Disclaimer: Once again I don't own anything that you see here, in fact, not even the computer that I'm writing this on, that belongs to my friend. All the rest belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's Note: I apologize for the layout of the first chapter, the format got a bit screwy when I saved it. Hopefully I'll figure out what I'm doing wrong and fix it, it's just that I'm not used to Windows XP since I don't have it at home. I hope you all liked the first chapter, although it was a bit short in my opinion, and I hope to make the remaining ones longer. As for as how long this story will be in terms of the number of chapters, that I don't know. I guess until I run out of ideas and I simply can't write it anymore. Also, please forgive me if anything is spelled incorrectly, I don't have my books here to reference anything.
A special thanks to my first four reviewers: Sammac, SweetHeart, HoGwArTs fLiRt12, and Melbell (I sure hope I've spelled your names correctly). I appreciate all your comments.
To Sammac: I have thought about portkey.org (it's a wonderful site is it not? NAPPA and everyone else has done a fantastic job with it), but I dunno if I will or not. I don't think my stories are that brilliant to post anywhere else. I'm just lucky, and thankful, that ff.net let me load them here and that anyone would want to read them.
Alright, enough babble from me…on with chapter two, with the hopes that chapter three will be out soon. Take care! Hope you all enjoy it. Oh yes, for all the H/Hr lovers, this chapter has quite a bit of romantic fluff for you…hope I didn't do to poorly with it.
~*~
Multiple candles flickered in tall, gleaming candelabras, their tiny, wavering flames sending wispy shadows dancing across the walls in eerie and sensual movements; liquid smoke against solid, stone walls. A black robed figure sat cross-legged on the rough, tiled floor, eyes traveling from a crumpled sheet of parchment to the object before them. Eight white pillar candles, arranged in a circle in the middle of the floor, sputtered to life, adding to the already warm glow of the room.
The necklace dangled from the first and second fingers of the figures right hand, the chain sparkling richly as the light bounced off it, catching on the links of the chain. The once clear crystal orb was now filled with thick, sluggish red smoke, streaked here and there with black; the color of blood and hate. There were no windows in the small enclosure, the air smelled stuffy and stale, and it was filled with long forgotten objects of years gone by.
Sheet draped paintings and furniture were packed tightly together against the walls, creating an ancient, ghostly barrier as they were dressed all in white, dimmed by the dust and dirt that had collected. The smell of hot wax and old books, their leather bindings cracked and moth-eaten and their pages crumbling into dust, filled the room along with the scent of sweat and heat.
Rising into a kneeling position in the center of the candlelit circle, the figure sat hunched over, the long, black robe pooling out on either side and gathered in bunches here and there. Hands tightened sporadically around the thin, sliver chain, almost as if they were afraid that it might disappear all together. Bowing their head, thin lips pressed a kiss, the lightest of touches, to the blood red pendent before straightening and beginning to speak in low, raspy tones.
Servant of darkness,
Friend of sorrow,
Hear my call.
Unearthed from your dark grave,
Come forth once more,
Among the land of the living.
Renew your strength with the gift I offer you.
Obey only me,
For I am your master now.
I call to you…Umbra Antitheus,
Demon of dreams and darkness,
Creature of the night.
A heavy silence filled the room once the last word was uttered. The only sounds to break through the tangible thickness were ragged breathing and the sounds of the flickering flames sucking wax greedily through their blackened wicks. Sitting as if they were carved from stone, the speaker waited with baited breath for a sign that the spell had been cast correctly. Still nothing, the only new sound to mingle with the first two was the soft sputtering sound of hot wax dripping down the sides of the candles in uneven ridges, past the candelabras, and onto the cool floor, creating pliable pools of white wax around their bases.
Then, in the wavering light, in the farthest corners where the candles fingers couldn't reach, a hunched and twisted shape was forming. The already heavy air seemed to grow more so, the pressure of it hovering, clinging like a wet blanket, and even the light seemed to dim in the smothering air. Scales, resembling a snake's, mixed with short, wiry hairs that bristled with each movement, covered a hulking body from head to toe. The color of them was a mixture of a slimy green and muddy brown, each scale shimmering in the light. Two short, leathery wings protruded just above the shoulder blades, the tips, pointed and sharp, came to rest an inch above its elbows. The arms and legs of the creature were thick and solid with muscle and around its right bicep was an arm band fashioned out of black iron, its mouth was filled with long, sharp teeth, and its feet and hands were tipped with curved talons, some jagged and broken.
