Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling
Chapter Seven: Complications
The first thing that she noticed as she woke was the suffocating heat. It was outrageously hot in the room where she found herself. It wasn't necessarily a bad room, but it was incredibly hot.
The second thing that she noticed was that she wasn't alone. There was another woman in the room, and she appeared to be watching her. Gabrielle sighed and sat up, wincing as the headache that she didn't know that she had hit her full force.
"How long?" she asked in a hoarse voice.
"You've been here for about two days. They dragged you in and left you on the bed. They told me that I wasn't to disturb you. I wanted to help, but I was afraid…"
Gabrielle shrugged to reassure the woman that she wasn't upset over things. She looked at the woman that was imprisoned with her. She was quite pretty, having long wavy brown hair and tender green eyes. She appeared to be in her early twenties, and looked to be just over a hundred and seventy centimeters and maybe fifty five to sixty kilograms.
"So how long have you been here miss…?"
"Oh, Denise, Denise Stewart, and I've been here for a few hours more than you have. I don't really know why we're here… do you?"
"No, not really, though I have a few guesses. My name is Gabrielle by the way, Gabrielle Delacour. You're American, no?"
"Yeah, I was walking to a class and the next thing I knew I woke up here."
"Any idea where here is, Denise?" Gabrielle asked, peering out the only window in the room. Unfortunately the sunlight pouring in was so bright that in only exacerbated the pain that was flooding through her temples. She winced and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to hold off the pain.
"Judging by the heat, humidity and the birds that have been flying past the window, I'd say that we're somewhere in either Central or South America." She was interrupted by the door opening.
Two women walked into the room, followed by the two captors that Gabrielle had seen when she was kidnapped from her flat. The first woman was short and quite squat, with a very wide mouth that gave the appearance that it would contain a tongue that was of great use in the catching of flies. She was dressed in a horrifyingly ugly green tweed suit, and she had a pink bow in the middle of her iron gray hair.
Behind her was a woman that made even Gabrielle's beauty pale. She was tall and perfectly proportioned, with flowing auburn hair and piercing gray eyes. She wore a shimmering black velvet robe trimmed with threads of white gold. The moment she laid eyes on Gabrielle she laughed in a melodic, inhumanly perfect voice.
Gabrielle felt a frisson of pure desire course down her spine as the sound coursed over her. This woman was surely a goddess… She felt her excitement grow and then she realized what it was.
Oh really? Well two could play that game… She let her Veela glamour flow, giving back as good as she got. Immediately she felt the desire lessen and fade as the two glamours canceled each other out.
"Gremory, stop that this instant!" the squat woman shrieked. "She is not yours! You may have the other in payment of our pact…" Gabrielle made to move when she found herself caught in a full body bind. She fell to the bed on her side and looked helplessly at the younger woman on the other bed.
Denise looked petrified with fright. Her eyes twitched like a rabbit, and then she made to bolt off the bed. She never got beyond the first step when the exotic woman spoke to her.
"Oh no my dear, we mustn't run, mustn't try to get away. Gremory shall take perfect care of you, do not fear…" Denise froze at the first word, though she continued to tremble in fear, not understanding what was happening to her.
Gremory stepped up to her and gently cupped the young brunette's face with her left hand. Denise's eyes widened at the contact and she sucked in a sharp breath. Gremory slowly ran a finger down the girl's arm. "No… please…" she pleaded.
"Oh, but you like my touch, don't you young one?" Gremory asked, looking the young woman in the eyes. She shifted her left hand so that her fingernails scraped back across Denise's scalp and through her hair. Denise shuddered back into the touch.
"Please… I'm not… I don't…" Denise shuddered again and arched her back as Gremory ran her other hand over her breast. Gremory steered Denise into a searing kiss. The younger woman was rapidly losing the ability to string together a coherent thought, let alone resist what was being done to her.
Releasing the kiss Gremory looked down at the girl. "Say that again," she whispered.
"I…I…I'm not…" Gremory deftly unbuckled the girl's jeans and in a fluid motion they were pooled at her ankles. She dipped her fingers into the girl's panties and Denise cried out as she came... hard. When she stopped shuddering Gremory smiled at her.
"That's better my precious one. You're mine now, aren't you?" Denise's only answer was to kiss her new Mistress, shuddering through another orgasm as she surrendered to the demon completely. With a laugh and the smell of brimstone they were gone.
"I could have fed you to her Veela, don't ever forget that…" the woman who was still there smirked as she walked out the door leaving Gabrielle to struggle against the enchantment in vain…
*0*0*
Harry had a lot to consider. There was no longer any doubt in his mind just who the mastermind behind Gabrielle's kidnapping was. He turned to Padma. "See if you can get me an audience." He looked around the room. "I suggest we all get some rest. Unless I'm guessing wrong we're going to take down that staging center tomorrow. We need more information, and I'm betting that we'll find it there." Just before he strode from the room he motioned for both Von and Veate to follow him.
