Chapter 12
Hermione was the first to wake. She looked around and found herself in the familiarity of her own room and bed. She looked over to the side at the curtain divider. It was left open last night because Hermione couldn't sleep unless she could see Harry, but was unwilling to sleep in his bed.
Harry slept across the room on his back, and Hermione turned fully on her side to watch him. She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, finding comfort in it, though it was somewhat hard to see with how far he was.
It had been a week since the ball, and Hermione found that she hadn't calmed down much since. She checked over Harry thoroughly each night, demanding that he take off his shirt as if some wound would magically appear.
Harry seemed to humour her and allow her routine checks at night before they would go to bed. He would talk to her about random things, mostly about what he had read that day. The only thing he wouldn't budge on was that if Hermione insisted on checking him each night, she would do it wandless.
Hermione seemed to be becoming more adept at using wandless magic, her diagnostic charm becoming more detailed each night she did it. Keeping her magic surrounding her body had become like breathing to her just as Harry said it would.
Checking the time, Hermione realized it was quite early in the morning. She should go back to sleep, but her eyes stayed locked on Harry.
Hermione was just looking, she reminded herself. Looking was enough—it had to be.
o-o-o-o
Harry stared at the invitation with mild interest. It was from the House of Greengrass inviting him for lunch. It had been happening more since the ball. He had declined most invitations as they alluded to introducing him further to their daughters, and Lord Greengrass was no different.
Yet, no matter how much he had declined Lord Greengrass's invitation, the man would send another one. So, Harry had finally accepted.
"Do you know much about the Greengrasses?" Harry had asked Hermione, who hummed.
"Not really," Hermione shook her head. "They have a daughter who was in my year at Hogwarts and I believe a younger sister. They were both sorted into Slytherin, so I don't know anything about them. I heard they were a neutral house and very aloof. They're known to be the most beautiful within pureblood circles. I believe they've gotten multiple marriage contract offers."
So, there seemed to be no useful information about the House of Greengrass other than the fact they were neutral. The dedication to getting Harry to come, though, was enough to make Harry accept with curiosity.
And so, he sat across from Beckham Greengrass and his wife, Camellia.
They were pleasant people, much more enjoyable to dine with than Avery or the Malfoys. There was hardly any business talk while Camellia talked about their days in Hogwarts or her current hobbies.
It seemed that their daughters were abroad. Astoria, their youngest, lived in Austria with their cousins. Daphne, their oldest, was in Germany finishing her courses for her mastery. She was to return today, but it would be later.
So, as it would seem, there were no daughters in the house for them to introduce Harry to. He was beginning to wonder if this really was just a simple luncheon where the House of Greengrass wanted to meet Harry Potter.
But soon, the lunch was over, and Camellia excused herself to tend to her garden while Beckham invited Harry to his office for a drink. It was in Beckham's study room that he was able to understand the man a little more.
His office was decorated with pictures of his family. They travelled together often, it seemed. There were also old artifacts in an enchanted glass case.
Harry was beginning to see what Hermione meant by the Greengrasses being neutral— Beckham had photos of his family in the muggle world sitting beside ancient dark artifacts that had been passed down through the generations.
"What did you think of the banquet?" Beckham asked.
Harry turned. "It was enjoyable," he answered, his tone flat but not emotionless.
Beckham hummed as he took a sip of his firewhiskey. "And how has it been since? I imagine you're getting bombarded with invitations from other purebloods to meet their daughters, especially from those who didn't have a chance to dance with you that night."
Harry chuckled. "None more persistent than you were."
Beckham gave a half-lipped smile, and it reminded Harry that the Greengrasses were rather young. He supposed they were the same age as Lily and Sirius.
"But I'm the only one you've said yes to," Beckham pointed out, and Harry cocked his brow before the older man waved it off. "Word travels quickly within pureblood circles. The Parkinsons went barking mad when they heard you had accepted my invitation and not theirs."
Harry vaguely remembers someone named Pantsy. He was not quite sure what to say because the only reason he had accepted the Greengrasses' invitation was that Hermione had said they were a neutral house and that their daughters weren't people who had actively gone out of their way to be horrid.
"You must realize why the purebloods have been lining up to introduce you to their daughters," Beckham continued on, swirling his drink slightly.
Harry did, which had been why he outright refused all the invitations, sans Beckham who sent one every day, some days even twice. Harry had expected to meet his two daughters who would fawn over him, but the entire ordeal had been more interesting than that.
"Yes," Harry shrugged. "But I'm a man who values the sanctity of marriage. You were there the day of my debut, were you not?"
Beckham nodded.
"Then you're aware that I'm neutral about muggle-borns. While the marriage I have wasn't what I'd have chosen, I'm not displeased by it. Despite Hermione's misgivings, she is a competent wife and she's pleasant to look at."
"Oh?" Beckham smiled. "My daughter has told me a little about Hermione from their days at Hogwarts. You'll have to forgive me for saying this but many wouldn't quite say Hermione is a looker."
"We all have our tastes," Harry shrugged.
"Have you heard anything about my daughters?" Beckham asked.
Outside of what Hermione had told him, Harry vaguely remembered Sophia saying that Daphne was beautiful as well.
"A little," Harry confessed. "Not much other than they're bright and beautiful."
Beckham's eyes twinkled as he heard Harry. "Yes," Beckham said somewhat proudly. "Both things are true. My daughter, Daphne, should be home soon. You should meet her."
It was then Harry's brow rose slightly. Before he could say anything, they both heard the front door opening and voices filling the house.
"Ah," Beckham smiled. "That must be her right now."
"Lord Greengrass," Harry called quietly. "While I'm not opposed to meeting her, I hope this isn't a misunderstanding of all we just talked about. No matter how beautiful your daughter is, I have no intentions of entertaining others. My life is busy as it is."
The smile never left Beckham's face.
"Do you know what some of the gossip is about you, Lord Potter?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't care for petty gossip."
A chuckle escaped Beckham's lips. "Perhaps not, but all gossip, even petty gossip makes its way to the Dark Lord." Beckham looked directly at Harry. "And yours, despite all that you've done and said, is that you are actually in love with your little muggle-born wife. That you can't bear to entertain anyone else because she's actually got you wrapped around her little finger."
Harry gripped his glass noticeably harder. His eyes hardened. It should've been a warning sign for Beckham to stop, but the man continued on.
"My daughter loves to regale old tales from her days at Hogwarts. Did you know that in their 5th year, Hermione and her little group formed a secret resistance of students? They called it Dumbledore's Army—the DA," Beckham drawled.