The snout was long and pointed, a mixture of a dragon and a snake combined, and the nostrils were flat; mere slits that opened and closed with each growling breath. On its head, two curved horns jutted out of its skull, dull and black. Two narrow, yellow eyes rimmed in fire red, the pupils vertical and thin, were bright and gave the appearance of a cat's, peered out from the shadows; sinister and evil. Following the unearthly, golden glow came a low grumble, permeating the air with a breath of heat, sulfur and decay and death. The kneeling figure recoiled slightly in fear as the creature's eyes narrowed even further in a flash of hate and hunger. The fear was quickly tamped down, a look of cool indifference replacing the weak one. The hulking figure crept forward, seeming to glide on the air and slither through the shadows, rather than walk, the only sound disputing this was the sharp click of talons on stone. The shadow stopped at the edge of the light, just before the soft glow could expose it.
"Master," the word came out in a rotten hiss, a faint puff of red smoke leaving its mouth, and its eyes gleaming wickedly in the light as it looked down on the form of its releaser. "Master, for thousands of years I waited the day when I was released to walk among the land of men once more," another growl accompanied his words along with the slight chomping of teeth against teeth. "In my prison I waited, hungry and restless, my collection waning and no longer appealing to my eyes. I am Zabulus, the Umbra Antitheus, and as my releaser, I obey only you. Tell me, how you found me?" the demon stopped speaking, heat seeming to radiate off its body in waves as its ravenous eyes kept up their intent stare.
The robe clad figure paused for a moment, slightly disgusted by the scent that seemed to float around the creature Zabulus like a hideous cloud, before speaking. "From an ancient scroll, locked away and kept secret for years. In solitude and determination I sought you, awaiting the right time to unlock your power once again."
"What do you wish of me?"
A snicker. "I desire revenge," they hissed. "On the one who has walked in glory and esteem for far too long."
Zabulus nodded once. Over the course of his long and feared life, he had been used more than once in the act of revenge by those who had the strength of will to use him. Zabulus wasn't his only name as he was known by others…Death, War, Destruction, Terror, Demon of Dreams; he was one and the same and took great pride in his work. Created from every foul thought and action, he'd roamed the land of the living, searching and destroying as he crushed out lives one by one. "Very well," he finally growled. "When do you wish me to begin?" a look of undeniable hunger crept into his eyes.
"Soon," came the hoarse reply. "Very soon I shall need your help. But not yet, not just yet," a malicious look filled their eyes.
"My collection is lacking," Zabulus repeated again, a thin, black tongue poking out to slither across scaly lips. Long, white teeth flashed in the light.
"Soon," he was told again, much to the impatience of Zabulus. "You will be able to quench your desires. But, for now, patience is what you will need to have."
"As you wish," Zabulus spit out, not pleased that he would have to wait another day. Large hands clenched into fists and wings fluttered slightly. "I shall return to my lair. You know how to call me if you choose," the creature glowered for a moment longer before beginning to melt away into heavy, black smoke. Soon, only the eyes remained, floating aloft in the black swirl before they too, winked out.
Eyes watched as the thick mist clung to the floor like cobwebs, creeping soundlessly along the dank tiles, keeping tightly to the walls and shadows. It seeped out of the crack under the door like water and out of sight. Once he was gone, the light grew brighter, as if a hundred more candles had been lit, and the air grew lighter, easier to breath once more.
Letting out a deep sigh and tipping their head back, a loud, braying laughter filled the room. "I shall take that which you hold most dear and leave you cursing the day we meet," the voice chuckled and hands clung to the necklace, fingernails making half-moon shape marks into their palms. "I will take your heart."
~*~
The wait until Friday seemed to drag by for Harry. He had passed the time away by lounging about the house reading or relaxing and generally helping Sirius out in fixing up the small, quaint cottage that he had purchased shortly after his release. They'd managed to put on a fresh coat of white paint on the outside and on the small, picket fence that ran along the front yard, the muggle way as to not scare their neighbors in case they looked out the windows and saw paint brushes moving all by themselves. He weeded the garden, a rather enjoyable experience now that he wasn't being poked and prodded at by his detestable aunt, or being tormented by his overweight cousin.
