v Harry Potter and the Mark of Hermes
Chapter 9: MoonglowWhen they finally arrived in Brussels it was around 6:30 in the evening (continental time). After spending half a day sitting still, Harry, Hermione, and Ron felt completely stiff and uncomfortable. They were currently waiting in the bus for their tour guide Anastacia to check them into their hotel. They were to stay at the Tulip Inn Brussels Boulevard.
"What's taking her so long?" Ron moaned from his seat. He was bouncing around every which way in impatience.
"I don't know," Hermione muttered. "She better hurry up, or I might break Wizarding law and perform an Unforgivable Curse."
"I think I see her now." Harry chimed in. He had indeed seen her coming out of the building. When she finally boarded the bus, she went around passing out room keys and travel itineraries, telling everyone their bags had been taken up to their rooms.
"Finally," Ron mumbled when they got their room key. They followed everyone off the bus and entered their hotel. It was quite a lovely hotel. There were plants everywhere, which blended into the décor, which was very green indeed.
"Which way to the lifts?" Harry asked, silently taking everything in. He had never been in a hotel before. He found he rather liked this one.
"They're this way," Hermione said, tugging gently on his shoulder.
When they finally got to their hotel room (which was just as green as the lobby), the trio collapsed onto the beds. Harry and Hermione claimed the bed nearest to the window, and Ron gingerly fell into the other one. Out of the corner of his eye, he could clearly see Harry rest his hand on Hermione's belly, and Hermione covering his hand with her own.
In an effort to avoid such a lovey-dovey display, Ron began to rummage through Harry's bag, which Harry dropped unto the floor the second he had entered the room. Ron felt a book in the bag and took it out. He was surprised to find that it wasn't the Greek Book, (which Harry had in his other bag that currently resided in his pocket), but the book Sirius gave him for Christmas, the telepathy book entitled Telepathy: How to Deal with It by Godric van Danik.
Harry, who had been silently watching Ron out of the corner of his eye while he relaxed there with Hermione, saw Ron browsing through the Telepathy book and suddenly realized something quite startling.
They had never actually explained to Ron how this whole telepathy thing worked.
No wonder he was having such a hard time adjusting to it, he thought. He doesn't know what on earth is going on.
Harry suddenly sat up and stared at Ron intently. "Do you have any questions?"
Ron, who had not realized he was being scrutinized, looked at Harry with a rather confused look. "Questions? About-?"
"You know, the telepathy thing."
"Oh, um...well, actually-" Ron started, trying not to stammer but failing miserably. He hadn't expected this to pop up all of a sudden. He was just browsing through the book trying to understand the myriad of big words it used to explain this phenomena called telepathy. But he had to admit, he had been quite curious about the whole subject since he first heard about it. "How exactly does it work?" He asked Harry gingerly. Behind Harry, Hermione sat up as well. Undaunted, Ron continued, "Do you like hear each other's every single thought, or what exactly?"
Harry shook his head. How was he going to explain something so complicated? He had to use laymen's terms, otherwise Ron wouldn't understand. "Well, it's kind of like a window."
*A window?* He heard Hermione ask him in his head.
*Shh! I'm trying to think!*
"A window," Harry continued, glaring at Hermione silently. "Sometimes its open, and sometimes its closed. When we consciously make an effort to talk to each other mentally, the window opens up. When we're done talking, it closes. It's basically like talking, only in your mind. But sometimes, the window stays open, because either she or I forgot to close it, and that's when things sometimes get bad…" Harry trailed off with a quiet grin on his face.
Ron looked between the two of them finally understanding what exactly it was they were going through. "So, if the window isn't open, then you can't share thoughts?"
Harry shook his head again. "Well we can, but we don't. If we wanted to, we could throw the window open and throw ourselves into each other's thought processes, but we respect each others privacy and never do anything of the sort."
Hermione nodded in agreement. He had actually explained this better than she originally thought he would…
Suddenly, the heaviness in the mood was interrupting by the grumbling of a stomach.
"Ron! Must your stomach always do that?" Hermione asked, laughter in her eyes.
"Well, it hasn't eaten since we were on the ferry, and that was ages ago! I am very hungry you know."
"I'm hungry to," Harry admitted quietly. "Lets go find food."
*****
Finding food was not proving to be an easy task, however. When they wondered down to the lobby, they looked around for a hotel restaurant and found they didn't like the menu selection. ("Mussels? Blech!" Ron exclaimed disgustedly.) So they did the only thing they could do, they turned to Hermione.
"What are you looking at me for?" She asked. "I've never been to Belgium."
They looked around in defeat, when Hermione noticed the gift shop selling one of those tourist books, you know, ones that have titles like "The Whole of Brussels and its Surroundings." Hermione walked over, picked it up, and began browsing through it. Of course Hermione thought the answers to everything could be found in books…
And of course Hermione is always right.
"Look you guys! Not far from here is the Grand Place." She said, affecting a very good French Accent. ("It's also known as the Grote Market," Prof. Dorset would later retell.)
"The what?" Asked Ron, who was now running his hand over his stomach and looking dire.
"The Grand Place, its like a square surrounded with beautiful buildings with the most remarkable architecture…."
"What do I bloody care about buildings?!" Ron pouted. "Are these buildings edible?"
Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "No you halfwit! It's a highly frequented tourist trap, and people sell food there and all that. Honestly."
So with that in mind, the trio started out toward the Grand Place. Harry made sure he bought Hermione the little booklet thingie in case they needed it later. Besides, it had a map and it told them precisely how to get there.
