A rather lengthy Author's Notes: This took long for one reason and one reason only: I was swamped. However, every time I got the chance to sit down and write, I just kept on writing. So much so that I've actually cut scenes from this one just because it had gotten too long. Not to worry, though. I promise you that those clipped scenes were absolutely unnecessary. Amusing, but unnecessary. And so I hope this is worth the wait.
On yet another important note: You've all been so kind, telling me that you don't mind getting dragged through 14 more chapters. It's terribly sweet of you all and I thank you.
I've gone the last four days staying up too late and now it has taken its toll. As you're reading this, I am probably comatose, whether or not my eyes are open or close. But be assured that if I do finally get to close my eyes on a proper bed (as opposed to an improper one, like my ergonomic office chair) sixteen hours of sleep ought to do it for me, and that the moment I wake up, I would be writing chapter 31. So as I pay up my sleep debt (plus interest), I thank you all for your continued support of Harry and Hermione in friendship, adventure, romance, and porn.
Last but certainly not the least, thanks so very much to tome_raider who has betaed so very competently. If it weren't for her, these last few chapters would've been sad, unredeemable messes. When you feel like putting those extra exclamation points in "OMFGthatwasuchagreatchapter!!!!!!!!111exclamation point!!!111", I'm quite sure that it was because of her. ^_^
Chapter rating: R
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PART THREE: MIDNIGHT
Chapter Twenty-Ninth: Deceived
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War is a period of armed conflict between two opposing ideologies, which can involve nations, states, federations or, perhaps in its smallest scale, organizations. There is death. There is destruction, and most of all, there is division. But apart from a mind's understanding of war, the individual experience of it strikes one's heart and soul. When one is in the middle of a war, and not merely watching it from the outside, one realizes that death, destruction and division bleeds from the very people closest to you.
The realization that war tears from the very hearts of the ones involved in it and then outwards is a true testament that war isn't just about armies, strategies, weapons and political cunning; it is, most importantly, about people, families, and loved ones.
A brother could die; a mother could be heartbroken; a child could be lost; a family could be irreparably shattered.
Harry had watched Ron bury one brother and lose hope for the other; had seen women and men die while their friends, family or even just their comrades, wept over their bodies. He had held the woman he loved as her life blood spilled, the future they could have once had, fading forever beneath its crimson pool.
In times of war, life runs uncertain. Plans are precarious; principles are compromised; fear taints the most simple of pleasures; loss is an inevitability.
It was something Harry had learned to live with everyday of his life, longer than Wizards his age has had to endure. Since his third year in Hogwarts, he knew that war wasn't just a battle he could watch from a distant field. War was with him while he was in school; while he slept; while he laughed in Hogsmead; while he played Quidditch. The rest of Wizard-kind only began to acknowledge the existence of it in his fifth year, and the handful that did take action only did so because they'd known the horrors of war more intimately than their more insulated fellowmen.
And so now, in Viktor Krum's home, the ravages of war have begun to bleed where once the snowy peaks, isolated towns and magnificent castle walls were enough to keep it away. Now, Viktor Krum found his heart torn, his convictions stifled and his integrity put to the harshest of tests because love for his children and even his siblings had given him no leeway for much else.
His sister had his sons, kept from him these last few months in a location Viktor knew not of. His brother had refused him visiting rights to his own children, and his only proof that they were alive was the blessedly un-checked box labeled "Deceased" on their enchanted Civil Certificates in the Bulgarian Hall of Records.
Harry stood by the window of Viktor's study, the sun not quite ready to set over Bulgaria. The sky bore the unique taint of impending sunset, the pinks, oranges and blues just about creeping on the edges of white light where it would later bleed and blend together into purple, then grey and finally black. To some people it signified the end of the day. To Harry, especially five years ago when Hermione had been newly turned, it was in a lot of ways only the beginning.
"Harry should have better things to look forward to than the coming of sunset," Hermione had told Ron that night she left.
He smiled to himself. What was so bad about night, anyway?
Just like daylight, only… well, darker.
Chuckling, he turned from the window to look at the items on Viktor's desk. There were parchments and quills, magical desktop toys and of course a snitch in a glass globe. And then there were the pictures.
There were only two of them, right where Viktor could look up from scribbling on his parchment to see it. The children were, as Viktor had said, still too young to run about, but they were strong like their father, perhaps, and they were nimbly crawling on their knees and hands, laughing and grinning toothlessly at their mobile toys and mini-snitches.
Harry had to wonder about their mothers. Did Viktor even care about them? Or had they, as Hermione jokingly pointed out, served as nothing but wombs?
"Jaroslav and Todor were born only weeks apart," said Viktor from the door.
Harry had hardly noticed his arrival. The man was as quiet and unassuming as always. It still surprised Harry that someone so famous could be so uninterested in attention.
Well, you're not exactly a nobody, Potter.
He frowned at his own musings.
We're different. The attention he gets is positive. He's a Quidditch star. I'm just a bloke with a buggery prophecy written all over my forehead.
"I did not keep my intentions, of having children, from her." Viktor continued.
Harry then realized that Viktor had misinterpreted the displeased expression on his face. "That's not-" He paused and sighed, giving Viktor a close-lipped smile. "Your sprogs favor you. I think maybe they have your nose."
Viktor made a sound like soft laughter. "Yet another thing they will blame me for when they get older, da?"
Ah. So the bloke does have a sense of humor. Harry cocked a tiny grin. "Least of their worries, I think."
Viktor's quiet laughter dwindled and he nodded, his eyes falling on the pictures of his children.
Harry watched him a moment before speaking. "You understand what you will have to do when you get them back?"
"Yes. I understand." Viktor sighed, looking just the tiniest bit forlorn. He pulled a drawer open and plucked out an ornate picture frame, and when he turned it over, Harry saw that the frame matched the ones for his children. This picture used to be on the desk with Jaroslav and Todor.
Viktor shoved the frame into Harry's hands. "I always thought she… looked beautiful when she was sad."
Harry looked and saw a picture of Hermione in a relatively conservative sleeping gown. The gown was dark blue and black. It showed off her arms and shoulders but not much else. Her thick hair was braided back and she was looking out of the window before she turned to look out of the picture, relinquishing a smile tinged with pain. She was beautiful, but her eyes were so filled with sorrow even Harry felt a profound sadness.
"That sounds odd," Viktor continued. "But she was often… cold, and it was when she was sad that she was herself again. At least when she was with me."
Harry stared at the picture a moment, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the face on the photograph, realizing in no small way the sacrifices she had made for him, and perhaps for everybody, too.
"You keep the picture," said Viktor. "I cannot take it with me and… well, it is a… very good picture. No point in letting it go to waste."