Harry knew. He recalled the Pensieve memories.
"To be young and in a war, right?" Beckham grinned. "There were days when the DA had trained so much, went from accomplishing little to becoming a frightening threat. And some nights, when they were all too tired from training, do you know what they'd do?"
Harry baulked, knowing exactly what was coming next.
"The older students would sneak firewhiskey in and they'd drink. Even uptight, Prefect Hermione Granger. And my, they say she can really handle her liquor. Do you want to know how I knew that?" Beckham's smile looked less non-threatening. "My daughter, pureblood and all, joined the DA."
"Speak clearly," Harry curled his lip in irritation. "What do you want?"
Harry's mind was racing. Killing Death Eaters was one thing, but Harry doubts he could get away with the murder of a neutral house.
There'd be no explanation for it. Harry was caught in the thick of it.
Beckham sat relaxed despite the situation he had put them in. He swirled his drink a little. "You're probably unaware of the history around her, being away from when the war was at its height. Most purebloods were eager to support the rise of the Dark Lord. He who promised to restore things to the traditional ways and have the elite rise."
The wheels in Harry's head kept turning as Beckham spoke.
"I've raised my family to be neutral. We were going to be fine whether or not the Dark Lord won or lost. Personally, we didn't see too much of a problem with him rising. There are some traditions we think are important and should be upheld," Beckham spoke, and then he looked at Harry gravely. "And then the Dark Lord started killing purebloods. They don't realize it, but I do."
The wheels began to slow down.
"The Dark Lord doesn't care about purebloods. We're just a convenient and powerful way to support his cause." It was the first time Harry had seen Beckham's face hold an unpleasant expression. "But there was no speaking out. If you spoke, you were certain to face death. So, we held our stance and stayed neutral, staying out of his way."
Beckham started to rub his face with his hand. "But it gets harder to stay neutral every day. Soon, it won't even be an option." He pursed his lips. "And my daughters, Astoria especially, are starting to move away from being neutral."
The wheels came to a complete stop.
"And they don't agree with the pureblood way," Harry surmised, his brow raised.
Beckham gave a self-deprecating smirk. "My daughters are the light of my life. I fear for them every single day, which is why I sent them both away. My eldest is a little more sensible and will at least hide what she truly believes, even if she wants to fight."
"This doesn't explain to me what you want from me," Harry tonelessly said.
Beckham downed the rest of his drink before setting his cup aside.
"I can't move or relocate. If I do, my daughters will come back here and fight anyway. I had known the Order went into hiding after losing. I was prepared to abandon neutrality and hide them. My house-elf would've found Kreacher or Longbottom's elf," Beckham revealed. "But then, you showed up and snatched them right from me. What's worse was that you were siding with the Dark Lord. Until the banquet."
Harry didn't react.
"I thought it was odd that you would claim Hermione had a low alcohol tolerance. If she had drunk in your presence before, you'd know that wasn't the case. Hermione would be too wary of you to act drunk before you, worried you might take advantage of her body," Beckham mused as if he knew. "So, I can only assume that someone had poisoned her cup and instead of just revealing it to everyone, you drank it and sent a message to the perpetrator."
Harry's body was tense.
"I don't care what Hermione Granger is to you," Beckham finally said. "I care that you're part of the resistance and sending my daughter to you means I can keep on the neutral side a little longer. I can keep them safer that way."
"And why should I help you?" Harry cocked his brow. "I don't fancy the idea of having more people under my house to keep safe."
"As I said, petty gossip has its way of reaching the Dark Lord. I'm not telling you to marry my daughter, but keeping her around is beneficial to keep other purebloods away from you and away from speculating anything."
But Harry remained unimpressed and unconcerned.
"Why don't you meet her first?" Beckham smirked. "She'd be willing to explain her use."
There was a knock on the door that led Harry to believe this was a timed ambush.
"Come in," Beckham beckoned without taking his eyes off of Harry.
Harry's eyes turned to the door as it opened. Long lengths, lithe figure, and platinum-blonde hair came into view.
It felt like the air was sucked out of Harry's lungs—like he had been punched in the gut.
Daphne Greengrass was indeed beautiful, and rumours were correct that she may as well be the most beautiful witch there was.
But Harry couldn't think about any of that. He couldn't think about that because when he looked into her unsuspecting face, all he could see was—
Daphia.
The Immortal Queen.
His politically arranged wife.
The woman he killed.
Anger immediately coursed through Harry's body, and he glared at her. His ears pounded, almost deafening him, and adrenaline rushed into his blood. He was tempted to use Legilimency on her, but she would know. There wasn't a chance that she wasn't a trained Occlumens.
How had this happened? Harry had been careful, had been deliberate when he put her in eternal sleep.
"Pleased to meet you, Lord Potter," Daphne politely curtsied. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, eldest to the House of Greengrass."
Harry merely stared at her. His magic started to search at her, rifling as non-invasive as he could be. There was a possibility that her body had simply reincarnated, but her soul didn't transfer over.
She didn't seem to react to seeing him in any way. As a schoolmate of Hermione, Daphne hadn't done anything to her.
But Harry wasn't going to stay and find out.
"Tell Lord Potter why you went to study in Germany," Beckham told his daughter.
Daphne turned her attention back to Harry.
"I'm studying to be a healer," she told him slowly. "Germany is quite advanced in her medicine and practices."
There was a pause.
"I understand a healer will be sent to your manor soon," Daphne carefully said. "I would be happy to offer my opinions and advice."
Harry bit his tongue. It was a tempting offer. Lately, there hadn't been much fruit to bear when brainstorming what to do when the healer came.
There had been a few dark options Harry was considering that he hadn't spoken about yet, but he didn't want to use any of them unless there was nothing else.
But as he stared at Daphne's face and the memory of holding Herminia's dead body surfaced, Harry hardened.
"There's no need," Harry bit out. "I have no interest."
Harry turned to look at Beckham, who seemed shocked. "I trust that we will mutually keep each other's secret lest we both want to die. The lunch was wonderful, but I can see myself out."
Harry placed his glass down and walked out abruptly. He didn't even look at Daphne as he brushed past her.
It didn't matter if Daphne knew or not. Harry was simply never going to be willing to risk Hermione again. And until he could distinguish how much Daphne knew, Harry would not allow Daphne anywhere near Hermione.
o-o-o-o
A week had passed since Harry had the luncheon at the Greengrasses. Hermione noted that Harry seemed lost in thought often since. Something had happened at the Greengrasses', but Harry would not say.
