A/N: Chap 20 Review Responses are in my forums. Also, a note about this chapter.
It's not a nice chapter. Not by a long shot. So far, we've been working mainly from Harry and Hermione's POV. Now, we're going to get a little from Luna's POV. It is a darker chapter than the last few. It has also been edited to abide by the site guidelines. The unedited chapter will eventually be posted in my yahoo group.
Chapter Twenty-One: Watching
Harry and Hermione returned to Hogsmeade with a pop, each holding bags of clothes for the other. "I love magic," Harry said.
"Did they have apparition where you were?" Hermione asked.
"No, teleportation did not exist in the Empire in any capacity. The technology to explore that type of technology was banned by the Jedi when they came to understand that technological teleportation was nothing less than the destruction of the original and the reproduction of a duplicate somewhere else. While the individual going through that process might not be aware of it, the Force imprint evidently was, and the Force itself cried out against it."
Hermione giggled. "You sounded smart."
He glared down at her, then reached back and pinched her bum. She squealed. "Don't you dare!" she said, seeing the light in his eyes.
"Dare what?" he said, nipping her again, but this time with the Force.
She pulled her wand, lips trembling. "Don't make me use this!"
"Do I need my wand too?"
"I'll hex your wand off if you…Haarrrryyyyy!" He had flown by her side and wrapped her in his arms, lifting her from behind while mercilessly tickling her ribs. He finally stopped when she threatened to pee on him, and he sought peace with a long, searing kiss.
Neither were very surprised to find Dumbledore waiting for him at the gates of the castle, a frown marring his face. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he said by way of greeting when Harry arrived, "I was informed by the Ministry that your testing was done over four hours ago. May I ask where you were?"
"No," Harry said lightly as he walked past the old wizard. "Tell me, Headmaster, could I sit for OWLS in subjects I did not initially study?"
Dumbledore appeared bemused. "I'll answer yours if you answer mine."
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione said. "We were attending to personal business, Headmaster. We are legal adults now, and must attend to adult responsibilities occasionally."
"And where would your business take you?"
"I was planning the orbital bombardment of Canada," Harry said. "I've determined that they represent a direct threat against my growing Empire."
"Canada?" An arched white brow lifted high into his forehead. "As to your questions, Mr. Potter, you can sit for any OWL subject you wish. The tests are only administered at the end of term, and at the end of first term only by request."
"Then please make the request, as I intend to sit for OWLs in Runes and Arithmancy. I find Arithmancy to be remarkably similar to the physics of hyperspace, once I take into account the different numerical base. Hyperspace dynamics operate on a base eight system due to the dimensional interchanges necessary to achieve hyperspatial entry speeds. Quite amazing, really."
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said. "Harry, please…"
Harry stopped and turned to view the old wizard. "Yes?"
"Don't forget your purpose in being here," Dumbledore said. "There are things I must show you. Things I must teach you if you are to truly defeat Voldemort. Right now, he is functionally immortal—killing him is not enough."
"Yes, Bellatrix knew about his rituals," Harry said dismissively. "It is an ancient Egyptian ritual designed to sheer one's soul off and store them in a container of some kind. The Sith had similar rituals. The weakness, of course, lay in the containers selected. In fact, I can sense one of the horcruxes somewhere in the castle, but I'm not sure where. I'll find it soon enough. First, however, I need to be properly armed. Now, if you will excuse me, my wife and I would like to go to dinner."
"Of course," Albus said. Harry walked away, and only as he did so did Albus realize he'd completely failed to address Potter's tardiness.
Given that they were still in their one month "detention", they elected to have dinner in their rooms, served by a trembling and ridiculously happy Dobby the Elf. As they ate, they drafted their first letter to Bartleby. Hedwig was flying by nightfall, and the newlyweds celebrated their day in each other's arms for the remainder of the evening.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
Hermione woke up alone, her arm stretched across the cool depression of the bed where Harry should have been. It was an experience that seemed to be happening more often as October bled toward November.