He made his way to one of the training patterns. As his daughter struggled to catch up with him, and the enigmatic Von simply strode purposely behind her, Harry started walking the pattern. It always made him feel better to be doing something. He quickly made his way through the ninety seven steps and started over.
Veate's eyes bulged as she watched her father flow through the steps. It was an incredible thing to see him move through them. It looked so effortless when he did them. By the time he was almost through his third repetition she had made it to the starting point.
"Your right hip is out of alignment when you follow through on 'The Vacuum Cage'. It makes it harder to control yourself through 'Steel Circle'," Von said softly. Veate looked at him incredulously. She couldn't see a thing wrong with what her father was doing, and she held black rank in her art.
"You may be right," Harry conceded. "Do you think you could recreate it so that I can see it? Then if you would be so kind as to show my daughter the correct way so that she can see as well…'
"Of course, Cloud. I'd be happy to." Veate, though confused over the nickname that Von was using with her father, was doing a quick mental calculation while the older man stepped up to the front of the pattern. Her father was currently thirty eight years old. Sirius Black had died when Harry was fifteen, twenty three years ago. He was supposedly thirty six when he died. He had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he hadn't committed, and he had spent at least a few years before being trained by Von. For Von to be mentoring anyone he had to have been at least around the age that her father was now when he trained Sirius. He had to be at least in his early seventies now.
He certainly didn't sound like he was in his seventies. His voice was that of a man in the prime of his life. Was this man a wizard? He seemed comfortable around wizards, but then Veate got the distinct impression that he wouldn't be uncomfortable no matter what the situation was. He had an air of utmost control about him.
It appeared that Von was ready. "This is what you are doing, Harry," he said softly. Then he danced. It looked identical to what her father performed. Von ended the pattern and then walked back to the front. "This is how it should look." He danced again. There were subtle differences. Somehow it seemed even smoother this time around. Somewhere near the eightieth step she could see her father's eyes light up as he caught the difference and nodded his head.
"Thank you," he murmured. The older man acknowledged the recognition and bowed slightly. Despite the fact that his face was fully enshrouded, leaving only a thin opening for his eyes, Veate was convinced that the man was smiling.
"Your student moves well, Cloud. Has she attempted the pattern?"
Harry nodded. He looked at Veate and gestured with a sweep of his hand. Veate sighed and stepped up to the pattern. He knew that she could only accomplish twelve to thirteen steps. What was her father playing at?
She ran through a mental relaxation technique that Cicero had taught her. She stepped out and started to flow. Everything seemed to start alright and she moved through the first ten steps with relative ease. It started to get a little difficult at that point, but she dropped into a deeper fugue state, and her body started to move of its own accord. She kept going, not really knowing where her body was taking her, but she kept it up anyway.
Finally, she couldn't seem to make the step, and her feet slid out from under her. She turned the fall into a roll and slid to a stop in front of her father. He was staring at her, confusion written clearly in his eyes. She didn't understand. Surely he wasn't mad at her performance. She was sure that she had done better than the last time. Surely he didn't expect her to complete the entire pattern! It was only the second time that she had tried it!
And then she felt strong hands picking her up and spinning her around. Neville had lifted her as if she weighed no more than a toothpick. He set her down, a look of excitement on his face. She had no idea what had made him so happy, but it thrilled her to her core that something had.
Before she could realize what happened she was engulfed in a hug. Her father was hugging her! Were those tears in his eyes? He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and stepped back, looking slightly embarrassed. She looked around. Her father's entire inner circle was there. They all had varying looks of stunned disbelief on their faces, looks of shear incredulity.
"What is going on?" she asked softly.
"Forty six bloody steps," Ron muttered.
"She's a natural," whispered Padma. She looked at Ginny and held out her hand. Ginny took out five galleons and placed them in the Indian woman's hand, shaking her head all the while.
Harry turned to Von. "Von could you…? I'm not sure I'm capable… I mean you just saw…" he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"No Cloud, just as it was not for me to train you, leaving that chore to Mutt, it is your turn to teach her. You have had other students." He swept his hands across the assembled team. "She needs your tutelage, not mine. If I might offer some advice…" Harry nodded. "When this quest is over, return to our compound and receive a new shroud. Then return here to Legion Headquarters and resume your role as Cloud. Teach them again, and let Neville be but a student again. He has much to learn, and he has taught for long enough."
Harry shook his head. "No, my time as Cloud is over. Perhaps I shall return here and lead the Legion again if we're successful. If I lead though, it will be as Harry, not as Cloud. That ship has sailed, and isn't ready to return yet. Maybe someday, but not now.
"Besides, I think that perhaps it's time for a new person to assume the shroud." He looked at Hermione. "Maybe, in a year or so, she'll be ready to be a student again." Hermione blushed and nodded softly.
"Oh? And what do you propose that we should call her?" Von asked.
