Chapter Twenty: Change In Plans

The Fortress (formerly Hogwarts Castle), Scotland

Friday, October 20, 2000 (early morning)

Philip woke up still entwined with the Weasley girl. She'd requested he sleep against her last night, afraid on her first night in the castle – a place where she'd once danced and gossiped through the halls, ironically enough – and although it had been a chaste arrangement, with him merely offering her warm arms and a body to spoon against, it made him decidedly uncomfortable to be pressed against her backside so prominently when she was wearing only one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else underneath.

The truth was, he hadn't been with a woman since Fay had left months ago to The Madam's House (and upon her return, she'd hooked up immediately with Charlie Weasley, taking her officially out of the dating game), and Weasley was so soft and innocently wedged against his morning wood at the moment. It was hard to be a gentleman given the circumstances. He put forth his best effort, however.

Gently trying to disentangle himself, he accidentally woke her. Instantly, her tiny hands gripped him with fierce concern. "It's alright," he softly murmured against her ear. "Just need to use the loo. Two doors over. Be right back."

He could feel her rapid heartbeat slowing and she nervously nodded.

Replacing the covers about her to conserve her heat – the castle was freezing unless one cast a warming charm about their room, which was something he'd forgotten to do last night – he slipped the trousers he'd been wearing yesterday back on as well as his shoes and took his wand with him as he covertly and quietly slipped out of his assigned chambers to take care of his private business.

Upon his return, he found her huddled with the covers over her head entirely, a small, pathetic lump in the center of his mattress. Relocking the door and casting the silencing and warming charms, he shucked his outer clothes and opted to rejoin her, wanting to catch at least another hour or two of sleep before attempting to tackle his next assignment for the day.

Ginny refused to come out from under the covers at his poking, and she still hadn't spoken a single word since yesterday.

With a sigh, he ducked under the sheets.

"I know who you are," he quietly confessed, once he'd settled back in. "I remember you from school, even though I was in your brother's level, a year above yours." He gently tugged on a long lock of her colored mahogany mane. "You can't wash the freckles off of a Weasley no matter how hard you scrub, they used to say."

Rolling over suddenly, she stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I'm on an operation for Granger and Malfoy," he explained, placing a single finger over her gaping lips. "But you can't tell a soul or risk discovery, or more than me will die. There are others trapped here. I plan to help them escape, if I can, while carrying out my mission."

Two dark whiskey-colored saucers stared at him in the dim light that seeped through the small window above the bed, and filtered through the white sheet.

"I'll take care of you in the interim, but you absolutely cannot leave this room under any circumstances, nor can you use magic of any kind," he stated firmly, clearly laying out the plan. "We can't risk it. Also, know that there are days I don't return to my room, because I'm called in to the… revels," he grimaced and spat the word, forcing himself to block those horrible memories for now. "I'll try to bring enough food so you won't have to worry about starving." He removed his finger, finally, realizing that he'd let it linger far too long, enjoying the physical connection even for that short while. "When it's time for the others to make their break, you'll go with them. They'll take you to the Captain."

"Captain?"

Her voice was husky with under-use and sleep, and for some reason, Philip reacted to it inappropriately, his loins tightening up. Keeping his hips far enough away, he tried to concentrate on the conversation and struggled to forget that there was a half-naked woman in his bed lying mere inches from him. Just yesterday, she'd been raped horribly, he reminded himself and that did the trick of calming his irrational animal lust. "Hermione Granger. We've all taken to calling her 'Captain' over the last year. Clearwater began it as a way to show deference, but it's sort of become more an endearment now."

Ginny's hands gripped his shirt and yanked hard. "Penelope Clearwater? She's alive?"

Phil nodded. "Yeah, she's Granger's Second. Tough bitch. She's with Longbottom now. They're engaged."

A small sob escaped the little Weasley girl's lips and although he couldn't see her tears in the gloom, he could hear her sniffling with them. "She was my older brother's girlfriend. We all thought she'd died around the same time he had."

She'd lost two brothers then, for Phil knew that Ron had been Lord Mort's first victim upon his unholy birth. "I'm sorry," he quietly sympathized. He'd lost family, too, and he was intimately familiar with the ache that never quite dulled behind one's heart as a result. "There's a Charlie Weasley in camp, too. He came with Snape and a group from Romania to join us. Used the tame dragons or something like that. Is he related to you? He's involved with Fay Dunbar. Remember her?"

Ginny gasped and nodded, and now her tears came for an entirely different reason. Pressing her forehead into his chest, she cried her relief, murmuring 'thank Godric,' over and over again.

They spent the remainder of the morning and some of the afternoon under those covers, talking in soft voices of all he knew of the resistance here on the islands, his arms unconsciously curving around his charge once more, drawing her smaller form into the heat of his. For her part, Ginny didn't seem to mind the contact despite her previous physical assault, gripping him back equally as tight. He assumed it was because she, like he, took comfort from their commonality. He knew that in the bleakness of war, just having another person near whom you could trust was the most beautiful thing you could own, even if it was fleeting, and in those moments, it was really good to have a friend to talk to again after so many weeks of being alone in this dismal, evil place. To be able to relate to someone inherently decent again, instead of the monsters, was the blessing from above that he'd needed to raise his flagging spirits. So, for hours he droned on and on, answering each of the young woman's questions with his reserve of great patience, reliving his memories at her curious prompting, enjoying the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers.

When he'd finally talked himself out, it was her turn to speak, and what Philip learned from her was enough to shock the shite out of him, and raise the banner of burning, reckless hope in his chest: the American resistance, led by her eldest brother, Bill, was rallying the hidden insurrectionist cells across the world. The Movement planned to converge on The Fortress en masse in a final, desperate fight before the end of December. Win or lose, the other cells had already committed to the course, having been in solid contact for over the last year, and they were already on their way to a meeting point in Morocco to unite, to make final preparations to launch the assault. The world, it seemed, was ready to finally put an end to Lord Mort and his Death Eaters.

Merry early fucking Christmas!, he inwardly cheered, hugging Ginny tightly and kicking his heels against the mattress in happiness.