Even with the map, however, Hermione thought it a sage idea if they asked the concierge for directions. The concierge tried his best to make the three little British kids understand what he was saying, but with such a heavy French accent it proved quite a difficulty. He was reluctant to be defeated however, so he grabbed a pen from the desk and began to draw dots and lines onto the map for them to follow. "Zis dot is where you are now," He began, smiling slightly at Hermione who was staring at him wide eyed. He had such a lovely French accent…
"And zis dot is where you want to go. Now, if you go zere, zere and zere," he explained as he drew lines all over the map, and motioned with his hands where exactly there, there and there was. "zen, you will get zere."
The trio thanked the concierge profusely and set out on their trek. Even with all the help they got from the concierge however, they still stopped many an unsuspecting Belgian in an effort to conclude they were on the right path. "Oui," they would say, "allez juste directement."
Harry silently thanked Merlin that Brussels was a French town. At least Hermione understood and spoke a bit of French. (And he understood it vicariously.) He could only imagine what it would have been like to stay in a part of Belgium where they spoke Flemish.
All in all, their walk to the Grand Place took 15 minutes. They rather enjoyed it, seeing as they were stuck sitting in a bus for half the day.
When they finally got to the Grand Place, Harry could not believe his eyes.
It was beautiful. Hermione was right. He had never seen such lovely buildings. Just looking at them was breathtaking. He was aware of Hermione's enthusiastic dictation about the wonders of medieval architecture and which building was what. ("That's the town hall right there! It was started in 1402 by James van Thienen…")
But Harry, who was still staring around in wonder and awe, silently drowned her out. He was silently scooping out the place, trying to keep the images in his mind and bury them into its depths so that he could never forget this day. It was too beautiful for words…
The Grand Place was basically a very large square surrounded by gothic style buildings. (as Hermione kept pointing out) But it was more than that, it was a place of communal living. Harry was well aware of the large amounts of people everywhere walking in and out of buildings, buying flowers, eating Belgian waffles, taking pictures, sitting in cafes, people watching. It was very much a tourist place, but it still didn't take the beauty out of it. Maybe it was the way the buildings were illuminated in the twilight that caught his fancy, or maybe he was beginning to get romantic notions (he was here with the love of his life after all.)
But maybe it was just his sense of freedom. Freedom. Something he never experienced before. True, on his 11th birthday when Hagrid came and told him the best news of his life, he thought he was experiencing freedom. But he soon found out that even in Hogwarts he was trapped, trapped by a ghost of a man who wouldn't leave him alone, who wanted him dead, very much.
And now here he was, away from the Dursleys, away from Voldemort's shadow, out of England, in a place he could have never imagined existed, even in his wildest dreams. It looked so ancient and majestic. How could Muggles see places like this and not believe in magic…
"Are we going to just stand around here all day, or are we going to get some bloody food?!" Ron asked in a huff.
Harry quickly snapped out of his reverie and glanced around the square. There it was, the café he spotted. "Why don't we go there?" He said.
"Why not." Hermione agreed. They quickly made their way over to the café, which was eliciting very delicious aromas. When they were about to enter, Ron stopped in mid step.
"I want one of those!" He said, licking his lips and closing his eyes in eagerness.
The 'those' he was referring to were Belgian Waffles. Right in front of the cafe stood an old man making Belgian Waffles, of every style and taste. He was surrounded by a mob of hungry people. Apparently, his waffles were the best.
"Is that all you're going to eat?" Hermione asked, completely amazed that after all his fussing, all he wanted to eat was sweets. Ron however, didn't appear to have heard her. He was already in line waiting his turn.
When he finally got to the front, Ron ordered the biggest, most lavish waffle ever made in the history of waffles. Not only did he order whipped cream and strawberries on his, he also asked the man to add bananas and warm Belgian chocolate and a trillion other bits and pieces to boot. When his order was finally done, his waffle looked like it had undergone a volcanic eruption.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and stalked into the café, Harry right behind her. It was a very bright café, bright reds and whites all over the place. Ron went to sit down at a white table with red chairs to eat, while Harry and Hermione ordered their food.
Harry and Hermione, the sensible people they are, ordered turkey paninis. A panini is rather like a sandwich. The bread was warm and toasty French bread, rather large bread, with some sort of seasoning they couldn't quite place. Along with their food and drinks, (and a drink for Ron as well, after all that sweet stuff he'd be dreadfully thirsty) they headed toward the table were Ron was, and sat down to eat. The trio ate silently, and when Harry and Hermione were done, they just watched Ron eat, who was still tackling his Belgian waffle. It was proving a struggle to eat it.
When he finally finished, (looking quite satisfied with himself) they walked back out into the hustle and bustle that was the Grand Place. It was a lovely, cool evening and the trio was reluctant to go back to their very green hotel. So they did what the prudent tourist would do, and they walked around. They walked all around the square, admiring the architecture and listening to Hermione talk about it. Once they were done with the square they followed a group of people into one of the many side streets that led off of the square. They soon stumbled unto a very alarming sight…
******
"Is that statue of a young boy, naked?" Ron asked with wide eyes, "And is it, peeing?"
Hermione tried very hard to hide her giggles, but failed miserably. "Yes it is." Hermione said through peals of laughter.
Ron was looking around, eyeing the Muggles who were taking pictures of said statue. "And the Muggles allow this naked peeing thing to be viewed for public enjoyment? Why are they bloody snapping pictures of it?"
Ron looked more and more confused as Hermione erupted in hysterics. "Ron, its not as shocking as you might think. Its quite a well known statue actually, its called the Mannekenpis."
Harry, who knew exactly what Hermione was talking about (he wasn't a complete dolt, you know) nodded in agreement. He had heard the story of the Mannekenpis on the tele while Mrs. Dursley watched a rather boring documentary on the statue's maker, Jeremy Duquesnoy.
