AUTHOR'S NOTES:
A big update chapter to tide you over for a bit. Read end notes for more.
I'm going to use a particular scene from "The Deathly Hallows" movie for some of the interaction in this chapter – specifically because there were so many gaps in the timeline in the book that quite literally anything could have happened, and I'm exploiting that loophole, just as the movies have. If you've seen the film, you'll recognize the scene (denoted in italics) – no spoilers given here! Read on to find out…
P.S. THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN TO UNSEENLIBRARIAN who beta'd this chapter and gave excellent suggestions for additions/changes to this chapter! Without her, folks, this story would be filled with SPaG issues. Remember to thank her in your reviews, if you would kindly do so!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: WHAT'S PAST IS PROLOGUE
Near the town of Trim, Ireland
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (just past midnight)
Hermione had woken up in the late afternoon the day before with a blazing headache and been forced to take a Muggle analgesic (withdrawn from the depths of her charmed Bag) to make the pounding stop. Swallowing the pills and chasing them down with bottled water (also retrieved from the depths of the Bag) she'd lain back down after in the borrowed bed, waiting for the medicine to take effect.
The exhaustion of being on the run again after being in a coma for eight weeks had finally taken its toll, and once she was horizontal, her head resting on the soft mattress, her body simply succumbed to the need for further rest. Falling into black unconsciousness, she'd dreamed…
As before, she and her two best male friends were on the Hogwarts Express, making first introductions. As soon as she left the train compartment, however, the scene shifted and she ended up bang in the middle of the year she, Harry, and Ron had been on the run, camping out.
She was moping, wondering where Ron was at just that moment, and once again questioning whether it would be best to forget all about her ridiculous schoolgirl fancy for him, as it didn't seem likely that it would ever be reciprocated.
Years had passed since she'd first become aware of her feelings for her ginger-haired best friend, and she'd had this exact same conversation within the confines of her head several dozen times since she'd realized her attraction – most especially after the Yule Ball, and again after the whole Lavender incident in sixth year. And yet, just when she'd determined to let him go after such exhausting, internal debates, each and every time he'd show up and do or say something endearing that made her resolve crumble, and she'd want him again.
Now, though, it didn't seem as if Ron would be coming back, so maybe it was for the best to sever the ties to any romantic notions that she carried around for him. Certainly, not seeing or hearing him would allow the wound from her first crush the time it needed to properly heal, and then she could focus in the future on more likely prospects without guilt or remorse.
Mourning what seemed the inevitable conclusion to her dilemma, she spied through a watery gaze Harry slumping into their shared tent, taking a seat across from her in a folding chair. He looked as defeated as she felt, and yet, there was a tension in him that grew darker and hungrier every day. It was there in the set of his jaw and in the angry spark in his emerald gaze, and it followed him around, tainting the very air between them. His pain was never openly discussed, but it was obvious: he wanted an end to this war, he wanted his best friend back, and he just wanted to live a normal life. No more prophecies, no more untimely deaths of loved ones. The fact that none of those goals were within sight, however, was slowly deteriorating his health and mental stability.
Hermione knew she could give him little respite from such stress and felt as helpless before the face of his despair as she did before her own. It was difficult to meet his stare and to open her mouth and talk to him as a result. Instead, she curled up against her knees and looked away, ashamed of her weaknesses.
When he suddenly and unexpectedly stood before her with his hand held out for her to take, she felt it a queer solution to the tension between them, but trusted her best friend and so allow him to pull her to her feet. He took the locket from about her neck and threw it down on the cot nearby, and guided her into the center of the open space for a dance. She'd given in, but only because her blues had weighed heavily upon her mind and heart and she needed the distraction. Besides, Harry was hard to resist when he was acting his most charming, as he was just then.
The song playing on the Wizarding Wireless Network, "O' Children," was a new release by Nick Cave, formerly a back-up vocalist and drummer for The Weird Sisters who had launched a rather successful solo career the year before. To her surprise, Hermione found she enjoyed not only the silly diversion, but also the song, too. Soon, she and Harry pranced about the tent together like two harebrained children, giggling and having a grand time.
The dream had ended there, but now that she was awake again (nearly seven hours later!), Hermione recalled that the end of that particular event hadn't been so comfortable or carefree…
The mood changed the moment the song began tapering off and Harry closed the distance between them to pull her in tight against his frame. Right as his nose leaned down to nuzzle her neckline, an odd wrongness about the situation struck her and Hermione pulled away.
She'd kept a bit of distance between them for days after, she remembered, and neither had ever openly spoken of the incident after the fact. Eventually, things had gotten back to normal between them, and she'd resolved to forget all about that small blip in their friendship.
Now, though, she was able to look at that period in history with a more experienced eye and admit (with some measure of mortification) that the strange feelings she'd been having around Harry then had been partially due to unresolved sexual tension. It had grown in the days and weeks after Ron's disappearance, encouraged by a combination of biology, chemistry, constant exposure to each other's presence, and nothing in the middle to interrupt the attraction. Confined to a small space, cut off from the rest of the world, staring with a daily-growing despair at the bleakness of their situation, they'd only had each other for comfort. Their long friendship and mutual respect had only made their connection stronger, drawing them closer.
The more she considered it, the more she worried that she'd unintentionally lied to Draco and the others that day she'd denied Charlie's accusations of Harry's interest in her. Re-examining that specific incident again, she began to question whether her Dragon Tamer friend had been right: had Ron died because of an unspoken jealousy towards him on Harry's part?
It seemed almost ludicrous to think in such a manner, as Harry had wanted Ginny then. For Godric's sake, they'd given up their virginity to each other the night before the Final Battle!
But had that been out of love or desperation?
Her head was beginning to hurt again, so she shoved the deep thoughts aside for the moment, choked back another aspirin, and decided to chance leaving the bedroom. She had bigger fish to fry at the moment.
Dismantling the wards she'd put up earlier that day, Hermione warily made her way out the door, down the hall and into the living space. It was empty. After a careful, quiet search of the entire inside of the house, she discovered that Cormac was gone, leaving no note or hint as to the purpose of his departure or whether he'd be back or not.
Torn between relief and concern, she'd decided to stick with her plan: she'd head out on the prearranged path to find her friends… But first, she desperately wanted a shower, feeling sticky and smelling rather ripe from perspiring so heavily in her sleep.
After checking the wards on the house and finding them exactly as McLaggen had set them soon after they'd arrived this morning, she'd magicked the shower in the master bath to dispense hot water and cleaned up. Pulling fresh clothing from her Bag and depositing her dirties inside, she'd combed through her hair, brushed her teeth, and then set about making a meal.
Careful not to make too much noise, she consulted her map with a dimmed down Lumos spell while shut into the Master Bedroom's walk-in closet, taking every precaution she could think of to prevent anyone from outside seeing even a hint of her light through a window. Better to be paranoid than discovered.
The M4 Carriageway was directly south from her current position, approximately twenty-seven kilometers from where she was. Pinpointing approximately how far she'd have to travel to continue making the safe, circuitous route around Dublin proper, she calculated that it would take about four hours walking at a moderate pace to get to that main road - so long as she didn't have to stop or meet any delays. That would give her another three hours or so before sunrise. That meant she might be able to make it as far as Staplestown before she'd have to find shelter for the day.
And then, one more night and she'd reach Blessington! From there, maybe another half a day to find her group – if they were still here and hadn't abandoned this spot for whatever reason.
She lamented that the trip would go much faster on four feet, running as the wolf, but was doggedly determined that there was no way in hell she was risking that again, even with Cormac gone. Malfoy may have been able to resist the animal's allure for a long period of time, but it seemed her personality was too sensitive to the call of the wild not to eventually succumb. Knowing her limits and accepting them was one of her strengths, and in this case, Hermione would listen to her gut instinct not to try the magic of Therianthropy again, at least not any time soon.
