Touched Your Lips

by Ydream08


Chapter 21

A flash of purple blinded Hermione. It took her a moment to realize the foe's spell had not collided with her.

Two feet on the ground after the trap Portkey, she was miraculously fine.

The black heap that fell in front of her and the agonizing scream it emitted, however, immediately shook the bewilderment off her.

She threw away the button in her hand and without missing a beat she procured her wand.

"PROTEGO!" she yelled and conjured the most powerful shield she could. Whoever had ambushed them; they were hiding while she and Orion were out in the open.

Hermione had to risk it and somehow take a look at Orion. It was him the spell had collided with. He took the spell for me.

Although her heart constricted hearing his screams, Hermione's instincts urged her to survey the hostile area. When she realized she couldn't see because of the tears in her eyes, she gave up and prayed to Merlin that her defensive spell would hold.

"Orion!" Oh, Merlin help them! Was that-? The side of his abdomen was burning with purple flames; from his armpit all the way to his hip. His clothes were charred and the bleeding flesh peeked from beneath.

As a Healer, Hermione had not been taught about this curse in detail but she had researched it. Not for lightreading, either. Hermione Granger knew this curse. Knew the excruciating pain it wrought upon at contact. Knew the scars it left behind.

She had been hit with it, back in her fifth year at Hogwarts. A name popped into her mind - her perpetrator - at the same time she recalled Lucius' words: "Russians. Both notorious for their mastery of the Dark Arts. Father says they have been set on a new mission."

Hermione had looked at his file roughly a week ago.

There remained only a handful of things that could enrage Hermione Granger. For a person of such a young age, she had lived a life filled with immeasurable experiences. And, yes, as vindictive as she was, even the mere thought of that miscreant brought out her bloodthirst. Eye for an eye, she fleetingly thought as the incantation of the very spell danced at the tip of her tongue. If only the man was in her vision… her aim was more than accurate.

"Her—aargh—Mione...Hermio...ne…"

Knuckles white as she gripped her wand, the ringing in her ears dulled for a moment. Orion was calling for her. He was in pain. He was injured.

If the castor had not been silenced, dear Miss Granger would have died for sure! It is a lethal curse, as far as I can tell.

Madame Pomfrey had been right back then. And now? Was Antonin Dolohov anything less than at his prime power? He hadn't yet been captured or thrown into Azkaban.

Orion needed her.

"I'm here," Hermione returned to Orion. "I'm here. You'll be okay. It's fine. You'll be fine."

They had to leave. Her shield could hold more than half an hour, even under attack, but Orion did not have that time. He had to be tended to, immediately. After stabilizing him, Hermione needed to check the counter-curse and the potions required to cure him— halting in her thoughts, Hermione tried to think whether she even had the book that included all that information.

Her mind drew a blank. Hermione realized she did not, in fact, have that book.

Something caught her hand— it was Orion. His fingers clasped at hers, and he cried in pain. "Help… please… it's hot… burning… it hurts… hurts…"

Forget the book. They had to leave. NOW.

As she waved her wand to Disapparate, Hermione was thinking through other alternatives that could heal -if not cure- the curse. Finding herself with passable ideas, her dread was about to dissipate with the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with setting your mind to healing a person, but Hermione was blocked.

Blocked from Disapparating.

A force crashed into her shield, making her shudder. She swished her wand, building another layer of defensive magic around them. She had to buy them time. Especially if what they were dealing with were Anti-Disapparition wards.

They were prepared, Hermione thought. Dolohov and whoever it was that probably accompanied him, had targeted her and made the most elaborate plan to capture her. How they even knew she would be using a Portkey, Hermione didn't know. She was confident that Orion had handled their travel with the utmost privacy!

"The Dark Lord wants retribution… But first, answers!" came a sinister voice which was followed by a string of spells crushing into her shield. The onslaught weakened her shield considerably. Great.

Hermione was feeling hot with the exertion of keeping her magical shield up.

She was growing desperate. Taking a glance at Orion, she surmised he was not doing good. He whimpered, his breaths coming in short intervals, his mouth bloodied probably from biting down on his lips, and his skin looked ashen. The flames continued to dance along the initially damaged area.

Think, she ordered herself. They were surrounded. Orion was injured. She had no chance of dueling more than one person and win while risking Orion's life. They had to escape. But there were Anti-Disapparation charms.

What could she do?

