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Chapter 11 — And Then You Came Around

Clearing your throat, you look at all the people staring at you. Fawkes squeezes extra hard and you feel a sharp pain in your back as it springs off of you and takes flight.    It hovers over you and hisses until you bat it away with your hand.   That piece of shit clawed you for no damn reason!

You reach with your arm, but the injury is between your shoulder blades and hard to get at. With your wand, you cast a poorly aimed healing spell, which takes some of the sting out of the wound.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Dumbledore asks, feigning innocence.

"Of course not! You can't control what goes on in this school anymore than you can your familiar. Why am I not fucking surprised?"

There's a collective gulp amongst the students in the room.

"Harry, Ambassador Potter, you seem a trifle distressed. Perhaps you should go to your quarters and rest?" He adds, which only serves to irritate you more.

You stalk forward towards the head table and pull the pouch containing Slytherin's Locket off. The rest of the teachers, except for Snape seem to shy away from the anger you are radiating.

Smacking the pouch on the table in front of him, you hiss, "And then there was one. All it cost was a few mercs and the life of Alastor Moody."

A crack appears in Dumbledore's impassive façade, "Alastor?"

"Went down fighting, probably the way he wanted to, but at least we accomplished our objective. Bill is bringing the body back to England. Care to explain how you messed up? What the hell happened here?"

"We shall speak about it later, Harry. Perhaps Severus will accompany you back to your quarters and brief you." Dumbledore asserts some of his authority. He's trying to rile you. You need to calm down or you'll fall into his next little trap!

Snape looks like he'd rather be participating in a sing-a-long, but stands nonetheless. He's such a good lapdog. Meanwhile, you look at the gloved hand of the Headmaster and the so-called leader of the light.

"That cursed wound is getting worse isn't it?"

"It is of no concern, Ambassador Potter. You are dismissed."

------

"It seems like the old man isn't long for this world, Snape. Even with all his power, his phoenix, and two Potions Masters at his disposal, it's getting the better of him. I'm beginning to think that either of us could take him." You walk along side a bitter man, fighting an internal battle not to become just like him — another of Dumbledore's pawns.

"You would be wise to keep your theories to yourself, Potter."

"It's causing him to get sloppy and rush his plans. He was always more subtle in the past."

You cast a glance at the potions master as you walk along.   He says nothing, but you don’t have to be a Legilimens to know his mind is whirring at the possibilities.

"What? No answer to that, Snape? So what are you supposed to be briefing me on?"

You open the door to your suite and find it much the way you left it, and walk in with Snape following. Hermione had the homunculus in her room and it stands to reason that it was stolen from there.

"The blood anchor was stolen by Pansy Parkinson and she has since fled the school. Granger was found stupefied and obliviated with significant traces of Dark Magic around her."

"Parkinson and whoever else was with her probably used the Imperius Curse on Hermione didn't they?"

Snape doesn't bother denying it. "I agree."

"We have no idea what she might have told Pansy? They might already know that Granger is a living key to Hogwarts wards."

"That is the fear. Granger's security is being handled by the metamorph, if that is any reassurance."

"Not particularly, and I think you hold the same opinion of Tonks as I do." Holy house elf balls! You and Snape are agreeing about how screwed up things are.

"The two house elves that served you attempted to prevent the abduction. Both were killed. The Know-It-All is rather devastated about it."

That stops you in your tracks. You liked Winky, and for all his insanity, Dobby was a friend. Dumbledore hides behind his carefully crafted façade, but you feel the anger coursing through your veins.

"Kreacher!"

The grizzled looking elf appears, "You summoned me master?"

"What do you know about Dobby and Winky's death?"

"Only that they died, killed by humans."

"Potter what are you doing?" Snape asks.

"The ringleader was Pansy Parkinson. Do you know this witch?"

"Potter…"

"Yes, Kreacher knows the Parkinson family. Kreacher knows the witch with the pig-like nose."

"If I order you to kill her, can you do it?"

Kreacher smiles. It is the first time you've ever seen him do it — a scary sight indeed. "Master is proving he is worthy. Kreacher, like all elves, is forbidden from directly killing magical humans, but like all rules there are ways…"

"Potter!"