"I was thinking we could call her Pen," Harry replied with a grin.
Von appeared to be considering what Harry had suggested. Eventually he nodded. "Harry, as always, the Siblings stand with you. If you need our services do not hesitate to ask." He looked at Hermione. "Only a year? I must start the preparations for a new Pen. If you don't mind I shall return to set things in motion." He strode off shaking his head. "A new Pen," he could be heard to be muttering.
*0*0*
The next morning Veate wandered into the cafeteria, to find it almost completely deserted. She decided that it was probably too early, as it was only half five. The only other person there as she got a light breakfast was Neville Longbottom. She slowly made her way over to where he was sitting. "May I join you," she asked demurely.
"Of course Veate," he replied. She slid into a seat across from him.
She sat there in companionable silence with him while they ate their meal. As she noticed him looking like he was finished and perhaps deciding to leave she screwed up her courage and spoke.
"When I was twelve my mother introduced me to my first lover. There had been others who had tried to be before him of course, but Gabrielle was diligent in her watchfulness. She didn't want me to start too early."
Neville shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
"His name was Kurt, and he was maybe fifty years old. He had been my grand-mere's lover a couple of years past, and Mother picked him for me then, against the day when I was old enough. He was from Germany and old enough to be my grand-pere.
"Kurt was a teacher. It was his job, his avocation, his reason for being. He lived to teach. He made me feel cherished. He spent weeks preparing me, weeks, so that when we finally breached my virginity, it was but one part of the total experience. As a lover he was kind, gentle, and expert. It was a beautiful thing, my first time.
"In most countries, sleeping with a twelve-year-old is a crime – and rightly so. But a Veela is not made the same way as normal humans are, and twelve is old by our standards. Many of us start years earlier. We reach puberty, on an average, at nine. I was sexually mature at eight. But I was protected by Mother, who wanted me to have an experience most of us Veela do not have the time or opportunity to enjoy. For most of us our first experience is a violent rape experienced at the hands of a sexual predator.
"Kurt was patient, he was careful, and he showed me how good lovemaking could be, if one took the time and effort to make it so. I have been with scores of partners since – men, women, human and part human – and some experiences have been better, though not many. I have learned more about myself; it is not bragging to say I've become skilled to the point of artistry. It is what my kind were created to do. It's something we have to have, to feel whole."
She looked at him, locked her gaze to his, and he could feel her willing him to see and understand her.
"You said that it wasn't about casual sex for you, that it was about love. It is beyond my understanding that a person could, for some abstract principle, give up something around which my life and the lives of my kind are based, yet three people that I have come to care about have done just that. That you could refuse my offer, something that many have fought for and that at least one has tried to kill to have, impresses me. Especially since I know how much you want me."
Her voice dropped to be quieter still, and he could hear the nervousness in it.
"Kurt taught me about sex, and until now sex has always been enough. I know what there is to know about technique. I know the ways of pleasure, and – I don't know why – it suddenly isn't enough anymore. That scares me. I never worried about love. I don't know about love. Before, it didn't matter. I didn't need it; but now, I need to know."
She took a deep breath. "Will you teach me about love, Neville Longbottom?"
Neville considered her closely. She was so much like her father. He too had never known love, and Neville wasn't sure that he had ever really figured it out. At this moment though, Veate was defenseless. He could see her for what she really was: a young woman who only pretended to be hard and invulnerable. She had just opened her heart to him, as Hannah had so many years before.
Hannah had told him all those years ago that love comes as it will, and can leave just as quickly. You must recognize it or you will lose it. There is no way that it can be defined, but it is there and if you are careful you will know it when you see it.
Now, at this point in time, Neville saw something that he had never expected to see again, and it was as if he had been hammered in the gut. He felt weak, he felt blessed, and he felt cursed.
Bloody Hell…
He sighed. There was really only one choice. He stood and gathered her into his arms and held her, that was all. Not quite like a friend holds another friend, but not like one lover holds another, not yet.
"Okay," he said. Veate started to cry in his arms. After a while Neville did too.
Bloody Hell…
Author's Note: I have shamelessly stolen the scene between Neville and Veate from Steve Perry's "The Albino Knife", chapter 19, pages 206-208. I suggest you read the entire Matador series by him. This story is somewhat of a cross-over with that universe as well, though I have set it firmly in JKR's realm.
Up next, MagiKat's warehouse, and a surprise for Harry.
Please make sure to visit my profile and vote on my poll if you haven't done so already. This story is firmly in the lead, and I am running with that, but the order that I update other stories is up for grabs so help me out.
Special thanks to each and every one of you who has taken the time to review. I appreciate them so much. It's what we writers live for, the feedback that only you can provide.
I expect there to be maybe four or five more chapters and then this one will be done. Perhaps there will be a sequel, after all I like the scenario, and we could always follow Hermione's journey as the new Pen...
