Once again fredfred deserves a lot of thanks for betaing. His help has improved the story a lot.


Chapter 49: Breaking Point

South-West of Hereford, Herefordshire, Britain, December 2nd, 1998

Barty Crouch Jr forced himself to remain seated on his conjured chair. He had to stay calm. In control. He couldn't vent his rage, or things would go wrong. Worse than they already had. He had to keep Bellatrix from repeating the same mistake she, and all of them, had made so long ago. "We have lost a battle, but we haven't lost the war," he quoted the Dark Lord.

"We've lost more than a battle!" Bellatrix hissed, stopping her pacing to glare at him. "We've lost my husband and my brother-in-law!" she screamed, causing the scabbed-over wound on the side of her face to break open and bleed again.

"We can still execute my plan," Barty said without flinching. He had to stay in control. Someone had to.

"How can we win if we couldn't win a battle against three outnumbered and surprised Aurors?" she spat. "Three Aurors against four of us! And we lost two to their one!"

Their enemies hadn't been surprised because Bellatrix had been too eager. Barty knew this, but he couldn't say it. Not to his friend. And, in any case, he should have known better than to assume that she would be able to control herself - the main goal of the whole ambush had been to let his friends vent their anger and frustration. The fact that it would further weaken the Ministry and egg the goblins on would have been merely a bonus. But now… He shook his head. "We can still do it, trust me." Provided that Bellatrix could control herself. Which didn't seem very likely at the moment.

She slowly raised her chin, and he could see that she was trembling with barely controlled rage. Blood was seeping into her torn robes. "How? How can we avenge our Master? Our friends? My family? Tell me how!" she screamed. "But don't tell me to have patience! I can't wait any longer!"

Barty drew a hissing breath through clenched teeth. The Ministry wasn't yet weakened enough. The goblins were not angry enough. He wasn't ready to execute his plan. He needed more information. Today's debacle had proved that Fiendfyre wouldn't be enough to achieve his goal - the damned Unspeakables had become too skilled at dealing with it. "We cannot rush this! We saw today what happens if we rush things!" He pressed his lips together as soon as he finished - he shouldn't have said that.

"Rushed? It was your plan!" she screeched. "Your plan, your orders, caused all this." She spread her arms, gesturing wildly, almost knocking over the old-fashioned lamp on the table next to her.

"Yes," he growled. "It was my plan. And it failed. And that proves that we need to prepare better. We cannot fail the Dark Lord. Or our friends. We owe it to them to succeed."

She stared at him, her chest heaving. She wiped the blood off her cheek with a jerky motion, ripping more scabs away and worsening the wound. He didn't think she noticed. For a moment, the only sounds in the lodge were their heavy breathing. Then she slowly nodded. "You're right," she whispered.

He almost closed his eyes in relief and had to stop himself from smiling. "Good." He nodded, then stepped up to her. "I'm sorry," he said as he hugged her. The stench of smoke and burning flesh clung to her, still. And the blood running down her cheek would stain his robes. He didn't care.

She didn't cry in his arms. She didn't make any sound, other than her breathing. But he could feel her starting to relax just a little. They would get through this. They would avenge the Dark Lord. And their friends. They had to - they had nothing else left.

After a few minutes, she pulled away. "If we're to stay here for a while, we should ensure that the lodge is more suited to our needs," she said, her face no longer betraying any emotion.

"Yes," he agreed - they wouldn't have travelled to this lodge of hers if they didn't plan to stay. He didn't think Rabastan or Rodolphus had survived, but it wouldn't hurt to move anyway, just in case their old safe house were to be compromised.

He looked around the room. Bellatrix had said that she had used the lodge as a safe house in the last war, but it had been before Barty had joined the Dark Lord. He had never been here before. "A few Cleaning Charms, more furniture… does the ice box still work?" The food they had brought with them would keep for a while, but an ice box would make it easier.

"Yes," she said.

He wanted to ask if she had checked - he didn't remember her going into the kitchen - but decided against it. She was still too upset to argue with over such a detail. "I'll make us something," he said as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Good." She waved her wand in a silent Cleaning Charm as he passed her.

He stopped and raised his wand in her direction. "Episkey."

The wound on her cheek closed, and she nodded at him.

The ice box was still working, as he discovered in the kitchen. Perhaps a little too well - it felt too cold when he put his hand inside. That would ruin some of their food. Frowning, he cast a Detection Charm. He wasn't a Curse-Breaker, but he could replace a mere Cooling Charm.

And he did. On a whim, he checked the stove - which was still in good condition. The sink, too, and the… What was that? He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the faint trace of a spell on the door. A kind of alarm charm? Recently cast? It had been almost twenty years since this lodge had last been used and neither he nor Bellatrix had cast any such spells…

He gasped. "Bellatrix! We need to move!" he yelled, rushing into the living room.

"What?" She whirled around.

"I've found traces of an alarm charm in the kitchen! Someone found this lodge!"

"But the wards haven't been disturbed!" she protested.

"That doesn't mean anything. Come!" he snapped, grabbing her arm to side-along-apparate her. It didn't work. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "They're here already!"

