Author's note: First thing's first… did you read Chapter 24: Lull yet? I released two chapters, so you might have missed reading the chapter before this one.
Once again, thanks to tome_raider for her mad beta skilz. ~_*
Chapter Rating: R
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Chapter Twenty-Fifth: Truth
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Hermione did not hesitate even as a werewolf roared at her in his semi-human state.
Solomon hissed at the werewolf fiercely. Three responded to his threats with low, guttural growls.
Hermione assessed her entourage.
Tonks wasn't about to be scared away by restless werewolves; she had married one, but her shoulders were tense. She was completely aware that she was no one's lupa but Remus's, but she hadn't lasted so long as an Auror for being a wilting flower. She was a very tough woman.
Ron had likely seen a lot in the last five years, and he didn't look frightened, either. There was tension to his shoulders, too, but Ron looked so physically strong that it was difficult to think that he was the least bit nervous. He was, in fact, quite intimidating.
Remus, Solomon and Lucien were dark creatures. They would respond according to their instincts, which could be between fierce to ferocious. She had very little to worry about when it came to them.
Now Harry… if he was the least bit apprehensive, he didn't show a speck of it; nothing in his gait, shoulders or face conveyed unease. Even when he adjusted the set of his glasses on his nose, it did not seem like a nervous tick. It looked more like he was securing it, making sure that the sticking spell would hold just in case he had to-say-jump around and slice vamp head off.
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed on account of thinking of Harry in full battle. This was definitely not the time to be having fantasies about him, so she focused on the situation at hand and assessed their visitors.
The vampires were indeed Isidore and Mari. Their faces remained stoic as she approached them. The werewolves running about converged behind their respective masters. Three behind Isidore and three behind Mari.
Isidore, his dark Spanish features the delight of Yasmin and many a vampire women between the ages of seventeen to five hundred, showed displeasure. He only liked humans when they were beautiful. Hermione and her posse were decidedly a bit scruffy. Tonks and Remus had house robes thrown over their pajamas and the rest of them were in gym clothes.
Not exactly tres mod, Hermione thought with a smirk.
Mari's handsome face was adorned with art of Incan totems. The tattoos on his face did not mar his pleasant features, it did, in fact, give it the character it would have lacked if he had left his face bare. He wore multiple earrings on both ears, but his left ear had a feathered and beaded earring hanging from the lobe. He had a scimitar attached to his hip and he had his fangs tipped silver.
Many a vamp had had their limbs lopped off when they told him the old "armed to the teeth" joke. Hermione couldn't blame him. Hearing the same joke told over and over again, probably in the last four hundred years, would definitely make it seem un-funny as hell.
"Hermione, of the clan Granger," Isidore said in his honeyed, even voice. "You have been summoned by Yasmin ibna Omar al-Khwarizm in civil conference at a venue of your choosing."
Hermione met eyes with Solomon at "clan Granger". It was just so typical of Isidore to say it that way. "Well, seeing as I'm the only member of my vast and expansive clan present because, as you might know, the rest of them are holed up in our keep at the highlands…"
Solomon bit his lower lip. Lucien emitted a series of coughs.
"You mock me," Isidore said flatly.
"It's just a joke. No need to panic. You know one of those things? Usually invokes laughter."
"Impertinence amounts to nothing but delays. A venue, Hermione of the-Hermione Granger."
"Hermione of the Hermione Granger? Now that just sounds weird."
Isidore, and now Mari, was beginning to look mightily peeved. It didn't help that Solomon and Lucien had developed to snickering while nudging each other with their elbows. If the rest thought it funny at all, they weren't making a show of it. It was a good Rule of Thumb not to laugh at vampires, after all, even if it was because of another vampire making fun of them.
Mari glared at her. "You would do well to take this issue seriously, Miss Granger-"
"That's Ms. Granger to you, Tinsel Teeth. You both might be older than me, but you were still the ones sent to fetch me. So it looks to me like you two are the monkeys in this picture. Now go tell your mistress that I'll meet her at La Señorita so we can talk about where she got the idea that I wouldn't mind if she fucked with my Shadow Kin so she could use him to spy on me. Because trust me… I mind. Serious enough for you?"
Isidore frowned and Mari looked visibly outraged. They weren't about to get intimidated by someone so young, but they weren't about to hurt the most powerful of Vampire's protégé, either.
That's me… always the teacher's pet.
Mari's hand twitched on the hilt of his scimitar and at that same moment, a pale-blue filmy field of light gleamed between her and Mari.
Contego, she thought, recognizing the spell.
She looked to Harry who was too busy glaring at Mari to notice her looking.
Isidore placed a gentle hand on Mari's arm. Mari dropped his hand from his weapon. After a few heartbeats, the force field dissipated.
There was a moment of silence before talk resumed.
"La Señorita is a place of entertainment," said Mari. "This issue is serious. The place is inappropriate for holding such mee-"
"I thought you said the venue would be my choice," Hermione said with a glare. "I didn't recall you telling me you're authorized to negotiate."
"La Señorita will do," Isidore interjected in his calm tone. "If Elena would have no objections-"
"She won't. Elena's an angel, and she'll do this for me. She's only unfriendly to you because you take yourself too seriously, Chuckles."
Chuckles, predictably, did not think it funny. He lifted his eyebrow and turned up his nose. "I would advise that you and your… entourage dress appropriately for a meeting with the Master of the Coven. It's only polite."
"Polite? I think we're agreed that what Yasmin did was already well beyond rude, so excuse me if I'm feeling a bit rebellious."
He paused briefly. "My opinion of this issue does not matter-"
"Aww… just because Yasmin says so, it doesn't mean you have to agree." She gave him a saccharine smile.
"Just look presentable, Hermione Granger," said Isidore with a barely discernable sneer.
She smirked and flicked her fingers at him stiffly in a stingy wave goodbye. "Buh-bye, now."
Glaring at her, the mist thickened around them, werewolves and vampires, before they disappeared.
Solomon doubled over laughing when the mist cleared. "I think Mari had a stroke when you called him Tinsel Teeth."
Ron was not laughing. "I thought he was going to kill you…"
"Like I would let him," Harry said grumpily. "Is it wise to antagonize them like that?"
"It's wiser than showing them I'm afraid," Hermione said.
"Are you?"
She scoffed. "They wish."
"I better go and floo some Obliviators," Tonks said wearily, heading back to the house.
They all followed.
"Shall I send a message to Elena telling her about the meeting?" Remus asked.
Hermione looked at him pleadingly. "Remus, please don't think you have to do these things for me. I mean, really…"
Remus shrugged. "It's an instinct. It can't be helped."
"Fine," she muttered. "Notify Elena. You do know who she is, don't you?"
He chuckled. "Every dark creature knows who she is."
