harry felt a tad uneasy. "About that… I'm not very sure I want Hermione knowing about that particular detail of my life, just yet. I mean, I'll tell her if… if it even matters, but I suppose for the meantime…"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm certainly not going to get involved in that drama. You tell her, you keep it secret, whatever works for you. What I'm saying is that… I've kind of been seeing someone, so you've got your love life and I've got mine."
"Love li-Ron! You've been seeing someone? How come I don't know about this?" Sure, Ron has had quite a few liaisons over the past five years, too, but Ron had never actually said he was "seeing someone". This was serious!
Ron smirked. "What, I gotta ask your permission now?"
"You know what I mean. How long has this been going on?"
"Oh, two months."
Harry waited for Ron to go on. When he didn't, Harry frowned. "What, are you going to let me beg for details like a girl?"
"Eh, why not?"
"I've half a bottle of whiskey in my closet. If you don't start talking now, I'll break it over your head."
"Jeez, where's the love?"
"Walked out of the house about ten minutes ago, Ron." Before Ron could say anything about that, Harry went on. "Now stop acting like a pussy and come clean."
Ron smirked.
Harry glared at him. "It's Luna Lovegood, isn't it? You've finally admitted that you fancy her! It's about bloody time!"
"What? No! I know I said she was cute, and that she was hilarious, but Luna and I are friends. It's someone else."
"Well, for God's sake-"
"It's Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour."
Harry was at a complete loss for words. But not for long. "Bloody fucking hell, Ron! She's SIXTEEN YEARS OLD!"
Ron frowned. "Seventeen, alright. And she's really quite mature for her age. A lot less flighty and flirty than her sister, in fact, so I'd appreciate it if you were a bit happier for me."
"She's your sister-in-law!"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. Get out."
"What?"
"If you're going to be like that, get out. I knew this is how you'd react. Now that I think about it, this is why I didn't tell you about her!"
"Gabrielle. Is. A. Kid."
Ron glared at him. "Hermione. Is. A. Vampire."
Harry was caught completely off-guard by that one. "Well, that-"
Ron arched an eyebrow.
Harry thought better of it. "Erm-puts things in perspective."
"I thought it might. Anyway, it's not like I'm taking advantage of her or anything like that, so you can calm down. I'm well aware that she's… younger than most women I've dated, so I'm taking extra care of this one. Besides, Fleur and Bill will kill me if I do anything to hurt her."
"Right." Even if Harry believed everything Ron was saying, he was still a bit weirded out. Sure, Gabrielle was beautiful, and maybe she was mature, but seventeen was seventeen!
On the other hand, he and Hermione were shagging like bunnies at that age.
But we were BOTH seventeen then, whatever difference that makes.
"You're twenty-two," said Harry. "I know the age difference won't matter much when she hits twenty, but in the meantime…"
"Alright, so maybe the age difference is a little wonky right now-"
"Shyeah!"
"But she's of age. You remember how it was when we were seventeen, Harry. We knew what we were doing."
Harry scoffed. "That's what we thought."
"Don't be difficult. Think of it this way: Viktor Krum was into Hermione when she was fourteen and he was eighteen. That was a bit screwed up, but did we worry about her? No, because we knew she could take care of herself."
"Viktor Krum was a cradle snatching son-of-a-bitch who just happened to be a world class jock and he had absolutely no business snogging Hermione. He should've been arres-"
"You're saying that now, but back then, he was alright with you."
Harry paused and decided he would concede that point. "Fine, but we're talking about Hermione. She was fourteen going on forty."
"Fleur trusts Gabrielle, and Ginny said Gabrielle's fancied me for ages."
Harry had to grin at that. "Well if it's been ages…"
"Shut it, Potter."
"And what does Luna have to say about all this?"
Ron blinked in astonishment. "Why the hell do you keep bringing up Luna? How is this her business?"
"Frankly, Ron, I really thought you and she were hitting it off. She's weird, yeah, but I thought you liked that about her especially. You're rather weird yourself."
Ron looked at Harry with an odd grimace. "I'm weird? I'm not the one who has wet dreams about vampires."
Harry thought he had a point, but he didn't have to stand for it. "Oy! Let's get one thing straight. I do not have wet dreams about Hermione. Sex dreams, yes, but not wet dreams. And stop trying to change the subject. Luna's special to you. You have to admit that."
"Special? What the hell gave you that idea?"
"Well, you gave her your autographed Chudley Cannons jersey!"
"I lost it to her on a bet! She bet you wouldn't get back with Cho. I said you would, that Christmas. It was your fault I lost that jersey, you bastard."
Harry wasn't deterred. "And you get her tickets to all the Quidditch games you go to!"
"Well, she's got that wicked hat that she would let no one else wear…"
"You bring her to the games for her hat?"
"Oh, quit trying to convince me to fancy Luna. I like her company, alright? She makes me laugh, and she makes George laugh, and she's sweet, in a batty sort of way, but it's purely platonic."
Oh, sure. I've used that one, before.
"Gabrielle…" Ron continued, smiling. "She's an angel. Mum adores her when she's at the Burrow and dad calls her Daisy."
"Cute."
Ron ignored him. "And she has this look… it's almost heartbreaking. It gets me every time, I tell you. You'll have to see it yourself."
Can you say VEELA?
Harry was going to stop saying things about that, now. If Ron wanted to complicate his life by falling for seventeen-year-old part-veelas and toying with the emotions of half-insane newspaper editor's daughters, then Harry was going to leave him to it.
He had problems of his own to deal with, the least of which involved an enchanting vamp woman who wasn't budging an inch to make their reunion any less difficult than it already was.
"Look, we'll talk about this again," said Harry. "I have to go back down to the dungeon and see to the vamps' accommodations. I wonder if she'll bring her own coffin…"
"Probably. The one down there was standard issue from Saint Aedan's."
"Right… so, how's this arrangement with Hermione going to work out for you?"
Ron shrugged. "We'll probably get to talking. I don't know how that will go, but I'm willing to take it one step at a time. I probably won't make it easy for her. Get her back for those five years."
Harry shook his head and turned to go. "Whatever makes you happy, Ron."
Ron jumped off the bed. "I might as well help you get things in order down there. Can't be easy to clean up a dungeon."
Harry just cocked a grateful smile.
Together, they headed back down to start cleaning up the mess of five years.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: The address I gave was fictitious. I got a bunch of addresses and threw them together.
Here I am, spreading the love. So they haven't really talked talked, but I wasn't planning to make it easy for them. Hermione's acting really cold…