Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters worth mentioning in this
story. Harry Potter and company are the sole intellectual property of JK
Rowling, but I sure do wish I had thought of it first.
Chapter 4 - Absolution
"I need to borrow your cloak and the map."
Harry hoisted himself to a sitting position. He ignored the fact that his comforter was pooled low on his hips now. Nudity was nothing new between the friends. Hermione, Ron and Harry had seen each other in varying degrees of undress over the last six years. It was really too late to be shy about it.
"You may borrow them," Harry seemed to be weighing his words carefully. Hermione was not foolish enough to think his answer would be as unconditional as that.
"Maya, I won't renege so stop looking like the other shoe is going to drop. I won't lie and say knowing why you need them wouldn't be a comfort, but I won't force you tell me anything. Ron and I love you and we want to help, but we can only do that if you let us in. Tell us what you're doing." With a pleading look Harry tried to penetrate the wall Hermione had erected between them. When he saw no change in her features he let out a long- suffering sigh. "Give me a minute to find the map."
Harry reached over to get his spectacles from his nightstand and then began rifling through the deep middle drawer. Hermione could not help but notice the symphony of muscles in his back shift. She thought to herself rather appreciatively that quidditch had been as good to Harry as it had been to Malfoy. Normally, only a vaguely heterosexual portion of Hermione would have noticed Harry, but the longer she watched the interplay of muscles the more aware she became. Her pupils became fully dilated when Harry leaned over further and the beginning portion of his firm ass an outer thigh became visible.
By Merlin, I'm like a bitch in heat, Hermione thought to herself. Things were definitely serious when the site of Harry started to get her aroused.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Harry turned his head toward her and gave her a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders at her deep flush. He had long since stopped trying to read Hermione.
"Give me a minute love. The hidden compartment is being a real bitch to open."
Without preamble Harry rolled completely out of bed and went onto his knees before the battered old nightstand. Hermione made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. She had forgotten the guys were commando sleepers. Last year Hermione had walked into the dorm room and seen more meat and veg than if she had gone to the Great Hall for dinner. She had turned pink for weeks after when she saw Neville and Seamus around campus.
She cursed Draco Malfoy once again. One of the many side effects that she suffered when she did not get enough bonding time with the bastard was a severe awareness of those around her. Her hormones went haywire and just about anyone could get her humming. But Hermione had already come to learn that no other contact, but Malfoy's could stop the constant prickling and tactile sensitivity. Over the winter recess, Hermione had endured unbearable discomfort. At times she thought of ripping her skin off layer by layer to gain relief. Eventually, she became fed up with her hypersensitive awareness of anything with a pulse and consented to a heavy make-out session at a club. The poor muggle she practically mauled had ended up as unsatisfied as Hermione herself, when she realized that arousal was only worsening the discomfort to painful levels. She had stopped the activity immediately and drove home like a madwoman to owl Malfoy for help.
After Harry finally liberated the Marauder's Map from its hiding place, he eased back onto the bed and lay back down on top of the covers facing Hermione. He supported his head with his right hand and extended the map with his right hand. Hermione's color was high and her breaths were shallow when she snatched the map from his hands. She quickly rose to a sitting position and began to ease off the mattress. Just as her feet touched the ground, Harry stopped her by calling out her name. She paused and turned her head slightly to acknowledge him, but was too afraid of her body's reaction to face him completely again.
"I know I said I wouldn't ask," at the tensing of her shoulders, Harry rushed to expel his next words, "and you don't have to answer, but do you need them to see Malfoy?"
Perhaps it was only a second, but it seemed as if a lifetime had passed before Hermione gave a single choppy nod of her head. He knew it was silly, it was obvious what her answer would be, but a secret part of wished she hadn't nodded. Then as if only a dream, this whole mess would not exist and it would be September again and they would all still be inseparable. Harry had learned a long time ago that wishing never amounted to much so he faced reality and plowed ahead.
"Will you need to use the cloak again after tonight?"
Once again there was an infinite stillness before the inevitable nod came. Harry's shoulders slumped and he bent his head to rub the bridge of his nose. For a minute he grappled with his next question before it wearily tumbled off his tongue.
"Is he...forcing you to go to him?"
A dry, tinny sound came from Hermione's throat. Harry did not dare call it a laugh; the sound was too tormented for that. When Hermione spoke her voice was thin and weak, as if it had been and not minutes since she had last used it.
