The Merciful

TanninTele

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, voiding that of original content and characters.

Chapter Warning: Sexual content implied, minor cross-dressing

IV:

"What the hell is this place?" Ron asked, looking around in disgust at The Hog's Head.

Fred and George snickered as they frog-walked him deeper into the building, giving the amused Aberforth a jaunty lift of the hat. Neither were wearing hats, so they mostly looked like fools. "This, dear brother," Fred said cheerfully, fighting the fact he was panicking inside. "Is where all the magic happens."

George pressed his lips by Ron's ear, and pointed at the cracked mirror. "That's where I got shot," he whispered breathily. Disbelieving, Ron twitched and batted him away. They shoved him downward into the basement and rapped the secret code into the door.

"What on Earth - " baffled, Ron peered inside as the door swung open. "My God."

He flinched as the thud of a knife embedded into the wall beside his ear.

"Whoops - sorry!" Tonks said sheepish.

Smirking, Fred yanked the throwing knife out of the wall and tossed it back. She caught it deftly in her non-dominant hand, spinning it between her fingers. Her nails were polished with rainbow colors, and her pink hair was held back in a series of barrettes. "One, two, thr - why are there three gingers here?!" she startled, nearly dropping the knife on her toes. "There's only so many Weasleys we can handle here, guys."

Hermione, reclined in a swivel chair, her hair cascading down in loose curls, looked up. Her eyes went wide, and she hid behind her newspaper before Ron could recognize her.

" . . . yeah," Fred sighed, yanking Ron along. He had begun to wander toward the computers, and that was a recipe for disaster. "We may have made a mistake."

"A tall one," Tonks noted absently, flipping the knife in her hands. She winked. "Not as good-looking as you two, though." From her chair, Hermione flushed jealously, sliding down into the cushion.

Fred placed a hand on his heart. "Flattering, quite flattering, Miss Tonks."

"But we don't know how reliable that is," George said wryly, sending a slight smirk to Hermione's hidden figure. "Considering your preference for the fairer sex."

Tonks shrugged idly. "I can respect both the male and the female form. So long as they can respect me," she rolled her hips, sliding her hands down her body seductively, until she was in a fighter's stance. "Duck."

The twins yanked Ron down as the knife went slicing past their heads. It cracked into a bookshelf behind them, leaving a splintered hole in the wood. "We'd best visit the boss," George popped right back up, as though they hadn't just been at risk for a beheading.

Tonks nodded, sniffing. "You'd best."

"D - do you want me to get that?" Ron cleared his throat, and tentatively pointed upwards at the knife. It was poking out a foot above his head, not to mention three feet above hers.

Tonks narrowed her eyes at the knife, and seemed to take it as a challenge. She smiled coolly. "Don't worry about me, Weasley." Without another word, she vaulted upwards from her crouch, bounced off a chair - Hermione yelping - and snatched the knife.

Ron stared blankly at his dark-skinned girlfriend. "H - Hermione?"

The girl winced, and watched helplessly as Fred and George dragged Ron into Tom's office.

They were instantly met with the back of a desk chair, a slender body arching backwards. Slender, strong fingers were entwined in his dark curls, and Harry gasped as a swift bite was delivered to his jugular. "Tom!" he breathed, pushing lightly at the man's shoulders. "T - Tom, we have guests."

"Bugger," the man whispered.

Ron closed his eyes tightly at the sound of a zipper pulling. He covered his face with his hands, red as a firetruck and - actually - close to crying. "Are all my friends involved in this - this secret cult?"

"Cult?" Tom tsked, turning the chair, Harry settled back on his lap. They were both decent, at least, even if Harry's hair was a ruffled mess and Tom wore a self-satisfied smirk. "Please. Although I wouldn't mind being revered as a god every once and a while."

"Good luck with that," Harry snorted at him.

"Hm. Excellent point. Gods are omniscient, and while I consider myself quite well informed, I don't have a single clue as to what he is doing here." Tom jabbed a finger at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably behind the twins.

Fred coughed. "Right. About that. George and I were working on the controlled fire bomb, like you asked, and there was this massive earthquake that shook - erm, a good one-sixteenth of London."