A slight grin spread across his lips as he remembered the day Sirius had come to collect him from Number Four, Privet Drive. His uncle's face had paled and then turned a fiery shade of red, all within a matter of seconds at the sight of an 'escaped convict' being present in his house. His Aunt Petunia had squealed in fright, sounding like a pig that had gotten their head caught in a bucket, and had pulled Dudley, who was wider than he was tall after growing out of his school uniforms, again, closer to shield him from the 'abnormal' people. Truthfully, had Sirius come to actually harm them, Aunt Petunia would have done well to hide behind her precious Dudley instead.
Sirius's lips had curled in disgust at the sight of the simpering family, his brown eyes glittering in barely controlled rage as he surveyed them. But, he remained pleasant, or at least cordial, as he stood in the foyer and instructed Harry to grab his trunk and other belongings.
"Take him," Vernon dared to mutter, his lip twitching underneath his bushy mustache, quite pleased to finally be getting rid of his freak of a nephew. "Take him and good riddance to bad rubbish I say."
Sirius glared and scowled in response, biting his lip in order to keep himself from hexing the fat muggle until Doomsday. Vernon mistook his silence for weakness and had puffed out his chest with his remaining nerve, and foolishly ploughed ahead.
"You know," his beady eyes took on a faint glint of greediness as he watched Harry drag his trunk out of the locked cupboard under the stairs, his former bedroom. "We did raise him the best we could since he was so rudely left on our doorstep," he snorted out.
Brown eyes narrowed even further, Sirius's eyebrows knitting together in a straight line.
"And out of the kindness of our hearts," he went on, trying to give the impression and he and his family were saints for taking care of him. "We took him in. Clothed him, feed him, gave him shelter," Vernon disregarded the other man's larger build and hard look, forgetting momentarily that this was a 'criminal' he was talking down to. "I think it would only be fair, no, right, yes right," Vernon continued to babble, sounding as if he were talking to himself as his words fell on deaf ears. "To receive a bit of gratitude for watching over him for the last fifteen years."
That smug statement was simply the last straw for him. Harry might have been able to let the comment slide, or even been rather thankful that they had taken him in, as kindness was second nature to him. But not Sirius.
"Gratitude!" he bellowed, his hands clenched at his sides and his teeth bared. "How can you stand in front of me and demand something, even one ounce of thanks from the boy you kept locked in a cupboard under the stairs for years!" he snorted in disgust as Vernon took a step backwards at the force in Sirius's tone, his fleshy face turning pale once again. "Oh yes, I knew about that," he growled, taking a matching step forward to crowd out Vernon's space. "But I suppose you rather liked it, having him here," he went on. "It was almost like having your own personal slave round the house. Cleaning, cooking your breakfast, doing your outside chores, and not having to pay a dime for all the hard work," he paused, allowing his words time to penetrate Vernon's thick skull. "The boy is your nephew," he hissed. "Your own flesh and blood, and yet you'd rather disown him altogether. Out of sight, out of mind right?"
Vernon's eyes bugged out, his jaw opening and closing like a fish on dry land. "But, but…" he sputtered helplessly, glancing over at his wife for some support with no luck. Petunia merely whimpered with wide eyes, pressing herself tighter against the wall, and pulled Dudley closer, one arm wrapped around his large neck as she squeezed. Dudley hacked, his chubby face slowly turning purple as he tore at his mother's iron grip.
"Don't speak," Sirius warned in a low tone before Vernon could spit out another word. "And don't you ever ask Harry for anything again," and to Vernon's shock, a growl, more like an animals than a man's, came from his throat.
Harry, meanwhile, had to bite back a smile as his godfather raged at his uncle. He had gathered all his belongings during their confrontation, stuffed what he could in his trunk, and placed Hedwig's cage neatly on top.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a human," Sirius hissed, his cheeks were flushed red and his very hair seemed to bristle. "And I promise you this, Harry will never step foot in this house again."
"Harry!" a squeal pierced the air and jolted him back to reality.
He whipped his head around, a smile lighting up his face as he clambered up from where he was sitting by the half weeded garden, wiping his dirty hands on his trousers as he went. A vision of a girl with long flowing hair and sparkling eyes seemed to float towards him as though on a cloud. She looked like an angel; the only missing pieces were her wings and halo. "Hermione?" he said her name in response, his heart began pounding, not quite sure if he was still dreaming or not as he watched her race across the lawn towards him.