"It's complicated. Harry,"
Before Hermione could finish the next sentence, the curtains around Harry's bed were wrenched aside and Hermione's eyes were in direct line with a washboard flat abdomen and the most intriguing trail of red hair which tapered (thankfully) into a pair of snug and worn maroon boxers. Ronald Weasley had also been honed to Adonis status by quidditch training it would seem.
"What kind of half-arsed answer is that? Does he have under some kind of dark spell? Better still are you boinking the bastard? Is that why you need the cloak, to go fuck your platinum lover?"
Ron's questions were fired rapidly and venomously. Hermione and Harry were both at a loss for words. Harry recovered first and tried to placate the flame-haired boy.
"Ron, why don't you just sit down? Calm your nerves. Hermione doesn't need to tell us anything. We are her friends, not her parents. Right?"
"Wrong, friend! You can try that nice guy shit, I want answers. Well Maya, what is going on?"
Somewhere to their left, Seamus Finnegan raised his head and interrupted the torrent.
"For Merlin's sake Ron shut the fuck up and let Maya talk. Maya hon, I'm glad you finally came to your senses and talked to Harry. Ron means well, but he's a dick so ignore him. Now would one of you please be kind enough to cast a 'silencio'? My wand is too far or I would do it my bloody self."
"Sorry Shea," Hermione replied before extending her wand and casting the requested silencing charm.
With some of her old fieriness, the girl yanked Ron down onto the mattress beside her. In a matter of seconds she realized the error of her actions. Hermione gave a silent groan. Not even Ron's irritating attitude could distract her from his attractiveness. Now she was sandwiched between her two most beloved men and her skin crawled with arousal. Hermione blushed deeply as x-rated images flashed before her eyes. She had only ever seen such images once before by accident on a muggle porn channel, this mess was turning her positively pervy. Somehow Hermione managed to mask her high coloring as rage and turned to her impetuous best friend.
"I'll have you know Ronald Weasley, I could be screwing all of Slytherin and it would be no concern of yours. I said the situation was complicated and I really don't need any of this shit. Fuck it, I'll risk detention."
Hermione scrambled to her feet, but was yanked back down by Ron's firm grip on her wrist. When she turned to scold the boy, she swallowed her words. Ron's head was bent, but she still caught a glimpse of the regret in his eyes.
"Maya stay. I'm sorry," the red head pleaded from under cinnamon lashes. When he looked up and pinned her with his electric gaze, Hermione felt her defenses disintegrate. Ron implored soulfully to his friend.
"I just want to protect you. Let us in. I know you think you have to do this alone, but you don't. Together we can make anything happen. Right now you're hurting us so much more than you can know by freezing us out." Gently Ron reached up to cup her face in his hands and Harry eased up against her back and bussed a peck on her right shoulder. Ron's deep baritone reached out to her very soul.
"Tell us, love."
Hermione felt the bile begin to rise up in her throat. For the last seven months she had been keeping secrets too deep and dark to imagine from her best friends. It killed her to separate herself from their lives and walk the dark path she was on without familiar friends. In her heart she knew it was all for the best. She was protecting Harry and Ron from what she had become. She was doing the honorable thing by keeping them in the dark. Unfortunately, Hermione was rapidly learning honor had no place in this war. Sacrifices and casualties were facts to be accepted. While Hermione still wanted to protect her boys, she needed their help and the only way they would completely give it was if she told them everything. She hated herself for not being strong enough to get through this without asking for help.
"Maya, I know we fought before and I never told you how sorry I was. If I had known my last words to you would be so cruel and brutal, I would never have.. Hell, I shouldn't have said them to begin with. I have lived seven months of my life in hell for what I did. If I am the reason," the young Gryffindor stumbled over the lump in his throat.
"If I am the reason why you are in trouble, then I'm begging you to give me a chance. I can make it better. I can fix everything I swear."
The last word came out through fiercely gritted teeth. Ronald Weasley was holding back a well of tears. The sheen in his eyes was reflected in those of his two best friends.
"No Ron, no!" She reached out her hands to firmly cup her best friend's face so that he was forced to look her in the eye. "You have to believe me when I say you are not the reason why I am in this predicament."