"Uh huh," Tom said dubiously.

"The chemicals spilled, and we must've blacked out for a bit, because the next thing we knew, we woke up here with Ron, and - "

"Oh, shut up." Tom snorted, and reaching beneath his desk, pulled out a gun. The twins flinched. He settled the weapon onto the tabletop and began idly cleaning it with a cloth, handing the clip to Harry for safe keeping. "For two excellent spies, you're both horrid at lying. Aren't they, darling?"

"I don't know," Harry considered, a smile turning his lips. "Ron certainly looks all shook up. Are you sure you aren't just having a terrible, trauma-induced nightmare right now?" he asked Ron concern, passing Tom back the clip. Tom cocked it, and peered inside the barrel with an arched brow.

Pale from head-to-toe, his freckles prominent, Ron shuddered. "I certainly hope so."

"I can't see what he'd be so shook up about," Tom said, innocent. "We're all friends here. Well - " he glanced at Harry, nudging the boy's chin with the gun. "Some of us more than friends." He pulled Harry into a soft kiss, dragging his teeth over Harry's bottom lip.

"What're you guys doing?" George deadpanned, twitching a finger between the two. "This is a family establishment."

Harry pulled away, breathless. He wiped his lips, and pressed two fingers to his pulse, which was fluttering madly. He was mostly trying to hide the massive hickey forming there. "We're trying to make Tom seem busy until Hermione cools down," he tried to explain.

"H - Hermione?" Ron frowned, still stunned at the turn of events. "Until she cools down from what?"

"You assassinated Lucius Malfoy?" Hermione, almost on queue, screeched from the other room.

Tom raised his navy eyes to the sky, swearing under his breath.

"You shouldn't have left the newspaper out where she could find it," Harry pointed out unhelpfully. Harry wiggled on Tom's thighs, causing the older man to gasp in arousal.

He pushed Harry off his lap, albeit gently. "Just for that, doll," Tom smiled sharply. Ron saw the hint of white incisors, bared like a wildcat's. "You can take Ronald on a tour, and explain to him our operations here." He settled his gaze onto Fred and George who, while displaying immense bravado, each kept a protective hand on Ron's back. "I'll deal with these two idiots."

"Come on, Tommy," George whined, dropping into a seat across from Tom. "We told you already what happened."

"And I told you," He took up his gun, a finger settled on the trigger. "Never to call me Tommy."

Harry took Ron by the arm and pulled him along, apologizing under his breath. "Tom isn't going to hurt them, I swear. The safety's on. He's just going to give them a talking-to."

"Yeah?" Ron asked, breathless.

"Yeah. One of the stipulations of their 'employment' here is two-way confidentiality. Tom won't kill them, they won't blab their mouths." Ron blanched, and Harry hurried to assure. "It's not your fault. They're the ones that slipped up. You're harmless, at least, so the worst they'll get is a slap on the wrist. He's fond of them."

He pushed open the door, back into the command center. Hermione was standing over Tonks, who was casually spinning the blade in her hand. The pink-haired girl looked remarkably calm, considering the circumstances. Hermione ever looked at Ron like that, he'd probably dig his own grave so she wouldn't have to go through the labor of burying his dead body.

" - don't you think poisoning the man is going a bit far?" Flapping the newspaper in the air, Hermione slapped it down. "And, really - oh, for God's sake, put down the damn knife. I can't take you seriously when you're spinning it around like a baton. You could take an eye out like that."

"Alright, alright," Tonks said soothingly, placing the knife onto the ground. "Listen, about Malfoy, it was a calculated risk. The man was going to get in our way. His lawyer, Caractacus Burke, found evidence that it was Tom who leaked their misfortune to The Daily Prophet. They were getting too close to us."

"But - "

"No buts," she shook her head, grasping Hermione's hands. "Malfoy had to be terminated. It's merely a happy coincidence that this happened to coincide with our involvement of Narcissa Black. She was pleased by his death; he hadn't yet changed his will with their divorce, so what remains of the Malfoy fortune belongs to her. Killing two birds with one stone, right? And Madam Zabini was all-too-willing to protect her girlfriend. It wasn't difficult to convince her - "

"Why did we go through the lengths of negotiating with Narcissa Black if Zabini is already in Tom's pocket?" Hermione asked, eyes shrewd.