He wasn't dreaming and a rush of love, both powerful and frightening at the same time, sent heat spiraling through his body as the butterflies began flapping wildly in his stomach. "Hermione!" he took one step closer to her and then stopped, a sudden wave of insecurities crashing through him. Suddenly he was shy and bashful, much like the eleven year old boy that she'd first met on the way for their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thoughts that she still might harbor some residual hard feelings towards him after the way he'd acted in their fifth year, despite all her letters and comforting words, and sudden worry that he wasn't good enough for her, caused him to hang back.
He watched with keen eyes as she approached him, her long hair teased by her sprinting. Her warm, compassionate eyes that could swallow him alive and cause him to forget every thought that was in his head, shone with happiness and love. Upon seeing the latter of the two radiating from her very soul, every doubt and worry he'd built up inside himself, dissipated, and he took a few shaky steps towards her, opening his arms to catch her in a tight embrace.
She flung herself at him just at that moment, her own arms darting around his neck as she pressed her face against his chest, her hands combing into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "God I missed you," she whispered huskily, the smoky sound of it sending a shiver down his spine.
His breath rattled in his lungs as he pressed his face into the softness of her hair, breathing her into his heart and soul. Her scent of roses and vanilla followed her like a cloud, or a dream, and he greedily absorbed it. His face moved downwards to where her neck and shoulder met, his warm breath causing her flesh to tremble under its heat. "I missed you too, my Hermione," his hands came up to tangle themselves into her long hair and he tipped her head back.
Half-lidded pools of golden brown met his, and a slight smile curved up the corners of her lips. Uncurling one hand from her hair, he gently brushed several strands of it away from her forehead before tenderly cupping the side of her face and tracing a thumb over her lips.
Her heart pounded madly in her chest, partly from running, but mostly from being near him once more. Her breath left her lips in thin puffs of air as her eyes softened at his gentle and awed look as he gazed at her. The touch of his hand on her face made her knees weak and her arms heavy, she was convinced that she'd swoon right then and there if he were to let go.
Her own hands refused to remain wrapped around his neck as his continued to caress her face. They slid down to settle on his chest, her right hand splayed over his heart, which was beating as fast as her own at her touch. She bit her lip lightly, trying to keep a wide grin in check, silently please that she had the same affect on him as he did over her. A devilish glint sparked in her eyes as she saw his jaw clench tightly, the muscles standing out sharply on his lean face. His usually bright, clear green eyes had turned darker, filled with rampaging emotions that she knew she could relate too.
"Are you going to sit and stare at me all day?" she teased as her fingers curled into the soft folds of his well-worn shirt that smelled of earth and wind and sunshine, and Harry. "Or are you going to kiss me?" her smile grew wider as she blinked innocently up at him.
His heart nearly stopped beating at her words and it became a bit harder to force air past the tightness of his lungs. "I – I," he stuttered and licked his suddenly dry lips as his eyes continued their fascination with her lips. "I was getting to that," his voice dropped lower, coming out more like a whisper.
"Good," she pulled him closer by his shirt and tilted her head up on her own accord to meet his lips with hers.
He met them with the lightest of touches, a slight caress, before pulling back to stare down at her once more. It only took a moment, if even a second, before he crushed his lips against hers again, this time more possessively and confident. He was consuming her, drawing her into his very being with each passing moment, and she knew it. A low groan came from the depths of her throat as she leaned her head back farther, her neck and back slightly arched, and pressed herself closer to him.
With one hand still on her cheek, his other hand slipped from their purchase in her hair, traveled down the length of her slim neck, past her shoulders, and came to rest in the small of her back. Strong fingers applied gentle pressure against the slightly indented area and sent five points of heat through the thin fabric of her blouse, setting her skin on fire and awakening the familiar desire that she had whenever she kissed him.
Deciding to return the favor of blissful torment, Hermione's hands slipped from his chest to the hem of the shirt that he had un-tucked from his trousers due to the heat while weeding. Shifting slightly so that she could reach between them, she slipped one hand inside and up, sending muscles quivering lightly at her touch. Almost greedily her hands roamed up his stomach, to the smooth plains of his chest, hungry for the feel of his flesh sliding under her fingers. It was Harry's turn to groan as her hands traced lazy circles against him.