For a moment, Harry felt that white-hot jealousy he had always harbored (and never quite properly voiced) for Viktor Krum, and he had to bite back his extremely spiteful retort of, "Well, I don't need this because I've got the real thing," but considering what Viktor had gone through; what he was going through right at this moment, Harry could let Viktor have his memories of Hermione without tainting it with spite.
Harry shrunk the picture frame and slipped it into his coat pocket. It marked the end of their easy discussion. It was time to get down to business. "Have you flooed your brother and sister?"
Viktor nodded, taking up the change of topic in a flash. "Yes."
"Did they agree to make the deal with you?"
"They agreed to bring the children. They made no promises of leaving them with me, but it would be enough if Jaroslav and Todor were physically here. Anyway, I think once my brother and sister sees you and Ron Weasley, I think they will trust me unconditionally. They also… asked how many vamps you had with you. I told them, just like you instructed."
"And what did you tell them when they asked you why you hadn't informed them of my arrival sooner?"
"Just as Her-my-own, suggested. Subduing you needed timing. Planning. You had vampires and Ron Weasley to protect you. I could only capture you by means of treachery, which took time."
"They believed you?"
"Yes. They think they know my weaknesses and they consider my slow-moving deviousness as one of them."
Harry couldn't help but thank Merlin for small blessings. "They'll want to be here before sundown, of course."
"They said they would be. They will bring other Death Eaters with them, and they're going to kill Hermione and her Shadow Kin in their sleep."
This, Harry expected as well, but hearing it spoken so frankly still gave him an involuntary shudder. "This works best. At this hour, they can't bring their own vampires with them, though I would expect that they'd have vampires follow after. If all goes according to plan, we don't have to worry about those vamps, whether they follow or not."
"I hope you are right."
"I have to be, or I'll have the lives of your children on my conscience. Viktor, will you… your niece and nephew…?"
"They will be returned to their parents."
Harry did not pursue it. The fate of Stefanya and Gavril was for Viktor to decide.
A phantasmal form materialized from the door. The ghost girl Vasilka appeared, wringing her hands. "My Lords," she said. "Your guests have arrived."
"We better get to the dungeons, then," Harry said. "And get this show on the road."
"Indeed." Viktor stood, both of them hurrying out Viktor's study.
"Is everything ready?" Harry asked.
"Ron said it would be."
As Harry came upon the dungeons and descended its stairs, the settling darkness began to alter his mood. He grew focused and determined, and the deeper he went, the more resolute he was about making this work. His thoughts fell upon the encased staff stored safely in some secret part of the castle. Wards for it were no longer needed. The dreadful powers once encompassing a wide radius was now confined to its tiny cage.
Harry couldn't resist a small smile of pride. He and Hermione had made that casing fool proof. They had strengthened it, together.
Arriving at the bottommost holding area, Harry saw the shackles that would be used to bind him. Beside that was Ron's body.
Ron's body…
Leaning lifelessly against the wall, eyes wide open with a shocked expression on his face and a knife driven through his belly. Ron's blood pooled on the dungeon floor. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't anything. He was dead.
Harry stood there, gaping at Ron who stared right back. Trembling, he turned to face Viktor who had his wand out.
The last words Harry heard was Viktor's perfectly pronounced, "Stupefy."
After which Harry knew no more.
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Harry woke with a jolt, the sockets of his arms aching for a split heartbeat before it became uncomfortably numb. He was slumped against the wall, arms raised above him as his wrists hung from short-chained manacles. His legs were bound by magic.
He felt a bit disoriented, especially staring into the eyes of someone strangely familiar, yet… not.
He squinted in the dimness. The hawk nose; the dark hair; the strong jaw.
Viktor's sister.
She spoke in Bulgarian, looking over her shoulder at Viktor and, whom Harry assumed, was her second brother, Vasili.
Vasili laughed at what she said, thumping Viktor proudly on the back as he said something which was apparently equally as amusing, because his sister responded to it with a grin.
There were a few other strangers with them; a mix of men and women totaling thirteen, and likely Death Eaters too, but just as Harry had expected, none of the Big Boys were there. Like any follower of Voldemort, they couldn't pass up the chance of taking full-credit for Harry Potter's capture. Reporting the capture of Harry Potter to those like Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy would be a waste, because Lestrange and Malfoy would give credit to no one but themselves.
Viktor's faint smile in response to the laughter around him did not reach his eyes, but he tore his gaze from Harry.
"Good evening, Harry Potter," Vanya said, stepping back and smiling at him. She had a thick accent as she spoke, but she seemed well-versed in English. "I trust you slept well? Viktor has been a model host to you and your friends." She turned her gaze at Ron's lifeless body. "Though I think your friend over there might not be feeling so at-home."
Harry bit back any retort that rose from his throat.
The Death Eater nearest to Ron kicked Ron's corpse.
"Get away from him," Harry growled menacingly. "Don't you touch him!"
Again there was laughter.
"What time is it, Viktor?" Vanya asked over her shoulder, though her eyes never left Harry.
Viktor took a moment to reply before checking his pocket watch. "The sun sets, but it is a while yet before dark, sister. The vampires still sleep."
Vanya smirked. "You know what that means, don't you, Harry Potter? It means your precious Mudblood and her Shadow Kin are being staked through the heart as we speak… while they sleep helplessly in their coffins."
"Dita and Mikhail always wanted to have the slaying of vampires," said someone from the group. "Something to brag about, they say!"
There was more laughter.
They're enjoying themselves…
Harry felt sick to his stomach. He was familiar with the ruthlessness of Death Eaters, having dealt with them since he was fourteen, but it still disgusted him, their utter disregard for human decency. They had no respect for anyone except their kind: Pureblood supremacists and the occasional half-blood that shared their opinion.
He shook in his shackles with rage. "Viktor, you wouldn't. How could you-"
"The M-Mudblood was a mistake I wish to correct," Viktor said, his face utterly devoid of expression. "And I want to prove to my brother and sister that I am loyal to the Dark Lord. What better way is there than to deliver Hermione Granger and Harry Potter at the same time? Weasley was a bonus."
"Bastard," Harry whispered under his breath.
At that, Vasili draped his arm over Viktor's shoulder and beamed, exchanging Bulgarian words with Viktor and their buddies in an excited tone.
"The Dark Lord will be pleased," Vanya said. "Twice over when we bring Hermione Granger's head on a silver platter. Janus will hate that, won't he? Had always fancied he'd be the one to have the killing of her."
Harry felt hatred rise in his chest so quickly at the mere mention of Janus's name. His eyes flashed angrily in Viktor's direction.
