Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for the things I made up.
Author's Note:First off I wanna thank Pawsrule, Audrell, Booklvr. Annie, and all the rest of you who keep reviewing and telling me you like the story and keep coming back for more! Thanks guys, it means the world!
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Chapter 9: Of New Homes
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She looked up and her heart about dropped out of chest and into her stomach. The last person she'd have expected to be holding her and saving her from an embarrassing face plant into the mud of the clearing was the person in fact holding her.
Harry Potter wasn't looking at her, however, he was busy trading insults with the dog man she vaguely remembered take Luna, or rather hauled her off by tossing her over one shoulder.
Luna hadn't responded like most damsels in distress might, rather the girl had sported a dreamy expression whilst pulling the dog man's tail most energetically. Though Hermione supposed, shrieking and fainting while acceptable damsel in distress behavior wasn't at all practical. And she would have totally pulled his tail too had she been in Luna's place.
That tail was ripe for pulling.
Upon closer inspection the dog creature didn't look quite as fierce as she recalled; the head of a dark shaggy haired mutt sat upon the fairly broad shoulders of a man's body, although short fur covered him head to toe and poked out around the seams of his ill fitting purple robes.
All in all he wasn't nearly as fierce as she'd originally thought.
His lack of ferocity could have been all the purple he seemed fond of, or the giant red and gold top hat with a sparkly gold lion yawning on the brim, or the shiny green dragons hide boots he wore. All in all he looked like he'd had an unfortunate run in with a circus. Not scary in the least.
"Did ickle Pottykins just buy himself a widdle girlfriend?" he chuckled.
Harry's white cheeks had two spots of pink on them. "Shut up Sirius."
"You know normal people don't buy girlfriends, they send them flowers or something."
A vein throbbed in Harry's temple, and he looked like he was either going to spontaneously combust or throttle his godfather.
Interesting. Hermione wanted to poke at his vein with her wand, maybe test his spell makeup, as she was sure of herself that vampires did not have flowing blood. They were dead bodies, raised with a particular Necromatic spell to ensure that they rose as vampires, but were still essentially dead bodies moving around. Ergo Harry's temple vein should not be throbbing. Weird.
Harry wasn't paying attention to her scrutiny. Instead he was looking at Sirius with a look that would have cowed a lesser man. "If I threw a stick, Godfather dearest, would you chase it?"
Sirius showed Harry his teeth, every single sharp white finger sized tooth. "You wouldn't dare."
"Is it because we both know you would chase it?"
They looked like they were seconds away from tossing aside all logic and having a throw down in the dirt.
It was horribly fascinating that a vampire could look like they would need to be reminded about their blood pressure. She could recall the passage in one of her grimoires from Yolande that talked about Necromatic magic, and according to the text Harry was quite frankly a magical marvel. Hermione's fingers were reaching for her bag to retrieve her medical spell book when Sirius glanced at her, saw her face, and laughed.
She wrinkled her brow. How rude. She didn't think she was all that good at transfiguring things, but a toad shouldn't be that hard.
The dog man would make a lovely toad, especially if he continued to laugh at her like that. She knew she was dirty, and she hadn't had a bath in days, and her hair was frizzing like she'd stuck her finger into a barrel of water during a lightning storm, but it was not at all polite to laugh to a lady's face. The least he could have done was waiting until she wasn't around.
Sirius apparently wasn't aware that he was getting closer and closer to serving out the rest of the night as an amphibian, and continued to chuckle at her, finally catching Harry's attention.
Harry looked away from where he was trading vile insults with what Hermione assumed was a dear relative (though that assumption was rapidly draining down the tube as their pissing contest went on) to look at the girl he was supposed to have been rescuing.
Only to find that her eyes were two inches from his own and had a squinty eyed expression usually reserved by alchemists for their lab rats.
"Ack!" His head reeled back from hers, and he lost his balance and sat down in the mud.
"My lady," The dog man stepped over his godson and served her an elaborate bow that had her impressed and tickled pink in spite of herself, "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sirius Black, Lord of Black Manor and Godfather to the whelp you see sitting in the mud. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
He bent over her hand to kiss it and she almost giggled when the whiskers from his muzzle tickled the back of her hand. It was an extremely wet kiss, made wetter when he realized she was on the verge of laughing and made it all the slimier when he began to slather her hand with spit from his long smelly dog tongue.
Hermione snatched her hand back and began to scrub it on the back of her dress trying to get the slobber off of it. "Ew!"
Harry had been watching this exchange with something akin to horror and he now sprang up out of the mud like a cursed jack-in-the-box. "Sirius you tosser!"
Sirius laughing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth like a pink streamer, dodged his godson's annoyed shove and strode off into the crowed, leaving Hermione and her guardian standing together awkwardly.
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The moment ended.
She coughed and shuffled her feet, feeling like something should have happened and couldn't, or that she should have said something and didn't. Harry cleared his throat and glanced up at the rapidly lightening sky. Then he bent and fished her bag out of the mud and slung the strap over one shoulder, chivalrously carrying her satchel for her.
"Well, this way then."
She was suddenly irritated. Oh no he was not turning this into some awkward friendships where he'd avoid her and not look her in the eye whenever they did speak.
She went through that bollocks when she was thirteen and in the village Nozamot the number of boys far outweighed the girls. When they entered that awkward teen state they went from playing war with girls to outright avoiding them when they realized that girls were pretty instead of being their previous cootie laden state. That had been over and done with for years, and dammit they were adults and not going to go through this again. It was silly.
"Harry Potter," she hissed through her teeth.
A normal person wouldn't have heard her, but Harry's vampiric hearing was excellent and his shoulders hunched almost imperceptivity as he turned to face her. She swallowed a laugh. His expression suggested that he was about to face a rampaging blast ended skrewt rather than a five foot four witch.
"…yeah?"
She strode right up to him, grabbed him on the nose and gave it a hard tweak. His nose bright pink and abused, he stared at her, gob smacked. She ignored him and walked passed looking down the trail looking to see if she could get a hint as to where they were going.
"Okay, I feel better now, we can go," she said.
Harry got his mouth under control and shook his head, moving past her to walk down the little path. "Barmy witch. This way."
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She followed him as they climbed down the mountain and into the valley below.
The little dark cobbled road was quite lovely despite the monsters that trod it, and now that she was free and her immanent doom was over and done with she was able to fully enjoy the walk. And also contemplate the vampire walking ahead of her.
Harry Potter she did not get. When she stepped back and actually looked at him, in all honesty he was a vampire: A walking corpse infused with enough Necromatic magic to be able to function without the aide of a Necromatic pilot riding his mind, a step up from a zombie. But he was still dead, and technically he should be incapable of the human feelings and actions he seemed to exude without even trying.
Vampires, legend and myths stereotypes aside, were not caring creatures. According to her magic grimoires they were cruel and heartless monsters, and while capable of higher thought and reasoning, they used their knowledge to control people and cause misery.
They didn't have bad eyesight, they weren't polite, and they didn't care about nerdy little witches who read too much for their own good. Harry Potter was an enigma, and she sensed that there was more going on here than anyone was mentioning.
The whole setup was fishy.
Harry Potter, and the dog man Sirius Black...she didn't want to draw conclusions prematurely, but they were all too good for a place like this. They were good men, good souls. They didn't belong in the hooded man's entourage. They didn't belong with the beasts, even though for all intents and purposes they were beasts themselves. There were genuine monsters here, and the two men did not fit in.
There was a mystery here, and Hermione Granger was going to sort it out if it was the last thing she did.
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To be continued...