He pressed his mouth harder on hers, quite sure that the both of them would be sporting bruised and swollen lips for the rest of the day, but not caring at all. Hermione's lips parted slightly, a silent invitation, which he took without hesitation. After a few moments of heated exploration on both their parts, he pulled back, green eyes glazed over and his lungs gasping for air.
She was no better. Within the dark depths of her eyes smoldered an inner fire, his kiss having fanned the flame until it roared into a raging inferno within her. Meeting his eyes with hers sent the intense heat straight into his soul, nearly knocking him over in its potency.
"Hermione," Harry managed to spit out past the rising lump in his throat.
"Shh," she trailed a hand up and placed a slender finger against his lips to silence him, knowing exactly what he needed to hear. "I love you Harry."
His heart lurched in his chest, sending exhilaration to mix with love as it rioted through his veins at her words. He was slightly humbled by her frank and sincere declaration of love, and genuinely touched. Jaw muscles clenched tightly once more as he shuddered once again. "Thank you," he breathed out, his eyes speaking volumes that his voice wouldn't allow him to do.
Her heart skipped a beat at the look on his face and in his eyes. Once again she felt a wave of sadness at the fact that he'd been so unloved for most of his life and that his insecurities were beginning to filter through to their relationship. "Hey," she said softly, reaching up with both hand to run her hands through his thick hair, her fingers teasing the black strands to stick up more wildly. "I should be the one thanking you, you know.'
He blinked in surprise. "Thank me?" he echoed, weakly. "Why is that?"
She nibbled a bit on her lip before answering. "Because," she paused. "I thought for sure I'd be doomed to being your best friend, only your best friend, for the rest of my life," she gave a half-smile. "That I'd have to watch you be with one beautiful witch after another and never seeing me."
"You?" he was shocked. "Are you joking? I always see you Hermione."
She flushed slightly at his incredulous remark, her eyes dropping down in embarrassment. "Yes me," she shuffled her feet.
Sensing her discomfort at his comment, he gripped her hand tightly in his, giving her hand a loving squeeze. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, placing one hand under her chin so she'd look up at him again. "But you're silly if you think that."
Brown eyes widened in hurt.
"No, no, it's not what you're thinking," he hurried to explain before she took it the wrong way completely. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
She gave a wobbly smile and arched an eyebrow. "How did you mean it then?" she questioned him, willing to hear him out.
He faltered for a moment, his eyes wandering across the grass at their feet. "I just meant that you were silly in thinking that I'd never see you as more than just my friend," he shrugged his shoulder as if that could explain it all. "I'd have to be both blind and stupid to not ever notice you for what and who you are," he paused again, a slight flush showing on his face. "If you only saw in yourself what I see in you Hermione, you'd never think that, not even for one second. You're beautiful Hermione Granger," he finally looked up and locked eyes with her. "Never doubt that. And if anyone else says any different, then he'll have to deal with me."
Her smile straightened and she let out an airy laugh as she threw her arms around him once more. "Do you know how wonderful you really are Harry Potter?" she asked, her head nestled against his shoulder.
He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she wasn't angry or upset by his previous comment. "No," he rubbed her back. "And I don't really care, just as long as you think I am."
"You are and I do think so," she nodded and then let out a long sigh. "Love you Harry."
"Love you too, my Hermione. Remember, all I want is you, just like you are."
~*~
"There you two are," Sirius commented when Harry and Hermione finally made their way inside, long after Mr. Granger had left, hand in hand. "I was wondering where you two had gone off too," he paused and grinned impishly. "And I was about to go looking, but, I figured that you wanted to be alone for a bit," this last part caused Hermione to drop her eyes as a light blush began creeping up her neck once more.
"Don't mind him," Harry muttered softly and squeezed her hand. "He's been doing this ever since I got up this morning."
A chuckle escaped Sirius's lips as he watched the two of them together. Even he had to admit to himself that he hadn't seen a better suited couple since Lily and James. After hearing Harry's comforting words and the jolliness in his godfather's laugh, Hermione visibly relaxed and gave Sirius a shy smile.
"Hello Sirius," she said softly, still clinging to Harry's hand as she regarded Sirius from under her eyelashes. "How are you doing?"
"Fine and well," he rustled the newspaper he held in his hands. "And you?" he arched an eyebrow.
"Never better," she replied honestly at his question, shooting Harry a quick look as she did. Sirius caught it and smile to himself.