"Well the story goes," Harry said, "that there once lived a man who lost his son during a festival, and that he had the whole town looking for him for days. On the third day he found his son, who was standing in that corner peeing. The man was so happy he had a statue and a fountain built in his honor."
Hermione looked at Harry quite oddly. "That's not the way I heard the story, I heard there was a fire and…"
"Hermione darling, there are a lot of stories concerning the Mannekenpis. Yours is probably one of the versions also." Harry eyed the statue inquisitively. "I still wonder though, why is it naked? Isn't it usually dressed?"
"Yes, it has at least 350 costumes to date, from all over the world." Hermione added.
"Why would anyone want to dress a naked fountain of a boy peeing?" Ron asked. He still did not understand what the Muggles saw in all this.
"Ron, its just history and culture. People always find something fascinating about other people's lifestyles."
"Yes, history is the most important subject in the world." A voice jumped in out of nowhere. The trio turned around to find Professor Dorset smiling kindly at them. He had heard their entire conversation and found them to be quite intelligent kids.
"I'm sorry." He added giving them firm handshakes, "I am Professor Dorset and this," he said motioning to his wife, "is Mrs. Dorset. You three are the youngins that sat in the back of the bus today aren't you?"
The trio nodded. "I am Harry," Harry said, "and these are my friends Hermione and Ron."
The man and his wife smiled warmly at them. "What brings three young kids such as yourselves all the way here? Especially when they should be in school…" The Professor inquired.
"We, err…we're home schooled." Hermione added hastily. "Our parents sent us on a history field trip of sorts. They wanted us to experience everything we've learned about."
Harry made a mental note to thank Hermione later for her remarkable skills in the art of BSing .
The Professor nodded thoughtfully. "Smart parents you have there," he said kindly. "And smart kids too." He winked at them and excused himself and his wife. "We best be off, old timers like us don't have the energies you kids have. Don't stay up too late."
The trio watched the pleasant couple walk away. "I think they're nice." Hermione remarked. "And I think I want a picture of him." She said, referring to the Mannekenpis.
Harry, who decided early on in this caper to try his hardest to please Hermione, ran off in search of a store that sold cameras. Luckily for him, one such store sat right across from the Mannekenpis. He marched right in there and bought one of those funny disposable cameras, and handed it to Hermione.
"Now, I'll take the picture, and I want you two to stand in front of it." She told Harry and Ron, who were moaning and groaning at the prospect. "I don't want to be in a picture that includes a peeing statue!" Ron snapped.
Hermione was rolling her eyes at them, waiting for them to grow up, when a silent voice spoke up behind her. "If you want, I'll take it and you can be in the picture with them." It said.
Hermione turned around and found herself face to face with another person from her tour. It was Indira, the woman from Sri Lanka. Hermione recognized her instantly because she sat in front of her with that nice Australian guy Nigel.
Hermione agreed to the proposal and handed the camera over to Indira, who smiled at the way Hermione pulled Harry and Ron in front of the statue and commanded them to smile.
The picture snapped, Hermione thanked Indira who told them they best get going for it was getting late and tomorrow would be a big day. "Long drive! Luxembourg to Switzerland…" She yelled as she stalked off.
******
The next morning, Harry woke up to a horrible ringing sound.
"What the hell is that?" he yelped in annoyance. He got up from bed (where Ron was still snoring heavily) and picked up the phone. "Hullo?" he said into the receiver groggily.
"Good morning sir this is your wake up call," said a heavily accented French voice to him. "You are expected to be down for breakfast in an hour. Thank you and gooday."
Harry cursed silently as he picked up his bag and made his way to the bathroom.
"Harry, who was it?" asked a very sleepy Hermione from her bed. Her head popped out from between the sheets, and Harry tried very hard not to smile at the state of her hair. She looked lovely.
"It was the wake up call, we have to be ready in an hour."
"Oh bother," Hermione whined, "its 6:30 in the morning!" She exclaimed as she looked at the clock on her bedside table.
"I know, but oh well!"
Harry locked himself in the bathroom and got ready for the day. When he was done, he went to wake up Hermione, who had gone back to sleep. When Hermione was finished, they both had a really hard time of waking up Ron. It was almost as if before he went to bed he drank a bit of the Draught of Living Death.
"Honestly, I don't think even that potion is as powerful," Hermione mumbled.
When the trio was finally ready, (5 minutes behind schedule) they descended to the hotel restaurant where they were to be served breakfast. They found themselves seated at a table with none other than Professor and Mrs. Dorset, Indira, and the Australian German Nigel Parker.
Immediately there was a division in the table. Hermione, Prof. Dorset, and Nigel began talking about the history of Brussels, and Harry, Ron and Mrs. Dorset were kept very entertained by the vibrant Indira who regaled them with tales of growing up in Sri Lanka. (Harry made a mental note of one day making a trip to Sri Lanka, it sounded rather fun.)
To Ron's immense delight, they breakfasted on Belgian Waffles and hot chocolate. ("Yes, Belgian chocolate, very famous indeed." Prof. Dorset commented, and then he began a lovely dictation on why it is so famous)
After breakfast, the merry group walked off to the bus and on to the next great adventure.
******
"All right people!" Anastacia's chirpy voice said to the passengers of the Yellow Brick Road Tours Bus. "We're only stopping for more fuel, so you have only two hours to wander about and meet up at this same spot. Now off you go!"
The trio got off the bus and immediately breathed in the fresh and glorious air of Luxembourg. It was a beautiful day, the air was so cool and the sun so warm and happy. Luxembourg was really not a whole country, it was more a Grand Duchy, but the people there are very proud of their home, and they have the right to be for it is very beautiful indeed.
