(Personal note: This is sort of a sequel, and kind of explains my other story. Please, like it! I need the praise! ^+^)
Hermione stared at Harry. "What do you mean, He-Who-Mustn't-Be-Named is destroyed? All we did was have sex. I don't really think that qualifies as killing hi--"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "look at you. Look at me."
She nodded. "I am looking. What am I supposed to be seeing?"
Harry stood, the mystical L-shaped sheet falling onto her. She clutched it to her chest and waited for him to speak, move, do something. "With our passionate endeavors within these silk sheets, we have..."
He broke off, sensing Hermione's confusion.
"Okay, you know how Volde--he and I share a mental link through this scar?"
She nodded, her eyes tracing the mark on his forehead.
"Well," Harry said, chuckling cynically, "when I woke, I didn't feel that usual, horrible sense of foreboding like I usually do. Then I thought, 'Gee, Hermione really blew my mind last night.' THEN, I thought, 'Hey, since Voldemort and I are mentally attached, she must've blew his mind, too.' And being such a powerful mind, Voldemort's head must've exploded, imploded, or altogether shut down."
"Harry," Hermione began carefully, "what are you implying?"
"That the stupid bastard wanted your body, and once he got it, he flipped out!" Harry collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. His body shook with laughter, and Hermione crept around him to put an arm on his shoulder.
"Harry? You're scaring me."
"Sorry," he apologized, wiping a tear from his eyes. He glanced at his watch. "Crud."
Hermione bent over the bed, Harry watching appreciatively, and withdrew a suitcase from underneath. "I thought ahead."
She pulled out two sets of clothing, unfolding them and placing them on the bed. Harry's eyes narrowed as he recognized some of his missing attire. Hermione grinned. "I had Ron bring them to me. Told him you spilled potion on your other clothes. I guess he didn't realize you were wearing a cloak over them, and he was eager to oblige. Here. Get dressed."
Harry pulled on the clean underwear, denims, and shirt as Hermione dressed modestly behind a wall of shimmering faeries. Donning the Invisibility Cloak, they linked hands and stepped out into the dewey morning. Students where bustling about on the lawn, so the duet had to take special care not to crash into any of them, for it would launch them into embarrassing explanations if the cloak fell off.
Back at the picture of the fat lady, Hermione stepped out from under the cloak. "I love you, Harry," she said softly, planting a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He watched her walk away, a stupid smile crossing his face. He turned, gave the fat lady the password, then disappeared into the dormitory. Ron was awake, and a look of surprise registered on his face as he saw Harry. "Where were you?"
Harry didn't reply; he merely grinned.
*****
Voldemort groaned, intense pain shooting through him. Harry would have to pay for this, yes, and he would pay well. Nobody inflicted pain on Voldemort in such a manner. Croaking out an incomprehensivable message to Wormtail, he shifted on the sleeping mat.
Wormtail appeared by his side, moving the icepacket from his Lord's head to his crotch. "It's okay, Master, it's okay, I'll get Harry, just you relax, the pain will go away. Have you tried a hex to get rid of it?"
Voldemort moaned something, and rolled onto his side, the pack falling away. Fury was evident on his face.
"Oh!" Wormtail apologized. "I'm sorry, Master, I didn't realize that kind couldn't be cured with a spell."
Voldemort grappled for the icepack, coughed, then found his voice. "The pain will subside by noon, but..." he trailed off, wincing. "...until then, capture Harry Potter and bring him to me." Voldemort's red eyes became slits. "I think he owes me an apology."
Hermione stared at Harry. "What do you mean, He-Who-Mustn't-Be-Named is destroyed? All we did was have sex. I don't really think that qualifies as killing hi--"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "look at you. Look at me."
She nodded. "I am looking. What am I supposed to be seeing?"
Harry stood, the mystical L-shaped sheet falling onto her. She clutched it to her chest and waited for him to speak, move, do something. "With our passionate endeavors within these silk sheets, we have..."
He broke off, sensing Hermione's confusion.
"Okay, you know how Volde--he and I share a mental link through this scar?"
She nodded, her eyes tracing the mark on his forehead.
"Well," Harry said, chuckling cynically, "when I woke, I didn't feel that usual, horrible sense of foreboding like I usually do. Then I thought, 'Gee, Hermione really blew my mind last night.' THEN, I thought, 'Hey, since Voldemort and I are mentally attached, she must've blew his mind, too.' And being such a powerful mind, Voldemort's head must've exploded, imploded, or altogether shut down."
"Harry," Hermione began carefully, "what are you implying?"
"That the stupid bastard wanted your body, and once he got it, he flipped out!" Harry collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles. His body shook with laughter, and Hermione crept around him to put an arm on his shoulder.
"Harry? You're scaring me."
"Sorry," he apologized, wiping a tear from his eyes. He glanced at his watch. "Crud."
Hermione bent over the bed, Harry watching appreciatively, and withdrew a suitcase from underneath. "I thought ahead."
She pulled out two sets of clothing, unfolding them and placing them on the bed. Harry's eyes narrowed as he recognized some of his missing attire. Hermione grinned. "I had Ron bring them to me. Told him you spilled potion on your other clothes. I guess he didn't realize you were wearing a cloak over them, and he was eager to oblige. Here. Get dressed."
Harry pulled on the clean underwear, denims, and shirt as Hermione dressed modestly behind a wall of shimmering faeries. Donning the Invisibility Cloak, they linked hands and stepped out into the dewey morning. Students where bustling about on the lawn, so the duet had to take special care not to crash into any of them, for it would launch them into embarrassing explanations if the cloak fell off.
Back at the picture of the fat lady, Hermione stepped out from under the cloak. "I love you, Harry," she said softly, planting a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.
He watched her walk away, a stupid smile crossing his face. He turned, gave the fat lady the password, then disappeared into the dormitory. Ron was awake, and a look of surprise registered on his face as he saw Harry. "Where were you?"
Harry didn't reply; he merely grinned.
*****
Voldemort groaned, intense pain shooting through him. Harry would have to pay for this, yes, and he would pay well. Nobody inflicted pain on Voldemort in such a manner. Croaking out an incomprehensivable message to Wormtail, he shifted on the sleeping mat.
Wormtail appeared by his side, moving the icepacket from his Lord's head to his crotch. "It's okay, Master, it's okay, I'll get Harry, just you relax, the pain will go away. Have you tried a hex to get rid of it?"
Voldemort moaned something, and rolled onto his side, the pack falling away. Fury was evident on his face.
"Oh!" Wormtail apologized. "I'm sorry, Master, I didn't realize that kind couldn't be cured with a spell."
Voldemort grappled for the icepack, coughed, then found his voice. "The pain will subside by noon, but..." he trailed off, wincing. "...until then, capture Harry Potter and bring him to me." Voldemort's red eyes became slits. "I think he owes me an apology."