All Harry offered was that he had an ordinary luncheon and met Daphne Greengrass, who returned from abroad. It was supposed to be nothing out of the ordinary, but Hermione felt something was off. But since it was clear that Harry wasn't open to discussing it more, she didn't push even though she wanted to.
So, Hermione would absently practice her wandless magic at night while watching Harry. It would be after Hermione had spent time with others teaching them what Harry had taught her. Everyone was at the basics—expanding their magic.
"Harry?"
Harry glanced up at Hermione from his book. It was strange watching him read PCs for Dummies.
"It's almost time. We should head down for the meeting," Hermione told him.
Harry closed his book and put it down before he stood. They walked together in silence, and Hermione felt—bothered.
"How do you feel with your wandless magic so far?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Um, good, I think," Hermione answered as she blinked at the suddenness. "Feels like things are coming together easily now when I use it."
Harry nodded as he turned to give her a small smile. "Good, I want to start practicing duelling then."
"Duelling?" Hermione pursed her lips with a crinkle of her brow.
Harry nodded again. "While I do hope the wand situation works out, I want you to be proficient at duelling without your wand, even if it's just a backup option."
Hermione let out a shuddered breath but agreed. It would be somewhat comforting to learn how to duel better. She was intelligent and perfect in practice, but when it came to the real deal, even she stuttered.
"How's the training with everyone else going?" Harry asked.
"Good," Hermione nodded, thinking back to the lessons she had done with everyone after dinner. "I'm trying to teach them like how you taught me."
Harry stopped, causing Hermione to pause as well as she looked at him curiously.
"Exactly like how I taught you?" Harry asked with a quirk of his brow.
Hermione blushed as she started walking again. "Well...no, not exactly."
Harry let out a deep chuckle as he trailed after her.
They were the last two to make it to the meeting. Things settled quickly, with everyone quieting down. Harry noticed their group had gotten larger from their previous couple of meetings.
"There are a few things we need to check-in on," Hermione led the meeting, Harry happy to sit and watch her.
"How's the progress with the wands?" Hermione asked as he turned to Sophia and Neville.
They looked at each other, Neville smiling at Sophia encouragingly.
Sophia looked back at the group and nodded. "The wand making is coming together slowly, but it's good so far. I'll have the body of the wands finished soon and then we'll need to consider what we can use for magical cores. We all know that typical cores are made using elements of magical creatures, but there are some things we can't replicate. Hair would be a good start but we need something more intimate without causing damage if we lose it. I was considering teeth."
Harry hummed. "Teeth would be a good option. They're stronger and more durable, and adult teeth hold a lot of magical properties."
"We still have to consider getting the Meldaulron," Neville frowned. "We've tried to do more research, but the only ones that are known are with the Ollivanders. We need to check out the Oak Creek property but it's risky because it's under Riddle's control."
"Remus and I can do recon," Sirius jumped in.
"We have some products that can be used," Fred started to offer.
"It'll be helpful to keep in touch while out on missions," George finished.
"An improved version of our—"
"Extendable ears."
Lily said she had been working with Anna Beck regarding potion ingredients. The only thing was they needed a cauldron, which they wouldn't be able to buy or be allowed to have here. Luckily, Lily knew where she could get one: at Severus Snape's muggle home.
Therefore, Lily needed to go through one of the portals to go to muggle London. Sirius and Lily bickered a little about him coming along while Harry tried to work with them when they would go.
The only last thing left on the list was regarding the healer who was coming.
"I talked to Kiran," Sue spoke up. "She's been trying to practice transfiguring her and my body to look like we're pregnant, fetus and all. There hasn't been any success yet, but...it might be an option if she can do it."
"Are there any other things anyone has found?" Bill asked.
Neville hummed, putting his fingers to his chin in deep thought. "There is a plant that grows in the Forbidden Forest that can be mixed with other ingredients to prevent becoming pregnant."
There were some hopeful eyes.
But then Neville frowned. "But the only issue is that it can cause permanent infertility, especially with long-term use."
"It's better than the alternative," Sophia muttered, and Neville gave her a sad smile.
Harry was briefly reminded that there was a chance this problem could be solved if he had agreed to Lord Greengrass' proposal.
Though when he remembered seeing Daphne's face...the reminder was too much. But Harry knew they were running out of time, and there was a possibility that he may need to swallow his anger.
"You let us worry about that," Lily said as she looked at Harry's stressed face. "We'll figure something out," she promised as she looked at Sirius.
The rest of the meeting went on with discussions that Harry just sat back and watched. The group was becoming more cohesive, no longer needing him to guide them. It was satisfying to watch, especially when they turned to Hermione.
Luna walked towards him, sitting down.
"It's nice, isn't it?" She said dreamily. "Everyone is so motivated when they know they have a part to play."
Harry nodded. Then, Luna turned to look at him once again with those glassy silvery eyes.
"She'll have a part too," Luna said vaguely. "Even if you don't want her to, she belongs in this war as much as the rest of us."
Harry knew who Luna was talking about instantly, and he clenched his jaw.
"What if she's a threat to us?" Harry asked as he scowled.
"You mean to Hermione?" Luna asked airily. "She's not. Daphne is...Daphne. And the most special thing about Daphne is that she's good at listening to her instincts."
"So?" Harry rubbed his face.
Luna stared at Harry a moment longer before she looked back at the group. She wished Ginny could be here. Ginny was good at knocking sense into people.
"So," Luna licked her lips. "Her instincts will tell her that hurting Hermione would not end kindly for her."
o-o-o-o
Days passed quickly until Harry received an owl from the Dark Lord. Their scheduled meeting had arrived again and he'd sent details on where to meet. There were also hints about how Hogwarts would be starting soon, and Harry needed to provide an answer.
The instructions on where to meet the Dark Lord were vague. Harry ended up at the entrance of McNair's property as the gates opened. An elf came to walk him into the main room where Voldemort stood alongside some of his Death Eaters.
"Lord Potter," Voldemort's lip curled. "So glad you can join us."
There was no sign of dinner like Harry thought there'd be, and it was as if Voldemort had read his mind.
"I thought we'd do something a little more interesting tonight," Voldemort's lip remained quirked. "I thought you'd appreciate it since this was all due to your hard work."
The statement was vague and caused Harry to pause. Still, he nodded as he allowed Lucius to step forward and offer his arm to apparate. There was momentary nausea that hit Harry's stomach through the tight feeling of his entire being squeezed through a tube.