"So, what shall we do?" Harry asked the trio as they made their way down the streets of old town Luxembourg. It truly was a very remarkable little place, and Harry found himself enjoying it immensely. It was so clean and bright and colorful and tranquil. Everyone was laughing and talking and just living life.
They stopped to admire a young woman at her easel, right in the middle of a square where there was a lovely statue of three men and sheep. (Hermione later informed them that it was called the marche des moutons or march of the sheep and that it was sculpted by Will Lofty, a native Luxembourgian). The woman was painting a beautiful watercolor of a woman sitting in front of the statue reading a book (which there currently was, but the poor woman however didn't know she was being painted.)
"Oh. My. God. That is so lovely." Hermione muttered breathlessly as she saw the woman paint. Harry rather liked the look on Hermione's face as she examined the painting, and before he could stop himself, he asked the woman how much she'd sell it for.
"Pardon? Je ne peux pas parler l'anglais monsieur." The woman said to him. She was a very lovely woman, with hazel hair and cornflower blue eyes. "Est-ce que tu peux parler français?" She asked.
Harry shook his head sadly. No, he could not speak French. He made a mental note to take some sort of French class next summer.
"Mais, je peux," Hermione cut in. "Mon ami voudrait savoir combien votre peinture coûte.''
The woman looked at Hermione, clearly impressed. "Troix Euros," she said softly. At first, she was loath to sell her painting, but the young, brunette English girl with the impeccable French accent changed her mind.
Harry, who understood that, chocked up the three Euros the young woman was asking for.
"Attendez un moment! Je ne suis pas fini!" The woman exclaimed.
Ron raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "She needs to finish," Hermione told him.
As they stood there, watching the woman continue her painting, Harry marveled at the weirdness of the situation. He could understand French because it somehow translated in his head through Hermione (weird), yet he couldn't speak it. Is this the same way Hermione understood Parseltongue?
"Fini!" The woman exclaimed as she held out the finished painting to Harry. Harry gingerly gave her the three Euros and waited for the woman to wrap it in some sort of paper thing.
"Here Hermione, this is for you," Harry mumbled shyly as he handed Hermione the wrapped painting.
Hermione's eyes lit up and she threw her arms around her boyfriend. "Thank you Harry! Its wonderful."
The painter smiled broadly, seeing her painting bring joy to such a lovely couple. "Merci beacoup," she yelled happily as she waved the trio off.
******
"We still have an hour," Ron said as they strolled the streets of Luxembourg, enjoying the site and sounds of the small town. At that moment, a lovely smell seemed to breeze by them, and they naturally followed the delicious scent. They were quickly led to an ice cream parlor.
"Mmmm…ice cream." Hermione licked her lips. "Harry, can we have ice cream?
"All right," he said, feeling in the mood for ice cream himself.
When Hermione ordered their three chocolate ice creams, the trio headed over to the Ponte Adolphe.
The Ponte Adolphe was an architectural marvel and the Luxebourgians were very proud of it. The wonderful thing about it is that it overhangs the Petrusse Valley where very glorious parks lie. They stood on the bridge, eating ice cream, admiring the scenery and taking pictures of each other. First Hermione (after several moment of frustration) landed a picture of Harry and Ron, and then Ron took one of Harry and Hermione. After a couple of minutes of this, they resumed their walking around Luxembourg, taking in everything they could and snapping pictures every which way ("We may need a new camera soon," Hermione informed Harry.)
Finally, their two hours was up and a very reluctant Harry, Hermione, and Ron returned to their bus.
******
"What do you mean there aren't appropriate accommodations?" Harry bellowed at Anastacia angrily.
Anastacia looked frightfully sorry, and also a bit scared. "Well, you see, apparently, we didn't book enough rooms on time so some people have to be shifted about. You aren't the only group on the tour being shifted you know."
Harry looked around and saw various upset faces on fellow tour members.
They had finally arrived in Lucerne, Switzerland, and were to stay at a very nice hotel called the Schiller much to the happiness of their sore bums. To Harry's chagrin however, their room accommodations weren't going to be exactly the way he liked them.
"The best we can do is to give you two rooms with single double beds. I'm sorry, but there are no more rooms with two double beds." Anastacia said, trying to placate a very angry Harry. She wondered why he was making a big deal about this anyways. But Harry did have a right to make a big deal about this, at least in his mind he did. How was he going to let Hermione stay alone in a room? What if something happened to her? True, they had the telepathy thing going, but something could easily happen where she gets knocked unconscious and can't get to him. He thought he had everything sorted out at Dover, but no, life must always plan against him…
Anastacia tried her best to appease Harry, telling him he'd get even better rooms than the ones he would have gotten before but he ignored her and stalked off toward the lifts.
He knew he was not going to get any sleep tonight.
******
"Do you like your room?" Harry asked Hermione as he handed her a slice of pizza.
After they had settled into their rooms, the trio decided they were very hungry and headed to a pizzeria that was right across the street from their hotel.
"I like it just fine," She said, between bites of her food. She looked very sullen indeed.
"Good pizza," Ron remarked casually; he didn't see what all the fuss was about.
After they finished their food, the trio decided to walk around the square. Tomorrow would be a jam-packed day, starting the morning off with a visit to Lucerne Lake, then spending the afternoon in a little alpine village called Engelberg. After that a brief rest in the principality of Liechtenstein and finally arriving in Innsbruck, Austria. It was to be a jam-packed day indeed.
"I'm tired," Ron said sleepily as they walked around. "I think maybe we should call it a day."
Harry and Hermione agreed, sore bums and feet agreed as well. They silently made their way back to the hotel were they parted ways before entering their respective rooms.
*Are you going to be all right all alone, Hermione?* Harry thought to Hermione, sadness clearly evident in his demeanor. He wanted to keep her close, to protect her, to make sure she was all right.