Nothing came to mind but she kept trying to think of something. There had to be some way. They wouldn't die here.

Orion Black was not alive in her time, so maybe this is how he died, ambushed by some Death Eaters.

Hermione shook her head. That was not what she wanted to think about right now. Orion was not going to die. She was not going to die, either. For Merlin's sake, Hermione had not survived the bloody war, the torture at the Malfoy's and her Healership programme to die in the frigging seventies—

Wait…

Her torture at the Malfoy's… Bellatrix LeStrange… Mudblood this and Mudblood that… I didn't steal anything… The escape.

Dobby had Disapparated them away.

Elf magic!

"Orion!" Her man was a mess, hardly hearing her as she called him. "Orion! Do you hear me?" She shook him. He was sweating. "I need you to—"

Oh, she was an idiot! Why Orion's elf? Dobby was alive in these times… He was a loyal Malfoy elf.

The question was, would he hear her if she called?

"DOBBY!"


"Oh, finally you brought it back!" Walburga cried out. "Orion came by the house on Tuesday, looking for documents… Salazar curse him if he has noticed. I told you, Rabastan, that there was no need to get these documents. Deeds, vault lists or what not…"

Rabastan walked to stand behind his lover where she sat on the couch, then touched her shoulders to ease the witch, slowly kneading her muscles with his strong hands. She moaned at his skill, all her temper fading. He leaned over and brushed his nose along the lines of her neck.

His lips teased her skin as he murmured: "But, luv, we talked about this. For you to let me choose the place where we're to make our own, I had to take a look at these. Once decided, you can decorate it all to your wonderful taste."

Walburga's hand came to rest on the side of his face, urging him to rather bury his lips in her skin and do wicked things than to utter this nonsense.

Walburga had not been pleased when he'd brought up the subject of obtaining a list of their assets in the first place. It took a lot of orgasms for her to be convinced to look for them.

Rabastan wanted to avoid a repeat of that argument. They had already done the deed anyway.

"Mmmhmmm… yess… Rab!…." Walburga basked in his attention. Rabastan was obviously not holding back, but the witch was not a complete fool.

"Oh Rab… This whole thing makes me uneasy! What if Orion suspects us and sniffs around… I mean, why can you not find a place of LeStrange's? Your family must have a cottage, at least. The French could never be poor!"

Well, not that they were poor, but as the second son, Rabastan was not allowed anything. And as his father always said, their assets were more liquid money than property.

Not to mention, it was not like Rabastan could go and claim the manor set aside for him that he was meant to receive once he married.

"You know we are anything but poor," he said with a little more force than necessary and reached for the necklace clasped at Walburga's neck that he had gifted her a month back, playing with its many jewels. "I told you, we don't invest in estates. The ones we do have are in France, and you made it clear you are not moving away."

Any reply was drowned out by Walburga's ravenous moans as Rabastan hands continued further down to play with her tits.

"You are beautiful, so perfect…" whispered Rabastan in Walburga's ear. He should distract her now or Salazar help him! Ending this with sex was the most desirable outcome. But truth be told, Rabastan could not continue to humour the woman from behind her half-sitting on the back of a couch. His back was beginning to ache.

"To the bedroom?" he rasped out.

"Wait, a moment…" Walburga pushed his hands away and righted her blouse. She cleared her throat, "Whiny! Come here now!"

The pop of the elf killed any mood Rabastan was in, at least to enjoy whatever was to come.

Generally speaking it took longer to think of England as close as he was to his ultimate goal.

Rabastan LeStrange had a plan. A plan to show his family he was no dimwit. He would become richer than even his brother, who would inherit the majority of their family assets. Rabastan's plan was going to turn the tables. He better thank his brother's crush Bellatrix Black for completing his plan into perfection, although inadvertently.

And it was perfect, the plan already going rather smoothly. His dealer had sent him an owl only this morning, saying the goods were obtained.

Feeling victorious already, Rabastan watched as Walburga ordered around the horrid elf so they could end the day amiably. The elf looked as if it would cry any moment. So repulsive.

"...You are not allowed to tell Orion of my dealings, understood? You are loyal to the House of Black, so I shouldn't see you ratting out a thing to my husband. Don't forget I choose the elves that get to have their heads over the stairs. If you don't do as I say, you will fail. You wouldn't want to disappoint your grandmother whose head is up there, would you?"

It was odd, Walburga warning the elf so insistently.