Hell, maybe by January, he'd be on a beach in the Caribbean, sipping one of those Muggle Mai Tai's through an umbrella straw, happily away from all of this bloody rain and cold, getting the fucking tan of the century. He needed a holiday desperately.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

A Cottage (unknown location)

Unknown Date (sometime in mid-to-late October, 2000, evening)

"Granger, wake up."

Blinking back the bright spots exploding in front of her eyes, Hermione's mind took a few more moments to roll past the dazed and confused part before she could focus. Cormac was leaning over her, and she was flat on her back in a bed.

Memory collided with rationale, and instinct took over. She shoved against his burly chest and screeched, her fingernails reaching to gouge out his eyes. "No! Never again!"

It didn't take much to overpower her, as McLaggen outweighed her and his muscle mass easily rivaled Viktor's, but she fought like a hellcat anyway. Her wrists were restrained into the mattress with little effort, however, and her captor simply sat all his weight on her lower abdomen. "Calm down," he shouted. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

She stared up at him with anger, quaking with fear. Her heart was a loud pounding in her ears.

"You fainted," her captor explained. "You've been out for almost two days. Just relax, will you? I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

It took several more minutes for her mind to evoke reality, and another minute or two for it to recall details. She stopped struggling, regaining sanity. "Get off of me now," she grit, her fury the only thing keeping her tears at bay.

Cormac did as requested, letting her go and pushing off of her, nimbly regaining his feet. "You were screaming from a nightmare. I didn't mean…"

She sighed, pushing herself into a sitting position, closing her eyes against the world tilting and the accompanying nausea. "Forget it." Swallowing the last of her terror away, she blinked and wet her lips. "Water?"

He rushed to the kitchenette and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it out of the tap. Returning to her side, he held the drink out and was careful not to touch her again, she noted, as they passed the glass between them. Downing it quickly, she handed it back to him. "What happened?"

He washed the glass in the sink, and laid it out to dry on the rack. "You indicated that Potter contacted you mentally. If he knows where you're at, there's a chance Mort could find out, too. I had to prevent that, so I scrambled your magical aura." He turned back to her, drying his hands on a towel and tossing it to the side, then strode to the table and took a chair, turning it to her and sitting. "The side effect is that it fuckwallops a person's brain patterns temporarily. Like one of those Electro-Magnetic Pulses that Mort used to fry the Muggle satellites in orbit over Europe once he took over." He shook his head. "We can't risk you reaching out to him. You'll need to let me know if he tries it again."

Hermione considered that instruction very carefully. How much should she tell Cormac about her connection to Harry? Should she say anything if her friend came to her in a dream again (despite the fact he hadn't in a long while)? She still didn't trust McLaggen completely, despite having accepted his apologies, in a fashion, for his past mistakes.

The snake ring on her finger squeezed once in solidarity.

Good, then, it was decided: she'd tell him nothing. She'd have to make the lie convincing, though.

"Fine."

Short and sweet, and she even managed to look him in the eye and not flinch. Bully for her!

McLaggen stared at her for a few minutes in silence, weighing her words. She was sure he knew she was fibbing, but when he spoke next, he gave no indication. "In any case, we're going to have to leave here now. It was too dangerous to move you while unconscious, and the wards around this place won't let me Apparate in or out. Carrying you out of here would have left us vulnerable if there's an army of Death Eaters or Trackers hiding in the woods just beyond already." He stood suddenly, looking down at her with tired eyes and wan features. "But you're awake now, so we'll go once you get something in your stomach, shower and we pack up some supplies."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Go where?"

He ran a hand through his very short, curly, blond hair – the same cut as he'd maintained in school – and let out a very deep breath in one sharp hiss. "Where else? To find your friends."

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)

Friday, October 20, 2000 (early evening)

Blaise chimed his glass with the edge of a fork to get everyone's attention as two announcements were made at dinner that night: first, Neville and Penelope and Charlie and Fay planned to have a double wedding on Halloween night, and they invited everyone to their hand-fasting ceremony, which would take place on the shore of the small lake, and second, Charlie and Fay were having a baby together, too – a little girl, he proudly proclaimed, whom they were to name Hope.

Everyone was in rousing spirits as a result of the excellent news, and glasses clinked together, boisterous laughing could be heard around the tables, and smiles were plastered to nearly every face – well, everyone except Malfoy, who never smiled. And if they'd been there, Bradley (who was out on patrol) and Stretton (who was in his tent feeling poorly, according to Su) probably wouldn't be able to do more than give a half-hearted attempt at a lip twitch; both men had never been this depressed in all the time Blaise had known them.

Still, he refused to allow dark thoughts to ruin this brief happiness. He tapped cups with Pansy, who sat at his left, and the two shared a secret, almost shy smile before downing their drinks. She'd let him kiss her – just once – before leaving the dinner tent that night, and although it had been a quick pull of lips, it had been sweet and enticed him thoroughly. He'd spent the last two days thinking about that 'date' whenever she was out of sight, and catching himself staring at her perfect, soft mouth a little too obsessively whenever she was nearby.

"Are we still on for tomorrow morning?" she asked quietly, leaning towards him. Her breast accidentally brushed against his arm, and he felt his gut clench.

He nodded and grinned cheekily. "Breakfast will be served at eight sharp. Don't be late or I'm eating your portion, too."

Pansy brushed that glorious, black mane of hair she'd magically grown out off her shoulder. The move was blatantly flirtatious, and made him reconsider her actions. Maybe that touch a moment ago hadn't been an accident, after all?

"I was thinking about taking a stroll later around the lake," she purred in a low voice, putting her glass down and gazing up boldly to capture his stare. "It's not as cold tonight, and it'll be good to walk-off the dinner. But, you know what they say: a lady shouldn't walk alone during such dark times. Who knows what's lurking out there. So, want to come?"

Was that a double entendre? Only one way to find out… A smirk crept up his cheek. "Sure do."

Parkinson's cheeks were a touch flushed, but her smile was sinfully provocative. "After pudding then?"