*I'm fine Harry, honestly. Now go to bed! You need your rest.*
******
Harry woke up with a start. He reached over to his bedside table and put on his glasses. "Merlin's ghost, its only 2 am," Harry thought bitterly as he glanced at the alarm clock. He got up and stretched his weary muscles. He was tired. Very tired. The past few days had been long and hard, but even though he was tired he could not sleep. He was worried. Someone could very well have knocked her unconscious and I would not have known, he thought to himself as he paced the room. He went into the bathroom and drank some whatever hoping that the cool liquid running down his throat would sooth him. No such luck, he resumed his pacing moments later.
Ron, who was prone to sleep through almost everything, was oddly awakened by Harry's quiet pacing. "Harry, if it bothers you so much, just go to her why don't you! And stay there for bloody's sake! I need my beauty sleep." He punctuated this thought by throwing a pillow at Harry, who caught it and threw it back.
"Are you sure?" Ron looked at his friend squarely in the eye. "I am."
Harry grinned at his best friend. "Thanks mate." He was halfway out the door when Ron called back to him. "Harry! Behave…"
Harry stuck out his tongue and left the room.
Good riddance, Ron thought to himself as he fluffed up his pillows and enjoyed the luxury of a single bed all to himself, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep in it…
******
A simple Alohamora spell, and he was in. When he finally entered her room, however, he dropped his wand to the floor and almost fell himself.
She wasn't unconscious as he had feared. Heck, she wasn't even asleep. She was standing on her balcony, looking up at the stars and blue moon.
But that wasn't what made Harry nearly fall over, it was the way she looked. Is that my Hermione? He thought to himself as he slowly advanced toward her. That…that apparition, that goddess, that being that seemed to be made from the glow of the moon, is that my Hermione?
As he walked towards her, several things crossed his mind. She was alive, that was all he needed to know right? Maybe he should just leave right? But then again, he might wake up later and be worried again right? So maybe it was in fact better for him to stay and…and…
And what? Guard her? Or…
Harry stopped mid-trek. He had to get those thoughts out of his head. He was here for one thing, and one thing only, and that was to protect her. The other thing had to wait, because he didn't want to scare her off. No, the other thing was out of the question…
But the other thing clearly refused to stay out of his mind. She just looked so beautiful, staring up at the moon, the moon bathing her in light. She looked like a dream, an image that no mere mortal could conjure up consciously. No, she was an entity of the subconscious, and she was his Hermione…
When he finally placed a foot on the cold floor of the balcony, he raised his eyes to look at her.
"I knew you'd come," she said. She hadn't looked at him, hadn't even acknowledged his presence except for those few choice words, and still, she continued to see only the moon.
The fact that she expected him didn't seem weird to Harry, even though he hadn't communicated it to her. He himself knew he was going to come as well, with Ron's approval or not. He probably knew he was going to come all along…
In an unprecedented motion, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and looked straight into his eyes. "I was cold, waiting for you," she said quietly. "With you here, its not so cold anymore."
Harry felt like he would fall over again, but instead, he ever so slowly leaned in towards her and placed a delicate kiss on her lips. He pulled away slightly to see her reaction. Did she want to be kissed or not? But all he saw was Hermione with her eyes closed, licking her lips and savoring his kiss. It was enough to drive him mad, the moonlight playing a wicked trick on him by highlighting her gorgeous pout. When he couldn't take it anymore, he leaned in and kissed her again, this time biting her lower lip.
Hermione opened her eyes in surprise, but apparently it wasn't an unwelcome surprise, for she reached up to tangle her hands in his hair.
Encouraged, Harry opened his mouth against her, licking her lower lip ever so slightly, and she responded by opening her mouth and allowing him entrance.
Harry had kissed Hermione dozens of times, having kept up their regular Friday night sessions despite hell and high water, but something about tonight was different. He didn't know what exactly, maybe it was because they were in a different country, Switzerland of all places, on a balcony, under the stars, basking in the glow of a heavenly moon. Or maybe it was because they were in a hotel room, alone, and this time Parvati's snoring would not be there to stop them…
Harry found he couldn't control his hands; those buggers had a mind of their own. They had placed themselves on the curve of Hermione's hips, and ever so delicately ran themselves up and down her sides. This caused Hermione to squirm every now and then, and his hands found they enjoyed her reaction, so they found new places to explore. They sought the lovely softness of her bum, and didn't hesitate to give it a slight pinch.
Hermione moaned against Harry's mouth, which encouraged Harry further, and apparently, his hands as well as they now traveled up her taut belly and placed themselves on her breasts.
Hermione stopped kissing him, and Harry feared he had done something wrong, when he felt himself being pulled away from the balcony by Hermione, and being led to her bed.
Harry gulped. Oh. My. God.
Oh my God oh my God oh my God oh my God.
She isn't serious is she? Or maybe he had this all wrong and she just wanted to sleep now…
But then he felt Hermione taking off his shirt.
Bloody. Friggin. Hell. She is serious.
But all train of thought was stopped, however, when he felt her mouth on his neck. Dear Lord…
She was currently torturing him by giving him long, languid licks where his neck met his shoulder.
It was driving him crazy. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst came when she started making her way down to his firm chest, where she did the unthinkable…
And kissed his nipple. And then she did the same to the other, and then she fell into lightly licking and gently sucking…
She was trying to seduce him, wasn't she? Well, he thought to himself, it's working…
But Harry was in fact getting quite tired of being the seductee, and quickly decided he wanted to try the role of seductor…
In one swift motion he laid Hermione down and threw off her tank top.