"I hope it was worth it, Viktor. I hope your betrayal was worth Hermione's life."
Viktor swallowed and nodded. "It was. My children are safe, Harry Potter."
Harry eyed him carefully.
"My children are safe."
Harry stifled his grin. It worked!
"So are Stefanya and Gavril," Viktor continued.
Harry was surprised at that last bit. Vasili and Vanya looked like they'd gotten hit with Bludgers.
Vanya's eyes darted to her brother fiercely. "What do you-"
"They will not be raised by Death Eaters. Not if I can help it."
Vasili stepped away from Viktor, eyes livid with confusion and rage. He was speaking sharply in Bulgarian, along with the rest of their comrades. Vanya had joined their argument, speaking harshly at Viktor. Everyone's back was turned to Harry, now, and Harry glanced anxiously at Ron's sprawled form as he fished the manacles' key from within the cuffs. He could free himself in seconds, but he couldn't risk fighting all fifteen Death Eaters alone, even with Viktor's help.
How far along is sunset, anyway?
There would be daylight still, of that Harry was certain. It could not have been thirty minutes since the arrival of the Death Eaters, but how long was he expected to wait for Ron to rise?
Harry was on the verge of real worry when Ron's corpse blinked and a pained expression crinkled his brow.
"Shhhhite!" the corpse hissed, pushing himself up from the floor.
The arguing dwindled as everyone's gazes fell upon Ron who had, quite literally, risen from the dead.
A smile spread across Harry's face. Excellent!
Ron wrapped his hand around the hilt of the knife embedded into him and pulled, groaning as blood oozed profusely from the wound. "Honestly! Did you have to stick that in so deep, Viktor?"
Viktor blushed. He blushed! "I-I apologize…"
The Death Eaters gaped at Viktor in shock.
The game was coming to a head and the shit was just about to hit the fan.
Grinning, Harry turned the key to his manacles and loosened his bindings. It was while they watched in horrified fascination the healing of Ron's knife wound that Viktor swiped out two wands and ducked for cover. Harry summoned his wand from Viktor's hand and removed the magical bindings from his legs.
The polyjuice ruse was a crucial part of their plan. Given that Viktor's siblings were prone to suspicion, Viktor had to do something drastic to show his siblings that they could trust him, and Harry knew just the thing. Viktor needed to show Vanya and Vasili a body; preferably a dead one, and preferably someone close to Harry Potter. The dead body had to be either Ron's or Hermione's, and since faking a vampire's death was next to impossible considering it involved either a burning, a stake through the heart, or decapitation, Hermione was out of the question. They could make Ron seem dead, and if they played their ruse very carefully, the Death Eaters might not find out about the deception until it was too late. The plan seemed viable, but a bit precarious until Hermione suggested using polyjuice potion on Solomon.
"Solomon would be perfect for it," she had told him. "Polyjuice him into Ron and Ron would be-well, he'd be dead as dead can be while Solomon's asleep. It would be a more than convincing ruse. Best part? Solomon can wake up before sunset, so long as there aren't any windows for the sun to shine through, which means Solomon can very well help you round up Death Eaters. I'm thinking between you, Viktor, Solomon and the shock of Ron rising from the dead, you can take on fifteen to twenty Death Eaters easy." After which she had given him a grin, a wink and a flirty bump of her hip.
Somehow, hearing Hermione say "you can take on fifteen to twenty Death Eaters easy" with such casual confidence made Harry feel he could take on fifty of them if she said he could and if she said it just that way.
There was a shout, and Harry sprung to his feet, casting a protection charm as hexes flew at him just when Solomon started throwing hexes of his own.
Two Death Eaters fell just when Solomon doubled over, suffering the waning effects of Auror-grade polyjuice potion.
"Bugger me! OUCH!" Solomon cried, his true voice blending with the polyjuice induced one as his true visage began to emerge from beneath Ron's face.
The Death Eaters stood stunned for a few heartbeats before they dissolved into even more confusion.
Harry emerged from his shield and hexed left and right with wand and hand. Death Eaters ducked and dodged, splitting as one group advanced towards Viktor and the other towards Harry. The Death Eaters had completely forgotten about Solomon, which was a phenomenal mistake.
In another moment, Solomon rose from his crouch. No trace of Ron remained in his body and he vamped ferociously in his true skin.
Vanya's scream pierced the dungeon walls as Solomon leapt into the fray, fangs bared and eyes aglow with bloodlust.
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Ron stared at the two Death Eaters from behind Harry's invisibility cloak. He stayed low, crouched behind some theater props of vine-festooned trees, gorilla costumes, leopard skins and household items carved from wood and coconut husks. There were several phonographs set on one corner of the room, presumably to make sound-effects with, and several monkey puppets hung from high above the Lily-like horn speakers. Nearby was a battered copy of what looked like a script, and on its cover page was its title: Greystoke.
He had no inclination whatsoever to pick that copy up and read it, but he had to wonder if the script had anything to do with the props scattered about the room. At any rate, the props would do nicely for what he planned to do.
The Death Eaters came armed with wooden stakes and vials of what was probably blessed water. They had their cowls pulled over their heads and they moved purposefully towards the three coffins in the middle of the room.
They spoke in Bulgarian, the soft, nervous laughter evident in their chatter.
First time, is it? Ron thought sourly. He could never understand how some people were so eager to have their first vampire kill. It wasn't something he had looked forward to before, not just because he was completely conscious of the fact that Hermione was one, but also because killing them was-well, it was horribly messy.
It was nothing like an Avada Kedavra, or a choking spell, or even the ghastly Sectusempra. Killing a vampire meant you had to get close to it, and there was just no escaping the blood. Beheading and spiking them made for a generous spray of gore, bits of crimson flesh splattering when one didn't do it just right.
Setting them on fire was worse. The smell of burning hair, skin and flesh was enough to cause any sane wizard with a shred of human decency to double over and vomit, at least when having a whiff of it for the first time. Frankly, Ron couldn't quite get over the severed heads, impaled hearts and extra-crispy slabs of vamp. It wasn't something he took pleasure in. He wasn't adverse to defending himself from death-by-fang, but he didn't stomp around Order meetings all gung-ho and ready to collect vamp heads.
Ron often had to wonder whether Harry had gotten over the more awful aspects of vampire killing. Harry had, after all, killed six of them, but Harry never quite talked about the slaying. He never quite talked about anything to do with taking lives, whether it was vampire, werewolf or human.
Neither did Ron, for that matter. They had enough to deal with in their private thoughts. Voicing it only made it all the more real.
The Death Eaters came upon the first coffin, breathing reverently and grinning just before they heaved to push open the lid.