Blaise's eyes found themselves staring at her bottom lip again and he shook his head rather decidedly. "I have something else in mind for dessert."

A giggle erupted from her lips and the sound was positively beautiful. "Well, I hope it's not fattening. I'm watching my waist line now that I'm seeing someone."

Lips stretching wide in a beaming smile, Blaise chuckled. "Quite the opposite, dove. It'll keep you slim, I've heard – all the sweating and such."

"Excellent," she affirmed playfully, and beneath the table, her hand found his thigh and rested upon it as she turned back towards her meal to finish.

Inside his chest, Blaise's heart took off at a rabbit's pace, and suddenly, his pants were two sizes too small. Slytherin give him the strength to take things at a proper pace, or he was sure this woman would eat him alive!

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)

Friday, October 20, 2000 (mid-evening)

Pansy's heart thumped in triplicate when Blaise willingly took a hold of her hand after dinner, pulling her to her feet, and in front of everyone, walked with her from the main pavilion with a possessive glint in his eye. There were more than a few raised eyebrows, and even some whistling and cat-calls, but they exited the tent and hurried across the camp together, unconcerned, both too eager to be alone again to care. They zipped up their coats and she slung her hood up to cover her ears, and then they reached automatically for each other, reestablishing physical contact quickly, as if they both needed to touch the other and not let go.

On the walk towards to the eastern shore – the sandiest stretch of beach and the most private area around the lake (hidden as it was by the rocky and forested hillside) – Pansy's mouth had gone dry, and her pulse had sped up disproportionately to the amount of exercise they were engaged in. Truthfully, she was hoping they'd stop soon so she could catch her breath.

When they reached the spot where the tent had been set-up the night before, Blaise stopped and sat them down in the soft ground. The sifting granules were cold under her bottom, but with a simple wave of his wand, her 'date' assured a bubble warming charm took care of the environmental discomforts, and soon, they both had their jackets off and were lying back against them, staring up at the dark canopy far above.

"I've missed the stars," she hummed, huddling closer to Zabini. "And feeling the night air. My room at The Madam's House had a window, but I never opened it, except after-" She bit her lip, not wanting to remember such horrible things as the nauseating post-coital stink from unwashed Death Eater bodies. "The last time I can remember sitting out like this was at Hogwarts, sixth year," she deflected instead, huffing in fond remembrance. "Stupid Astronomy project to chart the spring alignment of the stars by Sinistra. Remember it? I got paired with that sweaty, little Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley." She shook her head, brushing a wind-blown strand out of her eyes. "Back then, I'd hated doing something so ridiculously pedantic and useless. There were books with the same exact charts, and much better illustrations in the library, after all." She sighed morosely. "I'd give anything to have that back now, though. I'd pay every knut in the universe to be doing something so mundane." She blinked away tears as she considered all that had changed in the world. "I wonder what happened to him - Justin, I mean."

Blaise sighed next to her. "He died last year. We were ambushed by Death Eaters unexpectedly. He and Ernie Macmillan bought us the time we needed to escape."

Pansy turned her head in surprise. "He was part of the resistance? But he'd always seemed so… uncoordinated."

Her beau turned his head and stared back, shrugging. "He grew out of it."

"Huh," she sniffed, feeling an odd little pang in her chest at the news. "I'm sorry to hear that. He wasn't a bad kid, just always fumbling around me, like I freaked him or something. At least he went down fighting. I can respect that." She sighed deeply, trying to reach for a topic that wouldn't be so depressing. "But, hey, you might be interested to know that Snape once told me that Sinistra and Trelawney had been sent to America by McGonagall soon after Mort showed up. I guess she thought they wouldn't be so good in a fight, or maybe she needed them to help set-up the resistance in California. I'm not sure actually. He said that they got away scot-free and made it safely to the Yanks, though." She turned to glance back at the stars again. "I didn't care a whit for either of their instruction styles, but I'm glad they made it."

Blaise squeezed her hand gently, a small smile on his full lips. "Maybe they can come back to help rebuild Hogwarts when this is all over. Teach again."

To her surprise, tears coursed down her cheeks and she choked on a sob. She was amazed with how much it hurt to think about what had become of her true second home of her childhood. "I hope we burn The Fortress to the ground once we kill that bastard and dance in his ashes. Then we can build a new castle right over the top of it."

Her dark wizard rolled suddenly atop her, carefully adjusting his weight so he didn't crush her, and tipped his head down to kiss her. A sudden thought jumped from her brain to her mouth, popping out with filtering and interrupted him, however.

"Oooh! Does this mean we can invent all new Houses?"

Zabini pulled back just before their lips met, clearly incredulous that she would interrupt their kissing moment with such an odd thought. Toying with his shirt collar coyly, Pansy tried to defend her position. "Well, if it's a new castle we're building, then we're the Founders. So, it follows there would be new House names based on us, not the four who built Hogwarts."

Blaise shook his head and laughed. "Sure, I guess. But 'Parkinson' is too long for a House name. Zabini would be better. It's got that special foreign ring to it that just rolls off the tongue."

Raising an eyebrow, she challenged him to find out specifically his intentions with such a charged statement. "Oh? Well, I have no intention of ceding my spot as a Founder for you, Mr. Zabini."

He looked at her with warmth, his mischievous smirk roving up that handsome cheek of his. "Well, then we'll have to discuss a permanent name change for you, if that's your insistence."

Before she could respond, Blaise dropped his mouth to hers and captured her in a fiery kiss that burned her straight to her core. It was possessive and loving, and it spoke of feelings that went deeper than the skin. Pansy was left shaken and panting by it – and that was before his tongue stroked hers with an almost arrogant, assured ownership. Her body seriously aroused, she ground her hips up against his, connecting their pelvises, blatantly letting him know what she wanted.

"Not yet," he breathed gently against her cheek as he pressed kisses all along her jaw, heading towards her earlobe. "I want us to go slow. Let me romance you, dove."

Swallowing the lump gathering in her throat, she whispered with raw emotion back. "Why?"

Nibbling on that point above her fast-beating pulse in her throat, he nuzzled her reverently. "Because you're worth it."