When Harry opened his eyes, he had to adjust to the low lighting of the room. There was a slight foggy haze in the room and the strong smell of tobacco and sweat.
There were multiple private rooms wherever they were and couches littered throughout the building.
"Take a seat, Lord Potter," Voldemort gestured to a lone armchair. "You must be wondering where we are."
Harry sat down, adjusting his suit as he leaned back as he looked around, resisting the urge to hold his breath. The other Death Eaters were laughing, pulling out their smoking pipes as they looked at Harry.
"Welcome to the McKinnon property." Voldemort's voice pulled back Harry's attention.
There was a moment of displacement as Harry heard the words, but it now made sense why Voldemort had decided to take Harry here tonight. It was Harry's words and advice that allowed Voldemort to secure the place after all.
"Ah," Harry nodded. "I'm glad you were able to secure the property."
"It was due to your advice, Lord Potter," Voldemort tilted his head. "Tonight will be about rewarding you."
Harry didn't bother trying to decline as it would only insult Voldemort. It was clear the Dark Lord was aiming for something.
"I've found use for those muggle-borns trapped here as well," Voldemort stared at Harry as he spoke the entire time. Even when he called out, "Bring them out!" The order wasn't to anyone in particular, but someone had gotten up.
Soon enough, a door opened from another room, and there was a line of women coming out, bound by magical manacles at their wrists. They were scantily dressed, and Harry noticed something about them as they stood shakily, swaying somewhat back and forth.
It was instant. Some Death Eaters beckoned some of the women over, and it was like they were trained. They dispersed as they stumbled towards whoever called them, sitting in their laps, numbed and dazed.
The women who weren't called began to dance even when there was no music.
The smoky haze, the scent of smoke and sweat, and now this? It was making Harry angry and nauseated.
"It takes a lot to run magical Britain," Voldemort mused. He hadn't called any of the women over, seemingly satisfied with Bellatrix at his side. He seemed uninterested in the women who danced too. "It costs a lot of money to have ambitions. Even though the purebloods are happy to finance me, they have limits too."
Harry stayed silent in his seat.
"I remember when dragon handlers would come to Britain every year during the summer," Voldemort leaned back into the couch. "There was an annual gathering where breeders would sell eggs and hatchlings. It made such a fortune, especially if it was considered to be exotic."
There was a rising dread in Harry's stomach.
"And I thought, I could apply that here," Voldemort smirked. "Some of them fetch quite a price. Of course, not as high as a pureblood would be, but a virginal one could nearly match. Good in rituals, I assume."
Harry resisted closing his eyes. "Interesting," he managed to get out. "Where have you been selling them to?"
"All across Europe," Voldemort answered. "It's too risky to smuggle them into North America."
"Are these all of them?" Harry asked as he looked around, counting about eight women.
Voldemort shook his head. "No, the goods are stored elsewhere. There haven't been any buyers yet but there will certainly be an offer before the end of the month. These women, well," Voldemort started, and Bellatrix giggled psychotically, almost sneering. "They're all used up. They won't sell for a higher price and as I've told you, some of my Death Eaters enjoy partaking in these activities."
Finally, Voldemort turned back to Harry, staring at him intently. "But tonight is about you, Lord Potter. I know your tastes lie in willing participants. While they may be a little...disjointed, they're quite amenable. I've been saving one for you."
As if on cue, one of the women who was dancing floundered away from the other girls. Dolohov gripped her wrist as he dragged her over to Harry, forcing him to stand as they approached.
"Well, Lord Potter," Voldemort suavely grinned with a quirk of his brow. "Don't hesitate to join in on the fun."
The stumbling woman held onto Harry, unsure of where she even was most likely but too incoherent to realize anything.
"I'm so happy to please you, Lord Potter," she slurred.
Voldemort was watching Harry, testing him. Lord Greengrass's words came back to haunt him, about how every rumour made its way to the Dark Lord.
And Harry's rumour that he cared too much about Hermione.
It was why Voldemort was trying to push someone else onto Harry, to test if it were true. It was one thing to lack interest in whether or not someone was a muggle-born, but it was an entirely different matter to be too interested in one—more interested than in Voldemort himself.
They were all watching him as if waiting for him to rebel so they would have reason to attack. Avery especially, who was watching from the corner and smoking his pipe with McNair.
But having come so far, Harry clenched his fist so tightly for a moment, he nearly drew blood before he let go. Wrapping an arm around the muggle-born, Harry made a show of brushing her hair aside from her neck as he held her. He neared his face towards her neck, holding it there so close but never actually allowing his lips to touch her. Her hair fell back, obscuring the view from everyone, but she hummed in pleasure nonetheless.
The girl had no idea what was going on.
Harry pulled back, letting his eyes roam her as if he was satisfied. "Thank you, my Lord," he looked to Voldemort. "I will use your gift well. But I am a man who prefers my intimate acts private."
Voldemort quirked his brow as if he didn't believe Harry, but it let it slide. He gestured something with his hand, and Dolohov opened one of the private rooms for Harry.
"Enjoy, Lord Potter," Voldemort spoke before he could move. "I'll be interested in seeing what fun you'll have."
Harry had to drag the muggle-born along with him as she clung to him, half-unconscious and stumbling. When he entered the private room, Harry set her on the bed before checking around to see if there were any charmed or wards placed in the room. Once satisfied there was nothing, Harry placed up a locking ward and a silencing charm.
He immediately began to rub his face in stress before pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to decide what to do.
Voldemort wanted answers, wanted results and proof of it. There was no doubt he'd use legilimency on the girl to see.
But no matter what, Harry had no interest in touching anyone other than Hermione. He would also never touch someone's body when consent couldn't be given.
And so, there was only one choice left in the matter.
Harry needed to use his version of legilimency.
But more than peering into someone's mind, Harry had to go further. Harry needed to break down this woman's mind and build it back up with false memories that he'd create.
Harry rolled up his sleeves before he used his magic to levitate the girl's body around until her head was at the end of the bed carefully. Kneeling down, he cradled the girl's head in his hands gently. He needed to be careful, and he needed to be thorough.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered his apology before he honed his focus and dived into the girl's mind.
The girl's eyes snapped open, her back arching off the bed as her mouth dropped open silently.
It was another hour before Harry emerged from the room with his tie loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. He mussed his hair and rumbled his clothes.