When the creature left, Walburga stood up and looked around one last time to make sure the elf had cleaned the room to her satisfaction. The only difference Rabastan noticed was that their wine glasses were gone.

"Why do you use this elf if you don't trust it?" Rabastan wondered.

Walburga scowled. She never liked being questioned.

"It belongs to that good for nothing husband of mine."

That news astonished Rabastan. So this elf was the key to his plans…He better remember what it looked like.

That aside, it still didn't make much sense. "It is your husband's? What if it tells—"

"It won't tell a thing about us. I don't care if it is his personal elf. He doesn't own everything, for Salazar's sake! The elf lives to serve the House of Black, and look at the chance, I am a Black, through and through!"

The older witch harrumphed and briskly walked ahead of him, signalling that this conversation was over. Rabastan's last wish was to argue, so he followed her to endure his captivity for the next hour or so. A hole was a hole, after all. A wealthy one at that.


"Here is the list. Purchase these items and restock them to the exact place I told you. Make sure the purchases are untraceable, and don't ever step anywhere other than where I told you in St. Mungos," Hermione repeated to Lucius. "We shouldn't get caught."

Lucius defeatedly sneered. "I can't believe you robbed the hospital."

"Not like I could take Orion to the emergency, could I?" Wiping her face, Hermione sighed. Her eyes hurt, as bloodshot as they were.

"Why didn't you?" Lucius asked doubtfully.

Hermione could have listed all the reasons tying to her secret of time travelling. However, there was a different reason she had not gone to St Mungos.

"Orion would have died by the time they'd figured out what kind of curse it is. Not like they would know the counter-curse."

"And you do?" Lucius sounded shocked.

In all honesty? No, Hermione didn't know exactly. It was simply slipping her mind… She remembered opening the book, reading the incantation, repeating it… but Hermione couldn't recollect the information. It felt like a cosmic joke.

Dobby had brought her and Orion to a guest room at Malfoy Manor, Disapparating to find the owners as soon as they were safe. After that it had been a blur to Hermione. Initial intervention spells had been easy to cast, but not productive. She had to have equipment to give Orion a continuous treatment and maintain his stabilization.

It had been a split second decision: Hermione Apparated to the St. Mungos Potions & Ailments Storage and acquired everything she needed.

She didn't regret a thing.

"He should be fine now. I put him under a mild sedation charm and started fluid replacement with analgesic potions. He will recover - slowly - but he will." She might not have cast the counter-curse, but Hermione contained the curse overall.

"I should stay and tell you how foolish you've been, Miss Granger, but apparently I need to cover for your annoying arse." Lucius folded the parchment and headed for the fireplace. "You are lucky that my dear wife is excitedly occupied with a shopping day with her friends."

Hermione nodded, her mind drawing a blank when the image of Narcissa Malfoy shopping came to her. Life continues.

"Father should be here any moment!"

Hermione was looking forward to seeing Abraxas. She had a few choice words to utter.

Then, Lucius was gone.

Hermione didn't linger in the empty corridor. Upon reentering the room, she checked Orion's status as she had been doing every half hour. Her Healer education said hourly check-ups should suffice, but it was obvious she was anxious.

His respiratory rate, heartbeat and blood pressure were all in the acceptable ranges. The blood loss was compensated thanks to blood replenishing potions and additional fluid replacements. Colour had yet to return to his face though, but that was to be expected.

Hermione had managed to cancel Dolohov's curse by the fifty third minute of their escape. Dobby had informed her of the time.

The purple flames had spread, the scarred tissue could be traced the entire length of the right side of his body, specifically starting from under his armpit. From front and back, the damage widened basally, nearing the lower border of his hip, but didn't reach to the midline. Unfortunately, the curse had done worse internally. Hermione had done her best to magically isolate Orion's organs from further exposure of the curse while the regeneration potions fought against the effects of the destructive spell.

The catch of Dolohov's curse was that it dug a hole in the body, and once it spread to the inside, it obliterated the internal organs without fail.

Hermione had got to it just in the nick of time to cast her special spell that contained the curse, even if she couldn't reverse it. She had managed to force the curse to the superficial layers, which was enough to keep Orion alive.

Now, the flames were no more than a blotch of glimmer at the surface of Orion's skin. It skidded across his injury, burning unharmed tissue close to it, but Hermione's magic tied it within certain borders.

Borders that her magical core was supplying to maintain.