Something significant switched over in Pansy's mind and heart in that moment, and she knew – just knew – that this time, she was good and caught by a man. She was going to fall hard for the skirt-chaser Lothario, Blaise Zabini. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a crash landing.

Their arms locked about the other with powerful need, the two kissed with passion for a long while, until finally, with bruised, swollen lips and fiercely beating hearts, they decided to call it a night. Her wizard walked her back to her tent, and in all her years, Pansy had never wished so fervently that Blaise Zabini was less of a gentleman as he left her with a mere gentle kiss pressed to the back of her knuckles.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)

Thursday, October 21, 2000 (night)

At least the small, narrow alley way was unsoiled and didn't smell, Jeremy considered with some irony, finding himself here again.

Blessington was an older, smaller town, and the people took great pride in caring for what was theirs, so they kept things relatively immaculate, including their back streets. Still, he hated the idea that he'd have to do this with this same girl as last time in a place like this. She should be left unspoiled by the likes of him, cherished for her innocence by someone who would love her – but there was no time left. He needed… Shit, his teeth were already punching through his gums.

Slow, he cautioned his Vampirius, as it hesitantly came forward in his mind to experience this young woman even closer this second time. Don't hurt her. She's too sweet.

He felt it push his consciousness aside lightly and look out through his eyes at the girl. Swwwweeeeeetttt, his other half greedily approved with great anticipation as it measured her intimately from head to toe, and then flipped through every single one of the girl's lifetime of memories in a flash. Once it had taken its quick look, it slid back in deference to Jeremy's greater experience with human females, and allowed its host to take over again.

Gently, Jeremy pushed this girl – Hannah, he'd pulled her name from her mind the first time he'd drunk from her - against the old-world stone of the building to his right and leaned in, touching her face with a trembling hand, his other moving gracefully, deftly to unbutton her blouse quickly. "I'll make you feel so good," he promised, leaning towards her, opening his mouth and sampling the air for her growing desire. Her breath smelled of a chocolate bar that she'd eaten earlier, gotten from that same small market he'd saw her in front of last time, paid for and consumed before she'd even left the shop, according to the memory in her mind.

She was so open, like a child. The guilt hit him again right between the eyes, but his Vampirius growled in annoyance, demanding he pay attention to the task at hand. It was losing patience. Soon, it would simply roar to the front and take over, and then he'd accidentally drain her dry most likely. That author Worple had been right when he'd compared Vampirius to a demonic possession, for at times, that's what this thing inside him felt like.

Seeeeeeee, the devil inside required of him, forcing his hand to unzip her jacket and push up her jumper. As soon as most of the flesh of her torso was exposed, he was compelled to cup one of Hannah's covered breasts and massage it lightly. Lickkkkkkkkkkkk, his parasite requested, hovering in his head with eagerness.

Jeremy paused in confusion.

Lickkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!, the Vampirius demanded with increasing ire.

It seemed to want to experience things, throwing a fit if he stopped or didn't move fast enough for its edification - almost like a child. Absently, he noted that it had been this way since it had woken up a little less than a month ago. Had his bonding with Will somehow changed it? Was that even possible?

With a quick movement, Jeremy pulled the fabric of her bra down to expose the pretty, rosy nipple underneath, and he bent his head to suckle at Hannah's breast, giving in to the monster's desire that coursed through his veins. The girl's fingers gripped his shoulders and she pressed fingernails lightly into him, moaning and encouraging him softly. His cock jerked in his pants, hardening instantly.

In those few seconds, his mind went quiet, and he sensed his internal beast experiencing the sensations; was almost overwhelmed by its curiosity. Moreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, the demon-virus insisted like a petulant kid when he pulled his head back.

Never before had his Vampirius seemed in the least bit interested in exploring sensations or in having any kind of a relationship with him aside from compelling him to shag his prey (to get the person's blood rushing), and then to kill the victim by depleting every last drop from their arteries. It didn't speak to him much in his mind. Tonight, though, he couldn't get it to shut up.

Touchhhhh, it whined.

His hand went to the button of her jeans, popped it, then unzipped her quickly, even as his other hand pulled her bra down on the opposite side and he lathed attention to that nipple as well. Smoothing his hand down her small, slightly rounded tummy, he yanked her jeans and knickers down to mid-thigh in one rough move.

"Want you now," the girl gasped, completely enthralled by his power over her. His fingers delved into the center of her legs to check her readiness, fighting the urge to press his canines into her right then, to drink from her aorta directly above the heart – which would kill her instantly from the shock. Moving his head from her breast, he turned her around to face the wall, pushing her hair from her neck, exposing it, then reached for the silver fasten on his own pants.

His conscience chose that exact moment to rear its ugly head. Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut as Will's face impressed itself upon the back of his lids.

He couldn't do this. It felt too much like cheating!

No, he had to do this, otherwise, he'd hurt the one person he was trying to protect! If he didn't sate the beast tonight, he'd attack someone tomorrow – most likely his mate. It was this girl or the man he loved.

Will, I'm sorry. Forgive me.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the back of Hannah's head, realizing how young her aura 'felt' as he brushed against it; she was too innocent, he realized in a moment of clarity. Despite the war, he knew from her mind that she'd never killed, never stooped to committing crimes, not even stealing food. Hell, she'd only sworn a few times in her life, it appeared as he skimmed through her memories quickly. And she'd fancied herself in love with the only man she'd slept with previously - the man who had died fighting against Mort's subjugation.

Oh, Christ, he couldn't have sex with her. This was a good girl, and she deserved better.

Nooooooo, his demon-virus howled. Takeeeeeeeee!

Forget it, he thought back. Not this time.

Wantttttttttttttt!

Jeremy bit back a nasty profanity. NO SEX. She's not ours!

An image of Will flashed through his head quickly.

Ourssssssssssssssssss.

No, he couldn't bring himself to fuck his victim with thoughts of Will fresh in his head, but he definitely needed to bring her, because there was nothing sweeter to taste than blood that rushed with orgasmic pleasure, and it was more nourishing and fulfilling for a reason he didn't understand, but knew from all the years doing this. Since he didn't want to have to do this again for a while, he had no choice but to make her come before he drank his fill.