Her analogue alarm clock told her it was five. With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and draped a robe over her otherwise naked form. They had made love last night for almost an hour before drifting off to sleep. She could still smell him over her body.
She could feel him in the Force nearby, his presence agitated. It took less and less effort to find him that way as her own meditation exercises advanced. She already discovered that her reading and retention rate had doubled, just with what he taught her.
She stepped silently into the small living room and found him pacing like a caged animal, as naked as she was under her robe. He looked lithe and beautiful and deadly. He was talking to himself in a low whisper, his face warped by vacillating expression of rage, anger and loss. She knew he exercised in the room—she could see it in his broadening chest and thickening arms and legs. She felt it when he crushed into her during sex.
Yet, moving as he did, she was struck by how wild he seemed—how angry and wounded.
"Harry?" she whispered.
He stopped mid-stride and looked at her with wide, alarmed eyes. "I woke you?"
"I know you didn't mean too. Do you want to come back to bed?"
"Of course," he lied. She could tell when he was lying, simply because of how flat his voice became.
She walked to him, placing a hand on his arm. He was trembling under her touch, though his face was as emotionless. "What's wrong?"
"This place…is starting to feel like a prison," he said, his voice low. And yet, for all the smooth calm of the sound, she sensed rage behind it.
"It's morning," she whispered. "Get dressed, and go out. You've met the terms of the curfew for the night. Go out and do what you need to."
He looked at her in surprise, and as he did so she could see Shaddix fade and Harry come back. "You're right," he said in wonder. "I never thought of it." He turned to get dressed and was gone a moment later.
Hermione went back to bed and slept, until two hours later she felt a hot, sweaty body slide into bed behind her. Hot lips pressed into the nape of her neck, causing gooseflesh to crawl up and down her spine. Hands reached around to touch her, but not like he did when the Sith in him grew too strong. He touched her like a lover who wanted to bring her pleasure.
"Yes," she gasped.
"I love you," he breathed into her ear as he made her forget for a moment his anger that morning.
Later that morning, the young lovers showered and dressed before heading out to breakfast in the Great Hall. Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy and his ilk wisely left them alone after their experiences with Hermione on the train. On the flipside, their other friends seemed a little distant as well. Neither had seen Luna in more than passing, while Ron, Ginny and Neville seemed a lot more reserved.
However, on November first, Ginny and Ron both cornered them. "I thought about what you told me, Harry," Ginny said. "And I spoke to Ron."
"We want in," Ron said with a tight grin. "I think Dean is in too."
"But not with me," Ginny said with a blush. "We had a good talk."
"Who else?" Hermione asked.
"A few Hufflepuffs, a handful of Ravenclaws," Ron said.
"Meaning Terry Boot," Ginny said. "I talked to Luna but…I don't know, she's been really strange this year. I mean more than normal. She said she didn't want to."
"It's a start, still," Harry said. "It'll be another week before we can meet. When we do, we'll talk more about just what we want from the club."
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
Luna watched Harry run in the mornings. Before the sun rose, cold or hot, rain or dry, he ran. She usually sat in the crenellations of the clock tower, curled in a blanket, while Harry ran around the school grounds. He did not have a set path, varying it every day. From her height and distance, it did not seem that he was moving that fast, until he grew closer and she could see he was going faster than anyone in school could possibly move.
Then there were his exercises. His jumped impossible heights and tumbled like a born acrobat. He conjured a steel blade with his wand and went through extravagant, unbelievable routines with the blade before vanishing it and continuing his other exercises.
Some mornings, Hermione stepped into the pre-dawn grounds and watched him. Luna blushed when, on her second such morning, he almost tackled her in his haste, pulling down her jogging bottoms and fucking her like an animal right there by the quidditch pitch. Hermione did not protest—even from her distance Luna could see from the way the girl reached her arms around his neck back and arched her back to press her arse into his thrusts that she enjoyed every second of it. But from Luna's limited experience, it did not look like they were making love. Their interactions then were almost violent, and she heard rumors of Hermione visiting the hospital wing for bruise salve.