Good Lord! He remembered a few months back when this whole telepathic thing started, he had seen her naked. (In fact, he remembered that time quite fondly and quite often.) But seeing her again, granted, if only from the hips up, was enough to make him forget about the seduction process, and move on to the actual completion of it all…
He placed his two hands on her soft breasts, and began to trace kisses on her belly. This caused her belly to flutter and he could hear Hermione moan and wriggle beneath him. But he just could not stop tasting her. She was so sweet, and so warm, and he loved her. What more is there? He slowly made his way up her belly, kissing every available inch, until he got to her right breast. Then he slowly let his tongue caress her breast, which caused Hermione to gasp and arch her back.
Before he could continue however, he was stopped by a sudden and insistent pounding on the door.
"Harry! Hermione! Are you in there?" Ron yelled at the door.
Harry ran to the door and opened it, letting Ron in. Thankfully, Hermione had scurried under the covers, making sure Ron didn't catch a glimpse of anything inappropriate.
Ron, however, was perceptive enough to realize what exactly he had interrupted. After all, Harry wasn't wearing his shirt, which was bunched up on the floor next to a white article of clothing, which he concluded belonged to Hermione, seeing as she was hiding under her sheets.
"What is it Ron?" Asked a very frustrated and alarmed Harry.
Ron had the decency to blush at the current predicament, and stuttered through his excuse. "Couldn't sleep…went to window…black cloaks…"
Harry ran over to the balcony to see if he could catch a glimpse of anyone resembling a witch or wizard out on the streets of Lucerne. No one was there.
"Umm…Ron. Are you sure you weren't having a nightmare" Harry asked quietly.
Ron nodded. "Yes, perhaps I was…" But he didn't look like he believed that explanation, and looked genuinely paranoid.
"Ron, its ok. No one is outside." Harry said.
"All right then, goodnight." Ron said, and hastily left a very thunderstruck Harry and Hermione.
Harry sighed and sat on the bed, burying his head in his hands. Hermione leaned over and gently caressed his hair.
"I should go to him shouldn't I?" He asked her quietly.
She nodded reluctantly. "Yes, I believe you should."
"Will you be all right?" He asked her, turning around and kissing her forehead. He wanted above all else to resume the previous activities, but he knew Ron would drive himself up to a paranoia so great he wouldn't get a wink of rest. Either way, Harry was sure he wouldn't get any sleep either. If he stayed here, neither would Hermione…
If he stayed here, Ron wouldn't be able to sleep. But if he left, Hermione would sleep and so would Ron, even if he didn't. He would not be able to sleep tonight; all thoughts would be on her either way.
Hermione ran her hand down one side of his jaw, and placed gentle kisses down the other. "I'll be fine," she said throatily. Did she have to sound so goddam sexy?
Harry sighed again and stood up. "See you tomorrow morning then." And with one final kiss he went back to his room mumbling, "Ron owes me, big time…"
******
After breakfast, the trio set off to explore the charming, old, village surrounding Lake Lucerne. Harry thought he had never seen a lovelier place his whole life.
The Lake was tranquil, and silent, and peaceful, reminiscent of the one at Hogwarts. The water was clear and soothing and the air was cool and fresh. There was nothing more freeing than being surrounded by mountains and being at the foot of a beautiful lake. After wandering around the village stores, where Ron bought some Swiss chocolate (very famous as well), the trio could no longer ignore the luring placidity of the lake.
"Would you like to walk the bridge?" Harry asked his friends as they made their way toward the lake.
"Of course," Hermione said. She too was oddly haunted by the image of the lake.
Overhanging Lake Lucerne were two beautiful wooden bridges, one, the one they crossed, called Chapel Bridge. It was a covered bridge, and inside this bridge, (as well as in the other one) there were various images of medieval art decorating the roof. On one side of the bridge was a tower. According to Prof. Dorset (as they would hear later on in the bus on their way to Austria), that tower was once used to guard prisoners.
In the center of the bridge there was a tiny gift shop, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron naturally wandered in there. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione admiring a very small round glass thing. The small round glass thing proved to be a melody box; it was a very pretty trinket indeed. The glass had a gold rim, and on the glass itself there were various hand painted flowers in different colors, those native to Switzerland. Under the flowers, in lovely script, was the beautiful name of the village, Lucerne. The melody the box played was a lovely version of the Swiss anthem, and Hermione smiled gaily when she heard it play. When it ended, a sad expression seemed to come over her face, and she placed the trinket down and walked away.
Without drawing too much attention to himself, Harry walked over to where the box lay. Making sure her attention was on something else, Harry quickly went over to the cashier and bought the box. Slipping the box into a little brown bag, he casually walked over to Hermione, who seemed to be hiding something behind her back.
"Ha…Harry, what are you doing here?" She asked shyly.
"Well, it's a free country. I can walk wherever I want," he said smugly, trying to get a peek at exactly what she was hiding.
"No! You can't see!" Hermione yelped, trying to keep him away. "Go find Ron, we can't very well go home and tell his mum we lost him in Switzerland can we?!" Hermione commanded, annoyance clearly evident in her tone.
Seeing he wasn't going to win this round, Harry stalked off in search of Ron, who was currently sitting on a bench on the bridge, surrounded by the Carter twins, and having a jolly good time of it.
"Hermione's on the warpath!" Harry remarked to his friend jovially. "Best we be on our best behavior." He added with a grin.
Excusing himself from the twins, who looked really disappointed, and joining his friend down the bridge, Ron rejoined. "This mood wouldn't have anything to do with the fact I interrupted something very important last night?"
Harry stopped walking and glared at Ron. "Ron, just forget it, all right? Nothing happened…"
Ron sighed and continued on. "Where is she anyways?" He asked gingerly.
Seeing that his friend wanted to change the subject, he added answered genially, "In the gift shop, hiding something from me."