"Great. Umm… thank you, Remus." She knew that the werewolf instinct didn't require her to thank him, but her sense of decency demanded it. She was absolutely not going to treat him like a servant.
"You're welcome." He gave her shoulder a squeeze before heading to his study, probably to compose the message already.
Solomon grinned as they reentered Grimmauld Place, dancing giddily. "We're going to see Elena! I am so excited! Lucien, aren't you excited? Look alive, mon ami."
"Well, I'd normally be having an erection about now, but the fact that Hermione and Yasmin will be talking about me in a most negative manner somewhat steals my mojo."
"Who is Elena and why does Lucien have 'uh-hmms' for her?" Ron asked, censoring himself. Hermione was more inclined to believe that Ron just didn't want to be mentioning male unmentionables so casually lest anyone began to think he was comfortable about it.
"Elena," Harry began seriously, "Is the vampire world's sweetheart. She runs a very classy 'escort service' and she provides hard-to-find goods, usually art, artifacts and antiques to anyone who could pay for it. She's supposedly very sweet and lovely. I haven't met her myself, but Henry's all in love with her."
Hermione arched an eyebrow in his direction. She wasn't that surprised Harry knew.
"And she surrounds herself with phenomenally beautiful women, human and vampire alike," Solomon added. "Mainly because she's of the female persuasion, if you get my drift. Did I mention that she's fancied Hermione for ages? I'm just waiting for Elena to jump her."
Hermione shot him a glare. "Elena does not fancy me. I saved her life that one time and she's been rather fond of me ever since. You boys and your girl-on-girl fantasies… contrary to pop culture lore, it's not something all of us indulge in, and while we're at it, it's not true that we as young girls ran around in skimpy night things during slumber parties while having pillow fights, either."
Solomon, Ron and Harry all gasped in unison. They looked utterly crestfallen.
Lucien pouted, stomping his foot. "Thanks a lot, Hermione!"
"What?" she cried, laughing.
"Try and remember the time you were told Santa Clause didn't exist! That's how we feel now!" Solomon said.
She threw up her hands. "I knew he didn't exist before my parents told me! I mean, those Santa legends were stupid. How does a man of girth like him slide down chimneys? He'd get stuck down the flue. And then he's supposed to fly all over the world in one night to deliver toys made by elves? If I believed any of that crap, I'd be over at the North Pole shoving a S.P.E.W. button down Santa's throat!"
Lucien scoffed. "Humph. What a fucked-up child. She probably asked for a Newscaster Barbie and got something she really hated, like a Ballerina Ken or something."
Hermione frowned. "It was nothing like that, and for your information, I never asked for a Barbie or Ken whatever. I asked for a microscope and a telescope and-well, perhaps I asked for roller-skates that one time they got so popular… went barreling down the slope of Pleasant Hill wearing them and I've never gotten on free-wheeling things ever since."
"Ah, so that's why you hated getting on a broom," Harry remarked, grinning.
"Who's Santa?" Ron asked.
"A big, fat man in a red suit who doesn't shave and goes around the world at Christmas to deliver toys to Muggle children on his reindeer-drawn sled. He was a legend Muggle parents came up with to keep the little Muggle and Mudblood snots behaved all year, because Santa makes a list, checks 'em twice and leaves the naughty out of his Christmas list altogether." It was Draco and he was leaning against one of the receiving hall arches. "When you think about it, he's rather ruthless."
Harry scoffed. "For someone who hates Muggles and half-bloods, you sure have a firm grasp of their legends."
"I'm racist, Potter, not stupid."
"And here I always thought 'racist' and 'stupid' weren't mutually exclusive. What are you doing here, anyway? You're supposed to be cowering in your room."
"I heard talk about beautiful women, lesbians and girls in skimpy night things. I found the courage."
"Huh. And here I thought you were gay," Solomon said.
Draco looked at his nails. "Just because I'm cleaner and nicer to look at than those two scruffy plebes, it doesn't mean I suck dick. And considering the circumstances, I'm not the one who hasn't gotten laid in months."
Ron, Harry and Hermione glared at him in unison.
Hermione didn't even bother to ask him how in hell he managed to get laid being guarded all the time. "Paid sex doesn't count, Malfoy."
"Wanna pay for me, Sunshine? I'll give you a special price."
"What's it called, the Three-inch Discount? Or maybe the Two-minute Rebate?"
Harry and Ron loved that. They doubled over laughing like a couple of teenagers.
Draco seemed unbothered. "Well, we can always work out a warranty. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back."
"Either you actually have been He-Bitching on the side or you've been spending too much time selling used brooms to compensate for your… measly Ministry salary."
"Your loss, Granger."
"Boo bloody hoo for me," she said, turning to the others. "We better get ready for this meeting. Are Tonks and Remus coming?"
Harry was still grinning when he replied. "Tonks would be busy with the Obliviators. I'm not sure if Remus could come with us."
"Well then in that case…" She looked to Draco. "I might as well make the most of you blokes being with me. Draco, you're going to take Remus's place."
Naturally, Harry and Ron stared at her, dumbfounded.
Draco scowled. "That's right classy of you. After grinding my manhood to bits, you're now asking me to go with you?"
"Asking? Ridiculous. More like ordering you," she replied with an acidic smile.
He snorted. "Unlike some weirdos, I don't like getting my throat punctured, thank you very much."
"You're coming with us even if I have to tie your ankles to the fender of the Jag and drag you all the way to the club."
"Why? What the hell do you want me there for?"
"I'm one man short of a proper entourage," she explained haughtily, beginning to make her way to the shadowy halls to the dungeons. "I want you cleaned up and ready in an hour, Malfoy, or the boys and I are going to consider eating in from hereon."
She didn't even stick around to find out anybody's reaction to it.
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Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to wear to a formally arranged meeting with a Coven Master, especially when the meeting was being held in a nightclub.
He had to admit that this was one instance where he was a bit out of his depth. It wasn't as if he went to clubs. He was a pub-person, and nobody really went to pubs all dressed up, especially not him, who only went to pubs to get pissed.
The main thing was not to look like an idiot, so he didn't "glam up", as Lucien had so emphatically told them. Harry developed a headache just thinking that he could ever be anything remotely stylish. So he pulled on his nicest pair of black charcoal-wash jeans, a light-green shirt and a striped dark-green button-up long sleeve shirt-blouse that fit a little better than his usual fare. The outfit bore a striking resemblance to his work wear, actually, except this time, he had the buttons closed-up and the clothes fit him better. He closed his eyes to his battered grey trainers and moved on to one of his nicer black loafers.
Do this for Hermione. Do this for Hermione…
He didn't know why he thought he had to, but it made wearing the loafers easier. He stared at his socked feet. They were both black but he realized that they weren't exactly matched. He wondered if Hermione would notice and cursed at himself for realizing that it would bother him all night anyway if he didn't match the socks.