Sometimes, while she watched them, Luna saw terrible visions—of Hermione standing on a balcony, covered in blood, as Harry took her roughly from behind. She was smiling even as someone else's blood dripped from her fingers. He made love to her angrily, and she accepted it with a joyous smile, as if his anger were brilliant and long overdue.
As the days fell into a routine, Luna watched Harry go through his days, auditing classes without bothering to take exams. He actually audited her Fifth Year Arithmancy and Rune classes, but rather than listening to the lecture he read the texts from sixth and seventh years, speaking only after class with specific questions on things he did not understand from the books.
Beginning in November, he and Hermione ate together in the Great Hall during breakfast and lunch every day, though they took dinner alone usually. Luna noticed that their old friends were starting gradually to gravitate back to them. Initially there was a separation resulting from the implied threat of violence Harry carried around with him and the confirmed violence Hermione had committed. But as time wore on the sharp edge of his threat blunted with familiarity, and Ron, Ginny and others gravitated back into their sphere. However, things were different now.
Ron, for instance, was now dating Lavender Brown, who seemed fascinated with the scar on his chest. Like all the witches in the school, Lavender knew not to give Ron her virginity, but unlike most she was willing to do other things for him in the closets or long-abandoned classrooms.
Luna thought she should feel guilty about watching them, but it was hard to feel guilty watching Ron be pleasured by such a beautiful witch as Lavender. For the longest time Luna had a crush on Ron, and watching he and Lavender together, when they thought they were alone, she thought he would have at the least been a fulfilling lover.
She knew just from the look on Ginny's face when she finally did the same for her current boyfriend, Terry Boot. Terry looked exceedingly pleased and tended to smirk whenever he looked at the redheaded Gryffindor. Luna did not think her former friend was very happy with Terry; Boot was a nice enough fellow, but he did not have the same spark Ginevra did. But she was obviously making Terry exceedingly happy.
Luna wondered if Ginny finally gave into Terry for some of the reasons Harry was so rough with Hermione. Perhaps they were both angry in their own way. Still, Luna felt sad for her old friend—Ginny was using sex as a crutch for her emotions, and it was not really working, because of course how could you really know if your lover loved you, if you never lifted your head above his waist?
Though students were becoming familiar with Harry again, Luna doubted any of them really understood just what he was, not until the end of that first week in November, when the whole school learned firsthand that not only was Harry a murderer, but that Hermione was becoming one as well.
It was the Slytherin boy's fault for starting it, of course. On the second day of Harry's return, Luna took it upon herself to warn Draco, not because she liked him at all since he was rather a bore, but because she did not want to see anyone else die.
He sneered at her like normal, but she noticed that his eyes were blood-shot and ringed with shadows of long, sleepless nights. She felt a touch of sadness for him—his father was dead after all. "What do you want, Loony?" he said.
"Please stay away from Harry," she said to him.
"Why, do you have a crush on Potter? Wish he'd stick it to you like he does that mudblood whore of his?"
Luna debated whether to admit that, indeed, part of her wished he would do that to her. Instead, she said, "That's not Harry any more. What came back from the Veil is not-Harry. He is angry and dark. He will kill you, Draco. He doesn't care about rivalries or games any more. If you bother him, he will kill you and your friends without blinking an eye, just like he killed your father. Please, leave him alone."
Draco stared at her in horror for a long, silent minute. "You stupid bint," he snarled.
Luna said nothing, since sometimes she did think she was stupid, especially when she found herself dreaming about Harry sticking it in her just like he stuck it in Hermione. Even in her dreams, he hurt her just like he hurt Hermione, and yet the dream came back almost every night. Still, she stared at the pale Slytherin until he turned away and left. Her message must have hit home, though. It was a week into November Draco had not done anything stupid like talk to, or even approach, Harry.
Unfortunately, he did not appear to share her message with the rest of Slytherin. Miles Cratchly was the proto-typical Slytherin: pure-blooded back at least eight generations or more, hateful and leering to anyone not in Slytherin, and most importantly the son of a Death Eater. This last fact was a poorly hidden secret, as many in Slytherin were the children of Death Eaters.