The lid wouldn't budge, of course. Not from the outside, at least. Ron hadn't grown up within the Weasley household without learning his locking spells with near obsessive enthusiasm. With Fred and George as brothers, nothing was sacred if they were given access, hence, Ron had to learn, and refine, his barring and vaulting techniques. Of course, Bill had always been a generous teacher when it came to making those magical locks and curses, because Bill had to know how to put them there if he was going to be any good at breaking the ones put there by others.
And so now the Death Eaters tried the second coffin, which was sealed just as tight.
Ron had to stifle a scoff. Didn't even try to break the lock. Pathetic. If I had known they would be this stupid, I wouldn't have bothered with the Industrial stuff. Then again, not like I'd risk Hermione's and Lucien's safety.
Ron found himself wondering when he began adding Lucien to his Worry Repertoire.
'Twas inevitable. Hermione cares for the fruity twit and in a typical me fashion, I'm sticking my neck out for the buggery bloke.
Deterred once again, the Death Eaters' smiles slowly began to lack luster. They tried the third coffin.
This one opened quite easily. It ought to have. Ron hadn't bothered to ward it, mainly because there was no vampire inside.
Solomon was, by Ron's pocket watch, probably terrorizing the piss out of Viktor's siblings and pals by now. He recalled Harry's reminder last night, just before the vamps went to sleep.
"Solomon, I'd-I'd really like it if our prisoners were… alive when we take them into custody," Harry had said, brow slightly knotted. "And alive enough to, oh, live… you know?"
"So," Solomon had responded somewhat uncertainly. "Umm, you don't want me to kill them?"
"Alive and able, Sol," Hermione had said. "Preferably with their limbs and other appendages intact."
Solomon hadn't looked all that happy. "Not even their ears?"
Ron recalled having stepped away from him and saying, "I fear you," which, to Ron's own surprise, wasn't really all that true.
Since when had he gotten all chummy-chummy with vamps? Sure, Hermione was one thing, but other bloodsuckers? He never would have thought it was possible, yet there he was, thinking chummy thoughts of Solomon and Lucien.
How far you've come, Teaspoon!Ron.
Of course, it had still been terribly weird when, using Harry's Auror-Issue polyjuice stock from what Hermione called Harry's "utility belt" (and at this point, Ron had to pretend he didn't understand her suggestive "Harry's tool kit" jokes), they had turned Solomon into him. For a few seconds, Ron saw what he'd look like if he was-well, fully undead.
The polyjuice potion took a while before it had Solomon completely transformed, and according to Solomon, it wasn't a pleasant feeling, either. Harry said this was common with the Auror-Issue mixes. The effects were supposed to last some fifteen to twenty hours, whether the one who ingested the potion stayed alive or happened to get himself killed while undercover. So given its properties, the polyjuice's effects should last throughout Solomon's dead sleep. The only problem being that Harry had no way of telling whether the polyjuice would last as long given a vamp's body chemistry.
As it was, Solomon, as Ron, still had a teeny tiny bit of fang that just wouldn't go away, and of course his eyes were still intensely vampiric. According to Solomon, he knew he could vamp in his present polyjuiced form, but doing so would likely retransform him into his true self.
"Just make sure Viktor already has his kids before you wake up and vamp," Harry had said.
"How will I know?" Solomon had asked.
Viktor had replied that if Solomon woke up to Vasili and Vanya's angry yelling, that meant he had his children safe. That seemed enough for Solomon and he accepted it without asking for an explanation.
Ron hoped Viktor and Solomon knew what they were doing.
In the meantime, Ron was getting a bit bored with these silly Death Eaters who were now arguing about something. After bickering for another minute, they began to head for the door.
Well, maybe this isn't a total loss.
Ron flicked his wand and the doors swung shut, bolting itself tight.
The Death Eaters stared at it a moment before throwing themselves at the door, frantically banging and pushing against it in clear panic.
Yawning, Ron lifted the Immobulous spells on the phonographs. Jungle sounds filled the room, which predictably had the two Death Eaters whirling to face the room, backs pressed to the door and looking utterly petrified.
They raised their wands and their respective vampire weapons.
These Voldi-whores have absolutely NO idea what they got themselves into, coming here and thinking they could kill them a couple of vamps, Ron thought with a roll of his eyes. He wondered what would happen if he jiggled the puppet monkeys, so he did, just to see, and the Death Eaters screamed out hexes, blasting the monkeys from their puppet strings. The wooden puppets fell on the phonographs, knocking a few of them askew and causing some of them to emit very weird noises.
Ron winced. Yikes.
The bloke began to sob and his companion whacked his shoulder in utter disdain. She turned to the door and fired hexes at it, which of course bounced back, ricocheted and almost caught them on its way back.
Please. As if I would make it that easy, thought Ron sourly. He checked his watch again. It was a bit yet before sunset. He could very well keep playing with these Death Eaters and wait for Hermione and Lucien to rise, which Ron imagined would have the Death Eaters scared shitless (unnecessary, but hilarious), or he could incapacitate them right now, which would be wise (but boring).
"No monkey business, Ron," Hermione had told him before she went to sleep. He wasn't sure if she had chosen that particular metaphor on purpose, but somehow, having primates all around the room quite effectively reminded him of her warning.
Bloody Know-It-All probably planned it that way, too.
He was more than a little glad that he didn't have to put up with her attitude any more than he had to. His fanged best friend was so very dear to him, but if he had to listen to that bossy voice all the time, he imagined it would drive him to drink.
Well, drink more than usual, at least.
He wondered how in the world Harry could stand it, though the fantastically stupid smile on Harry's face seemed to imply that the Boy Who Lived didn't mind in the least being the Boy Who Lived to Get Whipped By His Vamp Girlfriend.
Then again… Harry didn't seem all that whipped, either, even with all of Ron's initial objections to Harry's seemingly unwavering "lurve" for her.
Hermione always did have a healthy respect for Harry… dates all the way back to first year. I, on the other hand, got called an insensitive teaspoon, was turned down as a Yule Ball date, and was introduced to a flock of conjured canaries.
He smirked. Now that he looked back on it all, it astounded him that he ever thought that he wanted Hermione as a girlfriend. Nothing about them would have worked.
We would have been miserable, plain and simple… might have stuck around for the sex, though, if it's as good as Harry says it is.
Hermione-and probably Harry, too-would deck him for that. But as Luna once said, "Women might be able to fake orgasms, but men can fake whole relationships," so he could hardly be blamed for thinking it.