It took him another few minutes of rummaging before he managed a real pair, slipped them on and finally got in his shoes. After all that he began to arm himself, hiding the weapons as best he could.
The sword would be a bit obvious, but he had a nice leather jacket that would cover most of it nicely.
He realized that he'd been carrying the sword a lot, lately. It didn't bode too well.
After one last look in the mirror and running his hand through his impossibly unruly hair, he headed on out and down to the living room. Lucien, Solomon, Ron and Draco were already there.
Ron looked-well, better dressed than usual. He had on a relatively nice short-sleeved button-up grey shirt. Instead of jeans, he had gone with black pants and loafers. Harry had to wonder what it took for Ron to ditch the work-boots for the fancy footwear.
Of course, Lucien, Solomon and Draco were all dapper and chic.
Solomon went charcoal-grey pinstripe with a white blouse. The pants and blazer fit so well that Harry didn't doubt that it was tailor-made for him.
Draco went all black, blazered, poised and polished, like a gentleman with his hair pushed neatly back. Apparently, he had either gotten over his reluctance to come or he was determined to do it correctly, if not entirely willingly. He sneered at Harry's messy locks. Harry sneered right back.
As for Lucien… well, the man was just runway perfect. His black boot-cut pants and form-fitting blue silk dress-shirt draped free of his pants made him look like an actor. He wore fancy rings and-of course-his slave collar. He had boots on that looked normal enough at first glance, until one noticed that there were bits of leopard stripes here and there.
"I told you he'd wear jeans," Ron hissed.
"Well, at least now you can see there's a shape to him," Lucien said generously, looking Harry over critically.
Draco scoffed. "The color of his shirt isn't working for me and I'm not sure about his glasses. Well… I never was, actually."
"He didn't wear it for you, stupid," Ron said.
"Oh, leave him alone," said Solomon. "I think Harry looks alright."
"He's casual chic," Lucien pointed out. "I'm kind of liking the striped shirt."
Ron frowned. "I feel like a dick in these pants."
Harry frowned, trying to fathom how a room full of grown men could talk so excessively about clothes.
"You seemed to have cleaned up pretty good, Potter," said a voice behind him.
He turned and saw Hermione all covered in a rather nice black coat. He could see some of her legs, though, and her pretty feet wore the sexiest pair of black strappy-jeweled shoes he had ever seen. Her brown hair waved and curled in sexy ringlets. She wore the barest hint of make-up and he could see a lace-trim choker against the pale skin of her throat. And aside from all those little glimpses of how fantastic she must look, he could smell her wonderful perfume. "Well, you look positively lovely."
She smirked and winked, cocking a shoulder as she walked past him. "You ain't seen nothing, yet, handsome."
Harry thought that little shoulder tilt and the accompanying wink so becoming that he actually had to resist the urge to-well, growl, not to mention pant after her and bark like a dog. The only thing that kept him dignified was her little compliment at the end. It could do wonders to a bloke's ego.
He poked her sleeve. "Is that fur?"
"Yes. Don't hate me. It's my vamp nature. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it."
He chuckled. "Well, if it's your nature…"
She smiled. It was genuine. No mockery, no disdain, not even a hint of a tease. It made Harry feel good.
"Well, my pretties," she said to the rest of them. "Are we ready?"
"Can I change into jeans? It'll take me one second," Ron said.
She rolled her eyes. "You look perfectly fine, Ron. And I don't think you would look half-as-good in jeans as Harry does. You're a big boy. No bulky clothes for you."
Ron scowled but didn't insist.
"Remus?" she asked.
"Tonks took him with her to the Ministry," Harry replied. "They sent a whole bunch of Obliviators over and she now has a ton of paperwork to do. She dragged Remus to help her finish it all… I think she wasn't too keen on sending Remus off to a club filled with women and lesbians."
"Oh," she said lightly. "Well, that rather works for us. We should be heading out, then. Come along. I think we'll all fit in the Jaguar. Kind of tight, but hey, if it's too uncomfortable we can always stuff Draco in the boot."
Draco scowled. "Sure, get rid of the littlest one so you can have a fantastically significant amount of space freed up. When a boat is sinking, the first things you get rid of are the heavier loads, I'll have you know." He looked at Ron pointedly.
"I can think of other more compelling reasons to get rid of the lighter load," Ron said.
Draco arched an eyebrow. "Or better yet, Sunshine, you can ditch Potter and I can show you a better time."
"Stuffing Draco in the boot is one of Hermione's more brilliant ideas," Harry said.
"Oh, stop it, all of you," Hermione said. "Draco, shut up. Sometimes I think you want to get abused… you should take up with Lucien in fifty years. That's usually around the time women go out of fashion, for him."
"Oh, sure, stick me with the white, racist, supremacist because I get off on bad, bad behavior… hmm, I'm actually getting a semi…"
Harry discreetly moved away from him. So did Ron.
The Jaguar was big enough to accommodate them. Lucien sat in the driver's seat while Solomon sat up front with him.
Draco swiftly went around to the other side and hopped in.
"Ron, get in first," Harry muttered. "Hermione can't sit beside Draco. He'd have his filthy hands all over her."
"Why do I have to sit beside him?" Ron hissed.
"Because he wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole! Go!"
Sighing, Ron somewhat squeezed himself between Hermione and the door of the car, actually cutting her off.
"Pardon me," he muttered, sliding into the seat.
"Well, chivalry is certainly dead in this joint," Hermione muttered.
Poor Ron, thought Harry as she climbed in. He went in after her and slammed the door shut.
The fit in the back was snug, but not terribly uncomfortable. Ron, in an effort to not press against Draco, draped his arm on the headrest behind Hermione and Harry.
Sighing, Hermione crossed her legs to adjust and some of her coat fell away from her knee, exposing more skin.
Harry swallowed. He pretended to scratch as his eyebrow to wipe away the moisture that was suddenly there. He turned his head slightly, so that he could look out the window, but his eyes kept roving to that tantalizing patch of skin.
The car moved and Solomon began to fiddle with the CD player. Solomon was all about hip-hop.
Lucien swerved to the right, sending all of them lurching to the left.
Ron, Draco and Solomon complained loudly.
"Sorry!" Lucien cried out.
Harry was not complaining. Hermione was half-draped on him and she was giggling softly as she tried to smoothen imaginary rumples from the front of his blouse.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be," he whispered back, grinning.
She began readjusting herself on the seat and just when Harry was praying she would forget to throw her coat over her exposed leg, she caught him staring.
She arched an eyebrow and he blushed scarlet. He wondered what he found so embarrassing. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her naked.