"What do you suppose it is?"
"I dunno."
Hermione was in fact hiding something from Harry. Why, and what was it? Well, she planned it as a gift for him. First, she wanted to splurge the little money she brought for herself (just in case) on that charming little music box she saw, but that was until she saw it.
It was a wooden figurine, a carving of a lion, pierced and fallen in battle. The image alone made her want to cry in sorrow for the poor, beautiful lion. She knew she had to get it for Harry; she knew he would like it immensely.
So when he came to snoop around, Hermione naturally hid it from him, wanting it to be a surprise. So while he was off looking for Ron, she made the best of his absence and bought it. (There goes the music box, she thought sadly.)
******
"What did you buy?" Harry asked Hermione suspiciously. He was afraid she might have gotten herself the music box, but he was pretty sure his was the only one in the tiny store.
They were sitting on a bench on the bridge, taking pictures of the lake, mountains, the bridge, the tower, and each other. Hermione seemed to be obsessed.
Hermione stopped in the middle of taking a picture of a passing boat to answer Harry. "As a matter of fact Mr. Potter, I was getting you something." She turned around and took a candid picture of Ron, who was sitting on a bench in front of them, laughing at something one of the Carter twins said, who again managed to surround him.
Harry raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Me? You got me something?"
Hermione focused her camera, and snapped. "Yes you. I thought you might like it." She now aimed her camera in the direction of the sleepy town. That would make a beautiful panoramic shot.
After snapping that picture, Hermione dug into the pocket of her jacket and produced a small, brown paper bag. She handed it to Harry, and continued her picture taking, this time aiming to take a picture of Harry. He looked rather stunning, the wind was blowing through his hair and his cheeks were rather pink because of the cold. The dark water of the lake behind him made a startling contrast with his eyes, which seemed to grown even bigger when he identified the contents of said bag.
"Wow!" Was all he could manage when he saw the wooden figurine. It was about the size of the palm of his hand, and he could not think of anything to say. It was beautiful, and oh so sad to look at. "Where…where'd you find this?" He asked. It was a fairly redundant question, he knew where she bought it, but still, he was speechless. The lion, so brave and noble, seemed to have him in a trance of sorts.
"In the gift shop," Hermione said. Unbeknownst to Harry, she was snapping picture after picture of him. She didn't think she had ever seen him look so handsome.
"I have something for you as well." Harry reached into his bag and produced another brown paper bag. He took out the melody box and held it out to her.
"How did you know?" Hermione asked excitedly as she grabbed it out of his hand.
"I can read your mind," he said with a grin.
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "I know you can, but I would have known if you were."
"All right fine, I saw you looking wistfully at it. I thought I'd score boyfriend points if I got it for you," he rejoined cheekily.
Hermione decided to plop herself on his lap and delight him with a lovingly placed kiss on the lips. "I'll make you a deal, I'll give you boyfriend points for the melody box if you give me girlfriend points for the lion. Deal?"
Harry playfully pretended to consider this before he sealed the deal with another kiss. "Agreed."
"Hey you two, we are going to be late if you don't stop the incessant snogging!" Ron yelled across at them.
Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes and righted themselves. "We're coming!" Harry yelled back.
And so they followed Ron (who was plastered between the Carter twins) out to the bus.
******
"Before we head on to Engelberg, we're making a quick pit stop." Anastacia told the passengers of her tour bus.
When the time came, Anastacia hastily shuffled everyone out of the bus, reminding them about time constraints, and led them to the foot of a shallow pond. Above the pond however, there was a giant stonewall, and into the stonewall was carved the image of a lion, a lion fallen in battle, the same lion that Hermione bought Harry.
"This," Anastacia's voice dictated to the very moved tour group, "Is the Lion of Lucerne. It was carved in dedication to the Swiss Guards who died defending the Tuileries. No visit to Lucerne is complete without visiting this particular landmark. Why, Mark Twain himself called it 'the most moving piece of stone in the world'."
Harry couldn't take his eyes off of it. Yes it was the most moving piece of stone he had ever seen, it was the most moving piece of anything he had ever seen. The way the artist captures the sorrow and the sacrifice of the lion, it's a stroke of bloody genius! When he turned to look at his friends, he saw a genuine appreciation of the art in Ron's eyes, and he didn't know why, but he could've sworn he saw tears forming in Hermione's eyes…
"Very well people, time to head off to Engelberg!" Anastacia announced.
It was a sullen group indeed that drove up the Swiss Alps.
******
"I don't think I have ever been in a more beautiful place," Hermione cooed enthusiastically as she took a picture of the site before her.
There the trio stood, on a hill in front of a monastery overlooking the sleepy town of Engelberg, the Alps surrounding them majestically, their white peaks shining in the sunlight. They were low enough so that the ground wasn't completely snow filled, but snow was prominent in patches here and there. When Ron bent down to run his hand inside a small creek, he quickly took it out. "Blimey that's cold!" He exclaimed loudly.
Some of the members of the tour decided to take a revolving cable car up Mount Titlis, but the trio decided to explore the delights of Engelberg, and they did not regret their decision. It was a splendid village indeed. Everyone was quite friendly, and the quaintness of it all provided for many a Kodak moment.
"Let's go inside the church, please!!!" Hermione begged Harry and Ron, who looked like they would rather lark around among the hills.
"Fine fine fine," Harry agreed, as he was pulled into the church by Hermione. Once inside he stopped dead in his tracks. It was an amazing church. He didn't think he had ever seen a more colorful church. At Privet Drive, he diligently went to church with his Aunt and Uncle every Sunday (who did it only for appearances sake, not because of a firm belief in God,) and Harry found most English churches to be rather drab looking. But this church, wow, you couldn't stop darting your head around, afraid you'd miss some splendid painting or sculpture.
