Note to the reader: I've decided to give an R rating to this story – things get squicky from here on in, so if that's not your thing… you'd best steer clear.
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Beggars Can't Be Choosers
by Verity
Chapter SevenIt was, all in all, quite an eventful day, Hermione thought, recalling the vision, munching introspectively on a dinner roll, as she explained to Neville Longbottom the properties of the Aedificius charm –
"So it isn't much useful unless you're house-building and even then only if you've a team?" her classmate asked, leaning across the table to look hopefully into her eyes.
"Right!" she exclaimed, swallowing part of the roll whole in her surprise. After all, she'd only spent the last ten minutes explaining it to him, and usually Neville tended to take a little longer with Charms.
However, all thoughts of Charms flew straight out of her head when Ginny walked into the Great Hall. She was like fire – if fire could seethe.
"That's it!" Ginny hissed, slamming her books down on the table as she threw herself into the place Hermione had saved for her. "I'll kill him."
"Harry?" Hermione asked, feeling a pall of dread sweep over her.
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Did you know?"
"I've no idea what you're talking about, Gin."
"All right, then. It was our anniversary. We've been dating two months. Do you know what he did?" This was plainly a rhetorical question. "We were supposed to meet during lunch. He stood me up for one-on-one 'Quidditch practice' with that Hufflepuff seeker."
Hermione reflected that this was an unusual display of tactlessness, even for Harry. "But they weren't- you know he'd never-" Well, she corrected herself, remembering Saturday morning, if not never, at least not- "Not with Diana Featherstonehaugh! She's barely fifteen!"
"It's not that-" Ginny explained. "It's the principle of the thing! Mum always said never to date a man who couldn't keep a commitment."
"Your mother-" Hermione began, but got no farther, because, by that point, Harry had appeared at Ginny's side. This will be painful, she thought, surreptitiously placing a Parvaudio hex on herself. It was a testament to the Weasley vocal cords that she still heard everything quite clearly, and even more so when the Parvaudio hex collapsed entirely under the noise of Ginny's condemnations the next moment.
Harry never had a chance.
"You!" Ginny cried out, loud enough for the entire hall (and perhaps even Crookshanks, up in Orion Tower) to hear. "You! I can't believe you have the nerve to show your face here after what you did this afternoon!"
"What?" Harry asked nervously.
"You bloody didn't show up is what you did! We had a date! A long-standing commitment for the eighth of every month, and all you can say is 'What?' I expected better of you, Harry Potter! I hope your Hufflepuff girlfriend is satisfactory, because I never want to see your face again! Do you understand?"
"Are you breaking up with me?"
Ginny's frustrated scream was the last thing Hermione heard before she felt a vision's imminent approach. She sedately walked out of the Great Hall under the cover of Glamourie before bolting, desperate to reach Orion Tower…
Unfortunately, she didn't make it quite that far.
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A room in a manor house – it's finely furnished in porcelain-blue-and-white, which echoes the willowware pattern of the wallpaper. Central in the room is a large, white-metal-framed bed with a blue canopy and curtains, and it is on this bed that the Lamp Bearer sits. So obvious is it that the room is a little girl's room that the Lamp Bearer herself appears a little girl playing dress-up – her face is freshly washed, free of makeup; her hair hangs in a long silver-gilt braid down her back; but she is clad in lingerie made for a more sophisticated and larger-bosomed woman.
The Hand Of Power steps into the room, dressed in black linen beneath his silver-embroidered black silk robes. His own silver-gilt hair is tied back from his face. The Lamp Bearer must be about sixteen, but the Hand Of Power is at least fifteen years her senior, if not more.
The Hand Of Power moves with a polished grace that he has honed over the years – clearly, he is man experienced in the social circles, a man above the sordid deeds that it is whispered he performs. He crosses to the bed, letting his experienced fingers loosen the clasps on the Lamp-Bearer's ill-chosen garments, and soon she is laid out on the bed, naked, her eyes staring at the ceiling. She moves only to drink the contents of a goblet that appears mysteriously by the bed, and then resumes her blank, motionless state. Meanwhile, the Hand Of Power sheds his own clothes, neatly folding them into piles so as not to wrinkle the expensive materials.
The Lamp-Bearer maintains her unresponsive state as the Hand Of Power copulates with her, her body limp and her head thrown back so she cannot see him. When he is done, she closes her eyes.
Gradually, sleep overtakes her, and the Hand Of Power leaves.
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Albus Dumbledore had not been at dinner, of course, as he'd been in London, procuring some lovely sherbet lemons (and quite lovely ones, in his opinion.) So he was somewhat surprised when he received a knock on the door about thirty minutes after the dinner hour began – usually Hogwarts denizens were tucking into their second helpings by then.
"Oh, dear," he said at the sight of Hermione Granger in Severus's arms. Poor man. He'd been expecting something of the sort when she started her Ordeal…
"I found her in the hallway that leads to Orion Tower," Severus said grimly, gently sitting the girl on the couch. "She refuses to wake, but doesn't appear to be unconscious. Just… sleeping."
"Trance," he reassured the younger man. "Katherina Dowling – she was Headmistress at Beauxbatons, before Maxime – used to do the same thing all the time. She never had the patience to channel." However, this worried him. Hermione had never had a problem with channeling… no one had, except for… "Hmm."
Hermione twitched a little in her sleep. Severus looked concerned – a rare thing, for him. "Is she supposed to do that?"
"She's not really supposed to do anything, Severus. Just watch, and listen. And wait." The mother-within-Albus bickered with his other half, the latter finally winning. "This shouldn't be happening. I'm going to pull her out of her Ordeal."
"Her Ordeal?"
He sighed. Mother, didn't the girl tell Severus anything? "Mother… tries out her potential candidates before she allows them to take their vows, you know, to see if they'll be amenable to her advances. She controls all Sibyll to some degree, physically as well as mentally. Has Miss Granger been acting… oddly?"
Severus nodded. "Does she usually use so much Glamourie?"
This was worse than Albus had feared. "Miss Granger has never been able to use Glamourie, Severus. When did she do so?"
"Wednesday night, when I came back…and this afternoon. She came to see me in my office."
"I'll have to pull her out of the Ordeal, then. There's nothing else to do."
Hogwarts' Headmaster wondered vaguely if mother would ever forgive him for this…
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Thanks to McAmy for her splendidly large con.-crit-ful review!
Verity