"At least it worked," Hermione muttered, feeling the depletion caused by the special spell both physically and magically.

This type of magic created a bond between Orion and her far more intense than any blood bond. It wasn't conditioned to her as a person, but rather to her well-being. Merlin knew under what circumstances the spell would be broken. Would it require her death? Coma? Or would a simple blackout (Hermione fainting because of exhaustion) do the trick? Kill Orion in that very moment.

"What worked?" came the tired voice of Hermione's ally.

She shifted to take a look at him, and it was enough to make her cry. Where had he been? Hermione had thought she wasn't alone in this! Why had Abraxas been absent the past weeks without a word?

"Don't cry." He cringed. "I beg you: Don't cry."

"N-not… not like…" Oh, she couldn't breathe because of all the snot and saliva. Her head ached, and she was hot. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be a mess. She didn't want to cry. Her head hurt. It felt heavy. Not as much as my heart. "...not like I wanted this!"

And she continued to cry, her breath catching in her throat multiple times.

"Here, drink this." A glass was shoved in her hands. Bigger, paler fingers grasped her weak hands to help her drink. Swallowing distracted her enough to take in deeper breaths. "That's better."

Her sniffing was the only noise after that.

"Now… what did you say that worked?"

Hermione blinked. Wiped tears (and snot, she was sure) from her face. It came to her that she hadn't heard what Abraxas has said. "What?"

Abraxas sighed. "I knew this would happen."

The man looked at Orion.

Did he say he knew this would happen?

"What?!" Hermione had thought she ran out of any kind of emotion. Apparently not. Anger bubled to the surface. "What do you mean you knew?"

"One and half weeks ago, I was attacked. Nothing serious, do not worry." Hermione was out of any capacity to worry after the three hours that passed with Orion's injury. "After a business meeting, my partners suggested dinner. I accepted as usual. I knew the two. Granted, it had been some time since I had done business with them, but they are respectable pureblood wizards. If I am not mistaken, they are fellows of Evan Rosier."

Hermione wasn't an idiot. That meant the two were Death Eaters.

"They attempted to drug me. It got nasty when I realized something was off. It was luck that the one casting the Unforgivable was not the brightest. Horrible duel, either way. I got away miraculously."

"What about Dolohov and Karkaroff, I thought those two were after us?" Hermione said.

"They are; at least I believe so after Evan's friends failed. Because of that incident, I appointed a private detective for me and he came across those two Russians in places I visited. Looking into their files and learning their circles, I drew a conclusion. And I warned both you and Black about it before your getaway."

"You warned Orion?"

"Indeed, I did." Abraxas looked at the man by the four-poster bed. "I owed him that. It could have cost your life. Yours and his."

This was insane.

"He must know of the Diary and the Diadem." Hermione stood up. It felt wrong to talk about this with Orion present, but she knew he was out cold...like the dead.

No, he is not dead, her mind reminded her just in case.

"The Dark Lord knows nothing."

"Don't… You and I both know there is no other reason he would be after us—"

"I ended sponsoring him. Is that not a good enough reason? Narcissa Black married my son, and the Blacks, too, are no longer on the table for their cause. Wait for the news to get out that you are associated with Orion Black. Above all, you are speaking to people about what could be, what to do better, and you make it all happen. I know you gave the go-ahead to convert that old Chateau of Dagwort-Grangers' into a primary school for all magical children. I heard one wing will be turned into accomodations for those who are in need of it."

Hermione didn't know what to say. He was right of course. No need for her to be so paranoid about Horcruxes.

"I still say we should proceed with the Horcruxes. There is no time to waste."

Abraxas glanced at her sideways. "As I said, you, my girl, are not wasting any time."

Hermione understood his point. The primary school project. She knew it was worthwhile. For a second there, she had simply forgotten all that. The past week had been spent working nonstop. She hadn't even shared the news with Orion, waiting to be sure she was prepared to start.

"How did you know about the Chateau..?"

"Ah, yes. I have news! Mrs. Greengrass has sent you a letter confirming her support. It arrived at the Manor a few hours ago. Must be because you were here with Lord Black. I had the privilege of coming across it."

Hermione snorted: Was she surprised?

No.

"Thanks?"

"Your welcome." Abraxas rose to his feet as well. "How is Lord Black?"

That question stomped any light feeling that budded in Hermione. "Hanging in there, for now. I won't know for sure until he wakes up."