Keeping his slacks in place and untouched, Jeremy stepped closer and slid his hand around the front of the girl instead, dipping between her legs and stroking her up with expert fingers. He concentrated on not hurting her, on controlling his technique and the Vampire's urges (which pounded away inside his breast and behind his eyelids). He could feel the beautiful, hellish disease inside his head paying particular attention to the sensations of this woman's soft lower lips against his fingertips; could sense the demon-virus' desire to taste those juices coating his hand. It was so obviously enthralled with this act in a way it had never been before, almost as if it were discovering that humans were more than mere cattle for its pleasurable taking.

Jeremy forced himself not to walk away in disgust.

He had to do this, tonight, before he couldn't control himself any longer.

With a cry of joy, his intended climaxed quickly, clenching up tight, her fingernails biting into the wall near her head, scratching into the stone. A rush of warm, sticky fluid ran all down his hand and her thighs, and he struggled again with his Vampire's baser impulses to keep them in check.

Fuck, she'd climaxed so hard and so uninhibitedly honest! In his pants, his penis throbbed. Back off, he snarled at the creature in his head, as it shrieked to be given all control so it could have its way and tear into this female, draining her completely. No killing! No hurting her!

Tasting on the air the rush of her blood through her body, Jeremy bent his head to her exposed neck, knowing that now would be the right time, while she was still recovering from her orgasm. He took his soaked hand away from the front of her, gripped her hip firmly and leaned his mouth in.

Perfectttt, his vicious fiend purred as he opened wide over the sweet flesh before him.

He struck viper fast, piercing through skin easily, trying to cause her minimal pain, but the flood of hot, salty-sweet blood sang across his tongue in an instant, making his animal inside scream in triumph and suddenly, caring for this woman's comfort took a back seat to swallowing every spurting bit of her life's fluid that ejected into his mouth through the open wounds he'd caused. Feed, you fucking bastard, he squeezed his eyes shut and cursed internally at the horrible thing that shared his existence, feeling hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Feed until we both choke on it.

Gods, he wanted it to be Will under him so much; wanted to be tasting his mate's life blood, and hated that he had to make such a connection with some stranger he'd mind raped just to get what he needed. And for the rest of his life, he'd have to do it this way – over and over again, wishing, dreaming it was Will he was sharing so intimate a thing with instead.

He silently wept as he drank from the woman who was now shocked insensible and limp in his arms, cursing himself and his fate, hating himself for the mess he'd made of his relationship with his former ex-lover.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but suddenly, warm hands touched his shoulders. "That is enough, Jeremy," Su's gentle voice in his ear coaxed him. "You do not want to hurt her. Let go now."

Shaking inside and out with conflicting emotions – bliss, disgust, shame and wretched misery - he let his victim go, leaning her back up against the wall gently, where she proceeded to slide down to her knees, unblinking, still too stunned to move or speak. He shrugged off Su's hand, walking backwards several steps and finally collapsing to his own hands and knees, sobbing with such agonized pain in his heart that his shoulders shook.

The Vampiress came back to his side in an instant, entwined around his body from behind, and soothed him with gentle rocking. "Willem, please see to the female's care," she directed, continuing to pet Jeremy's sweat-stained brow.

Will was here? He hadn't sensed his mate's approach. He should have known… Distantly, Jeremy heard his lover speaking to the girl he'd drank from, calming her with gentle words and respectful touches. He knew without looking that his righteous, chivalric mate was righting the Muggle woman's clothes deferentially, wiping the blood from her neck with consideration.

In those short minutes, Jeremy's tide of sorrow finally calmed, and now he sat in a state of emotionally devastated calm, staring at the wall of the alley, his Vampire within quiet, satiated for now.

"Come see to your mate, Willem, and I will erase her mind," Su bid calmly, thoroughly in control. When there was no movement, Su tsk'd. "This has happened because of you, Bradley. It is your fault Jeremy has been driven to such extremes. We are only lucky he did not lose himself to the bloodlust before he took steps."

Will snarled. "My fault? What the hell are you talking about? I didn't force him to lure a helpless woman into a back alley for a little fuck-o-rama and some blood drinking."

Jeremy felt Su stand, moving towards Will. "If you had been a proper mate to him, he would not have had to take a stranger to get what he needed," she challenged, her voice dripping with anger. "He suffers because you will not share your life with him!"

Will barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. "You know, I assumed you two were getting it on already, but after this-" There was a small pause. "What you really mean is that I won't let him suck me dry or shag me senseless like you would if he'd give you the time of day."

The sound of her slapping the tall blond across the face brought Jeremy immediately out of his stupor. He stood in an instant and moved faster and with more strength than he had in days, situating himself between the two arguing individuals. He had Su's wrist in his hand as she'd gone in for a second attempt, this time to hit Will hard with her Vampiric strength and slam the big man back (her first had obviously been done with more delicate control for his human condition, as he hadn't been thrown back, merely rocked on his heels).

"Don't," he warned her, applying pressure to the smaller wrist bones, letting her know he wouldn't tolerate her striking his mate, no matter the provocation.

She stared hard at him, clearly confused by his defense of the man who had repeatedly denied him. "He has made you into this wreck of a beast," she hissed, refusing to back down, staring Jeremy in the eye. "You are a great man, Jeremy, and yet you are so unhappy. I watched your suffering all through school, and since I came to your encampment, I have seen it every day. It is because he does not love you back-"

"Enough." Jeremy spoke with softness, but with enough firm intent to make her clamp her lips shut, shutting down her argument. "This is between Will and me."

Yanking her hand out of his grip, Su did not back down, her pretty jaw clenching in frustration, but her tone remained the same, never rising in pitch. "You will need to feed again in a few days," she bluntly informed him. "I know that woman was not enough to replenish what you have lost since Kirkwall. What will you do then, Jeremy? Will you repeat tonight? Will you finish her off next time?"

His heart beating a sharp staccato in his chest, Jeremy sighed. "I will do what I must."