Voldemort seemed to have been waiting, sitting on the couch with Bellatrix attached to his side. He looked at Harry, assessing his appearance and seemingly approving so far.
"You quite took your time," Voldemort commented, gesturing for one of his Death Eaters to bring the girl out.
"I'm a gentleman," Harry ruffled his hair unperturbed. "And I clean up after myself because I don't like messes." Harry said it casually as they brought out the girl, dressed as she was before, but her clothes rumbled and hair a mess. She was slurring again and unsteady but slightly more conscious than earlier.
Voldemort stared at the girl, and it was a long moment before the corner of his lips lifted cruelly. It was just as Harry suspected.
"Harry," Voldemort called. It was the first time Harry was called by his first name instead of his title. It was then Harry knew that he had made tremendous progress. Harry was close to being in Voldemort's inner circle. "Come sit by me," Voldemort ordered, pushing Bellatrix to sit up more as he gestured to his empty side. "The night is still young, let's have a couple of drinks."
o-o-o-o
It was the dead hours of the night when Harry showed up at the Greengrass estate. He stood there and waited as the wards would surely be alerting members of the house someone was there.
It wasn't long before the gates opened, and Harry walked up the long pathway back up to the door he left weeks ago.
He knocked, and the door opened a second later.
Beckham stood there in his sleepwear, bewildered to see Harry again. Not only that. Harry, who seemed worn down but eyes still hard, with his rumbled clothes and smelled like sex.
"I'm ready to make that deal," Harry said. "But there are additional conditions I want."
Beckham quirked his brow. "You've returned to me, Lord Potter. What makes you think you have the upperhand now?"
"Because you're my first choice, not my only, whereas your situation hasn't changed any. I'm still the only person who can keep your daughter safe."
Grimacing, Beckham finally let Harry in.
"Let's be frank. It's late and I'm sure all of us want to go to bed," Harry said as he dropped his jacket on the chair when they reached Beckham's study room. "We're going to make a contract."
"A contract?"
"Similar to an unbreakable vow. But I'm not making an oath to you, nor are you making one to me. This is an equal exchange between us to form an agreement. Instead of dying if the agreement isn't fulfilled, we lose our magic," Harry explained. "Preferable, no?"
"And what is it that you want?" Beckham asked cautiously. "Outside of my daughter being your healer."
Harry rolled up his sleeve. He placed his palm over the nice rosewood of Beckham's desk.
"I'll agree to take Daphne in and keep her safe along with Astoria if she returns if you can arrange a buyer for the muggle-borns the Dark Lord has captive," Harry spoke plainly. "I assume you already know about this lucrative business," he sneered. "From there, the muggle-borns are to be freed and given what they need to safely go to America or Canada."
Beckham blinked at Harry's request, letting the silence fall between them for a long moment.
"Alright," Beckham agreed with a nod. "I can arrange for my contacts to reach out for a bid."
Harry nodded tersely. "I'll arrange for Gringotts to send you money that you may give to the buyers."
"Sounds like we are in agreement then," Beckham stood straight. "I'm assuming you will draw up the magical contract?"
Harry nodded, and Beckham had to brace himself for the sudden wave of magic that surrounded them, eyes drawn to the sound of wood being carved into. When Harry lifted his hand, Beckham stared at the small ritual circle carved onto his desk.
Being from a long-standing pureblood family, Beckham could recognize some of the symbols and their meanings.
"A blood contract," Beckham looked up questioningly, and Harry nodded.
"Correct," Harry said, somewhat impressed. "It's a binding blood contract based on intent to fulfill the terms."
Beckham didn't say anything else as he pulled out his wand from his pocket, casting a spell that would prick his finger. Harry merely lifted his thumb to his teeth.
Similar to when he created the contract with Sirius, once the drops of blood entered the circle, it flashed before it slowly began to recede from the wood.
Beckham gasped, clutching his chest as his knees wobbled. He caught himself before falling. He stared at Harry, who remained standing still, though his eyes alight with slight concern.
Lord Potter was strange, but Beckham had the sense to not prod into it.
There was a sudden knock on the door.
"Come in," Beckham rasped.
The door opened, and Daphne stepped in, concern written in her eyes as she stared at her father and eyed Harry warily.
"It's fine," Beckham waved off. "Just doing business. Lord Potter has agreed to take you under his wing. You are to spend the majority of the week at Lord Potter's until late evening. Is that clear?"
"Yes, father," Daphne nodded with her hands crossed over another in front of her.
"Good, why don't you show Lord Potter out?" Beckham told Daphne, clearly needing a moment to himself.
Harry made eye contact with Beckham, nodding stiffly once before grabbing his suit jacket and following Daphne out.
The house was quiet, and it was apparent that Daphne had woken up in the middle of the night to check on her father. She wore a silk nightgown with a thick shawl over herself.
The walk was silent between the two of them; Harry had no desire to speak. It wasn't until they reached the front doors that Daphne stopped him.
"Thank you," Daphne said softly. "I hope we can find mutual ground as allies."
Harry's face remained stoic as he turned to the platinum blonde-haired girl.
"Let me make this clear," Harry coldly spoke to her. "This is nothing more than a contract. I have no interest in you and I bid you to refrain from having any interest in me. You will be welcomed into my manor during the contractual hours but besides seeking out your expertise as a healer, don't expect me to keep you company. Stay away from me and stay away from Hermione."
Harry disregarded Daphne's stiffened expression as he turned and walked out the door, ready to go back home. He pulled at the tie around his neck. Today had been a long day, and the fact that it wasn't over when he went home was irksome.
o-o-o-o
Harry took a whiff of himself.
He no longer smelled like tobacco and sex. The cleaning charm had rid him of those scents, but he was still definitely going to shower when he had the chance.
"Harry," Hermione breathed when he entered through the front doors.
"You're still up?" Harry asked with a frown. It was well after 2 AM, edging towards 3 AM. He expected that she'd be asleep by now. He'd been planning to do some extra work before showering and heading to bed himself.
"There's..." Hermione swallowed. "Sirius brought someone."
And Harry knew immediately who Harry brought and sighed. Tonight of all nights? He supposed it made sense. Lucius was still most likely with Riddle right now.
"Alright," Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Come with me."
Hermione nodded, letting Harry place his hand on the small of her back as he guided her forward. "Where are they waiting?"
"Sirius left them in the upstairs lounge," she muttered.
Harry said nothing else as they walked, and when they approached the room, he didn't hesitate to open it and step through.
Sirius, Narcissa, and Draco turned their heads, immediately standing when they saw Harry and Hermione.