Extinguishing her light and folding up and putting her map inside her Bag, she made last minute preparations: filling two empty water bottles from the tap, and putting them – as well as some thick blankets and other useful odds and ends she found lying about the abandoned home – into her bespelled Bag. Then, as quietly as possible, she then struck out alone for the final leg of her journey, leaving her traveling companion a cryptic note on the living room sofa, unaddressed and magicked so that only he could read it should he return to this particular house.
McLaggen knew where they'd been heading, and if he really cared to hook up with the insurrection and make good on his claims for redemption, she'd figured that eventually, he'd find her. If not… well, it would be a shame, as the loss would be the addition of a strong offensive fighter for their side – one who knew the Unmentionable Curses and could teach them to her people. She'd mourn that lost opportunity, but somehow she was sure she'd survive it.
A more pressing concern was whether her rejection of Cormac might have set him into embracing his darker side again. Merlin help them all if he defected back to the Death Eaters, for he knew that the Wicklow Mountains area was where the last of the rebellion was hiding!
X~~~~~X
The Fortress (formerly Hogwarts Castle), Scotland
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (an hour before dawn)
Awake and feeling particularly naughty, Ginny rubbed her naked bum against Phil's crotch. Their first time had been thoroughly satisfying; her new lover had made sure she'd cried his name twice before losing himself in her. They'd both fallen into an exhausted slumber almost immediately after that, and she'd only just come awake a few minutes ago, her body rearing for another go.
It seemed, or rather felt, as if her Philip was "up" to the task, too, as his growing arousal became apparent the more she stroked against him.
"I guess it's true what they say about redheads," he sleepily commented, a smile in his tone.
Ginny turned over and gripped his erection, caressing up and down. "And what is that?" she asked, pressing nipping kisses to his bottom lip.
His fingers trailed over hers, aiding her in her inexperienced touches, teaching her how best to please him. In the darkness of his room, they couldn't see each other, but she could imagine him staring at her through a half-lidded gaze. He captured her mouth with a sensual kiss. "Their fiery tempers make them insatiable lovers." He palmed her breast, teasing the nipple.
They kissed with a need and passion that she'd never felt before. Whatever this was between her and Philip Cadwallader, it was powerful enough to leave her reeling and begging for more - literally. He obliged her pleas by flipping her onto her back and leaning over her, cradling his cock between her wet folds. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing against him and beseeched him to couple with her with whimpers and gouging nails.
"Promise to let me taste you at some point today," he panted against her lips, and gripped her thighs, tucking his crown against her entrance. "I've been dreaming of eating you out."
Enthusiastically, she nodded. Harry had been the only one to do that to her, and then it had only been that one time, but she'd liked the experience very much. Considering how talented Phil was with his tongue and mouth, she was betting he would blow her mind with his oral expertise.
There were no more words between them after that for a long while, just a chorus of moaning, panting, gasping and finally shattering bliss. They held onto each other as the pleasure faded, lying in a tangle of hot, sticky limbs, neither one of them seeming to want to release the other.
When she could breathe again, Ginny nuzzled into Phil's neck and giggled. "So, can we finally get down to doing what I was sent here for today?"
He lifted his head up and she could just imagine his surprised expression. "Retrieving your Cloak of Invisibility was the plan. Care to tell me where it is, freckles?"
Ginny grinned, liking the new nickname; no one had ever called her that before. She traced a path from his bicep over his shoulder, up his throat and over his cheek, caressing with soft touches. "Inside the one place that anyone would be a fool to consider looking for a magical item of great importance: the second floor girls' loo."
She felt Phil's mouth turn down in a frown against the pads of her fingers. "Why there?"
"Because it's Moaning Myrtle's primary haunt," she replied, impressed once against with Harry's cleverness in choosing the one ghost in the castle guaranteed to stay put, as she had been exorcised by the Ministry back in the 1940s and her spirit was permanently obliged to remain at the school, unable to pass through the Veil to her final rest or to leave the grounds – ever. Besides, the ghost hated Tom Riddle – her killer – and had adored Harry enough to agree to his request that she hold onto the item in question in the hopes it could one day be used to thwart the Dark Lord if things went badly for the side of light.
Myrtle, Ginny knew from having met her more than once during her years as a student, may have been an annoying pest at times, but she was also rather trustworthy in her vindictiveness, and she was an expert at hiding herself in the U-bend when necessary. Harry had entrusted her with protecting the secret hiding place of the Cloak of Invisibility and a set of very specific instructions for its retrieval by anyone from the Order of the Phoenix – which included Ginny, as she'd been indoctrinated the day before the Final Battle. "She's the Cloak's guardian, but in order to retrieve it, Harry placed two requirements upon the ghost: first, the person retrieving the Cloak has to be a true female – Polyjuice won't cut it."
Phil's lips twitched. "Smart. That rules out Mort and most of the Death Eaters around here."
She nodded, although he couldn't see the gesture. "And second, this witch has to use magic to show Myrtle a very specialized tattoo."
Her lover's smirk crawled up the side of his cheek. "You've been inked?"
"Magically, yep."
She felt his lips split into a wide grin. "Obviously, it's not in a place you can easily see. Care to show me where it is?"
Ginny giggled and guided his hand down and around to where the tattoo lay covered under a very intricate Glamour Charm. "Hmmm, maybe you can kiss it to ease the lingering hurt from being spell-marked there," she suggested. "Oh, and while you're down that way…"
Phil took his cue without another word, dropping kisses in a determined path south with his lips and tongue. He kissed over where she'd indicated the Order tattoo was, and then dipped even lower…
An hour later, she lay back against the pillow, more sated than she thought a person had a right to be, utterly sleepy from having orgasmed several more times, and riding the high of a serious endorphin rush. Yes, sir, she'd been right: her new lover seriously blew her mind with his oral talent and his seemingly endless enthusiasm to please her.
Godric, she needed be careful or she just might fall in love!
X~~~~~X
The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (morning)
Upon waking up alone in his cot after having the most delicious dream of Will's warmth enveloping him, Jeremy had slowly cranked his sore, tired body out of make-shift bed and thrown on some Muggle sweats and trainers. Grabbing his morning kit, he made his way to the communal bathing area here in Tent City. He could smell Su all over him and wanted the scent gone so he didn't offend his mate anymore than he already had.
Entering the Shower Tent, he looked about for an open space. Several bathtubs had been brought from The Madam's House via Undetectable Extension Charmed bags and Shrinking Spells, and jury-rigged here for any witch or wizard with a wand to be able to use by casting an Aguamenti and a Heating Charm. Privacy curtains surrounded each tub, allowing both men and women to share the space as equals without worry. The rules had been laid out for the bathing area soon after they'd come to Wicklow and set up the new camp, and no one dared cross Clearwater (who was in charge of overseeing this area of the compound) regarding her requirements of no stall sex without a Silencing Charm, and absolutely no illicit peeking. Anyone caught violating her regulations was promised a very painful hex that would guarantee ugly sores somewhere unpleasant. So far, no one had stepped a toe out of line.
Jeremy picked out an available space, hopped in, and closed the curtains, as required. He undressed and cast a Silencing Charm about the area out of habit. The spell had the dual effect of allowing him the pleasure of loudly wanking off to a fantasy of having his mate under him while enjoying a steaming, hot fall of water against his skin and not having to worry about anyone hearing. After he'd taken care of 'business,' he washed up with his rationed bar of soap. Sitting tailor-style in the tub, he leaned a mirror against the ceramic side and used it to ensure his wand-shave didn't miss any spots. At the last second, he decided to remove the small stubble of chin growth he'd been sporting for months, going totally bare-faced. Running a hand over his head, he realized his hair was now at least three-quarters of an inch out from his scalp, and decided to magically buzz it again, using his small mirror to ensure he did a thorough job.
Rinsing the excess hair off with quick charm, he collected his things and replaced them in his kit, then got redressed and made his way back to his tent to change into weather-appropriate garb. That done, he hurried over to the main pavilion, looking to quiet his rumbling stomach.
To his immense disappointment, Will did not show up for breakfast. Maybe he was out on patrol?
Yeah, right - wishful thinking. It was more likely that his mate was avoiding him again.