Ron remembered having a blast with George over that and two bottles of Firewhiskey. Ron couldn't remember if it was funnier before or after the alcohol. Either way, listening to Luna's quotable quotes was always a treat. It was just the sort of thing that made Luna such good company.
At that, Ron frowned. In his last drinking session with George and Luna, George seemed to be giving Luna these really wonky looks; the kind of looks George used to throw in Katie Bell's direction. Strangest of all was that Ron felt extremely unsettled by this.
Maybe George shouldn't be trying to get into relationships carrying so much baggage…
He was snapped out of his musings when the Death Eaters started arguing heatedly. He considered watching this argument, even if he couldn't understand a word that was being said, but he supposed he had already let it go on for as long as was necessary.
Honestly, if only all Death Eaters were this stupid, this entire bloody war would've ended ages ago.
Of course, Ron had dealt with the really dangerous ones in the last five years and he wouldn't have trifled with any of them like this.
Rabastan alone is one tough mo' fo' who can throw hex for hex with some of the more talented members of the Order, and at least the more senior Death Eaters knew enough not to take Harry one on one…
Ron whipped off the invisibility cloak and stepped into the light of the dim room.
The Death Eaters stopped arguing, stunned at his sudden appearance.
"Yeah," he said in reply to their questioning stares. He threw a curse, petrifying the man just as he ducked from the woman's Reducto.
Her hex blew through a nearby Gorilla suit and Ron had to stifle a gasp of surprise. The little lady packed a mean punch.
Ron rolled on his back and saw her second curse coming even before he had gathered his bearings from her last one. He dodged but it caught his foot, setting the laces of his trainers aflame.
"Shite!" Ron yelled, stamping the flames away just as she ran for cover behind one of the many crates.
The man, petrified on the floor, had been left to fend for himself. Ron grabbed him by the collar of his robe and held the man up, pressing the tip of his wand to the man's throat. "Drop your wand or I'll-"
She fired a curse and Ron spewed profanities as he dragged himself and his hostage behind a tree prop. He could hear the man squeaking softly beyond his frozen lips.
Ron stayed behind his tree while the woman launched curses in their direction.
"Your girlfriend doesn't care much about you, does she?" Ron asked his petrified hostage.
The man's eyes rolled in its sockets. Maybe this Bulgarian spoke English.
Another one of her curses hit the tree and the curse practically punched a hole through the thick plank of wood.
Ron couldn't help but laugh. "I think she just broke up with you, mate. Don't worry, if you show her you don't care, she'll come running right back to you, begging you to take her back. Worked for a friend of mine really well, and then they had mind-blowing sex like you wouldn't believe."
There was another explosion and Ron ducked lower.
"Ron Weasley, I heard what you said about me, you git!"
Ron laughed at the sound of Hermione's voice. "Well, it's true, innit?"
"Potter's been telling tales, I see," she said, a soft thump following her words.
Ron peeked from behind his hiding place and saw that Hermione had hopped out of her coffin. She was wearing a rather skimpy top with matching skimpy boy-shorts.
Ron figured he wasn't going to tell Harry that he'd had a gander at Hermione in her sleepwear.
The hexing from the woman Death Eater had stopped, and wherever she was, whatever she was planning, Ron would bet his stones that it had nothing whatsoever to do with saving her fellow-Death Eater on her way out the door.
Lucien's coffin opened and he sat up. "What does a vamp have to do for some quiet around here? Don't you know I need my beauty sleep? Now more than ever because I look like shit."
No, Lucien hadn't developed a sense of modesty. He really was still rather ghastly, but at least he was strong again, and he had definitely regained his lucidity.
"Last time I looked like this, I had drugs coming out of my ears, so maybe I deserved it then," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to leave his coffin. "But now I look like hell because I did something for everyone's benefit! Is it too much to ask for some extra hours of peace, people? And where the hell's my blood? I want my blood!"
"Sheesh, what a diva," Ron said, staying behind his hiding place. Hermione and Lucien may be awake and damn near impenetrable, but it didn't mean the Death Eater wasn't going to aim her hexes at him. Unlike some people, he wasn't immortal.
Lucien scowled. "This is stupid. None of you are paying attention to me! I'm an invalid! I demand to be loved and cared for!"
"Settle down, Diana Ross," Hermione told Lucien with a scowl. "We still have a little Death Eater problem, if you bothered to care about someone other than yourself."
"Humph! I'm going back to bed!" With that, Lucien lay back down and pulled the coffin's lid close. "And no, I'm not leaving my coffin even if you beg and plead. I won't! I won't!"
Hermione sighed and shot Ron a weary look. She scanned the room for the Death Eater. "Where's the little bugger at, anyway?"
"Careful! She's got blessed water!" Ron said.
"Ugh. Of course she does."
Hermione crouched and crawled into Ron's hiding space, wriggling through the tight spot. Ron prayed she didn't inadvertently wiggle out of her clothes as she did that.
She grinned when she saw the other Death Eater beside him. "Well! At least you're good for something."
"Oy," Ron said, narrowing his gaze at her.
She laughed just before leaning over, cupping a hand to the side of her mouth to whisper to him. "She's behind the Bengal Tiger."
Ron didn't exactly catch that. Hermione had cleavage and he could look nowhere else. "Blimey, Hermione. You seriously have to be careful about those things when you're around blokes. They're so… there. Someone like Malfoy could have a gander at it and then where would you be?"
She smirked. "Ravished by the evil and lecherous Draco, apparently. Honestly, Ron. These days, Draco's bark is worse than his bite. If he ever gets a look at my goodies, he'll just gawk and grin. Either way, it's not like I'd care. So he's looking and he likes it. Woohoo for him."
"Somehow, I don't think Harry would take it as well if he caught Malfoy at it. Anyway, what was it you were saying to me a while ago?"
"You mean while you were gawking at my boobs?"
"Er… yeah."
"I said the Death Eater's behind the Bengal Tiger, although now I think she's moving, and I reckon she'll find a way to escape in the next minute because you're oh-so-quick. Quicker than a fox. Quicker than a speeding bullet. Quicker than Malfoy having sex with a whore."
"Hundreds of vampires in England and I get stuck with the snarkiest one. Go figure. Incidentally, that last bit you said will give me nightmares for weeks."
She scoffed. "You scare too easily. Personally, I think the image of Malfoy having sex with anyone is laughable. 'Yes, baby. Who's your Dark Lord? Tell me who's your Dark Lo-'"
"I think I'm going to throw up."
She giggled.
Ron sighed. "Oh, shove off, won't you? I can move about faster if you just got out of my way."
"Well, pardon me. I wasn't the one hiding behind a tree prop while Little Miss Death Eater over there outclassed me."
"I was going easy on her!"