"What Snape? If she had decided to kill Hermione, the whole castle could have exploded, likely killing everyone in it! Do you want to die because of that old man's flawed plans?"

"Think with your brain for a minute, Potter! The Dark Lord isn't about to sacrifice all his followers' children."

"You honestly expect me to believe that? He destroyed an entire city in South America and killed his partner and all their followers to make certain his secret Horcrux hidey-hole was never found.   I was there!   Saw it with my own eyes.  You're a fine one to try and tell me what he is and isn't capable of.  People like him and Dumbledore know that there are always more followers and it's about time you figured that out too!"

The pale faced man knows you're right, but is too stubborn to admit it.

You turn back to your elf and make a Portkey to the Shrieking Shack out of a penknife, "Fine, don't kill her. Watch their estate. If she sets foot outside of the wards, stab her with this and use the word 'scum' to activate it. It will bring you to a deserted house in Hogsmeade. Incapacitate her by any means necessary to stop her from Apparating away and come and get either me," You pause and look at the other man in the room, "or Professor Snape, and we will deal with her personally."

The elf nods and takes the penknife and disappears. You turn back to Snape, "So how much like my father am I now?"

"What do you want Parkinson for? Is it just for killing your elves?" Snape's testing you.

"No. We both know she did it on someone's orders. Pansy isn't that bright. My guess is the trail leads right to Malfoy and once I get proof, he will get what's coming to him."

A river of anger surges across Snape's face, "You will not harm Malfoy. I will take care of him. Is that understood?"

"Why? It's not just because he's one of your pet Slytherins. What's your game in this, Snape?"

"My reasons are my own, Potter, but this much I will make perfectly clear: anything dealing with Draco Malfoy comes through me. Do not try me."

You smile at him. You're quite capable of lying to him. The truth is capable of changing. "Fine Snape, ickle baby Malfoy is all yours. But you'd best keep the boy on a short leash. If he crosses me, it would be very bad for him."

"If he is harmed, Potter, there will be repercussions."

"There are repercussions for everything, Snape. What about the Goblins? What is Scrimgeour doing?"

"Most of them are down in their vaults, holding Britain's money hostage. The rest are actively raiding. The centaurs caught a contingent in the Forbidden Forest and there was a significant battle. Were I to guess, either the Dark Lord was planning an assault against Hogsmeade, or he was trying to scout out Hogwarts’ Defenses."

"How much do you think he knows about Hogwarts and the wards?"

Snape appears ready to hurl some kind of insult, but stops. "Finally an intelligent question from you. During his time as a student, it is unlikely the Dark Lord learned much about the defenses, but we can assume that he learned enough during his time here possessing Quirrel and whatever Barty Crouch might have provided. Incorporating the blood protections buys the school time, but only so much."

"We should seal off the Chamber of Secrets." Bill would be proud; you've started thinking like a Cursebreaker and evaluating possible back doors.

"It's done already, over the summer in fact."

"How'd you get a Parselmouth to open the tunnel?"

"The entranceway was a sink, Potter. Think! We live in a world of magic. A blasting curse and any number of spells could have done the job, but taking a tactic from his enemies, the Headmaster used a very powerful Confundus charm and opened it."

"Did he collapse it, or trap it?"

"You can discuss it with him. I was only there to see if there was anything that could be recovered from the dead creature. Once I determined that the body had decayed too much to be of use, I left. He told me later that access to the School via the Chamber would no longer be a problem."

You don't like that answer, "Knowing him, it's probably as safe as Flamel's stone was."

"Ah yes, the fledgling Cursebreaker rears his head. Tell me Potter, how would you do it?"

"Necrowards. There's a sixty foot dead creature down there. No sense in letting it go to waste. I've seen a nasty Bone Golem created out of the bodies of a few hundred goblins. I'm guessing there are a bunch of dead bodies out in the Forbidden Forest. Then get nasty coming up the tunnels. Litter them with a mixture of one time wards, followed by the more powerful stuff. Everything lethal."