Will.
Shite, he'd done some serious damage there last night. He'd been forced by his other half to violently shag Su, and he'd been aware through their bond (although unable to do anything to stop the outcome) that Will had been nearby, witnessing the act. In fact, his Vampirius had intentionally gone after the half-Vampiress not just for blood, but for sex to punish his mate for dodging the trap it had set yesterday. It wanted to hurt Will for denying it.
Mission accomplished, you fucker, he snarled in disgust at the thing inside of him.
His Vampirius was sated for the moment, and was resting, Su's donated blood from the night before having contained enough sustenance for the creature to fall into a state of temporary, lazy slumber. Despite the donation, he knew his beast wasn't slaked enough to go back into a torpor state any time soon, though. Something was happening with the demon-virus inside of him – something that had never happened to him before, and he wasn't quite sure why or how. All he knew was that it was 'awakening' to itself, evolving, in a manner of speaking. It had started to become curious about the world and especially his mate since he'd shared his life energy with Will to save him after the attack at Kirkwall. Something had upped the ante between them then.
Su appeared in the tent opening, spied him and shyly took a seat on the opposite end of the table from him. A pink blush dotted her pretty cheeks, but she refused to look him in the eye again, her whole attention on the plate of food that Morag set before her. Jeremy watched her, saddened by the distance that had grown between them. They were good friends, and the situation felt like Will all over again.
The half-Vampiress had freely given to him without complaint the night before, letting him take from and ruin her. A part of him was grateful for her unconditional sacrifice, but the other part was uncomfortable with what she was doing, too. He knew she wanted to mate him. With his bond only half-complete with Will, it was quite possible that she could accomplish her wish if she simply bit him and inflicted her version of the Jouisseur upon him. Thankfully, he knew that Su recognized that to force him would be no different from what he had done to his own mate, and his resentment of her would be ten times as worse, because he wanted Will to complete their bond with him, not to find himself force-mated to another Vampire.
After last night's fiasco, would Will's defenses go even higher this time, though? Should he keep fighting what amounted to a losing battle with his best friend, or should he just seek what joy he could get from Su? They had a solid friendship, he trusted and respected her unreservedly, and he was rather attracted to her. Taken all together, what they had was a recipe for love to grow.
True, as long as Will bore his mark, he couldn't give Su the Jouisseur back, but he could take her to his bed and it would be good for them both (if not the mind-blowing ecstasy that a true mating could provide). It would also give them both an endless supply of blood, as they could simply drink from each other when there was need. And, Will could move on, find a nice girl and settle down with her.
Yeah, that might be a good enough compromise for the three of them to carve out some bit of happiness from their painful situation, allowing them to finally move on with their lives… But it would also mean having to completely give up his love for Will, for there would be no room for his blond lover in the bed that he and Su would make together. Could he do such a thing?
Shite, just the thought of it left his chest aching and nearly brought him to tears.
Morose thoughts plagued him as he finished his meal, downed a cup of hot coffee and left the tent, very aware of Su's gaze upon his back. He went in search of Malfoy and Zabini, hoping they'd have some back-breaking, exhausting task to give to him to help take his mind off of his troubles.
X~~~~~X
The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (morning – minutes later)
Stretton walked into the War Tent, interrupting the fight Blaise was just about to have with Draco over his insistence on leaving that morning on yet another one of his jumps around the islands to find Granger. The half-Vampire looked desperate as he begged for something to do to get him either out of camp or too busy to think; he was practically vibrating with the need to release some energy. The guy was an egg waiting to crack.
Blaise had the perfect task in mind to solve everyone's problems in one fell swoop.
"Fine, if you're going, then take him with you," he met Draco's impassive, grey stare as he pointed to Jeremy. "He's an Animagus, and he's got his other… talents... to keep you safe." When his best friend looked to debate the issue, Blaise put his hand up to brook no argument. "Him, me or Theo - your choice, 'cause we've all told you that you're not going alone out there."
Draco clamped his lips shut, sighed through his nose and tersely nodded, seeing the wisdom in accepting the compromise. Stubborn as a mule the man may be, he was no fool, understanding that any roaming around during the day put him at twice the risk of being seen or captured. Having powerful backup was the smart tactic.
And the truth was that Blaise could see the undeniable logic in his friend's contention: they needed information about the current state of Ireland. The question of whether the Dark Lord's subjugation here had yet begun lay heavily upon them all. If so, that would mean England and Scotland had been thoroughly conquered and could no longer be visited for supply raids, and that their safe houses there would have to be permanently abandoned. Their isolationism here in the Wicklow Mountains – the one thing keeping them protected from detection – could also be their doom if they didn't stick their heads out once in a while to see what was going on outside of the area's safety net. Since Malfoy had been all over the U.K. with his family as a child visiting his father's political allies, he could Apparate around to the most places.
Besides, the woman Draco so desperately loved was out there, suspected to be in the hands of a Death Eater – possibly even McLaggen - and he was hell-bent and determined to find her and bring her back where she belonged. There was no power on earth that could stop him from trying. Truthfully, Blaise could understand that obsessive sentiment now that he had Pansy; he would walk through fire and lay down his life for his woman, if required.
Relieved to see something going in the right direction today, Blaise turned to their numero uno scout, meeting Jeremy's odd cat-like eyes. "You'll go with Malfoy north to Drogheda. While you're at it, take Cornfoot with you, too. The guy can fly as a raven and scout from above for you, while you two have your noses to the ground. Keep him-" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his best friend, "from doing something stupid in the search for the Captain. Oh, and take a dozen Bags of Holding with you, too. We're running low on toiletries, booze and canned food." He let out a deep exhale as it came to the repugnant part of his job. "You know the drill for newbies on supply runs, so make sure your 'trainee' gets the message about our 'no capture' policies." Jeremy grimly nodded, and Blaise knew he could still thoroughly count on the man's loyalty, despite everything they'd been through since the revelation of his birth status. "Good, be back here with Stephen in an hour."
Excited to be made busy, Stretton nodded and left the tent with alacrity.
Draco's sinister chuckle surprised him. "You're a bossy S.O.B this morning. Either you got up on the wrong side or Pans is rubbing off on you."
Blaise rubbed a hand across his stubbly cheek. He needed a shave. "She's trouble on legs." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "And what legs!"
His friend shook his head. "You and Theo – whipped to the bone."
"And you're not?"
He gave Draco a pointed look. The guy had the grace to actually blush at that, his pale cheeks pinking as he cleared his throat and turned his attention to gathering up the map they'd been studying, folding it neatly and placing it inside an inner pocket of his robes. "I'm going to see Snape. Apparently, he's hiding an illness and Theo's concerned."
At the thought of sickness in the camp, Blaise's attention went on high alert. "What kind of ill?"
Ice-grey eyes glanced at him sideways. "Coughing up blood."
An alarm bell went off in Blaise's head. A few months back, he'd had a dangerous cough, but at Draco's insistence, he'd gone to see Snape, who gave him some Muggle medicine combined with six different, foul-tasting potions. "If it's what I had, it's probably treatable. If it's not… you know we don't have a healer here. Combat injuries aren't the same as disease."
The blond head dipped once in acknowledgment. "I know." He stepped towards the tent exit. "I'll find out what he needs to get better. Be back in an hour." With a quick stride, he was gone.
Not a minute later, Theo came looking for Draco. He let the guy know where their fearless leader had gone. "Good," Nott pursed his lips and nodded. "Maybe Severus will get his head out of his arse finally and take care of his own shite. I'm sick of him playing the bloody martyr all the time."
Blaise smirked. "Yeah, well, there's a lot of that going on around here this year."
Theo cracked a maniacal grin. "I blame the non-Slytherins we're hanging with. They're rubbing off."
"Cack, I hope not," Blaise thumped a closed fist over his heart. "Salazar save me from being reckless and noble like Granger!"
Theo shook his head and gave a wicked snicker. "Sorry mate, but I think it's too late for you. You're right slummed in that bed." He turned and left, his robes billowing behind him in a dramatic flair that would make his real father mighty proud.