"Isn't this the most beautiful church you've ever seen?" Hermione asked, clearly pleased with the aesthetic beauty of this sacred monument.
Even Ron was impressed. "I've never really been inside a church before," he said, "but I find I rather like it."
Outside, Hermione found a small chapel, which was apparently closed to the public. She frowned, and trudged along crossly until she found a fountain to admire and take pictures of. She was clearly enjoying this experience.
"I'm hungry." Ron groaned.
"You're always hungry," Hermione said, now snapping pictures at a bubbling brook.
"Well we should eat something! Who knows how long we'll have to wait before we stop in Liechtenstein."
Harry and Hermione conceded, and soon enough, the trio found themselves munching happily on sandwiches and hot chocolate at a nearby café.
"You know," Ron said between bites of his sandwich. "I don't think I can get enough of hot chocolate. I doubt I'd be able to go back to Pumpkin juice!"
All too soon, it was time to board their bus, and journey onward to Liechtenstein.
******
The brief stop in Liechtenstein proved rather uneventful. They only had an hour to fill, in which they had a snack (some sort of chocolate pastry or other) and bought another camera (which an over zealous Hermione used to snap pictures of the lovely Liechtenstenian landscape.)
When they finally got to Innsbruck, however, they didn't stop off at the hotel first as they usually did.
"I want you guys to experience an Austrian procession!" Anastacia said eagerly, "Austria in celebration is Austria at its best!"
So that is why the trio found themselves outside Hofburg, the Imperial palace, watching a parade of Austrians in ceremonial garb celebrating something or other. (Exactly what they were celebrating was beyond them; Harry made a mental note to ask Prof. Dorset later on.)
After the procession, (which Hermione found quite culturally stimulating,) Anastacia gave the group leave to explore old town Innsbruck and seek dinner. And that is exactly what the hungry trio did.
After half a day in the bus, they were quite ravenous. Following a feast of Wiener Backhendl (fried chicken) at an Austrian café, the trio set off in exploration. Innsbruck proved to be a rather startling site. After the small towness of Engelberg, it was quite refreshing to be in such a sprawling city, where laughter and cheer and joy were found in every corner.
They began their exploration in the plaza in front of the Golden Roof, where the Emperor Maximilian used to hold court. They walked around the happy square, very much reminiscent of the Grand Place in the way it was centered, but still very much its own place, and very Austrian indeed.
Hermione delighted in taking pictures of everything, the architecture of the place very colorful indeed, contrasting with the Gothic color scheme of the Grand Place. She loved the Golden Roof, taking an endless amount of pictures of it, and laughing as she tried to fit Harry and Ron in the same picture as the Golden Roof (which proved futile, the roof was too high).
After a long walk about the small alleyways, admiring the architecture and the all around feel of the bustling town, the trio sat themselves down on a bench, feeling very weary indeed.
"Boy, it's been a long day." Ron yawned, exhaustion written all over his face. "How many people can say they've been in 2 different countries and one principality in a day?"
Harry and Hermione agreed silently, both feeling very tired indeed. "I think we should head back to our meeting point," Hermione said.
Harry jumped at this, and helped Hermione to her feet.
That night, in the Bonalpina Inn, the trio slept profoundly, Ron snoring across at Harry and Hermione, who slept in the bed next to his, both nestled in each other's arms. (Guess they settled that dilemma)
The next day would prove to be a big one as well. They were finally to reach the destination they were seeking, Italy.
******
"Any problems so far?" Voldemort asked Wormtail curtly. So far, he was quite happy with the way Wormtail was running the current operation. This was a first.
"Well, uhh…the red headed boy, he seemed to have spotted us one night in Switzerland, but we think it's all right. They continued on this Muggle tour as planned, today they stay in Austria, tomorrow they head towards Italy."
"Italy," Voldemort growled. "They're heading south…"
Wormtail nodded.
"Wormtail, no more mess ups, we can't have this operation jeopardized by foolishness! Understand?"
Wormtail whimpered and reassured his master. "Do not worry, everything is going as planned." With a pop, Wormtail was out of sight.
Yes, thought Voldemort vehemently. I will get you Harry Potter, and you're little friends too…
******
A/N: Eek! That chapter is done now! We are getting close to the end of this fic…
Dark Golo: Thanks for pointing out that Horace thing! Actually though, that "Voldemort" thing is done intentionally. Horace is not our average guy, how many grown ups you know wouldn't turn you in if you were out of school? Or would willingly take a potion from you even when they knew you were lying to them and scampering off to some other place…
Makulit: Of course I know Rita Skeeter is an animagus! But in my fic, she isn't a natural animagus, there are two different kinds… The natural kind (which you are if the crystal chooses you) and the wand kind, which takes many years of practice to become…And if Ron doesn't react to Muggleness, (like McDonalds) its because either A) I was too lazy to add it in or B) Clashes with the flow of the story.
BloodLust Vampire: I believe I finished in 3 days. I would have finished sooner, but something happened that took my total energy to overcome..
aczavius1701: *Blushes* Thank you so very much, very high compliment.
HarryNZ: You have been a faithful reviewer since the very beginning, thanks a lot! I appreciate it.
Linz: Thanks as well, you don't know how much me loves you and how much your opinion is valued.
Libertygrl413 and Bunny Girl: I'm glad you liked the last chapter! I hope you liked this one also…
And the person that caught the Narnia reference and complimented on my Hitler/Grindewald thing: Thanks! It's nice to know people catch my quirks…and I should put it in my disclaimer shouldn't I? *sighs*
And last, but definitely not least, Max: Thanks for all the lovely shower images! LOL And for making me laugh when I needed it…