"Lord Potter," Narcissa greeted, curtseying while Draco bowed stiffly.
"Narcissa. Draco." Harry nodded before he quirked his brow. "Sirius advised me you were looking to seek an audience with me but I didn't think it'd be so soon."
"Now is the only opportune time when we can be away from the watchful eye of the Dark Lord and my husband," Narcissa stated bluntly.
"Harry," Sirius cut in, grabbing his attention. "I've made Narcissa and Draco make unbreakable vows to keep everything tonight a secret and I've tested their occlumency."
Harry nodded, satisfied. "Thank you," he said genuinely.
"It's the least I could do since I brought you this problem," Sirius frowned as he looked at Narcissa and Draco. "I'll take my leave now, but call me if you need anything."
Harry and Hermione bid Sirius off before they turned to the Malfoys.
Narcissa eyed Hermione, Sirius' words ringing in her head that this was Harry's most important person—that if they wanted any chance of help, the person to plead to was Hermione.
But Narcissa was a proud person just as much as she was clever. Even during the worst of her fears, she still insisted on maintaining dignity.
"I'm asking Lord and Lady Potter to consider becoming allies with us," Narcissa tilted her chin up.
Harry leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he rested his elbow on the armrest.
"Allies?" He mused. "That would be with the assumption that you have something worth offering me. I know exactly what I bring to the table, and clearly, so do you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
Harry rubbed his fingers together. "So, tell me why should I?" He then looked over at Draco. "Why should I save you, or for that matter, your son?" His voice barely held back his apparent disdain for Draco.
Narcissa sensed it right away while Draco stiffened. It wasn't going her way, and Narcissa knew that holding her pride would get her nowhere with Harry.
"Please, Lord Potter," Narcissa dropped her pride, pleading. "Draco—it's my fault that Draco grew up the way he did."
"Mother—"
"Hush, Draco," she quieted him, shaking her head. "It's true. Both your father and I taught you blood purity and we spoiled you because we loved you. Your father let you get away with everything and I let your father get away with making every decision."
Narcissa turned back to Harry. "Underneath, despite all my failings, Draco does have good qualities—he is capable of change. I know this because he took the dark mark to save me even though he didn't want to."
"That's wonderful, I'm sure," Harry quirked his brow, resting his temple against his knuckles. "But I don't care whether or not your son is capable of change or not. What use is Draco to me? What can he do to prove his worth?"
Draco swallowed, stepping forward. His face was staunch and stoic, his fists clenched at his side. The days where he would lose his temper at the slightest provocation were long gone—he'd learned to suppress that part of himself the moment the Dark Lord had entered his home. Draco had had to learn restraint and the lessons were never pleasant. "I'm responsible for most of the Dark Lord's missions. I'm his most trusted spy and I handle most, if not all, of his raids. I'm sure you understand how useful it would be to have the Dark Lord's spy at your hand."
Harry didn't give any indication of how he felt about it.
"But what exactly can you do for my mother and I?" Draco finished.
"Well, if I'm being honest," Harry quirked his brow. "There's no guarantee I can keep you safe, just as you can't guarantee whatever information you bring me will be of use."
Despite Draco's newfound restraint, he couldn't help the disdainful curl of his lip.
"But," Harry interrupted as he stood from his chair, walking towards Draco. Draco was clearly much taller when the two men stood in front of each other, but Harry exuded much more power and a domineering spirit. Harry gripped Draco's left wrist, pulling it out harshly as he pushed Draco's sleeve back, revealing the dark mark that was bold and defined.
"I can get rid of this," Harry held up Draco's arm, even with the blond's resistance. "You might even be able to keep your arm."
Narcissa gasped, her fingers flying to her mouth. Draco's eyes widened in shock, his arm going limp in Harry's grasp before the raven-haired man dropped it.
"This is entirely up to you," Harry told Draco. "I'm going to achieve my plans no matter what. As an ally, I can do my best to see that you both live, but I can't guarantee it because you have nothing to guarantee me. The only unbreakable vow or contract I might be willing to make is that if you're helpful and you survive, I'll remove your dark mark."
"Might?" Draco narrowed his eyes.
Harry circled around Draco, who stood rooted in his spot.
"I don't like vacillating allies," Harry disclosed as he made his way around to the front of the blond again. "You're the one who is going to put everything on the line, so it's time to think for yourself. Mum and Dad can't help you with this."
Harry quirked his brow. "I was slightly intrigued when I met you. Everyone had told me you were nothing more than a snot-nosed purist bastard. Some of your actions would definitely indicate so. But the last time we met, you wanted to return something."
Draco stiffened as he looked over at Hermione, who had been frowning the entire interaction.
"So, tell me, Draco Malfoy," Harry leaned closer to the blond and jilted his chin up hauntingly at Draco. "Who are you? What do you stand for? How far are you willing to go?"
Each question felt like a piercing stab to Draco. Questions he had never considered, though they had been asked—asked by Lord Voldemort.
And there was only one answer when he asked: whatever the Dark Lord wanted.
Draco's hands formed into tight fists at his side. He couldn't look at his mother. Harry was right—she couldn't answer for him every time. Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
The lack of answer and the silence that filled the air was enough for Harry. Draco watched the disappointment wash over Harry's face, and it was hollowing.
Harry pulled something out of his pocket, his hand in a fist to hide whatever it was as he passed it Draco, meant only for the blond's eyes.
"I'm not your owl," Harry said plainly. "Give this back to her yourself if you want to return it."
Draco stared at the necklace he'd given Harry when the man had been at the Malfoy Manor. He looked up at Harry, the words stuck in his throat but refused to come out.
Harry stared at both Draco and Narcissa.
"I'm going to leave the decision up to Hermione," Harry announced as he smirked. "Funny, isn't it? All your life you've spewed about how muggle-borns are less than you in every way. And now, your life depends on one—the very one you've watched the word 'mudblood' carved into her arm."
Harry took satisfaction in watching both Narcissa and Draco freeze, their faces paling.
Turning to Hermione, whose eyes were widened with surprise, he walked up to her. Harry grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, throwing it around Hermione's shoulders. The gesture revealed Harry's possessiveness and intimacy.
"Do what you wish," Harry told her, saying the words loudly for everyone to hear. "Save them or avenge yourself," Harry turned his head slightly, locking eyes with the Malfoys. "It's not like you need a wand for either."
The words were a threat and also a warning. But not that Harry would ruin them. No, it was a warning that Hermione was strong enough without her wand.