Putting the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbing, Blaise groaned at the inescapable truth: Theo was right - two years was all it had taken for him to be pussified by goody-good Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Fuck, but he was a white hat, pink tutu wearing fannie, wasn't he?
He thought about all of the other Slytherins in camp…
Oh, well, at least he was in good company.
X~~~~~X
The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (morning – minutes later)
Draco gave no notice as he barreled into Snape's tent, casually waving his wand to take down any wards across the entrance. They fell effortlessly before his growing, darker powers.
He caught Severus in mid-cough, a kerchief held before his mouth as his spine bent over and he was racked by spasms. He hurried to his godfather's side, holding him up. When the attack faded, he guided the man to sit down on his cot, Accio'd and Scourgify'd a drinking glass, and used a controlled Aguamenti to fill it, handing it over to his former Head of House. The man downed the whole thing in series of large gulps, his hand shaking the whole time. When the glass was empty, Draco refilled it and waited patiently until it, too, was drained. Sweat dotted the elder wizard's forehead and his lips were darkened with blood.
Setting the empty glass aside, he gave Snape an arch look. "How bad is it really?"
Lying back into his cot, Snape turned onto his side, taking a deep breath that rattled through wet lungs. Sick as he was, however, nothing could keep the snark from his dry tone. "I'm in the rather lethal grips of a mycobacterial infection often referred to by the Muggles as tubercles bacillus, also known as Tuberculosis – what we wizards refer to as 'consumption'. The cough is infuriatingly painful and the erratic fever has set me into a delirium twice in the last twenty-four hours. Other than that, I'm exceedingly bored, as I can neither work, nor leave my tent. How are you?"
At the identification of the illness, Draco involuntarily stepped back once, caught the reaction and forced his dread to take a seat for the moment, holding still. He'd heard of this disease and knew it to be not only very catching, but also deadly. His father's older brother, Marcellus, had died of it when he'd been a lad of six years, leaving Lucius an only child. "Is there any hope?"
The Potions Master shrugged. "The Muggles have medicine for it, but we have none in camp. I gave the last of it to Mr. Zabini before we left Kirkwall."
"Blaise was the carrier?"
Thinking back, his friend had been battling a nasty cough for weeks, and he'd taken on a grayish sheen to his skin before he'd finally gone to see Snape for help. But where had he picked it up? "It's very contagious, I've heard," he stated, scratching across the itchy stubble of morning growth on his chin and cheek, his concern growing by the second. "Probably got it on a mission touching something he shouldn't have."
His mentor's liquid black eyes bore into his. "The bacteria have been known to live on surfaces in a dry, inert state until they come into contact with a host. All Mr. Zabini would have had to do was wipe his hand across a contaminated surface. Fortunately, the rate of infection is generally low, but potentially everyone he's come in contact with since he began coughing is now a carrier. In most cases, the infection remains latent – only about one in ten will actually see it develop into full-blown illness." He coughed into his bloodied rag again.
Panic crawled up Draco's spine. Every one of them was possibly infected? "Is there a treatment?" To his immense relief, Snape nodded. "What medicine do I need to find? Where do you suggest I go to get it and how much will I need for everyone in camp?"
"There are several things you'll need, some of which can be gotten at a Muggle hospital, and the others only at St. Mungo's," Snape sighed. "Hand me that book over there," he pointed to a large tome sitting on top of one of the trunks in the room. Draco brought it to him – The Big Book of Pharmaceuticals - and Severus weakly sat up, flipping through the index, and then to a certain page. He looked over and noted that Draco hadn't moved and huffed at him. "Write this down, boy, so you don't screw it up!"
Looking about, he found some parchment, quill and ink on a make-shift table near the back of the tent that Snape had set up for his potions' workings. "Go," he bid the man when he was ready to begin taking down the instructions.
"In a Muggle hospital, you'll need to go into their chemist room and locate the following drugs: Niazid – also called Nydrazid, Laniazid, and Rifampin – also called Rifampicin or Rifaldazine," Snape rubbed a weary hand through his limp, oily hair. "Take it all, as infected patients require several doses of the antibiotics, and since we're going to give them to everyone in camp… Also, we'll need fever reducers, called aspirin. Make sure you take someone who is familiar with Muggle brand names of common drugs, when you go out to look for these things."
"Stretton and I are going out on a supplies raid with Cornfoot in about half an hour," Draco informed him, finishing writing down the requirements. "They've both got a Muggle parent. Between the two, I think they should know. That all?"
Snape shut the book with a heavy thud. "At Mungo's, if you're going to risk getting in there, then just steal it all and pack it carefully. You know potions well enough by now to know what is used for common treatments, and what items can cause harm if touched. Handle it all with care. And make sure you bring back expectorant rubs, too - the eucalyptus one for lungs, and the peppermint for headaches."
Notating it all, Draco replaced the inkpot stopper and dried the parchment with his wand. Folding it up, he slipped it into his inner robes pocket next to his map for safekeeping. "We'll be back by nightfall," he informed his godfather, taking the book away and replacing it on the trunk, then turning and tucking the older man in. "In the meantime, I order you to rest." Snape raised an eyebrow at him at that, but Draco merely stared him down, letting his elder know that he respected him, but would take no guff about this. "I'll have Morag bring you breakfast in a bit, lunch at noon and dinner when the sun sets. Is there anything else you may need?"
Too weak to argue, Severus merely shook his head and shut his eyes. For a moment, he looked as he might in final repose, and Draco felt his chest tighten at the thought. Snape had always been there for him, even when he was hundreds of kilometers away and hidden, he'd always counted on his mentor staying alive and well. The old snake-in-the-grass could never die. Yet, looking down upon that waxy pallor now, he realized that this last bit of optimism was folly – everyone died. You just hoped that when it was your turn, it was on your feet and fighting with the last bit of strength you had next to the people you loved. Illness, though, was something else altogether, as it robbed you of the chance for personal valor and a dignified ending. Thinking of Severus beating the odds to this point only to be laid low by disease didn't settle well.
"I'll save you this time," he murmured quietly at the now-dozing man, his mind traveling back briefly to a terrifying escape from Hogwarts the night before his seventeenth birthday, when his mentor had taken Draco's sin upon those thin shoulders of his and felled an old man in his stead.
Casting a slight warming charm upon the tent, he closed the flaps behind him and went out to find Morag to inform her of her additional duties. That done, he returned to the War Tent. When they reported for duty, he laid out the plan for Stretton and Cornfoot.
Ten minutes later, the three walked to the edge of the camp's perimeter wards before Disapparating away to London to make breaking into St. Mungo's Hospital their first priority. After that, it was to find a Muggle hospital or chemist's emporium in or near Drogheda, and to collect any information they could on the Dark Lord's plans for Ireland.
X~~~~~X
Staplestown (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (morning to mid-afternoon)
Hermione had made excellent time with a quickened pace under the cover of darkness, and had found another empty Muggle home – situated on a farm off of some side road named Mill Race Manor - just as dawn had sprinkled the horizon. Breaking in through the back door, checking for any living bodies with a quick spell and finding the home unoccupied, she'd thoroughly warded it behind her, deciding to stay there for the day. As she'd walked the house, getting the lay of the rooms, she'd munched on an apple for her breakfast. Like the home in Trim, this one had also been hurriedly abandoned, and she put the time frame as somewhere around six to eight months or so ago, as the few remaining contents in the cupboards were still in-date.
Taking what she could, she refilled her water bottles from the still-functioning tap, which ran off a natural aquifer on the property (a quick look at a wall meter near the sink – labeled, conveniently, 'ARTESIAN WELL PRESSURE' - was the dead give-away), and then used the loo. Thank God for working plumbing!
Shutting the curtains in the master bedroom, she'd found a blanket and a spare pillow left behind (along with most of the contents of the closet and drawers; the owners had obviously packed light for a quick escape), she dragged her tired body to the bed, got her shoes and robes off, and fell immediately to sleep.