"Oh, that was a stipulation, as well. Zabini doesn't work for anyone but herself, anf would only help us if she got the honors of offing Malfoy," Tonks smirked. "Come on, you've got to admit, the man was an arsehole."

Still talking, Tonks shifted closer to Hermione until they were almost nose-to-nose. Hermione was slowly softening under Tonks' reassurances, and their voices settled to a light murmur. Eventually, Hermione nodded at her roommate.

Smiling in satisfaction, Tonks pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek. " - right, then. Look at this with me?" She sat down with Hermione in front of a blueprint, thighs touching. "There's something odd that we noticed a about the exhibition. The largest room in the building is a ballroom, and we assumed this is where they would host the exhibit. However, there's a sunroof - "

"Why would they place all these priceless artifacts under natural light?"

"Exactly. The exhibit is somewhere else, but once it begins, all the entrances and exits will be guarded. The sunroof is our only access, but for that to work, we need to clear the room."

"What about the vents?" Hermione mused aloud.

"See, we considered that - eventually I'd have to leave the vents, so we still have to - " Tonks flipped an errant hair over her shoulder, and leaned over the blueprints. Hermione watched her with a gentle look.

"Are those two . . . are they dating?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry jerked, torn from his quiet explanation of the Death Eater's and their functions. "Have you been listening to a single word I've said?"

Ron waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Secret operation, gang war, petty theft, grand theft - knowing Fred and George, I'm not surprised they've found a home with this lot. It's just . . . Hermione." He let out a breath, almost disappointed. "I thought she was normal. She's so smart, why would she - ?" Ron closed his mouth. He gestured at the two girls. "It's Tonks, isn't it? Hermione never looks at me like that,"

"I - " Harry trailed off, staring at his roommates with abrupt realization. He watched as Tonks reached over to tug one of Hermione's curls, teasing. He blinked. "Wow. That's quite obvious, isn't it? I can't believe I never noticed. I suppose I don't have as great a gaydar as I thought," Harry mused

"Why I keep going after lesbians?" Ron moaned, throwing his head back.

"Right," Harry said, bemused. "So you're not upset that she's apart of a crime league - you're just upset she's gay."

Ron shoved Harry. "You're the one that set me up with her!"

Harry turned Ron around, patting his back. "It's alright, mate. We'll find you someone who isn't your left hand."

Ron groaned mournfully. "Don't remind me."

Tsking, Harry took pity on him. "Say . . . , there's this intern at the Daily Prophet who's incredibly similar to Hermione in looks, but trust me, she's straight . . . "

Nearly three months later, the baby was early.

And it definitely wasn't Draco's.

Little Scorpius, unlike his mother, had a shock of black hair and lightly tanned skin that Astoria recognized immediately. "He's a Zabini," she breathed to herself, as the baby was settled into her arms after nearly ten hours of labor. "He's Blaise's."

Her hair was lank and sweaty, her mascara smeared from Astoria's violent, pained sobbing, and Draco's knuckles were most certainly broken from holding her hand. "My God," he said, more relieved than anything. "Wait, Zabini?!"

After a brief shouting match that required Draco being escorted out of the maternity ward, Draco called his mother, voice strained from crying. "It's not mine," he sobbed, lifting a still-hurting hand to his face. "The baby isn't mine."

"What - " Narcissa started, confused. "Well, that's - is it at least healthy?"

"Yes, yes, mother and baby are fine. But they're not my problem anymore, don't you see!" He shouted, thrilled.

Irritated, the waiting room secretary shushed him. Draco flicked her off, and - the back of his coat flapping, ran out of the hospital into the street. "It's not my kid, and this whole time, I could've been with Harry. Our reputations might not be in tatters, and father might not - " he cut himself off, stopping nearly halfway into the street. He quickly jerked out of the way of an incoming tab. "Father would be pleased."