Harry got off the bed and walked to a chest of drawers and withdrew a pair of black boxer briefs before slipping them on. With a decisive push of his left hip, he shoved the drawer closed before pivoting to face his two friends. His lips were slightly pursed as he leaned his right shoulder against a bedpost at the foot of the bed. He had something to say, but was searching for the best way to say it.
"Spit it out Harry. What do you want to know?" Hermione asked in a resigned voice.
"Are you afraid that Malfoy will find out? Maya, as much as I want to crack his jaw open you know we will BOTH keep quiet if that is what you need from us." Harry finally managed in a slightly offended tone.
With a mirthless laugh, Hermione shook her head before letting them both in on the joke.
"He already knows Harry. Malfoy knows everything about me. What I do. What I say. What I want. What I hate. What I eat even!" Her voice rose to a shrill crescendo before she caught herself and lowered it. "And I know just as much about him. The truth is we are both suffering together. No blackmail or power games needed. We are both cursed and that it is our gift to the world."
Ron shook his head in confusion. Hermione was speaking in riddles and he just wanted her to get to the point.
"Maya, I love you and I am trying not to be the insufferable little prick you know me to be, but if you keep up this cryptic act..."
Hermione let out a bark of laughter at Ron's obvious exasperation. He really was one of the most darling boys on earth, when he put away his front and was just Ron and not "Ronald Weasley-poverty stricken-hot headed Gryffindor-best friend to the Boy Who Lived."
On countless occasions in the past, she had found herself owing her life and her sanity to him. Ron stopped both Harry and Hermione from becoming too wrapped up in the seriousness of every day life. She knew that day so many months ago weighed heavily on Ron's mind. It had pained her to know that her last words with Ron were thick with anger and cruelty on both sides. She knew that he had convinced himself that he was the root of their rift. Hermione could do this one thing for him; she could alleviate his guilt. Slowly she exhaled all of her trepidation and inhaled a deep, steadying breath.
A strange sentiment scurried across her mind. She felt an odd sense of capitulation and exasperation that was not quite her own. In that instant, she knew nothing was stopping her from letting Harry and Ron know the truth. Her entire being told her to go ahead and revive the dynamic trio she had missed being a part of for so long.
She would tell them everything and the consequences be damned.
Chapter 4 - Absolution
"I need to borrow your cloak and the map."
Harry hoisted himself to a sitting position. He ignored the fact that his comforter was pooled low on his hips now. Nudity was nothing new between the friends. Hermione, Ron and Harry had seen each other in varying degrees of undress over the last six years. It was really too late to be shy about it.
"You may borrow them," Harry seemed to be weighing his words carefully. Hermione was not foolish enough to think his answer would be as unconditional as that.
"Maya, I won't renege so stop looking like the other shoe is going to drop. I won't lie and say knowing why you need them wouldn't be a comfort, but I won't force you tell me anything. Ron and I love you and we want to help, but we can only do that if you let us in. Tell us what you're doing." With a pleading look Harry tried to penetrate the wall Hermione had erected between them. When he saw no change in her features he let out a long- suffering sigh. "Give me a minute to find the map."
Harry reached over to get his spectacles from his nightstand and then began rifling through the deep middle drawer. Hermione could not help but notice the symphony of muscles in his back shift. She thought to herself rather appreciatively that quidditch had been as good to Harry as it had been to Malfoy. Normally, only a vaguely heterosexual portion of Hermione would have noticed Harry, but the longer she watched the interplay of muscles the more aware she became. Her pupils became fully dilated when Harry leaned over further and the beginning portion of his firm ass an outer thigh became visible.
By Merlin, I'm like a bitch in heat, Hermione thought to herself. Things were definitely serious when the site of Harry started to get her aroused.
As if sensing her scrutiny, Harry turned his head toward her and gave her a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders at her deep flush. He had long since stopped trying to read Hermione.
"Give me a minute love. The hidden compartment is being a real bitch to open."
Without preamble Harry rolled completely out of bed and went onto his knees before the battered old nightstand. Hermione made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. She had forgotten the guys were commando sleepers. Last year Hermione had walked into the dorm room and seen more meat and veg than if she had gone to the Great Hall for dinner. She had turned pink for weeks after when she saw Neville and Seamus around campus.