Bellatrix gasped. "How?"

"That doesn't matter. We need to flee," he said. Never try to stand and fight when ambushed. Your enemy had all the advantages. "Is there an escape tunnel… no, they would be aware of it. We need to fly." The Aurors would be covering the air as well, but it was still their best chance. "Get your broom; we'll blow the roof off and cover the area in smoke. We'll meet up in Worcester."

"No," Bellatrix spoke softly.

"What?" He stared at her. "This is our best chance to escape."

"This is my lodge. The last thing I've got left of my family. I'm not going to let mudbloods and blood traitors take it away from me."

"You can't stay!" He shook his head. Had she gone crazy again? "You'll…" Of course, she would. And she knew it, he realised.

Her smile was wide, showing her teeth, and forced. "I'll provide a distraction for you."

"No."

She wasn't listening. "You can execute your plan. Avenge us all. I'll cull their ranks for you as well." She nodded, her smile seemingly frozen on her face. Then she reached out and patted his cheek, just as she had done when they had met for the first time, at Hogwarts.

"Goodbye, Barty."

He stared at her back as she strode towards the door, twirling her wand between her fingers, a dozen words and pleas dying in his throat. Then he wiped his eyes and pulled out his broom.


"Cover the area with Anti-Apparition Jinxes! And Anti-Portkey Jinxes!"

Harry Potter pressed his lips together. He and Ron had already done that, right after arriving near the hunting lodge. But Bertie Macmillan either hadn't noticed or ignored it to appear more competent - Harry didn't know which was true.

He did know, though, that Macmillan was a prick who shouldn't be in charge of this. He glanced at where Ron was sitting on his broom, disillusioned, and muttering curses. Harry felt as angry as his friend sounded. This was their case. Moody had prepared this trap with them. And now some idiot 'veteran Auror' was messing it up.

Harry was tempted to take over, but Bones had been quite clear about the consequences of him ignoring the chain of command again, and Scrimgeour had appointed Macmillan as the leader of this operation. As long as Macmillan didn't make an obvious blunder, they couldn't sideline him.

No matter how obvious it was to Harry that the man wasn't up to this.

"Done, Bertie!" Fawley's voice sounded from Harry's badge.

"Alright." Macmillan took a deep breath, probably trying to steady his own nerves. "We'll do this by the book. Half the force stays in the air, blocking any escape, the other half lands and surrounds the lodge. On my command, you'll breach the doors." Almost as an afterthought, he added: "I'll be up in the air so I can keep an eye on the whole situation."

Harry scoffed and shook his head. Macmillan wasn't staying on his broom to better command; the man was simply afraid of facing Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. Not that the rest of the Aurors and Hit-Wizards sounded any more eager, either; most of them had been obviously nervous back at the Ministry. Harry doubted that they felt any more resolute now, but since they were disillusioned, he couldn't tell - he only saw the floating markers indicating their position.

Harry hoped that none of them dropped their wands due to their fingers trembling so much. At least Moody's friend Smith was here to deal with the wards.

"Alright," Macmillan went on. "Clarissa, take half the wands and land, then have the Curse-Breaker tear down the wards."

"I've got a name," Harry heard Abigail through his badge. "It's Smith. Abigail Smith."

"Then have Curse-Breaker Smith tear down the wards, then," Macmillan repeated himself. Harry could almost see the man rolling his eyes.

"Bloody circus," Ron muttered next to him.

"Kindergarten," Harry replied.

"Alright, you've got your orders! Go!" Macmillan ordered.

Fawley started to pick her half of the Aurors and Hit-Wizards. "Potter, Weasley - with me!"

Harry clenched his teeth. "We would be more useful on our brooms until we've spotted both Death Eaters." He was certain that none of the other Aurors and Hit-Wizards was as good on a broom as he and Ron.

"Trying to stay back and safe, huh?" Fawley scoffed.

"No. Trying to ensure that the Death Eaters don't escape," Ron snapped. "We should stay up here, wait until the wards are down, then flush them out and jump on them from above."

"You've got your orders!" Macmillan yelled. "We're doing this according to standard procedure - cutting off all escape routes in the air and on the ground. If you refuse Bones'll have your badges!"

"Bloody idiot!" Harry spat through clenched teeth, then shot down to the ground. This was already going wrong. The book wasn't written for the likes of Lestrange and Crouch.

"We need to keep the brooms ready," Ron said as soon as they had landed and ended their spells, now that they were hidden from view by trees and the remains of the underbrush. "The idiots above won't be able to stop them if they try to flee."

Harry nodded. "We should have taken charge at the start." Now, though, it was too late to take over. That would only lead to more trouble.

Behind them, Abigail landed. She didn't look happy either once she became visible. "Alastor picked the worst moment to get cursed," she said, her half-numbed face twisting into a crooked smile.

"Very inconsiderate of him," Harry agreed.

"I'll be sure to tell him, once he wakes up," Ron added.

Nearby, the rest of the force landed. They were still disillusioned - which was a mixed blessing, Harry thought. The Death Eaters might be less likely to spot them, but they might get confused about their positions on their way to surround the lodge.