"Your father," Narcissa stressed, stern. "Didn't care a whit about the child. He just wanted you to make a responsible decision, for once, and take care of your own. The fact Astoria was sleeping with other men would not please him. It's your actions that dissappointed him or made him proud, not anyone else's."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Draco shook it off, raking a hand through his hair. The strands were free from gel and - quite frankly, disgustingly sweaty - but he didn't give a damn. He'd just spent ten hours in a stuffy, bleak hospital holding the hand of a woman he didn't love, dreading the birth of a son he didn't want, and now - he didn't have to worry about any of it. "Astoria and Blaise Zabini can fuck off and form their own perfect little family, or Astoria can ditch the kid and go to Havana, for all I care. I'm calling Harry, and I'm going to make things work. Life is short. Father knew that better than anyone."

"Zabini," Narcissa mouthed, confused, and on her end of the line, turned a pair of wide eyes to her girlfriend. She cleared her throat. "Well, darling, don't make any hasty decisions regarding that poor Potter boy, He's already been through enough - " the line buzzed, as Draco hung up.

The Black matriarch swallowed tightly, and shifted on the loveseat closer to her lover. "Serena, darling," Narcissa said sweetly, smoothing a hand across Serena's long leg. "You like babies don't you?"

Serena slowly set down her book. "That depends. Whosebaby?"

"Yours. Your grandson," Narcissa lorded, thrilled. She flashed Serena a picture on her phone, of a wrinkled, dark-skinned, squalling thing. "Scorpius Greengrass-Zabini."

Brown eyes narrowed, realization creeping in. "Grandson - what the hell?"

Serena sat up as her phone vibrated, peering a text from her son. It was frantic, and misspelled, as Blaise was rushing to the hospital to visit Astoria. They were planning on taking a paternity test, just to make certain. Blaise, however, didn't seem so certain he wanted a son.

"Oh. A grandson. So it seems."

"I've always wanted to adopt," Narcissa added, almost absently.

The other woman tsked, putting away her phone and picking up her book. "Yes, well, I suppose someone has to care for the baby. We can rename him, correct? Scorpius is so . . . pretentious."

"No more pretentious than 'Draco'," Narcissa said, an abandoned, glorious smile crossing her lips. "But I was eighteen, and easily convinced. I want to raise this one right."

Tonks dropped a handful of cash onto the counter at the coffee shop, and took up both their drinks in one hand. She passed a cup to Hermione, who - in honor of the upcoming spring season - had ordered an iced tea. "See? I can provide for my friends," she said with a wide smile. "I didn't even have to rob the cafe at gunpoint."

"Oh, but you're paying with your own money, are you?" Hermione asked, raising a brow.

"Well. Tom's money," Tonks amended. She took a deep sip of her coffee. "He left his wallet in his pants, on the floor of Harry's room. He should know better."

Hermione fought a smile.

"I've never liked tea," Tonks confided in her roommate as they left the shop. "It's too . . . sophisticated for my taste. I always have to saturate it with sugar to even tolerate it."

Hermione stared at her in amazement. "We're British. Tea runs through our veins, more potent than blood."

Brown eyes rolled. "The Black family is Celtic and my father is German."

"And my mother is from Trinidad. So what?" Hermione shook her head. "Just try it."

"Nope!" Tonks tried to rush away, jumping onto a pedestrian path, but Hermione could be a determined little bugger.

"Take one sip! One," she pleaded, stopping Tonks with a hand on her arm. "It'll be good, I promise." Tonks felt heat from the hand's pressure, and - suddenly irked - grabbed the cup from Hermione's hand and took a quick swig. She expected to recoil immediately, but was instead surprise by a sweet, sour mix that exploded on her tongue.

"What is that?"

"It's mixed with lemonade. Half-and-half." Hermione said, pleased. "Quite good, no?"

Tonks grudgingly took another sip. "Not terrible. Did - ah - Ronald ever take you out for coffee? Is that when you discovered this?" she tried to make the question nonchalant, but winced at herself.