She cursed Draco Malfoy once again. One of the many side effects that she suffered when she did not get enough bonding time with the bastard was a severe awareness of those around her. Her hormones went haywire and just about anyone could get her humming. But Hermione had already come to learn that no other contact, but Malfoy's could stop the constant prickling and tactile sensitivity. Over the winter recess, Hermione had endured unbearable discomfort. At times she thought of ripping her skin off layer by layer to gain relief. Eventually, she became fed up with her hypersensitive awareness of anything with a pulse and consented to a heavy make-out session at a club. The poor muggle she practically mauled had ended up as unsatisfied as Hermione herself, when she realized that arousal was only worsening the discomfort to painful levels. She had stopped the activity immediately and drove home like a madwoman to owl Malfoy for help.
After Harry finally liberated the Marauder's Map from its hiding place, he eased back onto the bed and lay back down on top of the covers facing Hermione. He supported his head with his right hand and extended the map with his right hand. Hermione's color was high and her breaths were shallow when she snatched the map from his hands. She quickly rose to a sitting position and began to ease off the mattress. Just as her feet touched the ground, Harry stopped her by calling out her name. She paused and turned her head slightly to acknowledge him, but was too afraid of her body's reaction to face him completely again.
"I know I said I wouldn't ask," at the tensing of her shoulders, Harry rushed to expel his next words, "and you don't have to answer, but do you need them to see Malfoy?"
Perhaps it was only a second, but it seemed as if a lifetime had passed before Hermione gave a single choppy nod of her head. He knew it was silly, it was obvious what her answer would be, but a secret part of wished she hadn't nodded. Then as if only a dream, this whole mess would not exist and it would be September again and they would all still be inseparable. Harry had learned a long time ago that wishing never amounted to much so he faced reality and plowed ahead.
"Will you need to use the cloak again after tonight?"
Once again there was an infinite stillness before the inevitable nod came. Harry's shoulders slumped and he bent his head to rub the bridge of his nose. For a minute he grappled with his next question before it wearily tumbled off his tongue.
"Is he...forcing you to go to him?"
A dry, tinny sound came from Hermione's throat. Harry did not dare call it a laugh; the sound was too tormented for that. When Hermione spoke her voice was thin and weak, as if it had been and not minutes since she had last used it.
"It's complicated. Harry,"
Before Hermione could finish the next sentence, the curtains around Harry's bed were wrenched aside and Hermione's eyes were in direct line with a washboard flat abdomen and the most intriguing trail of red hair which tapered (thankfully) into a pair of snug and worn maroon boxers. Ronald Weasley had also been honed to Adonis status by quidditch training it would seem.
"What kind of half-arsed answer is that? Does he have under some kind of dark spell? Better still are you boinking the bastard? Is that why you need the cloak, to go fuck your platinum lover?"
Ron's questions were fired rapidly and venomously. Hermione and Harry were both at a loss for words. Harry recovered first and tried to placate the flame-haired boy.
"Ron, why don't you just sit down? Calm your nerves. Hermione doesn't need to tell us anything. We are her friends, not her parents. Right?"
"Wrong, friend! You can try that nice guy shit, I want answers. Well Maya, what is going on?"
Somewhere to their left, Seamus Finnegan raised his head and interrupted the torrent.
"For Merlin's sake Ron shut the fuck up and let Maya talk. Maya hon, I'm glad you finally came to your senses and talked to Harry. Ron means well, but he's a dick so ignore him. Now would one of you please be kind enough to cast a 'silencio'? My wand is too far or I would do it my bloody self."
"Sorry Shea," Hermione replied before extending her wand and casting the requested silencing charm.
With some of her old fieriness, the girl yanked Ron down onto the mattress beside her. In a matter of seconds she realized the error of her actions. Hermione gave a silent groan. Not even Ron's irritating attitude could distract her from his attractiveness. Now she was sandwiched between her two most beloved men and her skin crawled with arousal. Hermione blushed deeply as x-rated images flashed before her eyes. She had only ever seen such images once before by accident on a muggle porn channel, this mess was turning her positively pervy. Somehow Hermione managed to mask her high coloring as rage and turned to her impetuous best friend.
"I'll have you know Ronald Weasley, I could be screwing all of Slytherin and it would be no concern of yours. I said the situation was complicated and I really don't need any of this shit. Fuck it, I'll risk detention."