"Then we will just have to wait. Now, tell me what worked?"

It took a moment for Hermione to realize what Abraxas was referring to.

"This curse… It is one of Dolohov's own creations. I was struck with it years ago, but it hadn't been full force. Now, with Orion… I had to try a unique spell to counter it, not the actual counter-curse."

"What is it?"

"A spell I invented. During the War, while we were on the run, I used to cast blue flames for warmth and light. But it was inconvenient to contain them in magical jars. A friend of mine, her Mum, was a spell inventor… thinking that, I took a chance… how hard could it be, right? I accomplished creating a new spell. I rarely use it nowadays, though."

"And it helped with this curse?"

Hermione nodded. "Thank Merlin it did. Otherwise, Orion… He would have died."

"I'm sorry." Abraxas looked away. "I should have protected you. Somehow. I owe you that."

"I… Thank you, I guess. But I can take care of myself. Just, don't go and catch Dragon Pox while I'm not looking…"

Smiling at her companion, Hermione only now truly felt that she was beyond exhausted. She had been working on Orion for hours now. In St. Mungo's, tending to a patient was a team effort. She relied on fellow Healers, Apprentices, Nurses and even clerks. Here, she was alone.

"We have to finish Voldemort." Hermione hated feeling vulnerable. A society to feel safe in should not be a far-away dream. It was incomprehensible to be attacked and unable to resort to Law Enforcement or the hospital. There is no Kingsley Shacklebolt to be the Minister this time.

Hermione found that she didn't care. She had to believe that there were people who would fight for equality without the occurrence of a war. That this pureblood-mania could be overthrown with sane social campaigns and smart government moves.

"There is no reason to prolong this," Hermione added, not taking her eyes off Orion. She would not risk his life. "We should be free of that maniac once and for all."

Abraxas nodded absentmindedly, then stopped, her words dawning on him. His grin was feral, "As the lady demands."


"Hey, Sirius, have you heard from Miss Hermione?"

James was finishing a second helping of breakfast when Sirius sat across him. He had been counting the minutes to ask Sirius about it: His mate was late. James bet Sirius wouldn't have woken up at all if it weren't for Professor McGonagall's class in the first period.

"Hermione? What about her?" Sirius wondered.

"Did you take a shower?" James pointed out examining his friend. As clean as it was Sirius' black hair had a soft shine to it. He was filling his plate, too.

When was the last time James had seen Sirius looking this well?

"Nice observation, Prongs. Now I can say you actually have eyes."

Sirius and Peter sniggered. "Hey!" James shrieked at them.

"You are stating the obvious, James." Peter shrugged. "But I agree, Sirius. You even smell of soap and shampoo."

"Little Peter has a nose, look at the chance! Don't you only smell cheese?" Sirius shot jokingly.

Peter blushed but his smile didn't drop. "Funny, funny. Maybe I should gift you body wash for your birthday."

"Next year, Pete. I promise I will act surprised."

James shook his head. He had comedians as friends.

Back to the main topic.

"Miss Hermione, Sirius. Have you heard from her?"

"I heard you the first time, but you didn't reply to me. So as the dutiful and patient friend that I am, let me ask again. What happened?"

"Isn't that the witch tutoring you? Weren't you owling with her?" Peter joined.

"There haven't been any owls visiting our side of the table the last week. For neither of us." Remus remarked and closed his newspaper. It was time for them to pack up and get to class.

"That's the point!" James said. They were all copying Remus. Only Sirius was stuffing his face with something to eat till the last moment. "She hasn't written a reply! It's been five days, weekend included. It has never taken her this long. Do you think something's up? Have you heard from her? Has she written anything to you? I mean, it wouldn't make sense for her to write to you but not me… but still..."

"You have a huge crush on her!" Peter exclaimed pointing at James. It was James' time to blush. He even felt his ears burn. "I thought you were in love with Evans."

"Shut up, Peter! It's not like that. Tell him, Sirius…" James turned to see his mate's eyes shifting to his younger brother Regulus Black across the Great Hall. The younger boy was sitting at the Slytherin table.

"Sirius?"

His friend looked solemn and tired.

"Nothing… It's just that Hephaestus comes to Regulus daily."

James didn't know what that meant, but Remus gave some sort of explanation.

"Isn't that you father's owl, Sirius?"

Sirius nodded and sighed. "At least one of us is getting letters."