"Oh, sure."
Ron glared at her and nudged her aside, trying valiantly not to look at her chest and concentrating on creeping out of his hiding place. "You're a hair's breast away from being Silencio-ed, Granger."
"Did you just say hair's breast?"
"Erm… I… umm… can you just let me do my thing? Honestly!"
"Fine. Go. I'll watch your back."
"Yeah, do that."
"I don't hear any of you begging and pleading!" Lucien cried from inside his coffin.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. He gets this way whenever he's recovering from injury. A right pain in the arse, I tell you. But it just means he's healed, so I mostly let him do his dramatics."
Ron sighed, throwing Harry's invisibility cloak over him and hefting his wand. "You and your barmy vampires…" he muttered as he crept towards the Bengal Tiger.
He moved as quickly and as soundlessly as he could and sure enough, he found their Death Eater huddled just a bit further away from the tiger. She was closer to the puppet python, now. She had a vial of holy water in her hand and she was clutching it tightly. On her belt were the other vials.
Another thing about living with Fred and George was having a true appreciation of the merits of distraction. There was opportunity in confusion, and when there was no opportunity to be had, there were times that you just had to love confusion for its own sake. It made for a lot of laughs, properly applied, anyway.
Ron waved his wand. "Eruptio."
The vials on the Death Eater's belt exploded and she gave a shriek of surprise. Ron knocked the wand from her hand with an Expelliarmus and in her confusion, she dropped the one vial of holy water she had left. It shattered to the floor with a tinkle and she took off in her panic.
Ron cast a binding spell that had her screeching and tumbling to the ground.
Perhaps realizing that she had no escape, she resorted to yelling and hissing Bulgarian profanities, or at least they sounded like Bulgarian profanities to him. There was a universal quality to cursing, after all.
Hermione reemerged, dragging their first prisoner with her by the collar of his robe. She spoke to the woman in Bulgarian. It sounded like a "Shut the fuck up!" which had a universal quality as well. The Death Eater seemed to heed it, falling silent.
"We have to get to the dungeon," she said, nudging the woman with her bare foot. She caught some of the holy water from the woman's robe and her toe hissed ever so slightly.
"You should put on a robe, or something," Ron said as nonchalantly as he could. "Cover up, you know? Ain't proper for a girl like you to be walking round like a scarlet…"
Hermione glared at him, her chin setting stubbornly. By the flashing of her eyes, it looked as if she'd rather swallow bobutuber puss than listen to him.
Ron figured it probably hadn't been the best way to go about convincing her to get better dressed. "Erm… what do we do with these two?"
"Leave them here with Lucien. He's sulking but he'll do as I ask." She went to Lucien and knocked on his coffin. "Lucien, Ron and I have to go. We're leaving two prisoners for you and I want you to guard them. Don't be difficult."
"Whatever," came Lucien's muffled response, just before the lid lifted slightly and he peeked out. "I'm an invalid."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, love, of course you are. But I want my boys to be useful no matter what. I'll baby you later if we have time. Now be good and watch over these Death Eaters for me, won't you?"
"Okay."
Ron couldn't help but do his own eye roll. For such an old guy, Lucien was a hand at acting like a five year old.
Lucien sat up, pulling his legs up to his chest and hugging his knees. He gave a sigh as he looked at the incapacitated Death Eaters on the floor. "I'm hungry."
Hermione gave the Death Eaters a malevolent smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There ought to be a law, Harry thought sourly as he looked up and saw Hermione in her skimpy sleepwear.
He transferred his glare to Ron, as if to tell him that he should've at least told Hermione to get better dressed. Ron, probably reading the intent of his gaze, gave a helpless shrug.
The threat in the dungeon had been neutralized almost as soon as the hexing began. Harry had been a bit worried about the number to begin with, but when Solomon vamped, it was all over.
Solomon had the Death Eaters screaming and wetting themselves, uselessly falling to Harry's immobilization spells and stuns. Viktor had been swifter than Harry had expected, though he shouldn't have been surprised. The man was the best Quidditch Seeker in Europe and a champion in the Triwizards Tournament; of course he had skills.
Between the three of them, they had the Death Eaters bound and stunned in about five minutes.
He had expected Ron and Hermione to arrive as back up. He hadn't expected she'd look like that, though. Even Viktor, stoic to a fault, couldn't help giving her the once over with his slow moving eyes.
"Nice shorts," Harry told her with an arch of his eyebrow.
"Thanks," she replied without a hint of hesitation. She had that stubborn gleam in her eyes that made her fight for elf rights and stand up to people who called her a Mudblood. She shot him a very brief glare before moving on to rounding up the incapacitated bodies littering the dungeon floor.
"Two minutes," Harry muttered as Ron came within hearing distance of him. "That's all you needed to tell her to put on a robe or something."
"You think I didn't try? Why does she have to go and make a political statement all the time, anyway?"
"Political-oh, fantastic. You probably used the words scarlet woman or girl, or-"
"It's frightening how you know me so well."
Harry was too annoyed to exchange clever repartee with his best friend, whom he considered a blithering idiot at the moment. He began to move the Death Eaters into one area, casting half-frustrated-half-admiring looks at Hermione who had already bent over twice to check Viktor's minor injuries.
He was beginning to suspect that Viktor was finding as many injuries on himself as he could.
"More of us will come," said Vanya as she sat bound on the floor. "And do not think, brother, that they will be quick to spare you-"
"I expect no such kindness," Viktor replied, rather sadly.
"They will bring Vampires with them," Vanya continued. "More than what you have."
Solomon laughed at that. "I wouldn't assume so much, if I were you." He shot a pointed look at Hermione and Vanya's scowl etched itself deeper into her face. "She isn't Coven Master's pet for nothing."
Hermione frowned but didn't deny it. "Yasmin's affection of me might be shaky, of late, though I don't doubt she'd oblige me if only to protect her interests, which means protecting Harry, of course."
Vanya made a spitting motion. "Filthy little Mudblood!"
"Vanya!" Viktor hissed, speaking to her in strong Bulgarian, turning redder and redder in the face as he spoke.
Hermione spared Vanya a glance and sidled up to Harry. "Never did like her," she muttered from the corner of her mouth.
Resisting the urge to throw his robe over her, he focused on more important matters. "Will the vamps be here, Hermione?" he asked in a low tone. Vanya and Viktor were still arguing, but the others were free to listen in on their conversation if he didn't take care.
She nodded. She had sent an owl out to the highest-ranking Coven of Isis vamp in Bulgaria, telling the vamp in Coven code that she would need reinforcement vamps from London. Hermione gave a specific time and place for those reinforcements to have access to their means of transport, "transport" being Portkeys.