Abigail snorted, then took a step towards the wardline. "Let's get set up before the idiot messes things up further."

Harry nodded and started conjuring cover to shield her while she worked on the wards.

A marker closed in on them. "Why aren't you disillusioned?" Fawley's voice asked.

"Standard procedure," Harry answered.

"What?"

"We're already hidden from view thanks to the terrain," he explained. "Disillusioning ourselves would make it harder to fight together."

"You'd know that if Moody had bothered to train you," Ron added. He wasn't looking at Fawley; his attention on the lodge.

"I'm almost done," Abigail said.

"What?" Fawley gasped. She was probably gaping, too.

"I already know all the wards' weaknesses from my last visit," the Curse-Breaker explained.

"Merlin's arse!" Fawley cursed. "My group won't be ready!" A moment later, Harry heard her voice both from where she stood and from his badge. "Fawley to my group: Get ready! The wards will go down any moment!"

And, of course, that was the exact moment when Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out of the building.

The dark witch cackled as she flicked her wand and sent a curse against their position that shattered the wall in front of them. Harry quickly replaced it with another as several curses splashed against the wards of the lodge.

"Bloody idiots gave themselves away!" Ron muttered next to Harry as he reinforced their cover, conjuring a metal plate above them.

"If she unleashes Fiendfyre…" Harry muttered. That would threaten the Statue of Secrecy. But Bellatrix Lestrange was crazy; Sirius had been clear about that.

But instead of cursed fire, a Blasting Curse hit their shelter. Behind them, Abigail swore as the ground shook from the impact.

Harry reinforced the walls.

"How much longer?" Ron asked.

"Almost…" the Curse-Breaker answered, breathing heavily.

"Watch out!" screamed someone through their badges.

"N...Argh!" Another scream was suddenly cut off.

Harry gritted his teeth. Every curse sent at someone else was one not sent at their position. But he couldn't let his comrades die senselessly. He touched his badge. "Don't try to cast at her until the wards are down! Take cover!"

"Potter! You're not in command!" Macmillan yelled. "Everyone, keep it up; the wards will fall any moment! Keep it..."

Someone yelling in pain and fear cut off the idiot's order. Harry muttered a curse through clenched teeth, then ducked when their shelter shook under the impact of another Blasting Curse.

"I hope she gets Macmillan next," he heard Ron mutter.

"Not with our luck," he replied as he reinforced the walls again.

"Done!" Abigail yelled.

Harry glanced at her. "Get on your broom and get away! We'll go after her."

The Curse-Breaker didn't hesitate. Harry hadn't expected her to - Moody wouldn't have called her if she were a fool. She disillusioned herself and mounted her broom.

Harry tapped his badge. "Curse-Breaker retiring from the field!" He didn't want an idiot mistaking Abigail for a fleeing Death Eater.

The witch shot out the back of their shelter. He looked at Ron. "Alright, let's go on three. One. Two." He reached the back of their shelter. "Three!"

Harry jumped out of the shelter and started to sprint. The entire area around the lodge was covered in a cloud of smoke and dust. Spells kept vanishing into it and throwing up more dirt. The idiots were casting blindly. Worse, they were staying too far away to use a Human-presence-revealing Spell but were giving away their own positions through their casting. If Lestrange had a way to see through the smoke… He had to get a little closer for his own glasses to work.

The lodge's roof suddenly blew up - from the inside. Harry muttered a curse as he touched his badge. "Watch out for any attempt to escape on brooms!"

"Potter!" Macmillan yelled.

"There she is!" another wizard yelled. "Merlin's...Argh!"

Harry saw an Auror stagger between two trees, holding his stomach, then fall to his knees, vomiting a stream of blood.

Near the doomed Auror, a tree blew up, and Harry saw a grey-robed figure get thrown back from the blast. It didn't look like they'd get up. He caught glimpses of the dark witch through the trees, but he didn't have a clear line of fire. If the other Aurors weren't in the area, disillusioned, he would have been able to risk it...

He pushed on and cleared a tangle of toppled trees near one of the Blasting Curse's craters. There she was! And Ron was flanking her.

Harry's Reductor Curse hit Lestrange's Shield, shattering it, but she dropped to the ground, into a crater, and his next curse, as well as Ron's, narrowly missed her. But she was pinned down now.

"Get her!" Macmillan screamed.

"No!" Harry yelled into his badge. "Keep watching for broom riders!"

"Shut up, Potter! I'll have your badge for this!"

Curses started to rain down, though not many seemed well-aimed - Harry could see some missing the entire crater before the dust thrown up by the spells obscured the whole area.

"There's someone in the air! They're coming at us!"

"Stop them!" Macmillan yelled. "Cut them off! Don't let them get away!"

Harry clenched his teeth as he saw one Hit-Wizard get blown off his broom by a disillusioned figure and another Auror veer away in obvious panic. Macmillan's entire group had focused on Lestrange and had moved too far from where they should be - they had no chance of intercepting whoever was on that broom.

Just as Harry had feared.

And they hadn't even hit Lestrange - at least not hard enough to take her out; the dark witch sent a few curses up at the flying Aurors, increasing their panic even though she didn't seem to hit anyone.