That image in his mind, combined with her scent, her flirty hair and that leg made a potent mix. He began to feel a tad stiff. Not tense: Stiff. Oh, Merlin… PLEASE, for the love of all things decent, not now!
She cocked an ever so tiny smile as she sat back, leaving her leg uncovered.
She's evil.
Harry stifled a sigh, clamping his hand over his lips and leaning his elbow against the car window as he took calming breaths.
It felt like forever but Lucien eventually pulled up the curb of what looked like salsa night. People standing in line to get into the club were moving their hips where they stood. From the outside, the club was tinted black with lava-orange lighting glowing from hanging corners and sexy décor.
Lucien and Solomon left the car.
"Should we go?" Harry asked.
Hermione checked her nicely manicured nails. "Not yet. Wait a while."
"Hot club," Draco said. "Hadn't been in one for ages, you understand. When you're being detained in a house full of Neanderthals, you don't get fancy outings like this."
Ron frowned. "This isn't an outing, Malfoy. It's a meeting between vamps."
"Humph, like I care about Hermione and her precious Shadow Kin. As long as I've been commandeered to be here, I might as well get laid."
"I don't think you can afford the whores in there, Draco, Malfoy-heir though you may be. I'm thinking daddy Lucius isn't as eager to give you the fortune now that you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix." Hermione said silkily.
Draco scowled and Harry wanted her so badly right then.
Moments later, Harry's side of the car was opened from the outside. Lucien was there, grinning. "Show time."
Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but he stepped out anyway. He now noticed there was a red carpet, and where he walked, not everyone was allowed to tread.
At a bit of a loss, he held his hand out for Hermione. She primly took his offered assistance and stepped out, her fur coming loose the slightest bit from her shoulder.
He could see a blood-red halter-top that showed off her décolletage nicely. She held her hand out to Lucien who gave her-of all things-a sword. It was her usual katana, Harry realized, except now it was polished and cleaned, and it looked much prettier. It was only then, beyond the heat of battle, that he realized the sheer detail, the feminine quality of what was often perceived as a masculine weapon. Its sheathe gleamed with a black-lacquer quality, a frightening but beautiful kabuki worked into it with shells, semi-precious stones and perhaps jade. The hilt, serviceable and perhaps wrapped for optimum gripping had dark-red strips of leather crisscrossed around it. The sword and sheathe had been made for her, no doubt, and it was startlingly becoming.
That flash of shoulder, fur, heels and sword; she was breathtaking and Harry forgot for an instant why they were here.
Lucien and Solomon began to walk and she followed, the rest of them flanking her as they made their way down the red carpet.
Her Shadow Kin confidently strode up to the bouncers, carefully filling bouncer pockets with hefty wads of pound notes as they walked by. The bouncers nodded their thanks with stoic dignity, saying "Miz Granger" with such respect that Harry couldn't help but stare at them, wondering whether money was as magical to them as wizard magic was to him. They passed more club personnel, all of them getting a handshake or a pat in the pocket from either Lucien or Solomon. They never forgot to acknowledge Hermione, even if Harry could tell by their searching eyes that they'd never seen her before.
She walked by all of them without sparing them so much as a brief glance; without breaking stride. It was as if she knew, without hesitation, that Lucien and Solomon would pave the way, working the obstacles with fluid grace, and that all she had to do was walk and look important.
She's used to this, Harry thought in amazement.
They reached another door and a perky young woman only a bit older than Hermione smiled and said, "Coat check?"
Yet another bouncer appeared beside her. "Take good care of their coats, Gema. And don't charge them."
"Oh!" Gema said, eyes taking on a knowing look. "Of course! That's a gorgeous coat, ma'am. Do you want me to brush it down for you? Some conditioner?"
"Sounds perfect, luv," said Solomon, looking to Hermione and taking her sword from her for the meantime.
Harry felt Ron kick him and he stifled a grimace as he recognized his cue, taking the edges of Hermione's fur coat to help her out of it.
She looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a smoky smile, rendering him speechless as he slipped the coat from off her shoulders.
There was skin, and then back, and an oh-so-wonderful slit.
The dress was a rich blood red, a halter top with small accents of black, like the lovely little bow low on her bare back that pretended to hold the back of the dress together, just where the small of her spine was. The dress clung to her curves, reaching her knees. But then there was that slit on one side that left him with a perfect view of that awesome holster that held a gun and her wand, this one with black lace trimmings, around her perfectly shaped thigh. He looked down her front.
Lovely… He swallowed. "Merlin…"
She laughed ever so softly. "You like?"
There were no words to express how much "he like".
Solomon handed her back her sword and she held it with practiced grace as they finally walked into the club.
Lively salsa beats had people dancing and swaying all over the club. There were ladies drinks glowing on standing tables, neon colors against the dark, sultry shades of the club and its patrons.
The lights and sounds were as hot as the music and if the bouncers weren't clearing a path for them, it would have been impossible to walk through without getting bumped.
Harry's quick eyes roved the floor and he could see them; the vamps. There were many because this was definitely a vamp-human club mix.
Ron was gaping at everything. If Harry didn't go to clubs, Ron went to them even less. They were pub-folks, he and Ron, and clubs were just boxes filled with sweating bodies, cigarette smoke and drunk people.
Well, pubs had those too, but at least in a pub, they were comfortably dressed. Clubs required their attendants to pretty up, something Harry and Ron didn't feel like wasting their energy on.
Draco, however, was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes following a scantily clad woman who was happily bobbing her arse. "Very nice."
They were led up a flight of stairs and further through a steadily quieting hallway. It was still as dark as the rest of the club, but they didn't need to shout to hear each other anymore.
"Senorita Elena is in here," said the bouncer, opening ornately carved double-doors.
They stood at the threshold, and as the bouncer moved out of the way, Harry saw just what the fuss about Elena was all about.
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The room looked like a lovely Spanish villa on a tropical island. The spelled balconies on one side of the room reflected a nighttime beach, with sea birds and palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze.
It fascinated Harry that with the place housing vampires, it was likely that there would be no daytime incorporated in those spells. Then again, what were these technical matters when faced with a bevy of some of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen?
The women were lounging. It was the only way to describe them. They were draped on rugs, pillows and lounge chairs looking so utterly relaxed in their club finery. They came in all shapes and colors, vampire, human and werewolf. They looked happy; content… it was captivating.
At the center of them all was a woman in a white, strapless, ankle-length dress. Her bare shoulders showed an interesting tinge in spite of her pale, vampire skin. Her straight brown hair was wavy in places, reaching her waist. She wore gold bangles and beads. Her nails were painted with glitter.
Seeing Hermione, she smiled and stood. She was tall and svelte, but her statuesque form exuded warmth and welcome. Her eyes sparkled with true affection, as if she was Mother Nature instead of Death's Madame.