"Come find me when you're finished," Harry told her before he left the room, leaving the three occupants alone.
They stood in tense silence.
It wasn't until Narcissa opened her mouth.
"I know it is a lot to ask of you," she swallowed as she remembered Hermione's screams that night. "But I'm begging you—"
"I'm willing," Hermione cut Narcissa off. The older woman's begging had made her uncomfortable, but in the sense that no amount of begging could ever make Hermione feel okay about anything.
But this was more about how Hermione felt.
Hermione closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, gripping the edges of Harry's jacket tightly.
"I'll ask Harry to enter into an allyship with Draco," Hermione said as she opened her eyes. "But I will not make him make an unbreakable vow. Harry will decide what the terms are."
Narcissa nodded eagerly, sighing in relief as she stepped forward and put her hands on Draco's arm.
"Thank you," Narcissa breathed. "Thank you so mu—"
"Don't thank me," Hermione snapped. She swallowed harshly as if she were trying to keep herself from lashing out. "I know you're only doing this because you're scared, not because you're remorseful in any way."
She narrowed her eyes at both of them, her brows furrowed together tightly. "If you betray me and Harry, I'll take you both down with us," Hermione threatened.
The two of them nodded, lips pursed. Narcissa was satisfied that she got what she wanted tonight.
"We'll wait for Lord Potter to reach out to finalize everything then," Narcissa spoke as she tugged on Draco's arm.
"Dobby," Hermione called.
There was a quick 'pop' noise as the elf appeared. Dobby seemed awake and alert despite the hour. The elf seemed to have stayed up when he knew who was in the manor.
"Yes, Miss Hermione?" Dobby asked, his eyes peering over at his former masters with a slight frown.
"Show them out please," Hermione requested.
The elf nodded, turning to the Malfoys with his back straight and firm face.
Before they could leave, Draco stepped forward. Dobby looked ready to fight while Hermione started to raise her hand.
Draco stopped in his tracks, putting his hands up to a peaceful gesture.
He opened his palm and let the necklace in his hand drop, holding it up by the clasp.
"I just wanted to return this to you," Draco said slowly.
Hermione frowned and narrowed her eyes at the necklace, recognizing it instantly. It was the only thing she had left of her parents, after all.
Hermione lowered her hand, and Draco took it as a sign that it was okay to step forward. She held out her palm, and Draco lifted the otter pendant first into her hand before he let out and let the chain drop.
"Granger—" Draco started but stopped when Hermione looked up. He closed his mouth, swallowing before he shook his head.
Draco walked back to his mother, putting his hand on her arm to pull her towards Dobby. "Come, mother. We're leaving."
Hermione let Dobby lead them out as she stared at the necklace she thought she'd never see again. She'd overheard Harry saying something about it when he spoke to Draco.
She wondered why Harry hadn't just given it to her?
But as Hermione looked at the necklace, the last remnant she had left of her parents, the people who didn't even remember her and never would, she felt her heart clench painfully. She was torn between relief that it was returned to her and secretly wishing that it hadn't been.
Hermione wondered if that was why Harry hadn't returned it to her. That perhaps he had seen somewhere along in Neville's and Ron's memory what this necklace meant to her. And knowing what pain it might cause her, Harry couldn't bear returning it to her.
Gripping Harry's jacket around her more tightly, she turned and left to find him.
o-o-o-o
Hermione opened the door to their bedroom, finding Harry sitting at the windowsill. He was gazing out the window into the night, staring at the moon while idly fiddling with his wedding ring.
Harry turned to her the moment he heard Hermione come in.
"Finished, then?" Harry asked, and Hermione nodded. "And?" Harry waited for Hermione's verdict.
"What do you think?" Hermione asked instead as she took off Harry's jacket and used her magic to set it over a chair.
Harry peered at Hermione to see if he could find the answer in the way she stood, leaning against the door.
"I don't care whether or not the Malfoys defect," Harry shrugged when he found nothing. "But I think they would be helpful."
"I think so too," Hermione finally said, letting Harry know what she had chosen.
Harry was silent again after, head tilting back to look out the window.
He had been rather odd for some time now, and Hermione had finally had enough of not knowing why. She tilted her head at him, pushing herself off the door as she made her way towards him.
When she stood in front of him, Harry turned his head back at her, spreading his legs so that she could stand between them. Hermione reached up, gently taking off Harry's glasses as he put them aside.
It was easier to gaze into his evergreen forests without anything obstructing them. Hermione liked that she could count the specks of yellow and witness how his pupils dilated and contracted as he stared at her.
Harry kept his hands to himself, and Hermione found that she was the one who started to lift her hands, wanting to run them through his hair.
When did just looking become too hard?
Hermione's fingers twitched.
But then, Harry was falling forward, letting his forehead press against Hermione's shoulders and any hesitation she had faded away.
Her fingers gently brushed through the side of Harry's hair, soft to her touch.
"What's wrong, Harry?" She asked quietly, but Harry remained silent and solemn against her shoulder.
"Harry?" Hermione repeated, still in her quiet tone.
Harry revelled in the feel of Hermione's slender fingers running through his hair, occasionally scraping his skull. A pleased hum caught in the back of his throat.
Finally, Harry lifted his hands and let them fall on Hermione's hips. His grasp was firm but gentle as he slid them up her sides, pulling her closer to him.
"Daphne Greengrass will be around more often," Harry mumbled as he let himself caress Hermione's back, careful to pull away if she wanted him to. "She's getting her mastery in healing and just returned from Germany. She might be useful when the healer comes."
Hermione nodded, her chin bumping against the top of Harry's head when she did. "And?"
Harry looked up. "And I would appreciate it if you stayed away from her."
Hermione frowned. "Why?"
"Because I don't trust her," Harry said simply. "Getting too close to her won't end well for either of us. You might not understand, but I still have to ask you. It'll be easy since she won't interact with us much."
Hermione sighed as it was clear Harry wouldn't tell her the whole story, but she nodded. "Okay," she acquiesced. "But what else is bothering you? Surely it can't be just that."
Harry had to go back to pressing his forehead against her shoulder, hiding his self-deprecating smirk.
Hermione knew him too well.
"The only reason Daphne Greengrass is coming is because I had to make a deal with Lord Greengrass," Harry started to speak, and Hermione remained quiet, letting Harry open up to her. "Lord Greengrass worries about his daughters, worries about the aftermath of the war and how their family can't afford to remain neutral for long. He knew right away that I wasn't the Dark Lord's ally like I said, that I cared about you and everyone in this house."