Snape nods briefly, "Perhaps you should approach the Headmaster and determine if his defenses are better than the ones you propose. I will say this, if the Headmaster does indeed pass on, I will likely be taking over."

"What about Flitwick? Isn't he the Deputy now?"

"With the goblins in revolt, do you really think Scrimgeour and the Governors would turn to one with their blood in him?   As for Sprout, she is ineffective at best. You and I will be stuck together until the blood protections fade from the castle. I believe this is his way of encouraging us to work together. I don't like it and I know you don't like it either, Potter, but we will need to begin preparing for that possibility. For now, let us try to look past our mutual hatred of each other and work towards the common goal of making certain that both of us live to see the end of this war."

"Deal, Snape."

"Agreed, Potter."

The man turns and walks out of your room. You feel dirty. You just made a deal with Severus Snape, the second biggest bastard roaming the halls of Hogwarts.

You pick up a report left by an Owl containing communications from Ambassador Dimperio and the Brazilian embassy — yet another faction in this war that is loosely allied with you.

Riddle has a small but focused group bolstered by the goblin nation throwing its lot in with him. You have only smoke and mirrors holding together a patchwork opposition consisting of the Ministry, the Order, whatever mercenaries Kwan can scrounge up for the funds that are still accessible to you, and whatever is hiding in the cupboards.

The only glimmer of good news is Riddle is down to one Horcrux. His followers have proven that they lack the will to press on without him. That's the only real solution — kill Tom Riddle.

Lacking anything else to do, you pull out some dragonbone and begin carving. One thing you saw in Baba Yaga's private chamber that impressed you, other than the way she could contort her metamorph body, was a shield on the wall with nasty single-use wards attached to it. Hack needs a new shield; one covered with a dozen flaming arrow wards or something even nastier could come in handy for killing goblins or anything else that gets in your troll's way.

------

There is a knock at the door connecting your room with the Head Girl's. It's another one of Dumbledore's semi-willing chess pieces coming to visit. There's no use avoiding her.

"Come on in, Hermione."

The witch, looking somewhat haggard and in need of a long nap enters. Tonks is behind her. "You're not welcome in here, Nymphadora."

"I go where she goes," the Auror answers.

"Please, you'll be next door. Harry can and will protect me."

"Like he protected McGonagall?" Tonks fires back looking like she wants to scrap with me.

"Whoever told you that … well, we both know who told you that; he was closer to McGonagall when she died than I was. I promise, if someone attacks Hermione while she's in this room, I'll do a better job against them than you did against Bellatrix. Is that acceptable?"

Tonks slams the door.

"Was that really necessary, Harry?" Hermione asks walking slowly.

"From my standpoint it was. Where was your so-called security when Parkinson ambushed you?"

The Head Girl's brow furrows and she says, "She was imitating Dumbledore at his request. I believe he was away from the castle at the time of the attack."

"It figures — gives him a good alibi."

"There's nothing we can do about it now. I'm glad you're back. Was the item you gave to the Headmaster a Horcrux?"

"Right in one, Hermione. There's still one left, but I'm working on it."

"I'm scared, Harry. The wards started getting weaker as soon as that Parkinson bint stole the anchor and I could feel the drain of the castle on me even more this time.   She even stole my dose of good luck potion that I won from Professor Slughorn!" Granger sags into the chair across from where you're sitting and sets a jar of salve roughly on the table.

Part of you wants to lie to her too and tell her that you have it all under control. The rest of you can't be bothered to try and put her at ease. "You've got every reason to be scared. From everything I've heard, the Death Eaters are winning right now. The Ministry is tied up playing games with the goblin nation and Dumbledore just doesn't inspire me the way he used to. What's that by the way?"

"Madame Pomfrey gave it to me for the wound Fawkes left on your back. Can I ask why Fawkes did that to you?"

"You can, but I won't answer, other than to say that I'm pretty sure Dumbledore had a hand in it."

She sighs, "I understand. I'm beginning to despise the magical world. Everything's so secretive and everyone has their own agenda."

"I'm not surprised. I half think they gave you the time turner in third year to grease the wheels, so to speak for when they needed to use you."