Hermione didn't worry so much about how the vamps would activate the keys. Many vampires had Wizard werewolves to do the activating for them.
She was certain the vampires would arrive because the Bulgarian Coven associate had owled back her reply, assuring Hermione that the arrangements had been made.
It seemed like a roundabout way to make arrangements, but it was the only way. Vamps couldn't floo each other and she didn't have a Coven-recognized Wizard werewolf to relay the message for her. Harry couldn't have done it either, simply because the Coven vamps would have given Harry a far more difficult time of it than it was worth. Vamps didn't like taking orders from humans, even if said orders came from another vamp.
"They will be," she replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's standard procedure for Coven vampires to respond to the needs of the associates, though I think this is the first time a lot of them have had to use human-issued Portkeys. We only have three agents in Bulgaria handy, and it's a rule never to bother the local units when you can summon from Coven-central in Albania or London."
Harry checked his pocket watch. "The Order ought to be out there by now, though Remus said he wanted to cut it really close just so the Death Eaters wouldn't have time to prepare. Think it's going to get bloody out there?"
"Only with the vampires. You're going to have to tell the humans to back off in dealing with the vamps. Let us take care of them. Tell your captains to stick with the mortals and I think we'll be alright. Is everything arranged for Viktor and his children?"
Harry nodded. "As well as I could make it. So long as he stays away from the public eye, they'll never be able to find him. You realize, of course, that after he leaves, he'll need a secret keeper, which means only one person in the world will know exactly where he is."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously.
He smirked. "I'll give you three guesses who I think he'll choose."
"You?"
He chuckled. "I already volunteered. He didn't take my offer."
She sighed. "You think it's me, isn't it?"
"Who else?"
"Viktor Krum's secret keeper. Could be worse, I suppose."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Hermione."
"You know I'll do it, Harry."
He smiled, taking her hand while giving Viktor a brief glance. "Then it's all set. Viktor can take his children to their new secret home and he'll be able to protect them properly. He'll be sacrificing a lot for this, you understand."
"You mean his Quidditch career and his inheritance."
"Among other things. Friends, the rest of his family, his country…"
"Why, Harry, one would almost think you feel sorry for him."
He shrugged. "He's not a bad bloke. And maybe I can respect a person who would give everything up for their loved ones."
She looked up at him and realized that he wasn't just talking about Viktor anymore.
He felt her thumb rubbing the back of his hand. He smiled a bit and pulled her close. "I mean it."
"I know you do," she said, the slightest blush coloring her cheeks while she pretended to look like they weren't having an intimate conversation in the middle of the post-battle clean up. "And it means a lot hearing you say that."
Viktor, Ron and Solomon approached them.
"They're all accounted for," Solomon said. "We ought to stuff them in the cells already. Big fight ahead of us."
Viktor nodded. "The cells are ready. We must make haste if we want to help your Order fight off the reinforcement Death Eaters."
Ron's eyebrow arched. "You don't have to fight with us, Viktor. If anything, you ought to be thinking of your sprogs. If something happens to you-"
"I will let nothing happen to me," Viktor said. "And I seemed to have hidden long enough behind the wrong side, don't you think? It would behoove me to think that I'd now resort to hiding behind my children."
Harry exchanged looks with Hermione and there was no mistaking that she couldn't help but be pleased about what Viktor said. It was, perhaps, her way of saying that she hadn't been wrong about Viktor after all.
"I better go and suit up, then," Hermione said. "I don't think anybody would appreciate a scarlet woman running about killing vampires." She shot Ron a pointed look after this.
Ron scowled and Harry stifled a roll of his eyes.
He knew his best friends too well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All was quiet on the Krum castle's courtyard, and the only signs of life had all to do with death. Phantasmal figures flitted about at random intervals, their silvery visages grim, almost frightening, especially with the thin mist of snow falling from above. The dim torches lining the perimeter walls did nothing to lift the darkness, and Hermione could feel the presence of vampires skirting its edges. The distant sound of wolves piped through the still air.
Within the castle, just behind the great doors, Hermione peered through the open window. She could feel no alien presence beyond that of their vamps, but she knew their enemies were coming. Vanya and her Death Eaters were not as stupid as they seemed. Impulsive and careless though they may have been at the thought that they could deliver Harry Potter to their Dark Lord, it was evident that she had informed someone that if they did not floo back by nightfall, it meant something had gone terribly wrong and that reinforcements would be necessary.
"Do you think they'd bring werewolves?" Harry asked softly over her shoulder as he came up behind her. He reached around her and pried the shutter open a bit more, his other hand rubbing her shoulder.
She didn't even know if he knew he was touching her. His gaze seemed preoccupied and trained to the courtyard outside. She nodded in reply to his question. "If we brought werewolves, then so will they."
His brows knotted slightly and she could tell by the tensing of his shoulders that he was anxious about something. "I wish I'd been given the chance to speak to them all…"
An apologetic smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She knew he was talking about the vampires and werewolves that had Portkeyed over from London. "They're only just getting used to the idea that their coven master had signed them over to get involved in a war between humans. That they came with human-issued Portkeys at all without much fuss is something of a phenomenon. Let them do things on their own terms first and you'll find that they'd ease into this arrangement soon enough." She touched his face, trailing her finger on his jaw, never minding that there were Order members scattered about to see them being so close.
Ron was speaking with Solomon, Remus, Tonks, Lucien and Viktor. In another group were Arthur, Charlie, Ginny and Shacklebolt. A third group consisted of Seamus, Dean, George, Moody and Lee Jordan. There was yet another group dispatched to the dungeons for the captured Death Eaters.
They had all arrived via Portkey just a bit after nightfall, bringing with them vampires and werewolves from the coven. The vamps and wolves had been issued Ministry Portkeys, and the fact that those keys had been issued by humans would have definitely put the vamps in a somewhat rebellious mood.
Upon arriving at the edges of Viktor's property, the Order members had used stealth to enter the castle, just in case there were Death Eaters expecting them. The Death Eaters were yet to arrive.
The vampires and werewolves had disappeared into the backdrop of Viktor's castle even before Harry could have a chance to speak to them. As Hermione said, they were only just beginning to comprehend the concept of having to work with humans.
Hermione did not foresee any kind of mutiny, as Yasmin's word was-to the Coven-law, but Hermione imagined that the vamps felt that they didn't have to be congenial about the arrangement, at least not in the beginning. The Brotherhood of Osiris and the Blood-Kin of Ramses would be a bit harder to convince, but Yasmin knew how to get them to do what she wanted.