Harry's hands had stopped moving as he spoke, but Hermione continued to stroke Harry's hair, unable to stop herself. It was like she had become immediately addicted to the feeling.
"Astoria won't be coming back until Lord Greengrass thinks it's safe, but he worries that Astoria will come back anyway. It was supposed to be a trade since both his daughters want to be on the light side. Keep his daughters safe, and Daphne could be our healer," Harry snorted. "I declined the first time."
Then, Harry's grip became tighter on Hermione, grasping her clothes in his hand. "...I didn't tell you everything that night when I came home from my first meeting with Voldemort."
Hermione's hand stilled. Harry didn't dare to look up.
Still, he owed her this, owed whatever he could give to her.
"Riddle had been eyeing some property being occupied and defended by muggle-borns who were trying to smuggle their way out," Harry licked his lips. "And to get closer to the Dark Lord, I told him how to secure the property and the muggle-borns on it."
Hermione felt her heart begin to race, and Harry sensed it in the way her breathing changed. Slowly, he began to loosen his hands, letting them fall from her back.
"I did it and felt so violently ill after that I couldn't come back straight away," Harry looked up, catching Hermione's unreadable gaze. "And because I knew that getting closer to the Dark Lord meant I could keep you safe, I didn't regret it."
Hermione's fingers ached to do something, but she wasn't sure what.
"And then tonight, I was faced with the same muggle-borns I condemned," Harry kept talking, a pitiful snort leaving his mouth. "They're being used like common whores. Anyone who wasn't defiled is being kept to be sold to the highest bidder throughout Europe."
Hermione stared down at Harry, watching as his eyes dimmed but refused to show any emotion on his face as he spoke to her.
"And so, I came running back to Lord Greengrass, asking him to reconsider his proposal and forced his hand to make him arrange for the muggle-borns to be bought by his contacts in Germany and then freed to go and live in America or Canada," Harry swallowed, finding that simple act to be so difficult at this moment.
Something felt like it was closing in on Harry. He was looking at Hermione. She was so beautiful, so...perfect. And not perfect like there weren't any flaws. But perfect in the way that he just saw her as so. When she was obstinate, screaming, crying, and yelling, she was still perfect to him.
Hermione felt so many things. She was so human.
And Harry felt undeserving. He pulled away, suddenly feeling like he was ruining her by touching her.
But Hermione pulled him back, grasping his chin between her fingers and her other hand firm on his shoulder.
"You are a good person, Harry," Hermione said fiercely.
Harry tried to pull away, but Hermione held him firm, keeping his gaze locked with her.
"Because I can fix the problems I create?" Harry tonelessly asked. "That's not good. That's just being accountable."
"Which is more than many can say," Hermione shook her head. "But that's not why." She released his chin before she sat down on the windowsill next to him, forcing Harry to the side as much as possible to make room for her.
They were pressed closely, thigh against thigh, arm against arm.
Even when she made him uncomfortable with her persistence, she was perfect.
"To be honest," Hermione started, lifting her fingers to tuck a curl behind her ear. "When I first met you, I did think you were cold and uncaring. You wouldn't help us fight a war without something in return—which is normal. I think Gryffindors are just...stupidly courageous," Hermione laughed nervously. "Even as we grew closer, I thought you didn't care about anything but me, not that I'll ever really understand why."
Harry didn't say anything, and Hermione felt her fingers tremble as she pushed on.
"But you do care, don't you?" Hermione asked him softly, drawing his attention. "You care about Lily, Hazel, and Sirius. You adore and trust them. I know you like everyone else. I've seen you laugh and smile, even when you're trying to hold back. If I wasn't here, you still would've done the same things to save them."
Hermione let her hand drift over to Harry's, tugging on his fingers to open her palm to her. "Perhaps it's true you're the reason the muggle-borns were captured. But you're also the reason they'll be free, a true guaranteed freedom."
Harry liked that Hermione sounded so passionate as she tried to console him. He let her tangle their fingers together, relishing in the warmth of her hands.
"And while you left the Malfoys for me to decide what to do with, you offered to remove the dark mark from Draco even though his safety would've been enough," Hermione tugged Harry's hand, pulling him closer to her.
Harry was a good person. Hermione knew that better than anyone now. She wanted Harry to understand that because they were going to lose things and...and...
"You secretly have a 'saving people thing.'" Hermione concluded, whispering her revelation out.
Looking wasn't enough anymore. It just wasn't.
She was the one tugging Harry's hand, but he was tugging on her heart. He had been from the day she met him. He was annoying, persistent, and relentless. Hermione knew that Harry knew that she was trying to keep her distance—keep herself from wanting.
And Harry had been annoyingly respectful about not pushing anything onto her. He would hover, offering his comfort under the guise of only friendship.
Hermione couldn't take it anymore.
Leaning closer, Hermione let her other hand grip Harry's shirt. Her face tilted up, and she could feel Harry's breath on her face. His lips ghosted over hers, and she was breaking.
"You're a good person, Harry," Hermione repeated. "And I'm beginning to care too much, and it's making everything hard." Her voice trembled and cracked.
Hermione dared to look up, catching the life roar in Harry's eyes as he gazed down at her. They were catching fire.
"You did this to me," Hermione whispered, blaming Harry entirely. "You've gone and made me desperately want things I don't know if we can have. Even when I try to stop myself, I can't help but start imagining a future outside this war, where I can let myself want you—love you without being scared."
Harry's hand suddenly gripped Hermione's at his shirt, his other tightening his hold on their intertwined fingers.
"You can be scared and want things, you know," Harry whispered against Hermione's lips. "Go ahead and want me, Hermione. Show me that Gryffindor courage because I'm tired of being scared of wanting alone."
Hermione couldn't tell who closed the gap between them. It very well might've been them both meeting in the tiny space in the middle.
Her breath hitched. Her heart felt like it was going to burst as she pulled him impossibly closer.
She kissed him over and over and over and let him do the same to her.
And now that the dam of desperation in her had broken open, the only thing Hermione could do was let everything that was Harry consume her.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've been trying to complete my Harmony In The Workplace Event challenge as it's due tomorrow. As always, thank you so much for the comments, they always make my day! I hope y'all will enjoy this chapter :) Of course, thank you to my amazing beta, amidland. Be sure to check out his work!
Artwork has been created for this fanfic. Be sure to check out ao3 version to see on first chapter and 11th chapter!