Su shook her head in sad resignation. "It will sustain you, but it will also destroy you by pieces to keep taking this way. Your heart is too true."

Jeremy shrugged, turning his head down to the poor, shell-shocked woman at his feet. "I'll have to adjust." Because when it came right down to it, there was no choice, really. As part-Vamps, they both knew that was the case, as assuredly as they both knew the sun would rise tomorrow morning.

Kneeling down, Jeremy stared at the girl he'd practically drained tonight, sadness gripping his heart. Would he kill the next one? Would he shag his subsequent victim and then kill her – or him? He touched the young woman's cheek, running fingers over her jaw, tilting her head so she would look him in the eye again, knowing what was coming next and hating himself for that manipulation, too. "You will walk home safely from here," he instructed her in a tender voice, implanting the order into her mind. "You will act normally around others you meet along the way, prepare for bed when you're home, and when you wake up tomorrow, this will have been only a dream that you would rather forget, as so many others in your life. Details will be too hazy to recall. And you will go on with your days as usual, forgetting this dream happily in time." He brushed her hair off her neck again, checking the wounds there, then stretched forward and licked them, assuring they closed properly. "Now, go."

He leaned back and the woman regained her feet, wobbled a second, and then did exactly as he'd bid, not looking back once.

With a sigh, Jeremy stood. He continued to watch the end of the alley, not looking at his two companions, both of whom were apparently lost in their own thoughts. "Thank you both for coming to make sure I didn't lose control," he tried for gracious, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "But I'm fine now. I won't need your help again."

Unsure what more he could say and too afraid to look at either of them, to see the condemnation he knew was in Will's features and the pity in Su's, Jeremy walked away. He resolved himself not to look backward as he moved off into the night alone once more. Feeling their eyes on his back, his gullet tightened and tears wavered before his vision once more.

"Jeremy…"

Putting one foot in front of the other, he ignored Su's appeal, hoping to make it to the alley exit before he broke down again and destroyed every ounce of his pride. And with every step he took away, the gap between he and the two people he had come to love and care for most in the whole world – one his heart's calling and soul mate, the other his trusted confidant and the only friend he had who could intimately relate to his circumstances - opened up wider, becoming abysmally deep and yawning.

Aloneeee, his hated side brutally pointed out once more.

No shit, Sherlock, he bitterly replied.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)

Friday, October 22, 2000 (very early morning, around three o'clock)

Draco folded up his map, shoving it into his inner robe pocket, and holstered his wand in the thigh rig he'd set up for quick draw. Fighting back his exhaustion – he'd only slept four hours – he moved across to the potions supply Snape allotted to him and downed a vile-tasting restorative, knowing it served the same pep content as downing ten cups of black coffee.

Rejuvenated temporarily, he turned to go - and stopped on a knut, sensing a presence outside his tent flaps. Snape and Theodore Nott entered his temporary sanctuary, blocking the exit. Ah, here came the intervention that he was sure Blaise had set-up in advance.

"If you insist upon these reckless searches for Miss Granger, you will take someone trustworthy with you from now on," Severus stated in a brook-no-argument tone, using that voice he'd often adopted in Potions class to throw his weight about. "Theo will go with you this time."

Two sets of identical, dark eyes stared him down. Draco would have countered the argument, but he could practically feel the seconds slipping by, and with them, the darkness slowly giving way to sunrise. There was no time if he wanted to check out the newest location.

With a reluctant nod, he jammed his Bag of Holding containing travel emergency supplies in his front trouser pocket, and strode past the men – who moved aside, following him out. Theo took up the position on his right as Snape moved off to return to his own tent, and the two friends – at one time, more like brothers, but now, struggling to reconnect – hurried to the edge of camp to Apparate away the moment they hit the perimeter wards.

"Where to?" Nott casually asked, seemingly indifferent to the jump point.

"Dumfries," he stated firmly, letting it be known that no debate on his city of choice would be tolerated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Theo nod. "I was stationed in Dumfries twice, three months a piece. It's a possibility she'd be there, if they have her, but there are a lot of places to search: Dumfries Castle, Timwald Castle, Drumcolton Tower, Old Buittle Tower, Lincluden College. She could be in any or none of those, or even hidden out in the countryside."

Draco nodded, feeling that familiar nervousness roil around in his belly as he contemplated his plan again. "I know. I'll be able to tell if she's nearby, though, the second we get close enough."

Theo looked at him sharply. "How?"

"I'll transfigure myself as a wolf and track for her scent," he explained as evenly as possible while simultaneously swallowing back his abhorrence. He'd sworn never to touch his lupine form ever again after what had happened between he and Astoria, but after the last reconnaissance had turned up as frustratingly fruitless as all of the others before it, he'd finally decided that he'd needed more than human senses to find Granger. In the guise of a wolf, he could track her so much easier, for all of his senses were heightened, and he could travel swiftly and stealthily on softly-padded feet. For the woman he loved, he would choke down his personal revulsion at the shape-shifting magic and force himself back into foreign skin and under fur. He would make himself into an animal and run on four legs to the ends of the earth until he found her.

A sudden idea occurred to him then. "Your Animagus form is a dog, right?" he asked his traveling companion.

There was a slightly pause, as if the question came careening out of left field and Nott hadn't been expecting it. "Well, yeah, but I don't know what Granger's scent is like. I've only smelled her skin once, and then not as an animal."

Draco stopped so suddenly, that everything inside of him tightened up. A flash of jealousy slammed into his guts in a violent, arcing burst that nearly bent him over. "Smelled her skin how exactly?" he heard himself growl low, his tone menacing. He felt a creeping dark power roll out of his pores and ripple through the air, echoing his words.

Theo's dark sienna eyes widened in astonished fear, and he put his hands up, signaling peace between them, his entire body tense. "Nothing happened. I was forced to hold her close and took the brunt of Phaedra's power to protect her, that's all. Clothes were on. No kissing or anything like that. I wouldn't hurt or abuse her. She's a nice girl."