Harry looked at her. "They'll listen to you, though, won't they? I don't mind doing it that way. I'll relay orders to you so you can relay it to them-"
"We'll worry about that when we have to. Right now, they're all set up and they won't fail you, Harry. They know that if they hurt anyone from the Order, they'll answer to me, and quite possibly to Yasmin. They'll do what they were summoned here to do and they'll do it well, I promise."
He smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it.
She was just about to lean back against him to reassure him, when there was a soft knock on the door.
Everyone in the room froze.
Vasilka flitted from the end of the room and passed through the doors. After a moment, she reappeared. "She calls herself Keiko."
Hermione spoke immediately. "She's one of ours. Let her in."
Wenseslaus appeared out of nowhere with several assistants in tow. The great doors were opened slightly and a woman dressed in a gorgeous black kimono with flowing black hair slipped in. A resplendent katana hung from her hip, coupled with a wakizashi, or short sword. She wore arm guards on her forearms, and her feet were clad in grey tabi and geta; traditional Japanese socks and sandals. She was pale, beautiful and dangerous with her fangs drawn and her eyes pools of dark ink.
The humans stared at her in open awe. Clearly, very few of the Order members had gotten a glimpse of the vampires brought from London. Keiko was just one of the many standout personalities.
Keiko did not stop to acknowledge anyone. She went straight to Hermione. "They come. They'll be here in a few minutes."
"How many are there?" asked Hermione.
Keiko's eyes flickered to Harry for a moment.
Hermione stifled her frown. "He has to know too. He leads the humans and he has their lives to consider, just like any alpha."
Keiko's cheek twitched ever so slightly before she replied. "Eleven vamps, twenty werewolves and sixteen humans."
"Any shapeshifters?"
"Deardra's with them. The only other shapeshifters are the werewolves, none of them morphmagus."
"Manageable. Apart from the Deardra-factor, we're evenly matched. I'll take care of her. Is everyone clear on how we're going to do this?"
"Yes. No prisoners?"
Hermione paused, conscious that everyone in the room was waiting for her response. What she was going to say wasn't going to sound pretty, but someone had to say it. "Capture the humans, kill the rest."
Keiko nodded, turning to leave. She saw Lucien and her eyebrow arched at his less-than-pretty visage. "Rough night?"
Lucien glared at her. "Mind your own business, Kimosabe."
Keiko paused. "That's not a Japanese word, you know. It's what Tonto, the American Indian, calls his white-man friend, the Lone Ranger. So there's really nothing remotely Japanese about either of them. You'd think a hundred and fifty year old vamp like you would know that."
Solomon and Ron doubled over, laughing. Lucien scowled at them. "Shut it, you!" He looked at Keiko irritably. "Alright, go now. Bye, bye. Sayonara!"
"Kutabare, baka," said Keiko, slipping out of the door and into the darkness.
"Oy!" Lucien cried.
Solomon and Ron laughed even louder. None of them understood what she had said, but her tone implied that her words weren't polite, and that was damning enough.
Hermione smirked slightly before turning her attention to Harry.
Harry was not laughing. He was looking at her with barely veiled worry and for a brief moment, Hermione was overwhelmed by the fact that someone was actually worried about her. She hadn't felt that kind of concern from anyone in five years. Not that there was no one who cared. It was mostly because everyone knew she was entirely capable of taking care of herself.
So maybe Harry was just the sort of person who worried about everybody. It was his nature to look out for everyone, but it was still astounding to realize that Harry felt real anxiety for her.
This time, however, he did not voice his concern. Perhaps it was enough for him that she understood. It certainly meant a lot to her, to know that someone was thinking about her the way he was.
Harry turned to the Order members. "We'll not get in the way of the vamps. Vamps will fight vamps so long as we don't interfere. Werewolves will be aggressive to anybody, so keep your bows and silver weapons handy. Coven vamps have some protection against Patronuses, so you may use your Patronus, but only if you're in trouble with the Death Eater vamps. The coven vamps don't want to drive their enemies away… understand what I'm saying?"
There was a collective gathering of breath as they nodded. None of them had ever been caught between two warring vamp factions, but they knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. This night was not for the weak of stomach.
Charlie and Kingsley approached him, and Hermione stepped back, letting Harry confer with the captains. She stamped down her feelings of awe; that girlish thrill of seeing Harry as an authority figure taking absolute control of a situation. It wasn't the time to go all fan-girlish on him, but she couldn't help it.
Kingsley and Charlie broke off from Harry just when the crew from the dungeon emerged from one of the main hallways.
The groups split; the Order members standing behind their respective captains.
"Viktor, you're with me," Ron said with a flick of his head. "And we're with him." He jerked a thumb at Harry and grinned. "Won't let anything happen to us… unless you try to steal his girlfriend."
Harry dealt him a slanted sneer.
Viktor had a tiny smile of his own. "I dated her first, so technically, he stole Her-my-own."
Harry sniffed. "It really bugs me when you call her that, you know. It really does. She's not Her-your-ow-erm, I mean-it's Her-MY-OWN-nee. Get it?"
Viktor seemed annoyed. "It is not as if I can help it, you know. It is an accent."
Harry looked even more annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Wonky fainting… anyway…"
"We should"-piped Remus while clearing his throat-"get into position, right Harry?"
"Right," Harry grumbled.
Hermione stifled the rolling of her eyes as everyone, avoiding eye contact with Harry, scrambled to get into place while Solomon and Lucien pulled the great doors open.
She ought to be offended about the "stealing" thing, and perhaps she ought to have chastised them a bit for the subtle pissing contest that just happened, but there were too many other important things that needed tending to, first. She would talk to Harry about all of it later. She stamped back her irritation and focused herself on the task at hand.
The Order units filed out into the darkness, pulling their cowls over their heads as they went. One by one, they faded into the cold, snowy night.
Hermione, collecting herself from her irritation, nudged Lucien. "You know I'd rather you didn't fight, right?"
Lucien shrugged a shoulder. "I've fought being in worse shape."
She eyed him and saw one hundred fifty years of pure survival instinct staring her back in the face. She nodded. "Just don't get killed."
"Gotcha."
She felt the presence of Harry beside her and she turned, finding herself staring up into his intense gaze.
"Sorry," he muttered. "'Bout that thing with Viktor. It just sort of crawled out of me. I think it's been wanting to…"
She cocked a smile, pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him passionately, however brief. When she pulled away, she said, "Be careful."
The light caress of his fingers on her throat sent fire shooting through her. She was reminded again of how crazy she was about him, and that there were an infinite number of little things he could do that made her love loving him.
"You too," he said, pulling his cloak over his head as he turned and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Go on to the next one, then!