"Wonderful, we're glad to have you here, aren't we Harry?" twinkling eyes darted to the still silent form of his godson as his teasing shifted from one teenager to the other.
He cleared his throat and scratched at his head. "Erm – yeah," he muttered, forgetting the words he'd told his girlfriend only moments before and wishing the floor would open up underneath him and swallow him whole.
Hermione took this opportunity to pull away from him, wandering over to the large bay window situated in their living room that overlooked the front yard and the gleaming picket fence. A soft smile spread over her face and a dreamy look filled her eyes. "I like the house," she said earnestly to whoever was listening. "You did a great job at picking it out Sirius."
It was Sirius's turn to flush at her praise and his chest puffed out slightly at her words. "Thank you," he nodded as he rustled his paper once more. "I know it's not much," he shrugged his broad shoulders. "But…"
"It's wonderful," she broke in and spun round, the smile still attached to her lips.
The flush that had begun to fade on his face roared to life again. "So," he quickly changed the subject before he turned as red as a tomato in front of her. "When are you two off to the Weasley's?" he questioned.
Harry turned and glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, checking the time. "I told Ron we'd be over about two o'clock," he informed him. "We still have a couple hours left, or we could go early?" he shot a look towards Hermione silently asking her.
"No," she shook her head. "That's alright," she stepped forward and took his hand in hers once more. "Come on," she tugged at his arm. "I want a tour."
Harry followed obediently, the look of wonder at her touch lighting his face as well as a shy smile.
"The boy's got it bad," Sirius laughed to himself as he began to read his forgotten paper. "He's just like you James," a wry smile on his face as he muttered to an old memory that hadn't faded over the years like most did. "So much like you that it's like you never left old friend. I wish you and Lily were here to see it," but in his heart, he knew they could, wherever they were.
~*~
"Missed you," Hermione muttered again as they lay side by side on Harry's bed as he lazily combed his fingers through her fanned out hair.
He chuckled lightly, his laughter sending short vibrations across the mattress beneath them. This was only about the millionth time that she'd told him, letters included, although he doubted he'd ever get tired of hearing it. Deciding to tease her a bit, he rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning and his eyes filled with happiness. "You missed me eh?" he arched one eyebrow as he looked down at her. "How much did you miss me?" he asked innocently, dropping his eyes away from her face and picking at an invisible thread on his comforter.
Hermione stared up at him, catching the teasing tone and look, and returned his grin with one of her own. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she answered rather primly, lifting one hand to inspect her fingernails daintily, an action of indifference that she didn't feel. Actually, she was beginning to feel quite warm and drowsy, her blood seeming to slow into a sluggish flowing as her heart beat slow and dull in her ears. It was possible that it was because she was lying partially in the warm shaft of sunlight that was streaming through the window, but she knew better. She knew that just being close to him could turn her into a pile of quivering goo, unable to move or care if she ever did again.
He narrowed his eyes in a sly look, definitely catching the forced tone of impassiveness in her voice. His grin faded into a lopsided smirk and he settled himself more comfortably on his bent elbow. "Well then," he began thoughtfully, tapping one finger against his chin as if he were making a momentous decision. "If you won't tell me," knuckles were cracked, causing Hermione to jerk her eyes back to his face. "Then I'll just have to torture it out of you," he warned, a wicked smile taking over the place of the smirk.
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in surprise. "You wouldn't dare," she squealed, her muscles bunching together in order to spring away from him in case he decided to attack.
"I would," he informed her heartlessly, and he did. His hands darted towards the ticklish spots on her sides and the backs of her knees before she could escape him, sending her into a fit of laughter mixed with shrieks.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she howled as she fought for breath and tried to squirm away from his relentless hands only to be held fast by strong arms. "You are so going to regret this!" tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she continued her fruitless struggle.
Harry was laughing too, deep, heartfelt chuckles as he incessantly tickled her and did his best to avoid her thrashing legs. He held tighter to her, he could feel that she was more determined to wiggle away. In between her giggles, Hermione gathered her last remaining strength as she sucked in a deep lungful of air. Before he even had time to react, she nimbly slid a leg underneath him and rolled to her left; wanting to knock him off balance and not stopping to think of the sudden position she'd find herself in if she were to succeed.