"Hermione…" She breathed the name so lovingly. "I've missed you horribly since we last parted in Albania and that's been ages. How have you been, my dear?"
"Smashing, considering the circumstances," Hermione replied, grinning.
Elena approached her, kissing one cheek, and then the other, but she didn't quite step away after that. In fact, she took Hermione's hand and began to caress it in both her own.
The intimate closeness was making Harry a bit sweaty but he most definitely could not look away.
"I feel for you," Elena said softly, her enchanting Spanish accent a pleasing melody. "Even if I know not the details of this meeting, it is safe to guess that Yasmin has been very… naughty. She has wronged you in some way, no doubt."
"In one of the worse ways," Hermione said, nodding. "You know how she gets… but this time, I don't know if I can forgive her. Worse comes to worse, I might have to kill her."
Elena's eyebrow arched. "You know I admire your skill, dearest. It was that skill which saved my life, but Yasmin… is not easy to kill. I cannot bear it if something… should happen to you."
Her words provoked Harry's instincts and he frowned. "I won't let anything happen to her."
It was as if Elena noticed him for the first time. She gave Harry a brief once over before smiling at him sympathetically. "You are Harry Potter. I recognize you from the wizarding papers, and in my society, there are some who fear you, but one of them is not Yasmin. She fears no one. She will not let anyone get in the way of her whims. Hermione has always ever been her concern, and if Hermione plays her cards right, she will not have to defend herself against Yasmin's wrath."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not her flunkie. I won't turn a blind eye to her transgressions just because she's the master of the Coven."
"She knows the extent of your will. She will come into this meeting knowing your mindset, but remember this… she does not want to lose you."
"I'm not hers."
Elena smiled wanly, pushing some hair tenderly away from Hermione's face. "Whatever web she has woven, you're already in it. You will only entangle yourself more you if you resist. Play her game, chica, and you will not have to shed anyone's blood to resolve this situation." She looked pointedly at Harry after this and Hermione looked over her shoulder at him.
Harry stared back curiously, wondering if Elena had just used him to sway Hermione's thoughts on the matter.
A moment later, Hermione nodded. "I understand. Should we head to the board room, now, Elena?"
"No. Yasmin is yet to arrive, and when she does, I wish to soften her up a bit for you. It will hurt no one, yes? Carmelita, see to it that Hermione and her gentlemen are comfortable while they wait. Serve them anything they want from the menu."
Harry had a feeling the "menu" had more than food and drink in it.
Carmelita, a black-haired beauty wearing a beige dress that was relatively more conservative but no less attractive, began gesturing to the girls and whispering to the ones nearest her. The girls grinned and got to work.
Elena leaned into Hermione, whispering something in her ear before she kissed Hermione's cheek tenderly and left the room.
The eager smile on Draco's lips showed that he knew just what was coming.
Lucien and Solomon most enthusiastically made themselves comfortable among the groups of women, falling back on pillows and couches. Draco and Ron were promptly accosted, though Ron looked mightily uncomfortable, stuttering and muttering as he gently pushed the women's wandering hands away. He slowly got backed into a corner and he looked up helplessly at Harry.
Harry shrugged just before three astoundingly beautiful ladies made their way towards him, grabbing his attention. They shot him coquettish smiles just as his eyes widened in realization. He was just about to come to terms with the fact that he was going to suffer the same fate as Ron when a wall of sultry brown curls got between him and the women.
"Back, the fuck, off," Hermione hissed fiercely at them. No uncertain terms, there.
Without even waiting for their reaction, she spun and took his hand, dragging him to the nearest balcony and pulling the curtains free of the ties holding them. The curtains fell between them and the rest of the party.
Harry was certainly beginning to like this. "Well, that wasn't very nice of you," he said charmingly.
She glared at him, cocking her hip to one side and planting one hand on it while the other gripped the sheathed sword with whitening knuckles. He saw the ring on her finger glinting against the black lacquered surface of the sheathe and wondered if it was merely a trick of the eye or whether some form of magic was making it act that way. "You didn't seem very eager to tell them off, so I told them off for you. Do you have a problem with that?"
It was painful stifling his grin. He could watch her being in this jealous mood all night. It was, after all, downright sexy. As lovely as she looked to begin with, it was absolutely nothing compared to seeing her riled up this way. "No. No problem. I'm glad you were there to take action. Why was I supposed to tell them off, again?"
She frowned then she looked haughty. "Because you're with me, or at least that's the way it should look. I can't very well walk into a place crawling with vampires without a proper escort."
"Oh, Merlin forbid."
"And what was I supposed to do while waiting? Watch you all get wanked off while I sit in the shadows alone? No thank you."
He leaned back against the balcony, cocking a grin as he gently took her hand and pulled her to him. She resisted for a heartbeat before letting him pull her closer. Testing the boundaries, he let his hand rest on the small of her back, caressing ever so slightly. She didn't object, though she kept frowning, and she still had her sword in her grip.
"Like I would ever let you sit around in the shadows alone," he said.
"Humph," she said quietly, turning slightly away, though she did not widen the proximity between them. She began to tap her sword with the ring.
He pushed some hair away from her eyes with a delicate nudge of his fingers. "Nervous about Yasmin?"
"No," she replied automatically before sniffing and saying, "Yes. She's over five hundred years old and ruthless. I'm twenty-three and confused. What am I doing here, Harry?"
"Old vampire traditions: marking your territory. And then there's defending the honor of someone you care about… natural responses." He rubbed her spine gently. "What are you confused about, exactly?"
"I'm in the middle of something I could barely comprehend and my personal life, which seemed so satisfyingly devoid of romantic relationships, is suddenly wrought with complex choices that I feel compelled to make."
He smiled. "So we've progressed from having an 'arrangement' to being in a 'romantic relationship?' About bloody time."
She flushed. "A complicated-yet-undefined romantic relationship, but yes… I figured that with the ring and all, I've lost all credibility on the matter of being a cold, unfeeling bitch."
Now both his hands were pressed to her back, pulling her closer. Her arm snaked around his shoulders just when his lips brushed hers, but she instantly pulled her lips away, pressing against him so that she would be too close for him to pursue their kiss.
With a frustrated sigh, he put his lips to her ear. "You're not going to let me kiss you, are you?"
"No. This isn't the time. I shouldn't have even brought it up, what with Coven matters being so grave, but it slipped out of me, just like my jealousy did a while ago."
He smiled and planted soft kisses on her neck. "Well, isn't that funny… Ron was right, after all."
"About what?"
"Nothing. So this complicated, undefined romantic relationship we have…" He pressed his lips to the hollow just behind her ear, closing his eyes. He could smell her perfume and he let it wrap around his senses. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She shifted in his embrace. He could feel the graceful movement of her back against his hands, how she seemed to be fitting herself against him. He smiled, putting a bit of tongue to his kisses.