The sound of a goat outside in the yard in distress woke her straight up at some point in the mid-afternoon. The thing was bleating like mad, and the unmistakable sound of a dog growling, followed by the goat being felled in a violent tussle had her throwing her shoes and robes on and heading to the kitchen window that overlooked the back area of the property. She moved the curtain ever so slightly with her wand…
The dead goat was being dragged by its bloodied neck by a large golden brown-grey wolf to the back door.
Shite.
She watched as the wolf got to the bottom step and dropped his hold on the animal that was to be, presumably, dinner. He then wiggled his nose into the Bag of Holding that was wrapped about his neck, and in a release of magic, Cormac transfigured his form back to normal in all its naked glory, wand in his mouth. With blood coating his lips, he transferred the wand to his hand and stood up.
Godric, he was fully erect and straining, and his muscled body was glistening with sweat, and…
Hermione ducked her eyes and dropped the curtain, heading slowly to the back door to give him time to put some fecking clothes on. Absently, she fiddled with Sning, turning it around and around and around on her finger.
Only one more day, she told her flagging spirits. Then she'd be back with Draco and all of this – this mixed-up, sick attraction she felt to Cormac because of the stupid Transfiguration - could just be one bad memory.
Sning squeezed her finger, not in answer, but in support. The hold was longer than usual, feeling like a hug. Thanks, she silently offered the enchanted piece of jewelry. For whatever reason, whenever Sning 'talked' to her, she felt comforted. It was like having a real friend on her side.
One squeeze.
She smiled, shored up her courage and straightened her shoulders, and opened the back door.
Cormac was pulling a dark blue jumper over his head, covering up his bare torso. "I can't stand potted meat. It'll be nice to have the real thing after so long without," he calmly stated, as if he hadn't just slaughtered an animal whose blood colored his teeth pink… As if the last words they'd spoken to each other hadn't caused her to run crying and terrified from him. "I've heard goat is actually quite good." He looked up at her, and those tawny eyes measured her coolly. "I'll clean it, if you'll cook?"
The conversation was too surreal.
"Sure," she heard herself respond, lowering the wards around the door, turning and going into the kitchen to search through the neglected cookware, her mind already turning over logistics of preparing the meat, forcibly ignoring a confrontation with McLaggen right that second. This was his peace offering, after all. There would be time to talk after they'd both calmed down a bit… and the desire to lick his neck and offer him her backside dimmed.
Fucking animal hormones sucked. Of course, it didn't help that she was coming up on the middle of her cycle, when she ovulated and was as randy as hell.
Ignoring it was the best course of action for now. Concentrating on a project – cooking and storing the goat meat when it was time – really was the best option. In fact, she decided, she was going to filch the majority of the kitchen – pots, pans, utensils, cups, and anything else in the house that she could find that her people might need when they reunited. There was plenty to go around here, all unused and rotting away, so since they didn't have an owner anymore, she'd just appropriate them for the cause.
Cormac came in to get some large pots and returned with skinned meat parcels. Thank the Founders he'd left the head, hooves and organs outside, although he did bring in the kidneys and liver, as those were edible. To Hermione's great relief, it was like looking at really bloody meat from the market; she couldn't really tell one piece from another aside from the amount of fat marbling through it. And with the use of her wand, she was able to speed up the steaming process so that all of it was done by sunset, a few hours later.
Using rosemary, salt, pepper and garlic from the spice rack, she picked out a nice few cuts for her and her companion – who had gone to shower (with the help of a heating charm and the well's pressurized water source) and nap. By the time they had supper at five o'clock, the meat had been neatly packed away in 'borrowed' Tupperware, and put into stasis in her Bag (along with everything else she'd deemed important to take with them).
Cormac took the seat at the kitchen table across from her and smiled. "Smells wonderful," he deeply inhaled. "Where did you find the potatoes and green beans?"
"Packaged and canned food," she replied, carefully watching him. "I checked for poisons or spells before I opened any of it, as usual. It was cleared and fresh." She looked around. "Aside from the dust, this place looks as if it was left in a hurry by its owners, who were apparently fastidious in general. Everything was ordered quite well in the cabinets, even the pot lids."
He eagerly tucked in, using the knife and fork settings to cut off a hunk of meat. The look on his face as he savored while he chewed was almost orgasmic. "This is fucking amazing, Granger," he smiled once he'd swallowed. "It's heaven."
Still wary of his every move, she ate in silence, having to admit that the pressure cooker and spices had done wonders for making the meat as juicy and tender as venison. The others were going to love what she brought back!
"Were there other goats out there?" she asked, hopeful.
McLaggen nodded. "Three of them – two now. This one was easiest to take down. It was lame from its hooves growing out and turning in, because no one's around to file them down. There's also a cow out there, and a pen that the chickens go in and out of freely that leads into the enclosed grazing area. They're living on rain water, grass, leftover hay in the open barn and bugs."
She glanced at him sideways. "You know a lot about farm life?"
He shrugged. "My uncle had a small one in Germany. We'd go there sometimes during the summer to help out."
Hermione considered that while quietly chewing her food. When the silence became too strained, she finally spoke up. "Are you sorry?"
His fork paused on the way to his mouth, and then fell back to the plate. "For scaring you yesterday – yes, very much so. For wanting you – no." He took a drink of water. "I know where we stand, Granger. But it's like you said: the animal transfiguration screws with your head, and I know your wolf wanted me." He stared at her with those long-lashed, light gold-brown eyes – so like the eyes of a wolf – and she knew that he was right. She couldn't deny the truth any more than he could: her animal side had been attracted to him – still was, and it was difficult to fight that off.
"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," she firmly stated. "I will never willingly betray that."
He nodded. "And I'm in love with you – same promise."
Shite. Did he just say that? SHITE!
She shook her head. "You don't know me well enough to-"
He scoffed and cut her off. "Don't insult my intelligence. I know you better than you think. I've been watching you since fourth year, when you appeared on Krum's arm at the Yule Ball." He talked in between chews and swallows, eyes on his plate. "All the rest of that year, I tried to get your attention. I requested a tutor from McGonagall for my homework, hoping I'd get you. Instead I got Ernie duff-head Macmillan. In fifth and sixth year, I signed up for the same Advanced classes and chose seats near you. I sat as close as I dared in the Great Hall and the Library, but you were always surrounded by your friends, and couldn't get an 'in' there. I tried out for Quidditch just so you'd notice me. I even made up some shite to Sluggy when his interest in me was waning, so I could stay in his Club and keep seeing you." He shook his head in incredulity for his actions back then. "I begged my parents to use the last of my savings in my Gringotts account to buy and send me the best robes to impress you for his Christmas bash." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I wrote you fucking poetry, Granger. Do you think a bloke does any of that for a passing fancy? Please."
Stunned speechless for the first time in a long time, Hermione held her breath. She let it out slowly when it started to become painful. "You were fixated on me. An unresolved schoolboy crush," she insisted.
He glanced up at her, amused. "I'm not bragging, but I lost my cherry in third year. By the beginning of sixth, I'd already had eight girlfriends under my belt. Since then, I've fucked my way through half of The Madam's House – including that twisted bitch, Phaedra, so I think I know the difference by now between sex, infatuation and love. As crude and disrespectful as this is gonna sound: if it was only about conquering you, I'd have checked you off of my 'to do' list and moved on already." He looked down again, and pink tinged his cheeks. "I want your heart, not just your body. Always have. That's why, what I did to you… what I took from you that first time… I never wanted to hurt you like that. It hurts me to think I could have done that to you." He shook his head with shame, refusing to meet her eye, the blood in his cheeks suffusing the skin a darker red. "The conversion… I already explained how it flips your personality around, turning you inside out. When it's done, everything you loved before becomes suddenly repulsive to you, and you want to hurt or destroy it. Everything you hated before, you revel in instead. It's a complete mind fuck." He ran fingers through his hair as he leaned an elbow on the table, and planted his palm over the damaged side of his face. "I was obsessed with wanting you already, but it became something dirty and ugly under Mort's reconditioning. When Phaedra told me you were with Malfoy, I began hunting you down in earnest. I wanted to punish you. I couldn't stop myself. I was so angry all the time."