Harry responded with a Blasting Curse that blew up part of the crater's rim, then conjured several snakes just inside the slowly setting dust cloud and sent them searching for the witch while his wand rose to activate the enchantment on his glasses.

He shouldn't have bothered, he realised a moment later - Lestrange, cackling like a madwoman, jumped out of the crater and came at him with her wand flashing. An Auror next to Harry toppled over, struck by a Killing Curse.

His first curse missed her when she dodged to the right just before he finished his spell. His next curse went wide because he was already ducking behind the tangled trees. A moment later, another Killing Curse flew overhead, followed by a spell that shredded half the wood protecting him into kindling and threw him to the ground.

"Potter!" she screamed. "Face me!"

He got up and turned to face her, only to see someone else's curse splash ineffectively against her Shield Charm and, before he could cast himself, he was forced to duck as another curse set the remains of the trees on fire. He rapidly crawled to the left, sliding into the crater nearby, as his Shield Charm struggled to keep the wood fragments from shredding him. He rolled over the muddy ground, avoiding a dark cloud that splashed down behind him, until he was at the other side of the crater.

Raising his head, he saw the dark witch facing a barrage of Piercing Curses from Ron. Lestrange seemed to weave between the spells - she was an even better duellist than Harry had expected - and her Shield Charm held as she returned fire, driving Ron into cover.

But she was alone, and Harry and Ron had her in a crossfire. Harry's own Piercing Curse caught her in the side, shattering her shield. She whirled to face him, leaving herself open to Ron's next barrage.

Then the Aurors and Hit-Wizards left in the air sent another volley of curses at her, and once more the dark witch vanished in a cloud of dust. The spell on Harry's glasses adjusted itself after a moment, allowing him to see through the smoke, and he spotted her on the ground, face down, her left arm torn and bleeding.

"She's wounded!" he announced through his badge. "Moving in!" He sent a Stunner at her, but it was deflected by her Shield Charm - when had she recast the spell?

"No, Potter!" Macmillan yelled. "We'll take her!"

"She's not yet out!" Harry yelled. He cast a Piercing Curse at her, but Lestrange rolled to the side, and a low wall rose, hiding her from his sight for another instant before his enchantment could compensate.

Which was long enough for her to flick her wand. He saw her smile, a moment before she vanished in a pillar of Fiendfyre that shot into the air, consuming the dark witch and the half a dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards who had been diving at her.


Harry Potter stared at the conjured wall containing the Fiendfyre that had burned Lestrange and most of the lodge to ashes. He couldn't see the flames, but the flickering light they gave off painted the top of the wall green. His attention was on the walls, though. They were holding - as he expected; this was the third time he was dealing with the cursed fire, after all.

He flicked his wand and reinforced the wall on his left side, then the one on the right side. Ron was doing the same on the other side.

"Potter! I'll have your badge for this! A dozen fine wizards and witches died because of you!"

Harry tapped the frame of his glasses, adjusting the enchantment. The fire still wasn't reaching the top of the walls, and there was no danger of it burning through the earth - not deep enough, at least, to threaten to break out.

He took a deep breath. If the lodge had been in a moor, and the Fiendfyre had been started above peat… This would have been a catastrophe.

"Potter! Didn't you hear me?"

Harry didn't look at the screaming Macmillan, keeping his attention on the rock separating him and the other Aurors from the cursed fire. "Shut up, Macmillan."

"What? How dare you!"

Harry glanced at him. "Raise that wand, and I'll stun you. We have to keep the Fiendfyre contained until the Unspeakables arrive, and you're not helping." And Harry would enjoy it, too.

"That's your fault, Potter! You arrogant arse! Your insubordination caused this!"

Harry reinforced the left wall again - the enchantment on his glasses showed that the fire had burned through half the wall already. The right wall was faring better, for some reason. "Shut up, Macmillan. I followed your orders, which is what got us into this mess. Yours, and Fawley's." He should have sidelined the idiot right away.

"You!" He heard the Auror gasp. "How dare you! She died because of your mistakes!"

She was dead? Harry hadn't known. Good riddance. No, that was uncalled for. Even if Fawley and Macmillan had got a dozen Aurors and Hit-Wizards killed. "She died because she didn't want to listen to people who knew better. Just like you. Now stop bothering me while I'm keeping the Fiendfyre from killing us all!" he snarled. "And where are the damned Unspeakables?" He reinforced the walls again.

He glanced at Macmillan. "You called them, didn't you?"

"Yes." The Auror glared at him.

Harry returned his attention to the conjured walls. "And keep the perimeter covered! If the Death Eater who got away returns, we're in trouble."

Macmillan gasped again. But he started barking orders and left Harry alone until the Unspeakables arrived to extinguish the cursed fire.


London, Ministry of Magic, December 2nd, 1998

"...and then they, but mainly Potter, tried to countermand my order, creating confusion which led to the death of three Aurors and three Hit-Wizards when they hesitated and were caught in the Fiendfyre. He even threatened to stun me afterwards, when I was organising the containment of the fire!"