Hermione looks like she wants to deny it and defend McGonagall's memory, but opts not to. Instead, she says, "I'm very sorry about Dobby and Winky."

"Yeah, me too. Elves don't really have an agenda, which is why they're the ultimate dupes. Me? I'm sorry about Moody and the five mercenaries that died." You open your chill box and give her a butterbeer. You could use one as well.

She accepts it with a crestfallen expression and replies, "Moody was probably the best the Order had. How'd he die? If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

"No, it's alright. A giant crushed his chest, but Moody was blinding it and cursing up a storm. I couldn't get there in time to save him. All I could do was kill the giant before it got anyone else."

Her eyes open wide, clearly remembering our encounter with Hagrid's "little" brother, who was clearly a runt. "You killed a giant?"

"And plenty of goblins, and at least one Russian wizard. It's an ugly world outside these walls. As for a giant, it's not as difficult as you might think, get it to the ground, and the head is full of weak spots. I've got to remember to stop by and apologize to Professor Binns for all the useful information from his class and give him a few souvenirs."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Only a little. I fought goblins in Brazil, among other things." You fish out a pair of Worg potions and a nasty little knife, made for smaller than human hands, from your pack and hold them up for her inspection. "So, how are you doing, getting attacked and all that?"

You're pretty much used to being attacked by now, and betrayed as well, but it's probably overwhelming to the witch across from you.

"Escorted everywhere by Tonks, can't do any of my Head Girl duties, not allowed anywhere near a Slytherin. I heard Professor Snape told his students that Tonks is allowed to use lethal force on anyone raising a wand against me. I don't know if he's bluffing or serious. How about you, Harry? Here I am whining about my lot in life and you're able to sit here and casually talk about who and what you killed recently. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I'd like to try and be your friend again."

It's nice that she's trying to build a bridge, you could tell her about watching Baba Yaga "smoke" a piece of Voldemort's soul and then exchange that Horcrux for sexual favors, but poor Granger isn't nearly jaded enough for that. It'd likely fry her brain.

"I appreciate the offer, but for now, I'll pass. I do have Bill and sometimes Fleur to talk to. Anyway, I think I'll turn in, after I figure out a way to put on this salve."

"Relax, Harry, I'll put it on for you. It's the least I can do."

You stand and pull the shirt you're wearing up exposing your back. Granger removes the charmed bandage you put on after Snape left and gives a low whistle, "Remind me not to make Fawkes angry at me. Hold still. Hmm, it tingles to the touch."

Feeling her finger spread the stuff over the wound, does in fact produce a pleasant feeling.

"How's it look back there?" You ask, finally enjoying something from the infirmary that doesn't stink to high heaven or taste awful.

"The wound's closing up, nicely. Do you need some more?"

"Yeah, it feels pretty good."

Granger uses three fingers covered in it and uses her palm to rub it in and the tingling sensation intensifies. The seconds pass, and you whimper when her hand leaves your skin, but groan when both her hands return covered in salve. Her hands are straying from the wound and roaming all over your back in a slow massage. You shouldn't be, but you're thoroughly enjoying it.

Everywhere her skin touches yours that delicious sensation follows. You toss the sweatshirt and Hermione's moaning slightly. A distant voice in your mind warns you that something is wrong, but it is overridden by all the things that feel right.

Her hands, covered in that wonderful substance massage your shoulders and reach around to your chest. You spin in her arms and see her flushed face and glazed look in her eyes, but only for a second before you're locked in a kiss. Your fingers dip into the salve and work their way under her shirt, teasing the small of her back and feeling her shiver from your touch. Another distant warning in the corner of your mind is ignored.

The rules of the game are clear and simple, the more flesh in contact, the stronger the sensation. Clothing becomes the enemy and the solution is to get rid of it — all of it.

That little warning voice in the corner of your mind -- it's cheering you on now.

------

Hermione became physically exhausted by the end of the first hour. It's probably a credit to your physical regimen that you could keep going. By the end of the next hour she was begging you to try and wash it off. You half-carried her and half-staggered to your bathtub, only to find out whatever this stuff was it must be oil based. The soapy bathwater simply became another venue for the two of you to continue the relentlessly erotic contact.