Tears leaked out of the creases of his eyes, trailing down his face.
"And then there you were, in front of me one day and…"
It took several quiet moments for him to calm his emotions to continue. His jaw clenched and his chest hitched several times, and he kept his eyes hidden from view behind his fingers as he struggled to regain his dignity and control. Hermione waited and watched, anxious, her wand in her lap under the table in a tight grip, just in case.
"I ruined you. I ruined any chance for us, I know. All I can do is try to make it up to you," he finally muttered, his voice hoarse, as if he'd been screaming. "But this wolf thing… yeah, it's messed with my head, too. I think I've got it under control now, though." He sat back and looked at the palm of his free hand, clenched it once, and dropped it into his lap. "Still, you're an alpha female in the prime of her breeding, and the wolf in me wants you bad. Even today, trailing you from a distance to make sure you were safe, I could smell your body's readiness to mate. It pulled at me, made me aggressive..."
"That's why you killed the goat," she guessed.
He nodded, wiping the tears from his face and sniffing. "Sex or blood – either would have done." He smirked with ill-humor. "Bringing it to you was my animal's way of letting you know I want to win your affection. It won't let me give up trying even knowing you don't want me."
There was still one thing he hadn't addressed yet – the burning question that lay between them and had haunted her thoughts for weeks. "What happened to change you? If the conversion was so thorough, as you maintain, what caused it to reverse?"
"You still have that little poisonous ring?" he asked the rhetorical question. He knew she did; he'd undressed her of everything but the ring while she'd been unconscious at his mother's cottage. "Whatever chemical cocktail it pumped into me when it bit me the first time, it scrambled my magical aura within moments. It wasn't just my flesh dissolving that caused me to start screaming, you know." He pulled his left forearm up, tugged back the sleeve and showed her the sinister tattoo that marred his perfect skin. She shuddered, hating to even look at the thing. "See how it's fading? When my aura changed, it shut down Mort's connection to my brain. The Dark Mark on my arm has been rendered null and void as a result. It's going away. I haven't felt a single summons from him since that day, nor have I heard his voice or seen him in my dreams. My feelings have returned to normal, but… I remember everything. Your enchanted jewelry couldn't spare me that, I guess."
Hermione took his every word in, already finding the holes in the argument. "How do you know the Mark doesn't work anymore? Maybe Mort can feel you, but you just can't feel him?"
He quite firmly shook his head. "I experimented in the weeks after the destruction of The Madam's House to see if that nauseating habit it had of squirming under my skin whenever I was near others bearing the Dark Mark or close to the Dark Lord, himself, would come back. That's where I was going everyday when I left the cottage; I was testing my theory, curious to know if I was truly free or not." He looked slightly hopeful. "Not a single twitch from the bloody thing, even when I dared to approach the group that Mort led that was subjugating Norwich. I got in real close to him – twenty-five or so feet – and even touched a newly-recruited Death Eater on the arm, pretending to offer her praise. None of them seemed to recognize me as having been one of them, and Mort didn't even glance my way. I think, for all intents and purposes, they think I'm dead by now." He jerked his chin towards her head. "That's where I got the idea to shift your magical aura the other day, you know. I figured if it worked for me, it would work for you, too."
She couldn't help but be impressed with his ingeniousness, no matter the pounding headache it had left her with. "Desperate times, desperate measures. You did the right thing."
He glanced up and they locked gazes. "I know I keep saying this, but… I'm sorry for always hurting you, Hermione. I'm trying not to be that person anymore. I'll work on getting this wolf thing under control."
Trying to weed through the layers of truth versus lies by noting facial tics or other such tells, she intently assessed her companion's mien. To her surprise, it seemed that Cormac was being honest.
Nodding, she accepted his pledge. "It's not going to be easy. The others… they won't accept you at first, maybe not ever. Most of them will want to kill you. You'll have to endure their censure and mistrust."
He took a deep breath and let it out fast. "Yeah, I figured. But I'm not doing this for them, Granger."
"I know, and I thank you for all you've done for me since Kirkwall," she softly conceded. "With time, you'll earn your heart back, Cor. I'll help you, so long as you're always truthful with me."
He nodded and raised his glass in a toast to her. "Gryffindor to the end," he ominously pronounced and downed the contents in a big swig.
They finished their meal in silence. After, she showered, changed clothes, swiped what she could from the house – all of the adult clothing, blankets, towels, pillows, toiletries, in-date medicine, kitchen utensils, and books – and made a mental note to return here soon after she reunited with the others, so they could collect the animals. Fresh eggs, goat milk (if there were females) and beef would be a welcome treat for her group, she was sure.
When they were ready, Cormac handed her his things, she turned her back on his nudity and he transfigured into the wolf again, agreeing to scout ahead for her as they walked towards their ultimate goal of Blessington.
It wasn't until they were an hour out that she realized she hadn't dreamed of Harry during this last rest period. She wondered why.
X~~~~~X
Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital, Drogheda
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (evening)
The raids on St. Mungo's in London had been successful. The place had been practically deserted, as there was very little staff remaining, and fewer patients (everyone in the Janus Thickey Ward had been done away with at the start of the new war). Death Eaters tended to trust only their own for healing, and most of the competent medical staff had been moved to The Fortress directly. The place held very little in the way of important potions, but what was there, they'd taken under the cover of a powerful Disillusionment Charm and some stealthy movement.
Apparating to Drogheda by Side-Along had been dangerous, as taking three together was ill-advised normally due to the dramatically increased splinching factor because of mass distribution, but Draco's strangely growing magical strength had made it as easy as if there had only been two of them. Stretton had looked at him funny once they'd arrived in the empty safe house they'd previously made use of during their frequent jumps around last year, but the guy had been smart enough to keep his mouth shut and carry on with the mission.
The city had been decimated, and the stench from the dead lying about in the open air was awful. Ripping up pieces of cloth, they each tied them around their mouths and noses to ward off disease the best they could. "Shite, they're hitting Ireland now," Cornfoot stated the obvious, his deep voice muffled behind his make-shift barrier. "Guess the main island's done for." He looked decidedly depressed by that.
Draco kept his eyes on the horizon, as they scanned the street from the safe house window. "Didn't look like it when I went to Dumfries recently. The city there is fine. Could be he's jumping around in a random pattern."
"Looking for traces of us," Jeremy grimly stated.
"Regardless, we have a job to do," Draco reminded them. "Do either of you know where the Muggle hospital is?"
Stretton nodded. "When we took shelter here in January, I check it out then. Swiped some supplies we needed."
"Good, so you can lead us right to the Chemist's building," Stephen joked.
"Yep," the half-Vampire asserted with a smirk. "I'm just that kind of good."
Draco made an executive decision. "We'll change here. We can move faster as animals, and have better warning should something be up ahead."
They all agreed. As the only non-Animagus of the group, Draco had to strip down and put everything in his Bag before changing shape. Cornfoot was good enough to put his wand in after the clothes and then to secure the Bag around wolf-Draco's neck. When they got outside, the other two simply shifted into their animal forms. Stephen, in a raven's cloak, took to the sky as if he'd been born to it, and Jeremy's big, black cat took off at a slow canter down the street, sticking to the shadows of buildings, large debris and abandoned vehicles as much as possible. Behind him, Draco followed, keeping his nose and ears alert.
It took them half an hour to reach the hospital – Lady of Lourdes, according to the sign. The place was as dead as the rest of the city, without a soul in sight.
As they changed back to their human forms, Draco redressed in the lee of a stairwell, and with an easy wave of his fingers, he opened a locked back door. Inside, they stepped cautiously and as quietly as possible, just in case, until they came to a nurse's station. Cornfoot found an emergency escape-route hospital diagram on the wall and called them over. "Looks like the On-Site Chemist's is here," Cornfoot pointed to a rectangular structure outside the hospital complex, just on the other side of a narrow alley separating the buildings. Stretton confirmed it as the place he'd broken into earlier that year. "Infectious Disease is here, though," he pointed to the largest, square building on the other side of the complex from them – the one that housed Emergency. Fortunately, it was right across the pavement from the Chemist's. "We might want to hit both locations and snoop around, just in case the medicine we need isn't at the Pharmacy."