"Hmm?" She said in response. "I mean… sure. That's… nice."
"Talking or necking?" he whispered, rasping his teeth against the skin of her neck.
She sighed, her fingers running through his hair. "I am in absolutely no position to answer that right now. Oh my, Harry…"
He obliged her more of the same because it was intoxicating to hear her say his name that way, and then he pulled back, looking into her eyes to see if maybe he could graduate to the touch of her lips. Her gaze was most welcoming.
It would have been easy to take her lips, and he would have, most eagerly, but he saw the rustling of curtains at the corner of his eye, and his distracted gaze alerted Hermione to the disturbance.
She turned to look over her shoulder just when Ron appeared through the drapes looking decidedly winded, but relieved, as if he had just gotten away from something.
"Whatever I interrupted, I don't want to know," said Ron. "But Elena's back. She said Yasmin's in the board room."
Hermione nodded, extricating herself from Harry's arms and tapping Ron's shoulder gratefully as she walked past him.
Ron cast him an apologetic look. "Sorry."
Harry sighed. "Let's go."
Together, they followed after Hermione.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The boardroom wasn't brightly lit. The walls were marble black, the conference table long and massive, the décor Zen-inspired and geometric. The lighting allowed for all of them to see one another, but not with any stark detail.
Yasmin sat on one end of the table, dressed in a very business-like suit, but as was her wont, the suit was made of pure leather, clinging desperately to her curves and pushing her breasts up to make a most pleasing cleavage. She had her hair tied up in an upsweep, a jeweled choker wrapped around her svelte neck. She flicked around a riding crop, and seated cross-legged, they could see that her stiletto-heeled footwear could seriously injure a person should it ever be used as a weapon.
Sitting on the chairs to her left and right were Isidore and Mari, their werewolves and perhaps hers standing behind Yasmin's chair.
Hermione leaned back on her seat at the opposite end, staring at her with barely veiled contempt. Hermione looked relaxed, even if Harry could see her gripping her sword tightly under the table. He wished he could put his hand on her shoulder to give her comfort, but it was hardly the kind of thing that would do any good.
Solomon sat to one side of her while Lucien sat on the other. Harry had preferred to stand, knowing that he could protect her better that way. Ron did so, too, probably for the same reason. Draco just wanted to be directly behind all of them. It was safer for him that way.
"So," Yasmin said, slapping her riding crop lightly against her palm. "What's the big idea throwing Henry through his office window? Didn't like the décor?"
Hermione sneered. "Well, there's that. But mostly, I'd had enough of his nauseating bullcrap. I thought maybe throwing him through a window would make my message to you sound more eloquent."
"It was unnecessary."
"It got you here, didn't it? Besides… it was fun to do."
Yasmin glared at her. "You know I'm jealous about my toys, Hermione. I don't recall giving you permission to play with him."
"I didn't give you permission to play with my Shadow Kin, either."
"I'm Coven Master, I don't need your permission."
"Even Coven Masters have rules to follow, and you of all people should know that my Shadow Kin answer to me first before they answer to you."
"Humph," Yasmin said. "Lucien was certainly answering to something else when I was fucking his brains out."
Lucien looked like he wanted to melt through the floor.
"Let me explain something to you, Yasmin," Hermione said in a greatly annoyed tone. "Where they put their dicks is no concern of mine, and I could care less to whom you peddle that joke you call your Virtue, but when you use my Shadow Kin to spy on me, I can very well take all your toys, human or vampire, and make them my bitch. You can very well take your coven protocol and shove it up your arse. Step over my territory and the gloves come off."
Harry valiantly resisted the urge to gulp. He had a feeling that Yasmin hadn't been talked to that way for quite some time now, and she might not take kindly to Hermione's rather-well, fearless approach. It was, however, a slightly wiser approach than cowering under the mantle of Yasmin's power. Only slightly. It could still get Hermione killed-for sheer impudence.
Color rose to Yasmin's cheeks and she looked about ready to explode. For several seconds, she said nothing, but the sound of her riding crop slapping against her palm became distinctly louder during that moment of silence.
The sound thundered in Harry's ears and the air was tense with anticipation of the worse.
"I ought to kill you for speaking to me like that," Yasmin said quietly.
Harry's hand tightened on his wand.
Elena coughed, shooting Yasmin a warning glare.
Hermione-amazingly-managed to look unconcerned. "You won't. You need me. And if not me, you need Harry. He'll do shite for you if I come to any harm by your hand."
"Presumptuous little-"
"Am I? Then you should've told Voldemort that I was on the train to Hogwarts, then maybe I could've gotten killed, and Voldie would've gotten his hands on Harry."
Yasmin blinked, surprised, before she frowned. "Honestly, Hermione… I might have merited your wrath shagging your Shadow Kin, but don't insult me. Work for a human and his scraps? The idea…"
At that, Hermione fell silent. She was, perhaps, not as astonished as she should be, even if Harry was reeling from this revelation. Yasmin was, it seemed, denying involvement with Voldemort, and she was denying having told Voldemort of their train trip to Hogwarts.
"Doesn't change the fact that you don't want me dead," Hermione said after a while. "And that you need Harry. Give me a reason why I shouldn't just quit your stupid Coven and stop taking orders from you."
True annoyance knotted Yasmin's eyebrows. "Because you need to know where that last Horcrux is."
Harry was afraid she would use that as a trump card.
Hermione didn't bat an eyelash. "Too true. Seems to put us in a bit of a stalemate, doesn't it? But here's what I think. You need to tell us where that last horcrux is, anyway. And do you know why I think this? Because whether or not you work for Voldemort, you'd want him dead just as much as Harry does."
Harry stiffened. When had Hermione come up with that? And more importantly, was it relevant enough for Yasmin to get muscled into telling them what they wanted to know?
"Voldemort is a human and I could care less-"
"Voldemort is gathering vampires to serve him, one of which used to be your brother. To your credit, I don't think you're after Voldemort for seducing Janus. You're simply bound by the principles of your legacy; that no vampire should seek to tip the dark balance of nature as we know it."
The words rung in Harry's ears. Janus was Yasmin's brother? Surely they weren't really related! No, probably not. In vamp-speak that could mean they were turned by the same vamp; the same master.
Yasmin's eyebrow arched before the faintest of smiles lifted the corner of her lip. "My, my, my… I seemed to have taught you well."
"I've been an apt pupil. I've learned more from you than you were willing to teach me. Voldemort and the uproar he's causing in vampire society is a nuisance you can't afford to have, but rather than get your hands filthy concerning yourself with a human, you get another human to do away with him. You want Voldemort dead; you want Harry to do it; ergo, you're going to give him the last horcrux."