Harry Potter sighed loudly and closed his eyes as Macmillan finished his 'report' to Bones and Scrimgeour.

Ron, as usual, was a little more vocal, hissing "Bloody liar!" under his breath.

"Thank you, Auror Macmillan," Bones said. "Auror Potter, Auror Weasley, what do you say to this?"

Harry cleared his throat. "We followed every order we were given, which is what led to this debacle. Our warnings were ignored, which not only led to one Death Eater - probably Crouch Jr - escaping the raid, but also to half a dozen people flying straight into the Fiendfyre Lestrange started. I told Macmillan that I'd stun him if he tried to attack me when I was containing the Fiendfyre."

"You sowed confusion, and your hesitating, not to mention the delays due to that Curse-Breaker, caused the raid to fail!" Macmillan spat. "Clarissa died because of you!"

"She died because she gave away her position by casting stupidly before the wards went down, and then didn't change her location under cover," Ron retorted. "If you had listened to us, we'd have caught Crouch and Lestrange."

"If you doubt our report, we can ask Sirius to show you our memories in his Pensieve," Harry added.

Scrimgeour glared at him. "You would ask him to use the Pensieve for that, but not to help us with our cases?"

"My godfather will use his Pensieve to defend me against false accusations, but he doesn't trust the Department with it," Harry corrected him. "He really doesn't like travesties of justice."

Bones pressed her lips together and glared at everyone in her office. "Enough bickering. I want your reports on my desk as soon as possible, then I'll decide how to handle this mess. A dozen dead Aurors and Hit-Wizards, and we don't even have a body to show for it." She shook her head.

"But Lestrange's dead. We identified her before she killed herself," Ron said. "Which means that only Crouch's left."

Bones's glare didn't lessen. "I doubt that that will impress the Minister. Crouch is the most dangerous dark wizard currently alive - he freed the Lestranges by himself." She shook her head again. "Dismissed."


"Bloody git!" Ron spat as soon as they had returned to their office. "The nerve of him - blaming us for his own failure!"

Harry Potter snorted. "Did you expect anything else?"

"I didn't think he would lie to Bones like that," Ron said. "Even if he didn't know about the Pensieve, everyone on the raid heard his orders."

"Some would back him up anyway," Harry replied. He knew that his and Ron's rapid advancement had ruffled the feathers of more than one older Auror.

"Some. Not enough, I'd say. Certainly not everyone." Ron shrugged. "So he's either more stupid than I thought, or he has someone backing him."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Ron wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I don't think so. Malfoy wants the Death Eaters dealt with, and he knows we're his best chance for that. He wouldn't make a move like that until Crouch has been caught. Or killed."

"But he might have tried to prepare the field with Macmillan," Harry said. "And Macmillan misunderstood him - or jumped the gun, trying to save himself."

"Well, it won't help him." Ron chuckled. "The offer to use the Pensieve should be enough to prove to Bones that we're not lying."

Harry nodded. "But it makes us look like we only care about ourselves or we'd let the Corps use the Pensieve for investigations."

Ron muttered a curse under his breath. "Even though everyone would abuse it for personal gain if they had access to it. Bloody hypocrites."

"We should get started on our reports," Harry said. If they were late with them, that would look suspicious as well.

"Well, we won't need that much time. Third Fiendfyre incident in less than two months - it's kind of becoming routine, isn't it?" Ron said with a grin.

It wasn't routine. Facing cursed fire that burned even stone and acted as if it were alive - and wanted nothing else than to kill you - was terrifying no matter how often you did it. The slightest mistake, a mere instant of not paying attention, could mean your death. And the death of all your friends. The half a dozen people Lestrange had killed today with her last curse illustrated that nicely.

And yet, Harry nodded. In the Corps, you talked like that. It helped not talking about the fear. And the deaths. And the guilt. "Yes. I gather the Unspeakables have extinguishing it down to a standard procedure now, too."

"Yeah." Ron sighed and pulled out a scroll of parchment and his Dictaquill. "Let's get this over with."

Harry nodded and cast a privacy charm so his own Dictaquill wouldn't get confused. And so he could inform his family, and Hermione, that he was alright.


London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, December 2nd, 1998

Harry had said he'd be careful - well, he hadn't said so explicitly, but he hadn't denied her, either - and then he charged off to apprehend the Death Eaters. Hermione Granger pressed her lips together to refrain from cursing as she tapped her foot.

"Harry is safe. He called you personally, didn't he?" Sirius asked from behind his desk.

"He called all of us," she corrected him. It wasn't as if she had a private Floo connection.

"I really should get you two a pair of mirrors," Sirius mused. "Perhaps for Christmas."

"No, you shouldn't," she told him with a frown. "It'd be much harder to keep our secret if he expects to be able to call me any time he wants to."

He blinked. "Right. I didn't think of that." After a moment, he nodded. "I'll wait until we're done with our plans, then."

She drew a sharp breath. Who said she would stop being a thief once she had achieved her revenge? She hadn't taken a decision, yet. But this wasn't the time to bring that up. "And yes, he's safe, but I don't know if he got hurt. Or how he's dealing with the deaths." That news had spread very quickly - the Wizarding Wireless Network had already announced that, once again, Lestrange had killed a dozen Aurors before she was overcome.