"Should we split up?" Jeremy asked.
Draco quickly considered the pros versus the cons of breaking the team up and nodded. "Time isn't on our side, ghost town or not. This place doesn't feel right. It's almost…"
"Too easy?"
He nodded at Stretton's accurate assessment. "Almost like they hit it just to see if we'd come here for a supply raid."
"You said you'd thought they were hitting random cities. Maybe this was why – to get a bead on us," Cornfoot murmured, whistling very softly. "It might be paranoid, but better that than dead. We should get to it and get out of here pronto."
They agreed with a nod of heads. "Stretton, you hit the Pharmacy. Stephen and I will take Infectious Disease. We'll join you as soon as we finish the sweep up there, so stay put. If the worst happens, get out, but randomly jump so you don't lead them back to camp. We'll do the same. You're caught, you know what to do, both of you."
Grim-faced, they wished each other luck and split up.
Draco led the way, having an eidetic memory for maps and diagrams and a good sense of direction. The empty halls of the hospital were eerie. Several times, they had to cover their mouths and noses as they passed by a room where a patient had been left behind and died, or killed outright. Clearly, the place had been attacked not long ago judging by the fetid stench. They hurried on, eager to get to their destination.
At the area labeled 'Infectious Disease,' they stopped at the administration desk and searched every cabinet in every examination room and closet. They took what medicines and Muggle devices that might be necessary – at Stephen's suggestion. Syringes, gauze wraps, medical tape, face masks, tourniquets, eye wash, boxes of gloves, scissors, scalpels, little plastic cups, metal trays, something called a 'blood pressure reader,' another item referred to as a 'stethoscope,' and another that measured sugar in your blood (along with these boxes of 'test strips') all made their way into their Bags. When they finally made it to a room that had shelves full of medicines of all shapes and sizes, they knew they'd hit gold, filling their remaining six Bags of Holding with everything they could find – including the drugs Snape had indicated they'd needed to get.
Hurrying, they finished robbing the place blind in a little over an hour, and then looked again at the administration desk for an emergency map. Finding it, they tracked the best way out so that they'd end up near the Chemist's, and headed in that direction.
They headed towards the glass double door exit, when something inside Draco told him to stop. He'd heard a noise coming from the other side of the glass, and grabbed Stephen's arm so they froze on a Knut. Senses on high alert, he heard it again: the unmistakable sound of a spell hitting glass and shattering it. It was coming from outside.
"Shite, they're here," he growled. Shoving his Bags at Cornfoot, he took his wand firmly in hand. "Jump around three times before heading back to camp. I'll get Stretton."
"But-" his companion made to argue in favor of helping.
Draco shook his head. "Take the medicine straight away to Snape when you get to camp. He'll die without it. GO!" He shoved the guy in the arm, and watched as Stephen gave him a regretful look, raising his wand, preparing to turn on the spot.
"Good luck."
With that, he was gone.
Checking through the door, seeing no sign of movement, Draco slithered out and peeked around the corner of the building. There, between the main Emergency and the Pharmacy, there were two Death Eaters firing at, presumably, Jeremy Stretton. A green Avada whirled past one of the black robed figures, narrowly missing him, and he returned the volley with a red Stupefy.
Taking aim, Draco fired off an Avada and hit one of his enemies, who took the spell on the side of the head and unceremoniously crumpled to the ground without a sound. His lone partner noticed the attack from his peripheral vision and quickly turned to throw a spell at Draco, missing him by a long shot, but buying him the time to Disapparate with a crack of thunder, leaving his mate's body to rot in the middle of the paved alley.
Hurrying between the buildings, he heard more spells being fired off, and turned the corner in time to see Stretton get hit with first a red spell, and a second later, a blue light. He slumped against the wall of the building and slid to his arse with an animal cry, not knocked out as he should have been, but clearly in trouble. As Draco fired one Avada after the other in quick succession, hitting both attackers and felling them, he realized that these guys hadn't been out to kill; they'd been trying to capture. Most likely, they'd been hoping whoever they caught would squeal the rebellion's secrets.
He rushed to Jeremy's side, noting a deep gash across his chest… and the man's red, Vampire eyes. Long canines had punched through his gums and blood leaked from his mouth as he hissed.
Gripping his wand tight, Draco made a fast decision: he Petrified Stretton. "Sorry," he explained quickly, looking around for more of the enemy. Seeing none, he grabbed Jeremy around the waist and with a grunt and a pull of his muscles he managed to get the guy over his shoulder. "Hold on."
X~~~~~X
The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (night)
With a turn and an extra exertion of his power, Draco took Stretton with him on a merry jaunt - jumping to five locations before heading back to Wicklow. It took nearly everything out of him to accomplish what he had, as Side-Along Apparition to one location was usually tiring, to two, exhausting. Five jumps in as many minutes had nearly stopped his heart. However, securing the safety of the camp's location, all the while hurrying to get Stretton back for some healing took precedence over his own health, so he'd pushed.
As soon as the two appeared at the edge of camp, however, his body made him pay for his stubbornness and he collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest, dropping Jeremy to the grass. Shaking, gasping for breath, he willed his heart to beat, smashing his fist over the spot. A second later, it resumed a rhythm, and his throat hitched from the pain.
In a whirl of light, Su appeared before them. "Jeremy!"
Noting both men were in trouble, she seemed torn as to which one to serve first. Draco shook his head as she reached for his arm, deciding he was the one most in trouble. "Can't… Apparate… so soon," he wheezed. "Get help."
With a nod, she grabbed the Petrified Stretton and took him back to camp with her. Several seconds later, she reappeared with Zabini and Theo both. Nott did a cursory exam, swore as his wand turned blue over the area of Draco's chest, and with the help of a Mobilicorpus, he swiftly took them to the Medical Tent, which they'd established after the Kirkwall attack when they'd first arrived here. Draco was laid back in a cot, given a slew of potions (shoved down his throat by Pansy, who'd given him the talking-to of his life all the while), and within half an hour, he was feeling close to normal again.
"So what happened?" Zabini finally asked.
When Draco finished telling their tale, the four exchanged grim looks, knowing what it meant for them.
"We're going to have to immediately find a new place to move the camp to," Draco decided, trying to sit up.
Theo pushed him back down. "Rest for now. It's still too dangerous for you to put any strain on your heart by walking around for a few hours. Just sleep." He grinned. "That last potion should be kicking in any time now, anyway."
Draco's brow furrowed in annoyance. They'd slipped him a…
He didn't even get to finish the thought as he fell into unconsciousness.
X~~~~~X
The Wicklow Mountains (southeast Ireland)
Sunday, October 29, 2000 (night – minutes later)
Will sat beside a still-Petrified Jeremy, running the healing spell over the wound, closing it. Su had brought him to his tent, by passing Medical, knowing there would be little they could do to help him. She sat on the other side of the cot, across from Will, Jeremy between them.
"So, I had an epiphany last night," he confessed while he cast Diffindo upon his mate's soiled clothing, tearing it into shreds of fabric that could be easily removed so he could determine if there were cuts or damage in other areas. "It's about you and Jer."
The Vampiress was quiet next to him, holding onto Jeremy's hand and rubbing her fingertips over his skin in a soothing manner.
"I'm not going to fight this mating anymore," he finally said, removing a series of bruises from Stretton's hip and side. "I'm going to let it happen."
Red eyes stared into his with triumph.
"Oh," Su replied, her voice filled with disappointment and mournful resignation.
Determining that Jeremy's physical form was healed, Will put his wand down, reached out and clasped his big hand over both hers and Jeremy's. "I think we should become a triad of power. It'll make us all stronger, and no one gets hurt. Everyone wins."