"Or I can kill Voldemort myself. Would certainly save me all this trouble."
Hermione snorted. "Please… if you could do it, you would've done it already. That's the trouble with listening to Oracles and soothsayers… it taints your judgment. Instead of doing what you would naturally do, you feel compelled to follow a bleeding ancient instrument."
Yasmin's riding cropped whistled as she slapped the surface of the table.
Isidore and Mari jumped in their seats.
She looked to be on the limits of her patience. "That bleeding ancient instrument has served our society for millennia. Do not dare mock it."
Even Hermione was surprised by this show of temper. Who knew that Yasmin heeded the Oracle with near-religious belief? Or maybe there was something more to it? At any rate, it seemed like an opening Hermione was most willing to exploit.
"Then don't test the fates," Hermione hissed. "So maybe you didn't tell anybody about the train trip to Hogwarts, but too bad for you, it led to me finding out what you did to Lucien, and I'm not going to sit back and let it all be for naught. Tell me where Gryffindor's staff is and we can forget this little altercation of ours. Elena will see to it that you don't get bad press for any of this and I don't have to worry about being called a simpering alpha who couldn't take care of her Shadow Kin."
Harry's eyes roved to Lucien and saw no trace of surprise. This was something Hermione and Lucien had talked about; it was something Lucien was expecting: That he would be used as a bargaining chip in order to keep the status quo.
It was just as well, Harry supposed. Lucien owed Hermione that much in this matter. He had made Hermione vulnerable through his vices, and while letting her use his situation for their benefit might not nearly be enough to right the wrong, it was a useful start.
Yasmin leaned back on her seat, lips pressed into a thin line. "If I tell you where the staff is, you will proceed with your mission and you will continue to be an affiliate of the Coven."
Harry relaxed. These were conditions Hermione was willing to do, anyway, whether or not she got things straightened out with Yasmin. Hermione had, at least, made that much clear to him when they talked in the Jag the night before.
"If you throw in safeguarding both Lucien and Solomon from retaliation concerning this debacle-which is your fault, by the way-, then yes," Hermione replied. "At the risk of getting shot right to hell, that's what I'll do. I'll just have to take comfort in the fact that my priorities aren't as screwed up as yours."
"Fine. Done." Yasmin nodded crisply before she shot Hermione a rather ambiguous look. "Incidentally, Granger, I would have been… impressed by the way you manipulated this if I didn't know where you learned how to do it."
"I'll owl you your Teacher of the Year certificate, now get on with the telling."
Yasmin snorted. "Very well… Gryffindor's staff is hidden deep in the mountains of Bulgaria, hanging on one of the walls of your ex-boyfriend's castle. You remember that ex, don't you? You were together for almost six months."
Harry's eyebrow arched. Ex… boyfriend in Bulgaria… SIX MONTHS?
"You filthy, good for nothing bitch," Hermione growled, red with rage.
Yasmin smiled, finally happy to get in the last laugh. "Say hello to Viktor Krum for me, won't you?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry didn't know why he was positively incensed by the fact that Hermione had-
--had BOYFRIENDED that Wonky Fainting son of a fucking-
"Umm, Harry?" Hermione squeaked as they made their way home in the Jag.
He put a hand between them. "Don't talk to me right now. Just don't."
She backed off, and he noticed that she was staring at her ring, twisting it in her fingers as she bit her lower lip.
She must be checking to see if the knots weren't unraveling.
Somehow, that only made him more teed off. His feelings for her were true. Did she think something like this could wipe it away so easily? He wanted to think that his emotional range was better than the length of a teaspoon.
So he still loved her; there was no question about that, but it didn't mean he couldn't hate her right now.
He couldn't believe how angry he was, and he wasn't even sure why. Surely, he should've been angrier before, when she pranced back into his life out of nowhere, treating him like dirt. Surely, this was not something he should be getting angry about, especially considering he had no say in who Hermione dated when they were separated, but he was. He was furious and for the first time since she returned, he didn't want to look at her.
The tension was so palpable that even Draco knew enough not to say anything.
Solomon coughed. "Erm… anybody up for chocolate? Ice cream for the humans?"
"Ice cream!" Ron said with an obviously forced smile.
Harry was not in the mood. "You blokes go on ahead. You can just drop me off at Grimmauld Place, thanks."
Silence followed, and Harry had a feeling none of them really felt like chocolates and ice cream, just that now, they had to go, because it wouldn't do to have been so obviously conspiring to distract from the awful atmosphere in the car.
As soon as the Jaguar pulled up in the curb, Harry stepped out of the car and headed straight for Grimmauld Place's front porch.
He only became aware that Hermione had followed after him when he turned to close the door. He frowned and continued inside, leaving her to close the door behind them.
"Harry, wait!" she cried after the door was shut.
He didn't even pause as he spoke through grit teeth. "You were brilliant in that board room, Hermione. And really, whatever implications arose out of it needs talking about. I am completely and utterly aware of that fact, but at this time, I think it would be best if you leave me the hell alone!"
"Harry!" she gasped, shocked that he would ever talk to her that way. "Please tell me what you're so angry about. Was it something I said? Because whatever it was, I didn't mean it! Or you got it all wrong! Or-"
"It was nothing like that," he said through grit teeth. "It was-God! I'm so teed off at you right now I can't even express it!" The sound of shattering vases sounded through the halls and Harry cursed his accidental magic.
"Harry-"
"I can't-," Harry growled. "How could you do that? How could you-"
"How could I what, Harry?" she said, sounding frustrated. "I don't even know-"
"You shacked up with Viktor Krum for six fucking months, that's what! God, Hermione, how can you stay with him for that long and walk out on me barely a month through-Merlin fuck me! It's just so blooming wrong! I'd demand an explanation, but right now, nothing you can say would make me feel better about any of it, so just leave me the fuck alone, alright? Just-did you love him more? Did he love you better than I did? Did he-you know what? I don't need to know. I. Don't. Need. To. Know!"
He turned to keep walking.
She followed after him. "H-Harry! It was nothing like that! It was-"
"Don't you dare tell me it was just sex."
"Of course it wasn't just sex!" she gasped. "Can you stop for one second and-"
He shook his head. "Right now, there's a buzzing in my ears. So no, you don't get one second. I think after all the slack I've cut you, you can give me this time alone, don't you think?"
She didn't look as if she was going to argue the point.
"Great," he said, making his way to his room and shut himself in with a great big bang of his door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione heard the door to his room slamming shut and her shoulders sagged miserably.
Wonderful. Since when have I ever been this relationship-challenged?
Oh, yes, since I was turned…
It was so damn frustrating when one thought things were finally going in a nice and easy direction then have it all crash down like a house of cards.