Sizing his friend up, seeking the truth in physical clues, Draco found the answers he was looking for and accepted Nott's version of the truth; the man had not hurt Hermione, as he'd confessed. He took another moment to calm the irrational ire and clamp down on the magic that crackled across his skin, and then nodded in acceptance. They continued on together in silence for a bit at his lead, passing Charlie Weasley on patrol. They all traded mumbled 'good mornings' and Draco hurried past, Theo catching up, their long strides equaling after a bit.

As they approached the edge of the wards, Draco reached into his pocket and withdrew the Bag of Holding. Inside, he summoned Tales of Beedle the Bard to his hand and passed it to Theo. "She owned this, touched the pages. It's been a long time, but my wolf nose could probably pick up a lingering scent from it. I assume your dog's nose will, too."

Nott turned the book over carefully by gripping the corners, trying not to wipe his scent all over it and ruin any persistent traces of Granger. "I'll take a good whiff once we get to Dumfries."

When they got to the particular spot just the other side of the wards, Draco stopped Theo with a hand on his arm. "Grab hold," he commanded, preparing them for Side-Along Apparition. "I've visited the city once, and have a particular destination in mind. It should be free of tourists this time of the year."

His former Slytherin housemate took a deep breath and quickly blew it out, clucking his tongue twice. "Let's hope it'll be free of Death Eaters as well." He tightly gripped Draco's left forearm with his own left hand, and instantly, under his skin, he felt the writhing, evil magic of their Dark Marks greeting each other in recognition in an odd tingling that left him slightly nauseous.

Raising his wand, Draco paused at the last second, looking at his old friend intently. "Just so we're clear, Nott: she's mine."

Theo stared back at him unflinchingly. "So I figured." That smarmy, know-it-all grin he'd known so well when they'd been younger boys, freer and unburdened by death in its many myriad of forms, climbed up his cheek once more. "You always were hot for her, even back in school. Just too fucking stupid to see it, yeah?"

Draco snuffed. His friend might be right, but there was no way he was admitting to it.

He cast. They jumped.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)

Friday, October 22, 2000 (morning)

Penelope awoke to the most delicious dream she'd ever had: Nev was between her legs, eating her out with sensual delight. She stretched in a contented sigh-yawn, only to realize that her dream was, in fact, reality.

To her surprise, her fiancée did not break from his naughty preoccupation upon her stirring. Instead, he gripped her hips harder, suckled and tongue-stroked her labia with renewed vigor, and seductively insisted in her vocal participation by rubbing her clit with just the right amount of pressure. In no time, he brought her over… and then he entered her and they made sweet love. He shoved his tongue into her mouth, and they feasted upon each other as their bodies moved in that well-established rhythm that, too soon, guaranteed them both the ultimate bliss.

Sated and a bit sweaty in the afterglow, she allowed herself to laze about in his arms a little while longer. He finally broke the silence just as she was drifting back off to sleep.

"Counting today, only nine more days until you're mine," he hummed, nuzzling the top of her head. "Will you take my last name?"

Her brain still fuzzed from having orgasmed twice and so deliciously, she glanced up at him, trying to form a coherent sentence. He took her momentary pause the wrong way, though.

"I don't mind if you want to keep you own. I know how independent you witches are today," he quickly backpedaled. "I just… would like it if you wanted to."

Putting her fingers over his mouth to shut him up, she shook her head. "Penelope Longbottom," she grunted, then yawned into his chest. "I like it." With a kiss, she snuggled into his warm embrace. "I want it."

She could feel his smile in his tone. "Oh, well, then that's fine with me, too."

Her eyes had just begun to droop again when he woke her with his next strange question. "Will you wear a white wedding dress?"

Penelope was a bad morning person; she really just wasn't human until she'd had her first cup of coffee, honestly. However, after the glorious way he'd awoken her today, she could find it in her heart to let her annoyance at being woken up by such silly things slide away. "Do you want me to?" Honestly, it was sort of one of those silly, froo-froo girly things that she'd actually wanted to do, although she'd have never admitted it aloud.

His fingers on his left hand – which had regained much of their coordination thanks to the daily physical therapy sessions they'd been working on together for months now – twirled a long strand of her reddish, straight hair, curling it around and around lazily. "I'd like it, if you wouldn't mind."

Tiredly, she nodded against his solid chest. "Then I'll find one or transfigure something." Tapping him with one fingernail on his nipple (causing him to moan, and it to tighten), she playfully wanted to know how far he'd take this wedding planning stuff. "Will you wear dress robes?"

No hesitation. "Sure. I can transfigure something."

Well, then, since they were going that far… "Flowers?"

He grabbed her hand and slid it down the covers, bringing her back into contact with his quickly rousing penis. Apparently, wedding talk got her man horny, regardless of the fact he'd just come less than thirty minutes ago. "I want to give you roses."

Her eyebrows shot up at that. "You do?"

His head shifted and she knew he was nodding, even as his hand guided her up and down his thickening arousal, and the heartbeat under her ear sped up its paces. "Lots of roses, Penny. Red ones and white ones, and any other color you want." He placed kisses along her temple. "Climb up on me," he bid, and to her amazement, her body automatically tightened at the commanding, dominating tone and she hastened to obey.

Joining their wet bodies together again, Neville watched her as she moved over him, his grip on her hips silently instructing her to go slow. "I'm going to bathe you in roses," he murmured, reaching up with his right hand to cup her left breast, his fingers pinching the nipple with just the perfect pressure. "That's it, my beautiful witch, ride me."

Tears prickled the back of her eyes, as she shut them against the amazing feelings that enveloped her whole person. Merlin, what good thing had she ever done in her life to deserve this wonderful, sexy, loving man?

Sitting her upright, bringing her down on him with slow grace, he stroked her overly-sensitized clit with careful caresses. "I love you, Penny," he gasped as he increased their tempo. "So much." Her orgasm climbing into her throat, she cried out that she loved him back as her whole body exploded with light. A few more shoves, and he came inside her deep, holding her to him tight, sealing them together.

This time, she did fall back asleep, and rather quickly too, feeling at the last moment his gentle kiss upon her cheek as he slid out of bed. Her dreams returned to lovely fancies – this time of red roses and white dresses.