Miles did not play Quidditch and did not otherwise distinguish himself in any way. His grades were rather lackluster and he was only studying for three NEWTs—the bare minimum to remain a student after Fifth Year.
On Tuesday mornings, Harry audited a seventh-year Ancient Runes class. He had been doing so for the past week. Hermione had a free period since she was still auditing the sixth year class while she concentrated on seventh-year arithmancy and sixth-year potions. Really, Luna admired them both for pursuing independent study, and wished she could do so as well. After all, she was studying sixth year arithmancy herself as a hobby.
She was in the cafeteria, finishing an essay for Professor Flitwick, when Miles Cratchly sauntered into the hall, a leering smile on his face, and walked directly to the Gryffindor table. Behind her, she heard Malfoy snicker and say to his cadre of followers, "Watch this."
Luna watched in concern as Cratchly sat down across from Hermione at the Slytherin table. She had no idea what was being said, but Hermione's face blushed angrily as she started packing her books to leave. But then Miles made the last mistake he would ever make: he pulled his wand on her.
Not even Luna saw when Harry came flying through the doors, his face warped by an inhuman rage. Miles had enough time to make a startled, grunting cry before an unseen force acting under the direction of Harry's outstretched, wandless hand, jerked him up from the Gryffindor table and threw him like a rag doll across the width of the entire Great hall, where he slammed into a stone wall behind the Slytherin Table.
At the table, Snape was the only staff member present and stood in alarm, his own wand out, but Harry ignored him. Those students in the hall watched disbelieving as Harry jumped forty feet into the air in an arching path toward the stunned Slytherin, and in mid-flight jerked both hands forward to produce a devastating barrage of blue lightning.
Cratchly was screaming in agony even before Harry landed.
Snape fired a stunner that Harry dodged while maintaining his attack on Cratchly. He finally relented on Cratchly only to turn, stomp his foot, and scream loudly in Snape's direction. A wall of shimmering air shot toward Snape with the speed of a bullet. The Potions Master's eyes bulged in a near humorous fashion while he whipped his wand ineffectually to try and dismiss a spell that was not really a spell at all, before the wall struck him and sent him flying against the wall behind the staff table with even more force that Cratchly was thrown.
Harry turned his attention back to Cratchly as Hermione walked across the hall to join him, her book back over her shoulder. "He has a Dark Mark," Harry said in a voice that rang through the hall. "That means he's mine."
Luna's stomach heaved as Cratchly started screaming as if under the Cruciatus. More concerning was the fact that Harry didn't move, lift his wand or give any indicating that he was the one doing it, other than to stare intently at his victim. Luna turned to see Sue Bones scrambling out of the hall, probably to fetch help.
Finally, Hermione said, "Harry, if you're going to kill him just kill him."
The whole Great Hall stared incredulously at Hermione. No one there could believe what they heard. Even more shocking was the sound of snapping bone that instantly silenced Cratchly's screams. The present Slytherins moaned in terror, as did several other students, when they saw Cratchly's head spun all the way around until it faced backward, his expression still warped by the agony of his last moments. His body tumbled lifelessly to the floor.
Luna managed to turn away from the table to be sick on the floor, and saw others sick as well. It was to the smell of vomit and the sight of death that Dumbledore arrived, looking sickly and sallow. "What is happening here?"
"Miles Cratchly threatened me," Hermione said to the old professor, pale-faced but clear-voiced. "Harry sensed the threat and came, and in the process we learned that Cratchly bore the Dark Mark, so Harry killed him. That was the agreement with the Minister, wasn't it?"
Dumbledore came to a stop, and Luna watched the play of emotions across his face—from shock to a profound, soul-rending disappointment, and finally to a deep sadness that made her want to cry. Dumbledore was not perfect, this Luna knew well enough, but she believed that he was at heart a good soul, and because of that when confronted with true evil, he felt sullied by it.