Hermione scrambled to her feet, but was yanked back down by Ron's firm grip on her wrist. When she turned to scold the boy, she swallowed her words. Ron's head was bent, but she still caught a glimpse of the regret in his eyes.
"Maya stay. I'm sorry," the red head pleaded from under cinnamon lashes. When he looked up and pinned her with his electric gaze, Hermione felt her defenses disintegrate. Ron implored soulfully to his friend.
"I just want to protect you. Let us in. I know you think you have to do this alone, but you don't. Together we can make anything happen. Right now you're hurting us so much more than you can know by freezing us out." Gently Ron reached up to cup her face in his hands and Harry eased up against her back and bussed a peck on her right shoulder. Ron's deep baritone reached out to her very soul.
"Tell us, love."
Hermione felt the bile begin to rise up in her throat. For the last seven months she had been keeping secrets too deep and dark to imagine from her best friends. It killed her to separate herself from their lives and walk the dark path she was on without familiar friends. In her heart she knew it was all for the best. She was protecting Harry and Ron from what she had become. She was doing the honorable thing by keeping them in the dark. Unfortunately, Hermione was rapidly learning honor had no place in this war. Sacrifices and casualties were facts to be accepted. While Hermione still wanted to protect her boys, she needed their help and the only way they would completely give it was if she told them everything. She hated herself for not being strong enough to get through this without asking for help.
"Maya, I know we fought before and I never told you how sorry I was. If I had known my last words to you would be so cruel and brutal, I would never have.. Hell, I shouldn't have said them to begin with. I have lived seven months of my life in hell for what I did. If I am the reason," the young Gryffindor stumbled over the lump in his throat.
"If I am the reason why you are in trouble, then I'm begging you to give me a chance. I can make it better. I can fix everything I swear."
The last word came out through fiercely gritted teeth. Ronald Weasley was holding back a well of tears. The sheen in his eyes was reflected in those of his two best friends.
"No Ron, no!" She reached out her hands to firmly cup her best friend's face so that he was forced to look her in the eye. "You have to believe me when I say you are not the reason why I am in this predicament."
Harry got off the bed and walked to a chest of drawers and withdrew a pair of black boxer briefs before slipping them on. With a decisive push of his left hip, he shoved the drawer closed before pivoting to face his two friends. His lips were slightly pursed as he leaned his right shoulder against a bedpost at the foot of the bed. He had something to say, but was searching for the best way to say it.
"Spit it out Harry. What do you want to know?" Hermione asked in a resigned voice.
"Are you afraid that Malfoy will find out? Maya, as much as I want to crack his jaw open you know we will BOTH keep quiet if that is what you need from us." Harry finally managed in a slightly offended tone.
With a mirthless laugh, Hermione shook her head before letting them both in on the joke.
"He already knows Harry. Malfoy knows everything about me. What I do. What I say. What I want. What I hate. What I eat even!" Her voice rose to a shrill crescendo before she caught herself and lowered it. "And I know just as much about him. The truth is we are both suffering together. No blackmail or power games needed. We are both cursed and that it is our gift to the world."
Ron shook his head in confusion. Hermione was speaking in riddles and he just wanted her to get to the point.
"Maya, I love you and I am trying not to be the insufferable little prick you know me to be, but if you keep up this cryptic act..."
Hermione let out a bark of laughter at Ron's obvious exasperation. He really was one of the most darling boys on earth, when he put away his front and was just Ron and not "Ronald Weasley-poverty stricken-hot headed Gryffindor-best friend to the Boy Who Lived."
On countless occasions in the past, she had found herself owing her life and her sanity to him. Ron stopped both Harry and Hermione from becoming too wrapped up in the seriousness of every day life. She knew that day so many months ago weighed heavily on Ron's mind. It had pained her to know that her last words with Ron were thick with anger and cruelty on both sides. She knew that he had convinced himself that he was the root of their rift. Hermione could do this one thing for him; she could alleviate his guilt. Slowly she exhaled all of her trepidation and inhaled a deep, steadying breath.
A strange sentiment scurried across her mind. She felt an odd sense of capitulation and exasperation that was not quite her own. In that instant, she knew nothing was stopping her from letting Harry and Ron know the truth. Her entire being told her to go ahead and revive the dynamic trio she had missed being a part of for so long.
She would tell them everything and the consequences be damned.