Dragging her out of the tub after she passes out and almost drowns, you collapse in the bed, still desperate to maintain contact with her.

The effects of the salve last well into the night.   It's a good thing that it has a healing component to it.   Even with that, you feel raw and exhausted.

Sometime later, she shifts against you and wakes.   You both stink of sweat and sex.   Her untamed hair is matted down and, quite frankly, everywhere.   The funbags lost their appeal about two hours ago.   The ironic fact that the best sex you've ever didn't come from the immortal metamorph, Fleur's "mystery" friend, the Native American Animagus, the Canadian private school girl, or the single mother from Brazil, but from the virginal English witch who quite literally had no idea what she was doing.   True, Hermione had a magical edge and you actually fear what Baba Yaga would be like exposed to that substance.

A series of sniffles interrupt your musings.

"Are you okay?"   You ask dreading the answer.

The sniffles intensify — bollocks!   Dragons, Daemons, and Giants are more your league.   A blubbering witch isn't — just ask Cho.   There's a small part of you that's somewhat offended that she's crying after sleeping with you.

"Calm down, Hermione."

"I didn't want…to do that!"

"Yeah, me neither.   If it's any consolation, you were great."

"That wasn't me," she hisses.   "That was some mad possessed version of me!"

"I wasn't exactly myself either.   Sorry about the biting."   You didn't know you had it in you.   "I guess Dumbledore really wanted his wards charged."

Hermione turns off the tear spigots, "He's really as awful as you say he is."   It's not a question, just a statement.

"And he justifies every single thing he's done."

"Why'd he do it?   The wards weren't that weak!"

"He's desperate and dying."

"Are you sure?"

You nod and brush some of the hair out of her face.   "The gloved hand means that cursed wound is getting worse, or he's trying to imitate that one singer…"

The joke gets a little laugh out of her and you continue, "Seriously, he has two Potions Masters and a phoenix and it's not enough to save him.   His moves lack his usual subtleness and I think he's stopped caring about who he's hurting.   That makes him as dangerous as the other bad guy."

"What about us?" she asks.

"I think we're okay, we buried the hatchet…or the penis…take your pick."

Hermione's tear stained eyes open wide and she shakes her head.   "That's an awful joke, Harry."

Processing everything that just happened leads to one horrible conclusion.   "Hermione, you haven't taken any other potions lately have you?"

"Well they had me on the invigorating draughts to help against the wards draining.   Why are you asking?"

"Were any of them green and foul tasting?"

"They were all foul tasting.   I stopped paying attention after awhile.   You don't…"

"Think they slipped you a fertility potion in the middle of all this, yeah, they might have."

Her tears start again and you can sense her panic rising.   "This can't be happening!   I was saving myself for my wedding night!   I don't…What will…Not possible!"

It's painful, but you grab her shoulders.   "Calm down!   We won't be able to tell for a few days.   Don't panic."

"That's easy for you to say!   I'm too young to be a mother!" She blurts out the obvious.   You'd say that you're too young as well, but your arrangement with Thundercloud's granddaughter, Lauren sort of flies in the face of that.

"Just relax.   We'll get through this."   Hope she doesn't ask you how, you don't really have a clue, but it sounds like something you should say.

It takes a few minutes of reassuring her to get calm down.   All you can do is hold her tight and tell her that things will work out.   Eventually, the naked witch falls asleep in your arms again and allows you some time to figure out your next course of action.

This whole thing is likely his way of getting back at you for the homunculus.   One thing is certain, there's a good chance that Albus Dumbledore won't live long enough for that wound to kill him.   You'll probably kill him long before that and the frightening thing is that he probably wants you to.

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• I was Born to Run I was Born to Dream The Craziest Boy You've Ever Seen I Gotta Do It My Way Or No Way at All And I'm Here to Please I'm Even On My Knees Making Love to Whoever I Please I Gotta Do It My Way (reprise) Or No Way at All (reprise) And Then You Came Around Tried to Tie Me Down I Was Such a Clown You Had to Have It Your Way, I'm Saying No Way So Why Don't You Turn Me Loose? Turn Me Loose
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