"Mr. Cratchly was only seventeen years old," he said softly.
"He raped and killed a muggle woman this summer as part of his initiation," Harry said coldly, but loud enough for all to hear. "I could see it in his mind. Anyone who takes the mark has to either kill, or make a binding vow to do so. I wonder who else in this hall has a dark mark." He turned and looked straight at Draco, who paled the color of bone, climbed from his table, and ran from the hall.
"And Professor Snape?" Dumbledore demanded, pointing at the professor who was just then recovering his feet.
"He cast a spell at me," Harry said. "And he also bears a Dark Mark."
"He is mine," Dumbledore said.
"Let's find out, shall we?" Harry said. He spun faster than the old professor could follow, and with a grunt of surprise Snape flew through the air until Harry caught him by his forehead and slammed him onto the floor.
Dumbledore began to pull his wand as Snape screamed, but it was only for a moment. Harry stood, his face darkened. "Before this war is over, you will die, Snape. If not by Voldemort's hand, then by mine. I know my parents are dead because of you."
"Come on, Harry, let's go back to our room," Hermione said. Harry took her offered hand, and the two walked out of the Great Hall with chins held high, as if they had not just tortured and slaughtered a seventeen year old boy, and tortured a professor as well.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
That night, as she sat in her corner of the common room furthest from the fire and wept, Luna could no longer deny that the first boy she ever fell in love with was all but lost. Hermione was not saving him, she was being dragged into the darkness with him.
"What's your problem, Looney?" Marrietta Edgecomb said, standing suddenly in front of her.
"My friend has become a murderer," Luna said as if that should explain everything.
"Year friend's a blood raving lunatic," Edgecomb said. Her forehead still bore the acne scars from Hermione's curse the previous year. "And so is that bint of a wife of his."
"Yes," Luna said, unable to defend them.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
That night, Luna woke to a hand pressing down over her mouth, while nearby she heard a girl's voice whispering the silencing charm. She tried to scream anyway, despite knowing no sound would come out. For her efforts she received two quick punches—one to her lip, one to her eye.
"Do it," another girl's voice said. Edgecomb. Poor Marietta, the pimples that formed the word "SNEAK" across her face would not go away—further proof that Hermione had a vengeful streak about her even before Harry opened that streak up permanently.
Her thoughts were shattered when rough hands grabbed her sleeping shift and ripped it off. She struggled, but more hands held her down as someone else grabbed the edge of her knickers and ripped them off as well, hurting her as they did so. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears from the pain and embarrassment.
"Alright, let's go," the voice belonging to Marietta said.
Luna felt magic lift her from her bed and carry her out of the common room, and into the halls beyond. It must have been very late, or very early, as no one was about, it was cold, and it was dark.
"There," Marietta said. "That should do."
The magic deposited her into the closet, while another spell ended her silencing charm. She looked up to see hooded figures in Ravenclaw robes standing in a semicircle outside of a very small broom closet.
"Not much without your Gryffindor friends to protect you, are you?" That was Orla Quirck, Luna's roommate. Orla did not like her either, sadly.
"I didn't do anything to you," Luna said, hoping to reason with them.
"Your friends did enough," Marietta said from within her hood. "You can stay in there until you rot."
A low-grade banishing spell smashed Luna painfully against the back wall, causing her to fall over a pile of old mops, while they slammed the door closed in front of her. The darkness that resulted was absolute, and unrelenting.
Luna tried righting herself as best she could, but the darkness pressed in so close around her. From the darkness she heard laughter, and the sound of Muggle guns and a higher, thrumming noise, followed by screams.
Then, as clearly as if she stood before her, she saw Hermione in the darkness standing over her not with a wand, but with a glowing blade the color of electric blood. Her pupils were ringed with orange as she stared down at Luna.
"Please," Luna begged. "Please help me."
"You're weak," not-Hermione said, before raising the sword and slashing down violently.
It was at that point the door opened, and Luna looked up in shock to see real-Hermione standing there, brows furrowed in concern. "Luna?"