Hermione snorted at the wording. 'Overcome'! Harry had said the dark witch had killed herself and half a dozen Aurors with Fiendfyre. And Crouch had escaped. But the Ministry was trying to put the best spin they could on the debacle.

"He'll be fine," Sirius said. "It's not the first time he fought in a bloody battle. And he won again."

She scoffed. "I bet he'll have nightmares again. And blame himself for not saving everyone." The fool. The noble, stupid fool.

"Well, you'll set him straight, won't you?"

She narrowed her eyes at the dog. He was acting as if he didn't mean anything other than the obvious with that, but she knew him too well to fall for that. And he was starting to grin.

She could set him straight. Explain that she couldn't have a relationship with Harry while she was lying to him about her real career. That she couldn't betray her friend's trust like that. Even if she really wanted to have a relationship with him. Wanted him. Badly.

But she had tried that before, and the dog simply didn't understand. Or didn't want to understand - he wasn't as dumb as he often acted, after all, and had to know that this was a problem. And mostly his doing. But she wasn't feeling like talking. She wanted to be doing something, instead of waiting for Harry to return home. Anything to take her mind off this.

She shook her head and stood. There was one thing the dog would understand: a good swipe with her claws across his nose.

She changed and pounced.


"My poor nose," Sirius complained

Hermione Granger sniffed. "You were asking for it."

"I wasn't!" he lied, rubbing his nose as if he didn't trust her to heal the tiny scratches she had left.

She shook her head as she checked whether she had missed any of furniture that the clumsy dog had broken or damaged during his pointless attempt to catch her. She didn't find any. "You keep 'teasing' Harry and me, even though you know better." Or should know.

He snorted. "Well, do you feel better now? Less tense, less stressed?"

She pressed her lips together. Yes, she did. Tussling with the dog had relieved a lot of tension. It had also broken a lot of furniture, but casting a dozen Mending Charms had been almost as good as a diversion as teaching the dog his place. As if a clumsy canine could ever catch a graceful cat! But she wouldn't give Sirius the satisfaction of admitting that, or he'd get even worse. Instead of answering, she studied the antique flowerpot that the dog had broken when he had once again run into it.

He chuckled. "See? Of course, there are better ways to relieve stress. With Harry, at least," he added with his insufferably sly grin.

"That would be a mistake," she said. A mistake she'd love to make, of course. If only she could.

"You're thinking about it."

She rolled her eyes. As if she'd discuss her love life with him! Not that she currently had a love life to discuss anyway.

He chuckled. "It's obvious that you two love each other."

She clenched her teeth. "That's not the problem."

"Unless you let him catch and arrest you, he won't ever know about our work."

"I would know." She turned her head to glare at him. "And no stupid jokes about Obliviation."

He actually pouted for a moment, then shrugged. "Are you planning to tell him?"

She sighed. Even if she told him after they had robbed Malfoy of everything he owned and reformed Britain, it would hurt him. But not telling him would feel worse. Ignorance wasn't bliss. "Not now."

"Do you think it'd make a difference if you tell him afterwards, instead of now?" he asked.

Once more, she clenched her teeth instead of answering.

"See, you don't have to tell your partner everything. Jeanne and I didn't do that either," he went on.

She was tempted to tell him that he probably couldn't remember everything he had done in the past anyway. But that would be too cruel. And far too petty. "I don't think a relationship would have a future with such a secret hanging over us."

"Well, I know that a relationship doesn't have a future if it's never even started."

"Some things are best done right from the start, or not at all," she retorted.

He laughed. "But relationships aren't among them. There is no perfect relationship. Every relationship is a collection of mistakes. But if you're in love, you'll forgive those."

She scoffed in response. That only meant that during the breakup, all your mistakes would be dredged up and thrown into your face. Like with Paul. "Hiding such a secret goes beyond the usual mistakes."

"Jeanne didn't know about our plans either when we started seeing each other. And now we're married, and she's expecting." He smiled.

"Jeanne didn't know you since you were children and hadn't lived with you for years while you kept this secret from her. And she wasn't trying to catch you," Hermione retorted. If only Harry were like Jeanne.

"Well, she was trying to catch me. She succeeded, too," he said with a toothy grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the innuendo - if you could call the rather blunt remark that. Harry wasn't like Jeanne. She knew him. He'd be hurt once he knew. His pride, but also his trust. Which was why starting anything serious with him would be a mistake.

Even though she really wanted to. She noticed that she was biting her lower lip and forced herself to stop. That Harry was risking his life every day - or so it seemed - made things worse. What if he died tomorrow, and she had never been able to tell him? Or kiss him? Or… She closed her eyes and sighed.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

She growled and gripped her wand. Maybe a series of Stinging Hexes would teach him when to stop. Or something a little bit more inventive…

He blinked before she could decide on the best course of action, cocking his head. "I think that was the fireplace."

Hermione was out of the room in a second. Harry was back!

She raced down the hallway, turned the corner… There he was. Cleaning soot off his Auror robes. Soot from the Floo Network, she realised after a moment of surprise.