Hermione shrugged, taking back her drink. "We went to coffee shops a lot, yes. Nothing terribly romantic. It was usually after work, so I'd be tired, and he'd be bored. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno." Tonks said, too quick. "I just - I was curious. I haven't really dated since Remus, you know?"

She took a sip of her own coffee, but it suddenly seemed so bland to her. The taste was foul in her mouth, and when Hermione wasn't looking, she dropped it into a rubbish bin. Somewhere deep inside, Tonks hoped Hermione would share.

The weather was fair, so they were walking home, a cool breeze brushing their skin. The snow was slowly melting, leaving slush everywhere, but Tonks could spot a few splashes of green blooming through the cracks in the sidewalk. She kicked at a chunk of snow, sending it skidding into the street. A car ran over it with a wet splash.

"Remus," Tonks continued after a beat. "Well, Remus was one of a kind."

"Arrested, wasn't he?" Hermione said with a small, teasing smile. "For streaking right in front of the police."

"His buddy dared him," Tonks defended, but she couldn't help but laugh. "I could've bailed him out, I suppose, but . . . as fun as it was with him, I didn't really feel it."

Hermione pursed her lips, and brought her cup to them. Her voice was quiet. "What did you feel, then?"

"Bereft," Tonks stated, without really thinking. Her cheeks turned the color of her hair. "Wow. All this time we've spent hanging out, I've started to sound like you," she laughed nervously, and lifted the collar of her shirt to avoid Hermione's hurt frown. "Kidding. I - um - I don't know. We just didn't click, you know? He was like me in a lot of ways, had a great sense of humor, and was so incredibly clever - like you, a bit, actually. But he was a real pushover. Always let his friends talk him into doing things. He'd have jumped off a cliff if they asked. Sometimes, I thought he was more in love with his best friend than he was with me. But that's another story," Tonks placed her hands in her pockets.

The two were quiet for a moment, enough time to cross the street. They could see their apartment complex in the distance.

"Kind of sucks for our exes, don't you think?" Hermione said abruptly. "Remus ends up in jail, and Ron discovers all his close friends and family are mixed up in a con operation." She laughed. "We're great influences, aren't we?"

Tonks joined in her laughter, cheeks warming at the sound of Hermione's giggles. She let their hands brush together, and if their pinkies linked in the process; well, it was all very platonic.

She felt almost . . . bereft, when Hermione pulled away to take out her key card. Hermione handed the iced tea to Tonks, who took an ample sip before handing it back. Tonks wondered to herself, if they kissed, would Hermione's lips would taste like lemon?

They opened the door to their apartment. The telly was on, and Harry was murmuring softly with Tom on the couch. The younger boy was clearly upset.

Tonks strutted in, smirking at the red marks on Harry's wrists and throat.

"What're you two talking about?" Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter, finishing the last of her tea.

"The Malfoy brat," Tom's nose crinkled, pointing the remote at the television to switch it off. "It appears, according to celebrity news, he is not Astoria Greengrass' baby daddy. That honor goes to Blaise Zabini; the relatively unremarkable son of Madam Zabini. An 'close, inside source' says they had relations at a beach house party."

Harry, visibly subdued, sunk deeper into the couch beside his boyfriend. "I had wondered why he was calling me," he murmured. "But Tom wouldn't let me ask."

Tonks stiffened while in the process of checking the fridge. She spoke clearly, enunciating carefully, as she asked for confirmation. "He called you?"

Tom thought back to that morning.

The phone was ringing; he almost hadn't noticed over the sound of their ragged breathing, until the automated voice messaging system picked it up. The words faded in and out, before Harry pulled away, and shushed him.

" - We were both being petty, admit it. Let's just talk it over, and if you're - unwilling to get back together now, we can just be friends. I'd . . . I'd really appreciate a second chance - "

At that, Tom grumbled under his breath and reached for the landline.

"Tom . . . " Harry whispered urgently, green eyes wide. "No - don't." He jerked upwards, and slumped back with a huff, movements restricted.

"Hello?" Tom said into the speaker, his voice deep and rough. "Who is this?"

The other line was quiet, with only the soft sound of Draco's breathing. "Um. It's Draco. Draco Malfoy. Who - who is this?"