X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X

The Fortress (formerly Hogwarts Castle), Scotland

Friday, October 22, 2000 (afternoon)

Adrian awoke on the dark, dank floor of his cell, naked again, bruised and sore all over. His arse hurt badly and his jaw was tender. He struggled to fight off the potions they'd given him, shaking his head, sitting up and shoving a dirty finger down his throat to make himself vomit. Up came the contents of his stomach – not much to speak of, really, mostly bile, frothy semen, and some blood.

After that, he lay back on his side, feeling defeated.

There had been a revel last night, after Macnair and some of the others returned with a slew of new prisoners, and he'd been dragged out by Megan to serve as entertainment. Everyone who'd wanted him had taken their turn – and there had been enough to tear him up inside and out once Wood had been forced to let loose his power throughout the room, amping them all up to fuck and fuck and fuck until dawn broke through the windows in what had once been the Great Hall. Thank Merlin he hadn't been a virgin, like some of the other captives he'd been forced to witness being raped; it would have destroyed him mentally had he not gotten used to being shagged so despicably by everyone and their mother already.

Tears of anger and frustration streamed down his cheeks, nonetheless.

Wishing fervently for death to come soon, he shuddered, the knowledge of what they had planned for him next far worse than anything he'd already undergone. They were trying to turn him. He'd heard one of the other prisoners in the cell next door, some unfamiliar man, shouting that they would never convert him as they had the others. He sounded half-mad, honestly, cackling in laughter on and off in between the screaming. The silence from that cell now was telling; either they'd taken the "troublemaker" out for an "educational session" or he was dead. Or maybe he had been converted, after all.

Honestly, Adrian had no idea what they did to make a person want to become a Death Eater willingly, but whatever it was, it had to be horrible to be able to force a man to abandon his entire moral center so completely. He didn't want to be like that ever, if he could help it – walking around a corrupt puppet who relished the taste of destruction and basked in the crimson effulgence of death's heartbeat. He'd rather be destroyed.

The door to his cell opened silently; someone had cast a spell upon it to prevent the hinges from creaking. It shut quickly, and through his swollen eyelids, he looked up…

… into the face of Philip Cadwallader.

His teammate put a finger over his lips to indicate silence, and knelt at his side, lifting him gently, and Adrian almost lost it right then and there.

He was being rescued!

"Can you hear and understand me?" Phil whispered softly, and Adrian nodded once, eagerly. "Good, listen. Snape sent me here to poison the whole bloody castle, but there are prisoners like you here, so it's sort-of change of plan time." He unstoppered a vial and lifted it to his lips. Even if it were poison that would ease his passing, Adrian would have gratefully swallowed the contents. "I can't heal your outward wounds, or they'll know someone inside is helping you. Sorry, mate. But this is a small restorative - enough to help with the pain and give you mental clarity."

Once the contents were drained, and Adrian's mind began to clear, he started to understand the implications of Phil's words: he was not being rescued yet, maybe not ever. Phil was here on a mission, and killing the Death Eaters took precedence over his life.

He felt his will leave him.

"Kill me," he begged in a rasping voice, his throat no longer sore thanks to the medicine, but damaged, and requiring a stronger type of heal to fix. "Don't let them convert me."

Phil closed his eyes tight, swallowed, and then shook his head. "I can't. It'll blow my cover." He looked down with sincere regret and sorrow into Adrian's face. "The only ways I could end things for you without causing you suffering would be Avada or poison. The first would alert them immediately that they had a traitor in their midst, and the second… They're already edgy from the slew of 'meat poisonings' that took some of them out recently. If they became at all suspicious of a poisoner, they'd start using Legilimency on everyone to sniff out the truth. I'm not a good enough Occlumens, nor do I have a good enough potion to fuzz my brain to keep them out of the sensitive information. They'd learn every secret I know easily – including where the group jumped to after Kirkwall. I can't risk it."

He wiped Adrian's brow, and his fingers came away stained with blood. "Just… hold on for a few more days, right? I've got a plan to get us all out of here, and kill off as many of these fuckers as I can. But you can't crack, Adrian. You have to endure. Can you do that for our friends, and for the other prisoners here?"

Could he? Adrian was so tired.

A vision of Anica came to his mind. His gentle, dark-haired witch with the wide hips and the gently rounded tummy and the sweetest tasting pussy he'd ever gone down on…

He shuddered and nodded. "How long?"

Phil looked up at the ceiling, considering. "The next revel is scheduled for Halloween night. I can get them all in one fell swoop, which would leave the castle unguarded, and we could easily free the prisoners then, and steal what we need. Hell, we might even be able to bring the place down brick-by-brick with a Fiendfyre or something. Granger used that on The Madam's House with success, I heard."

Adrian swallowed thickly. "How many days? I don't even know what the date is."

Phil grimaced. "I forgot. You've been here so long. It's in nine days."

Nine days? He'd been here for six weeks? Shit.

"I'll hold out as long as I can," he affirmed in as strong a voice as he could muster. He intended on getting back to Anica no matter what it cost. He'd just force himself to think of her as Wood or someone else tortured him. He could persist. "Just make sure you free me before they convert me. Or if you can't, promise to kill me right along with the rest of the bastards. I won't be a filthy Death Eater. I won't be marked."

Phil's jaw clenched. "I promise," he offered, his eyes glittering in the dim light coming in from under the door. He took Adrian's hand and clasped it tightly. "And I'm gonna kill Megan for you, too."

His lips twisted bitterly. "Good. Make her die spitting blood."

"I intend to," Cadwallader vowed.

When his friend was gone, Adrian leaned back and shut his eyes, envisioning in detail the night he and Anica made love for the first time. She'd been so shy at first, so tentative, and yet when she'd opened up for him, so fiery and true in her responses to his touches, to their bodies joining in every way… Despite how knackered he was, he stroked himself off, and it was the first time in six weeks he'd been able to own his own ejaculation. It felt wonderful.

Now, he determined, he was ready for the fight of his life.

TO BE CONTINUED…