Then he turned towards her, and she saw him smile at her. Happy, but insecure - or hesitant. Hermione didn't really care. She rushed to embrace him, wrap her arms around him and reassure herself that he was there, was alive, was fine.

"Harry, you're finally back," she managed to say when she took a step back - leaving her hands on his shoulders - so she could look into his eyes. She blinked when she felt her eyes suddenly growing wet.

He nodded and opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. He just stared at her for a moment. Just when she was about to worry if he had gotten hurt, he reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. An instant later, he blinked. "Ah… Sorry, I just..." He trailed off with an awkward shrug.

Hermione knew she was blushing - her cheeks felt very hot. "Thanks," she managed to whisper. They were so close. She just had to take a step forward and...

"Oh! Let's give them some privacy, Ron!"

...and the dog ruined the moment.


Harry Potter loved his godfather. Sirius was the kind of family he had dreamed of during his time with his relatives. Caring, generous, funny, smart and always ready to listen to him. And yet, there were times Harry wanted to hex Sirius. Like today.

He gritted his teeth as he thought of the moment with Hermione his godfather's joke had ruined. He didn't know what would have happened, but he knew that something would have. Something other than Hermione blushing, suddenly remembering her work and disappearing into her office for the twenty minutes until dinner was ready.

He glanced at her as he picked at the food on his plate. She wasn't blushing any more, but he thought that she was still a little off. A little more than the fight with Lestrange could explain, at least in his opinion - she was glaring at Sirius, and she wasn't looking at Harry. Not directly, at least - he had caught some furtive glances.

He wanted to talk to her, but not here. Not at the table, with Sirius, Jeanne and Ron present. They were smirking too much already. No, Harry would talk to her later. In private.

There were other things to talk about anyway. He cleared his throat. "Ah, Sirius. I might need to let Bones use the Pensieve."

His godfather frowned. "Why?"

"Macmillan is trying to blame us for his blunders," Harry replied. "And he's lying about us not following orders."

"Bloody git," Ron added. "He gets half the raid force killed despite our advice and tries to use us as scapegoats!"

"Malfoy's work?" Hermione asked. She was now looking straight at him, Harry noticed, and frowning.

"I don't think he'd try to get rid of us before the Death Eaters are caught," Harry said.

"And he'll probably want us to deal with the thieves, too." Ron snorted. "Before they rob his home. But he'll certainly try to use this against us later if we don't nip it in the bud."

Harry nodded. "But since we didn't disobey his orders - we only questioned them - a copy of our memories should suffice to disprove his claims. If Bones even wants to see the memories - the offer might be enough to prove that we're telling the truth."

"Oh, she'll want to see the memories," Sirius said, scoffing. "She wants proof for everything - unless it's about a decision of the Wizengamot, as my own case and Hermione's prove. And she'll try to guilt you into letting the DMLE use it."

"I told her that it's yours. And I think she's doing what she can about the Wizengamot," Harry defended the witch. "Malfoy's too influential there."

He heard Hermione sniff. "I could say that if she built her cases better, the Wizengamot would be more hesitant about ignoring the law and evidence for political reasons, but I'd be lying."

"To be fair," Ron said, "even the Wizengamot rarely bends the law too much. Usually, they simply lessen the punishments for their own families."

"That it could be worse doesn't mean it's acceptable," Hermione said. "There's an ingrained culture of nepotism in the Ministry, and it all comes down on the fact that the Wizengamot is the highest power in Wizarding Britain. There are no checks and balances - a member can do whatever they want, as long as they have a majority backing them." She frowned at Harry. "Even if you root out all the corruption in the Ministry it won't help much as long as the Wizengamot isn't reformed."

"But even if you reform the Wizengamot," Harry retorted, "the corruption in the Ministry needs to be rooted out, or the Old Families will simply shift their influence to the bureaucracy to outmanoeuvre the Wizengamot."

Hermione took a deep breath to argue, but Sirius spoke up with a wide smile. "That's why we're doing both. Harry'll clean up the Ministry while we're reforming the Wizengamot."

Harry nodded, even though he was aware that neither of them had made much progress so far.

"How do you like the filets de perche?" Jeanne asked. "It's a family recipe." Her expression clearly told Harry - and everyone else - that she was changing the subject.

And neither Sirius nor Hermione were about to go against the French witch when she looked like that.


Half an hour after dinner, Harry Potter was in his room, on his bed, trying to decide if he should go to Hermione's room to talk to her or if that would be too pushy for his friend. At the end of the dinner, she had been, well, back to her usual self.

Of course, he could have imagined more than what had really happened, back when they had met in the entrance hall. He frowned. He didn't think so, not really, but… it was possible. Or she might want to pretend that nothing had happened. And that would make it really awkward, at best, if he went to talk to her. Unless he had a good excuse, but… he didn't have one. Perhaps...

A knock at the door interrupted his increasingly morose thoughts. "Harry?"

His eyes widened, and he sat up on his bed. "Hermione?"

"Yes."

She opened the door without asking for an invitation to enter. Harry didn't know if that was a good sign. She walked towards his chair, then hesitated a moment before changing direction and sitting on his bed.