"Tom Riddle," the man introduced smoothly, letting out a short grunt as he crawled off Harry and sat on the edge of the bed, closer to the phone. He was shirtless, and the muscles of his back were tense, no matter how calm he sounded.

" . . . right," Draco said, dubious. "Is Harry there?"

With a shit-eating grin, Tom ran a finger down the silken necktie knotted to the headboard. "Oh, no. He's a bit tied up now."

Harry jerked on the ropes, the wiry muscles of his torso strained and glistening. "Tom!" he whispered furiously. "Don't - don't say that."

"Hush," Tom shushed him. He continued pleasantly. "Would you like to leave a message?"

"Er, yes, actually - "

"That's a pity, as I'm not a messanger owl. If you'd like to contact him, he'll be moving in with me sooner rather than later, once the deed on the penthouse goes through. And we don't give our phone number to solicitors."

Harry rolled his eyes back and strained on the ropes, wishing dearly that he could slap his lover in the back of the head. And then drag him back to finish what he'd started.

Tom seemed to sense Harry's heated stare, as he began to wrap things up. "Now, it's been an absolute delight, but I'm afraid my lover needs a bit of attention. Wish me luck. He's a handful." Tom brought a hand around to grasp the tent in Harry's boxers. The boy let out a pitiful, needy cry that Draco would have to be deaf to ignore. "Literally."

"He did," Tom nodded, smirking at Harry's blush.

"Right. That's it," With a stomp to her feet, Tonks disappeared into her room for a good three minutes, before returning with a gleeful expression. Harry peered up at her, dread in his eyes. "I did it. It's uploaded."

Tom blinked. "What is?"

"That man-whore and Harry's - "

Harry hid himself in the coach cushion, moaning almost indecently. "Don't tell him!"

"Please, don't talk about it," Hermione added, pleading. "I really don't need to know the details."

Tonks finished. "Sex tape."

At that, Hermione quickly bowed out, covering her ears. Tonks smiled at her innocently, and spoke louder, just to annoy her. "Harry told Draco if he made the slightest bit of contact, I had full authority to humiliate him. Don't worry, Harry, I blurred your features." She perched on the armrest, nudging her shoulder good-naturedly into Harry's. Harry weakly shoved her away.

Face still muffled by his pillow, Harry mumbled. "Great."

Naturally, Tom demanded to watch.

Tonks fetched Hermione's computer from beside the couch, booting up the internet with a dark smile. "If she finds out you used her computer to watch porn - " Harry warned.

She flapped a hand. "It's for scientific purposes."

"What scientific - ?"

"Biology," Tonks stated with a sly smile, covering Tom's groin with the laptop. He grunted slightly. "Watch and weep, Riddle. Watch and weep."

The video, posted on a website similar to WikiLeaks, and already gaining dozens of views, began with a poorly edited intro. Grainy sound effects of city life and road construction filled the room. Tom turned it up as Malfoy entered the frame.

The pale man was dressed in a ridiculous orange vest, and nothing else. He was a construction worker. "He wouldn't wear the helmet," Harry murmured softly, clearly embarrassed. "Thought it would ruin his hair."

Draco was stroking himself on screen, and the awkward zoom-in finally pulled away as Harry walked in on him. "Oh, God," Harry covered his face with his hands. The faceless twink onscreen was barely recognizable as the boy he was today. Pale and nervous, Harry wore the schoolgirl skirt with clear reluctance, although he became more confident as Draco showered him with gruff, clearly scripted, compliments and cat-calls. There was no real plot, as Draco soon took over, pushing Harry roughly to his knees.

"Who directed this?" Tom asked in a hushed voice.

Harry, afraid to look him in the eyes, spoke softly. "Draco had a videographer friend film it. Terry Boot, or something." Tom was quiet for a moment. Harry took a peek, and saw Tom's eyes were lidded with desire.

Tonks spoke up, her voice high and breezy. "Rather strange for a personal video to be filmed by a friend. Unless you three had an - ah - ménage à trois," the suggestion made Harry cringe.