Su looked up at him with those dark, expressive eyes and in them he saw hope and fear meld together.
"Do you-" Will asked, stopped and tried again. "I know we aren't close, and that we've hardly talked, but I have noticed you, you know. I mean, you're… really stunning. How could a guy not see that? Besides, we both love him, and… you've helped him so much. I know he deeply cares for you."
The witch shyly gazed at him. "You are suggesting that we become mates as well – not just a binding between Jeremy and me. I thought you did not care for me."
He became aware of the thing inside of him – that queer presence that had been slowly awakening within him since the night Jeremy had marked him with the Jouisseur – sit up in rapt attention and turn its full consideration upon the woman before him, nothing their clasped hands. Its appreciative gaze traveled the length of her body, using his eyes, noting the curve of her waist, and the jut of her hips. It stirred, curious.
Calling up the memory of the night before, it flashed the vision of her soft, trembling lips sliding over his wrist's pulse, of her throat convulsively swallowing as she took in his life's blood. It focused on that event, assessing it from all angles, determining its feelings on the matter.
The more he replayed that moment in the secret vaults of his mind, the more Will realized that something important had passed between he and Su in that sharing – a truce, an understanding, a mutual respect, and even the beginnings of a deeper attraction. It was a turning point in their relationship.
Absently, he touched her long, silky hair, gently pushing a strand back behind one of her ears. An awareness of her scent – something oriental and spicy – greeted his nose as he inhaled. She really was the physical ideal, wasn't she? With her perfect, porcelain features, her feminine grace, and a body that both enticed you to play it naughty and seemed too innocently lovely to ruin. "I get it now when they warned in books that Vampires are particularly alluring." His fingertips smoothed down her throat, just the barest touch, but a flare of desire sparked between them. "You're very beautiful, you know." His fingers continued trailing a path over her jumper, dipping into the middle of her throat, caressing the indent at the base very softly, dropping down between her cleavage. "I'd only been with girls before Jer. He's the only guy I want that way. But you… you're what I'm used to. You're majorly tempting. I admit I'm fascinated by his attraction to you, too."
She made no move to stop him as he let his fingers find and caress a nipple through her clothing. It went taut immediately under his touch and with a sultry moan Su arched her spine, pressing her breast into his hand. He grew erect in his jeans, painfully straining against the solid barrier of the buttonfly. "He was so hard last night when he took you. I saw everything. I was turned on by it," he confessed. "Not the violence, but that you both wanted it so much. I've never actually watched two people shag. I mean… I've done it lots of times, but never watched it. Were you a virgin? I thought-"
She shook her head, her face turned fully towards his, her eyes reflecting a growing desire. She licked her lips and he tracked the movement, feeling heat simmer up his spine. "My body repairs itself after… every time. It is part of my natural healing."
"So, it'll happen again?" he asked, focusing on her ruby-colored bottom lip. He wanted to know what she tasted every time she nervously swiped her tongue over it – like just then. Had she fed from someone today? Would she taste like blood?
Her free hand came up and touched his cheek with tentative motion. "It always has before. But, I have never been mated. Perhaps it will change after."
Their eyes met, and Will felt that electric moment that comes when a man and woman become sexually aware of each other for the first time. He'd never felt it so powerfully before, however. "Have you kissed him yet?" It was obvious to both of them to whom he referred.
She lowered her lashes. "Three weeks ago, I requested a single kiss as repayment for the blood I had given him in our youth, during his transition. He gave it in obligation." Her fingers trailed over his jaw, feathering into his hair. "But his mind and heart called for you even as our lips came together." Her pretty brow furrowed. "I was so jealous, Willem. During our first kiss he thought only of you. How is it you hold him so completely, when it is my blood that has saved him time and again?"
Will ghosted his mouth over hers, knowing full well that Jeremy was watching and listening to every word, paralyzed and unable to change the outcome. That kind of control over him made Will even harder in his pants. "Because he's mine," he asserted aloud the thoughts that had been drifting through his mind for so long now. "My mate."
Su's long, black lashes slid fully closed, and tears slipped from the corners of each eye. "I would give anything for such a love." Her voice trembled, caught as the sorrowful weight of her unrequited feelings tore at her control.
Turning his head, Will looked down at Jeremy. The color of his friend's eyes had bled to normal as the Vampire within had retreated, giving up its fevered hold. Now only the color of an Irish meadow met his inquisitive gaze. He wondered at that even as he reached for his wand, which had rolled into the dip of his thigh, and waved it at Jeremy, freeing him with an easy Finite Incantatum. "Don't move yet, Jer," he warned, as his lover scooted his naked body into a sitting position. "You'll get your blood and sex later. Right now, I only wanna know: do you want the three of us to be together?"
Jeremy was shaking and the raw relief on his face was heart-wrenching. Tears fell from his sooty lashes to paint his pale cheeks. "Yes. Oh, God, yes."
Will considered him a moment more before turning back to Su. Running his hand up her throat and into her hair, he gently pulled her closer. "You've had your taste of her. It's my turn. This time, Jeremy, you get to watch."
Enthusiastically, his mate conceded, those odd cat-like eyes locked onto them as Jeremy pulled his legs in tailor-style and resigned himself to a round of voyeurism.
Sliding his lips over the Vampiress', Will took their first kiss with passion. If she was to be their shared mate so that they could build a strong power base to survive this war, he would have to come to accept her, and this was the only way. If he could physically love her, he could open his heart to her eventually.
Tonight, he would learn her mouth and her touch, feel the sting of her fangs at his throat, make her come and fill her with his seed. He would accept her Jouisseur, and let her love and mark Jeremy similarly so they could close the circle of their mating. After, he would make Jeremy his, as he had ached to do, and at last, the three of them would come together in every way, assuring their bond was unbreakable. None of them would ever suffer the pain of denied love ever again, and they would be a force to reckon with that even Mort would fear. What they did tonight would ensure it.
He glanced out of his peripheral vision at his first mate, sitting quietly at the head of the cot, and shared his resolve with Jeremy that this was their new future: the three of them united in purpose and feeling to the very end.
TO BE CONTINUED…
AUTHOR'S END NOTES:
I have decided to include a Chapter 24 ASIDE to detail the mating between Will-Su-Jeremy. It's already 1/3 done as of this update, and should be up on the site by next week/weekend at latest (barring any problems). It's getting it's own side story for much the same reason as Will-Jeremy's initial mating had: it's interesting and fun to write, but extraneous to the plot - nothing more than FAN SERVICE, really. You can read it if you want to or skip it and go on to Chapter 25 when it finally gets posted.
For the die-hard "Will-Jeremy Only" fans (I know from the reviews and PMs I get about this story that there is a sizable group amongst the story's readership): I apologize if throwing Su into the boys' mating in any way disappoints you, but to be fair, this was planned from the beginning. Su takes the place of Fay (who was initially Jeremy's prime candidate for the position of 'third' in their relationship, if you'll recall). And because of her innate nature, as well as her long years and experience, she's a calming, supportive presence for the tempestuous Will and the reckless Jeremy. She's also the sympathetic outsider; the girl most of us woman have been at one time or another (i.e. wanting someone so much and hoping that someday he/she notices and reciprocates). Plus, she flat-out kicks arse. She will become an important member of the power structure for what's coming up in future chapters (you'll see!). I predict you will like her then, if you don't already. So, hang in there, even if you aren't happy with where these relationships had to be taken. You'll still have plenty of Will-Jeremy action to drool over - promise!
"What's past is prologue" = Shakespearean quote from 'The Tempest' (Act 2, Scene 1) meaning that the past has set the stage for the really interesting bits to come.
The bit about Moaning Myrtle and the exorcism – canon information. I didn't make that up.
Numero uno = Spanish for "number one."
Cack = British slang for "crap" or "shite".
Slummed = British slang for "living in shame".
Fannie = British slang for "pussy" or "wimp".
Did you know that Evanna Lynch (Luna Lovegood actress) went to Catholic school in Drogheda? Irony! :)