As he was trying to think of what to say, she took a deep breath and addressed him: "You mentioned that half the people with you on the raid were killed. Because you followed orders and he didn't listen."

Harry nodded. "Yes." He saw her flinch and quickly added: "Ron and I were fine - we wouldn't have let him send us to our deaths. We guarded Moody's friend, Abigail. She's a Curse-Breaker."

She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him. "Breaking through wards is one of the most dangerous tasks."

"We weren't doing that," he protested. "We were simply guarding her while she did it. And she had already analysed the wards when we were there the first time, so it really wasn't that dangerous." Well, it could have been more dangerous, at least.

She huffed. "You were still the focus of the Death Eaters, weren't you?"

"Not really. Lestrange was busy killing the other Aurors and Hit-Wizards near us before we engaged her."

She looked surprised. "She didn't go straight for you, trying to kill the Curse-Breaker before the wards went down?"

Harry shook his head. "No." He sighed. "To be honest, I think she was a distraction for Crouch. She drew our attention so he could escape on a broom." He scowled. "And it worked because Macmillan's a bloody idiot who didn't keep our flyers ready to intercept Crouch."

"She managed to kill half your force acting as a distraction?" Hermione was staring at him.

It did sound bad, worded like that. "Half of our losses happened when she cast Fiendfyre on her own position, immolating herself and half a dozen flyers diving at her," he explained.

"Fiendfyre." She was pressing her lips together.

"Yes." He shrugged. "Wasn't too difficult to handle - we have quite some experience, Ron and I."

"A dozen people dead, Fiendfyre raging…" She shook her head. "And they want to blame you for this?"

"Macmillan tried to blame us. Bones and Scrimgeour didn't seem to believe him," he said. "And Fawley, his second in command, was killed by Lestrange." He shrugged. "I don't think it'll be much trouble to deal with."

She opened her mouth, then hesitated for a moment, before she raised her chin slightly. "And how are you dealing with this? The deaths and the fire?"

She was biting her lower lip, he saw, while he pondered his answer. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to have her worry too much either. Nor have her pity him. He shrugged. "I've been through similar situations, and worse."

"Voldemort," she whispered.

He nodded. The Atrium. Dumbledore's death. His family and friends fighting for their lives. If Hermione had been there… He owed Dumbledore so much for having made her stay safe at home.

"I hoped that things would change after that battle, you know." She wasn't looking at him now, but at the window - or rather, the curtains in front of the window.

"I think all of us did," he answered.

"I didn't want to worry about you like that ever again."

He nodded, though he wasn't sure if she noticed. He understood, of course - he would hate to worry about her.

"And now, it's even worse," she said.

"Lestrange wasn't Voldemort," he retorted. "And neither is Crouch."

"But you don't have Dumbledore on your side, either," she responded, turning her head to look at him. "And Moody's cursed in St Mungo's."

He shifted closer to her. Close enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "But we got all of the Lestranges. Only Crouch is left. And he's had to run from us twice so far."

She put her hand on top of his on her shoulder. He wasn't sure if she noticed. "He's the most dangerous of them."

"And we'll get him." He smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

"At what cost?" She was staring straight into his eyes. "What if he curses Ron next? Or you?"

"He won't. Trust me." Harry nodded slowly but firmly. She hadn't released his hand, yet. He could smell the faint hint of her shampoo, now. And perhaps perfume.

She shook her head without breaking eye contact. "I couldn't stand losing you."

"You won't," he whispered. No matter how she meant it. There were no tears in her eyes this time, but he still raised his free hand, reaching up to cup her chin, his fingers on her cheek, before he realised what he was doing.

Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched.

He hesitated for a moment. Had he misread her? Misunderstood her? But she wasn't pulling away. And she wasn't glaring at him. She wasn't doing anything but looking at him.

He leaned in, tilting his head slightly, and kissed her.


Harry was kissing her. On the mouth. Hermione Granger could feel the tip of his tongue touching her lips. Hesitating. Just as she was.

Without thinking, she grabbed the back of his head with her right hand, holding him in place, and kissed him back. Properly, as Jeanne would say. Passionately. Without caring about anything else. And moaned as she did so.

When she pulled back, releasing his head, she was breathing heavily, and somehow had slipped into his lap, facing him, without noticing. She blinked. She shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong. Utterly wrong.

Even if she didn't remember right now why it was wrong. She wanted him. And he wanted her. It was obvious. Especially in their current position.

"Hermione…" he managed to whisper while his chest heaved.

She could feel his breath on her face; they were so close. She smelled him. She felt him. And she didn't want to let him go. She wanted more than a kiss. She needed more than a kiss. It had gone on for so long, this whole… whatever it was. Too long.

She growled and bared her teeth as she tore at his robes with her claws, no, her hands. Exposing his chest. Pushing him down on the bed. Straddling him.

She kissed him again, inhaling his scent, rubbing herself against him. He fumbled with her robes. She shrugged out of them. Or tore them off - it didn't matter. She wanted him, he wanted her. That was all that mattered now.

And this had taken far too long.