"Absolutely not," he shook his head, pressing his cheek to Tom's arm. "Terry was a menace. Although, now that I think about it, Draco and Boot spent an awful lot of time 'editing' it."

Tom, saving Harry from his torture, scrolled down to read the comments. "Everyone seems to like your skirt, love," Tom told him, a tongue peeking out between his lips. He shifted the computer on his lap. "As do I."

"Yeah, well, it's my skirt," Tonks said sardonically, sitting up. She approached a basket filled with folded laundry, courtesy of Hermione. Combing through the articles of ripped jackets and dark leggings, she tossed the plaid skirt at Harry. "If you like it so much, you can keep it."

Avarice gleaming in his eyes, Tom took the skirt reverently into his hands, staring at his lover. They both ignored the sound of Draco ejaculating on screen, the pitiful streaks staining Harry's face. The camera shook, as though the camera crew was rather busy holding it one-handed.

"Hm. Schoolgirl skirt, huh?" Tom mused, brushing a finger down Harry's red cheek. "When I was younger, I fancied being a professor."

Harry considered it, trying the phrase on his tongue. It came out as a sensual purr. "Professor Riddle?"

Tom's eyes clouded.

"If you two are going to have kinky, role-play sex," Tonks quickly interrupted, snatching Hermione's laptop back. "Do it at Tom's. We have thin walls."

The couple stood, hands entwined, and while Harry fetched his shoes, Tom mouthed. 'Send me the link.'

Tonks gave him a thumbs up. "Will do."

They left quickly.

Kicking the door shut behind them, Tonks carefully erased Hermione's internet history, so the girl wouldn't panic. Just before she pressed the clear history button, Tonks paused. "Hermione," she called out. "The coast is clear."

Tentatively, Hermione opened her bedroom door. All Tonks could see peering out was a mass of hair. Tonks smirked to herself, and pressed play on the video, the sound of Harry's moans filling the apartment. She leaned back seductively on the couch.

"So . . . the apartment's empty. Wanna have kinky, gay sex?"

Hermione flushed violently and, in a blur of dark curls, slammed the door shut, hiding a smile.

THE DAILY PROPHET

Obituaries:

Alvin Creevey

Devoted father, Alvin M. Creevey (45) was found dead at his home last night due to a burglary-turned homicide. He is survived by his two sons, Colin (19) and Dennis (13), who is in the hospital with greivous injuries.

The funeral will be held on Saturday at 3:30 p.m. at the chapel of St. Stephen's to the graveyard. If anyone has information regarding Mister Creevey's tragic death, please come forth and contact constable Francis Martin at Whitby 01947.

Terrence Boot

T errence Boot (24) was found dead in the Hogwarts University darkroom due to an 'accidental ingestion of acidic photograph developing chemicals'. Terrence, known to his friends and family as 'Terry', was a student of film and videography -

"Ah," Tom smiled, finding what he was looking for. It seemed his assassins had done their job. He set the newspaper down to watch Harry butter his toast. The boy was clearly struggling, the bread crumbling onto the plate.

Tom was amused. "Do you need help buttering your toast, dear?"

"I - " Harry grunted, scraping the knife across the burnt bread. "Am perfectly capable. Of buttering my bread."

Tom leaned over to kiss Harry's cheek. "I never said you weren't," he said quietly, slipping a hand up Harry's skirt. "You're capable of anything you put your mind to."

"Don't patronize me."

Tom smiled sweetly. "I love you."

"Well, I'd hope so," the boy flushed, batting his hands away. "Now give a man some space to enjoy his toast, or I'll cut you with this knife," Harry brandished the butter knife, not-so threatening with hair in his face and a plaid skirt trailing scantily against his thighs. Tom could see a hint of Harry's lacy underwear, and smirked knowingly.

"Don't think I won't," Harry warned.

"Darling," Tom said fondly, raising his hands defensively. "If it brought you peace and joy, I'd gladly let you kill me any day."

Harry rolled his eyes at him, meeting half-way for a reluctant kiss. "Little deaths only, Tom. Little deaths."

To be continued in The Powerful

Estimated time of update: July 31st