Now what am I going to do with this silly dress? she thought. She had been hoping some time during their interlude in the balcony that he would maybe venture to-oh, remove it from her when they got back to Grimmauld Place.
That's not happening tonight… or perhaps any other night…
The thought struck her as terrible. It was more frightening than the thought of facing Yasmin and impending humiliation. It was more frightening than death, this possibility that she had finally succeeded in chasing Harry away.
She blinked back tears as she plopped down on the stairs, shocked by the awful possibilities and the fact that it was scaring her. Her musings, however, were interrupted when she realized that she wasn't alone on the stairwell.
There stood Ron, staring up at her from the foot of the steps.
It's just as well…
Ron was probably going to pick up where Harry ended and finish her off altogether.
Gravely, he climbed the steps and sat beside her. "Alright, Hermione?"
It was a bit of a surprise that he hadn't started yelling at her.
Sniffing to control her emotions, she looked at him warily. "Relatively. Yasmin hadn't tried to kill me, and she didn't go for humiliation, either. Of course, that doesn't mean what she said wasn't vicious in the extreme, or that I don't think she's a demonic bitch…" She tried to laugh but failed at the effort. "Still… I resolved the bigger issues, eh? And now all I have to do is worry about how I'm going to punish Lucien for his indulgences…"
"I was asking about you with regard to Harry, but I suppose all that works as well if you want to talk about it."
Hermione stared at him a moment, perplexed. "You're being nice to me. This is weird."
His brows knotted just before he chuckled. "What are you on about, Granger? You're my best friend too, you know… or at least that's how it used to be. At any rate, Harry cares for you, so I care for you."
"You do?"
"Don't be stupid. Of course I care. So I was teed off with you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to step on your heart when the Brooding Hero up there had already given you a hard time of it. I've never kicked a man while he was down, and I'm certainly not going to abandon you at a time like this."
Hermione was really surprised now. "Well that's… that's right decent of you, Ron. Thank you. Frankly, I don't know what to say…"
"Well, I know how to cure that. So… you dated Viktor Krum. For six months even. You understand why Harry's so teed off, don't you?"
She grimaced, leaning her head against the banister of the stairway. "I think so, but I'm not going to hazard anymore guesses, educated or otherwise. I've found that when it comes to relationships, I'm the stupidest person in all of England. I'm a relationship-squib."
He grinned. "Well, you can't be good at everything, you know."
"No, I suppose not."
"So do you want me to tell you what I think, or not?"
"Sure. What's the harm in it?"
He nodded, holding up his hand and counting off each finger as he spoke. "Fact one: your biggest issue with Harry was his being human and therefore incompatible with you. Fact two: you leave him without so much as a goodbye a month through your vampirism; give or take. Fact three: you had a relationship with Viktor Krum, human. Fact four: you had a relationship with Viktor Krum for six months. Conclusion: That's fucked up. How can you stay that long with Krum after you gave up on Harry so quickly? I'm pretty sure Krum never loved you the way Harry did."
Hermione sighed, looking down at her hands. She thought it was something like that. "It wasn't… Viktor never came close to what Harry was to me, and I don't think he loved me better, either, but Viktor was… he was easy. It wasn't passionate or dramatic or… well, I guess you can say he was comfortable. Good company when he was there… he was mostly absent, you see. He's a Quidditch player. He travels the world for games and such, and I couldn't even watch him. Never did, actually. My excuse was I couldn't go out in the day, but it was a big relief that I didn't have to go to his games. So in those six months… you can say we were together for an accumulative time of a month and a half. Besides that, Viktor wasn't going to give up his dreams for me. That was… a weight off my conscience. I wasn't depriving him of anything. He wanted to have children so… he had them."
Ron's eyes widened. "With other women?"
"No, with me. His mojo is supercharged so I bore him children in spite of my vampirism. I've left all four of our children with him… of course with other women! Two, in fact."
He frowned. "Well, I was just saying… you let him have these affairs?"
She shrugged. "Things were already rather iffy some time around the fifth month, and it just sort of fizzled out around the sixth. There was no awkward break up or anything. We just stopped seeing each other and then I heard he had children with two willing women. The fact that it doesn't really bother me… well, says something, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, that he's a git."
Hermione frowned. "Don't be harsh, Ron. The man wanted children, I couldn't give it to him, so he sought it from someone… well, others."
Ron shrugged. "Harry would never do it that way. If he wanted children, he'd want them with you, so maybe he'd adopt. He won't go and have 'em with other women."
"Yes, well… Harry's affection for me right now is a bit shaky, at best, so we won't be comparing him with anybody tonight."
"You're upset. That he's angry at you."
"And so what if I am?"
"I more than expected that you'd pretend not to care."
"Pretend… that's a funny way of calling it."
"Well, you don't expect me to believe that you're as cold as you wanted to seem, do you?"
She shrugged, finding it in herself to smile for him a bit. "I don't know. Maybe I did. Even the human Hermione was capable of being cold and calculating."
"Is it easier for you that way?"
"For all of us, don't you think?"
"Nope. I think just for you."
She sighed. "I don't want to hurt anybody unnecessarily, Ron. It's not a vamp trait that developed very well in me. And I certainly meant no offense to Harry when I dated Viktor. I've done loads of other things he could be angry about… why this?"
"I don't know. Maybe he just finally snapped. You've provoked him an awful lot, already."
"But I thought we'd gotten all that out of the way…"
"In Hogwarts? That hardly counts. You were angry together and then you fooled around as a result of it."
Her jaw dropped. "He told you about that?"
"Well, he didn't go into details, and he only told me because he needed advice, but yeah, he told me. We tell each other things, you know. It's this pesky 'best friend' thing we have going."
Her brows knotted at her own shortsightedness, then she cocked a weary smile. "Can I tell you something, then?"
"You can tell me anything."
She appreciated him for saying that. She placed her hands on his arm and squeezed gratefully. "I don't like it that he's angry at me. It's making me feel… lost."
He nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Go on."
"I'm afraid that he won't speak to me ever again. Makes my stomach feel all leaden and knotted."
"Classic symptoms. Shortness of breath? Sleepless nights?"
She chuckled. "I've practically stopped breathing and I haven't been sleeping at night at all."
He laughed softly, draping his arm over her shoulders and squeezing her in his great big embrace. "I'm afraid you've got it bad, then."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, liking the security of Ron's all-encompassing arms as she gazed at nothing in particular. "Do I? Then I'm in deep shite. He hates me."
"Oh, just give 'im some space. He'll get over it. I did."
She looked up and exchanged tired grins with him before they finally settling into an easy, comfortable silence.
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A/N: Aaaaand I'm writing Chapter 26 as you read. ^_^
Thanks! Come again!