She did, and the giddy laughter died on both their lips as surprised and serious eyes met each other. Her hasty action had left Harry sprawled on top of her, hips settled lightly against hers and their legs intertwined. Both of his arms were planned firmly on either side of her shoulders and keeping him propped up from crushing her. Her own hands were pressed against his chest. Despite the intimate position that she wasn't quite ready for, she felt safe, wrapped up in a world that focused solely on her and Harry. A wonderful world of endless, emerald green and dark, earthy brown.
Harry said nothing, couldn't even if he had wanted too. The sudden lurch of her body as she rolled had caught him off-guard and he had no choice but to follow it. The sudden contact of body against body sent him spiraling into a well of desire so deep and powerful, that all coherent thought fled his mind as the blood drained downwards. He continued to stare at her in a mixture of awe and sudden panic as he fought to keep his wits about him, something that was becoming increasingly hard to do when all he wanted to was to stay like this forever.
She could feel his heart thumping wildly under her fingers as well as the heat that was radiating from his body and enveloping her within its exhilarating warmth. She could hear the labored sounds of his breath, matching her own in its sound and quality, as it left his lungs. Her lips parted and a flush was making its way up the delicate baseline of her neck, climbing higher to paint her cheeks with its red hue and her eyes turned into a burning, liquid brown. Time ceased to exist and the world stopped its turning as they regarded each other breathlessly.
She finally said his name, coming out low and deep like a hum or a purr, as she forced the word past the tightness in her throat. "Harry?"
He blinked once, then twice, as the sound of his name rang hollowly through the empty corridors of his mind. Slowly, a rush of blood roared through his ears as he remembered their current position. "Oh God," he turned a flaming red and his eyes darted back and forth, almost desperately trying to find a way to get off her without further embarrassing himself, or her. "I'm so sorry," he apologized and managed to scramble away, going back to his original position of lying beside her, only this time he turned his head away to stare at the wall.
Hermione licked her dry lips and pushed back the clump of hair from her burning forehead, trying to quell the rush of emotion roaring through her. She took a few shaky breaths, calming her nerves and her blood, before trusting herself to speak. "Harry?" she sought his hand blindly, wanting to ease his embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he repeated again, the awkwardness apparent still in his voice. Nonetheless, he allowed her to grasp his hand within hers and interlace their fingers together.
She smiled softly at the back of his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about," she told him gently. "You did nothing wrong, really. It was mostly my fault," she sighed. "I shouldn't have caught you off guard like that, and I guess I wasn't thinking properly."
After a moment of silence, he finally rolled his head over to face her, faint traces of guilt floating in his eyes as if it was his entire fault. "I don't," he began thickly, stuttering slightly over his words. "I mean, I never want to make you feel uncomfortable Hermione," he whispered, his brow wrinkling in concern.
"I know," she reached over and ran her free hand through his hair, her fingernails raking lightly against his scalp. "And I know you'd never try and make me do something that I wasn't ready for," she paused, allowing her words time to sink in. "And I know I love you Harry, and that our love is special," she went on. "But I – I want to take our relationship slow. I may have dated, briefly I may add, Krum and Ron, but you're different, we're different, Harry, I know it," she trailed off.
He gave her a wry smile, one that was both understanding and partially relieved, and ran a fingertip down the smoothness of her cheek. "Me too," he said slowly. "And you'll never know how special you really are Hermione. I – I just don't want to disappoint you."
"You won't," she encouraged him, rolling over onto her side to get a better look at him. "You never could."
He held a hand to the back of her head and pulled her closer to him. "I already did, last year," he reminded her with regret. "And I never want to again, I never want to see that look on your face, not if I can help it, you have my word," he murmured.
"It's already forgiven and forgotten," she whispered just before he kissed her once more.
~*~
The rush of green flames circled around him as he watched carefully for the correct grate. He had no desire to end up in some unknown place as he did in his second year when he came out in Knockturn Alley. Hermione had already gone ahead of him with a smile and a wink before she disappeared out of sight. Suddenly, his exit flashed before him, and he lurched out of the Weasley's fireplace, his arms darting out in front of him to keep him from smashing his face against the hard floor.
Amused laughter floated down to his ears as he lay for a moment longer, fighting down the nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach after watching grate after grate whiz by in a blur. Slowly he looked up to see two pairs of feet before him, one set much larger than the other.
"Harry, mate," Ron chuckled as he shook his head at his best friend. "You sure know how to make an entrance don't you?"
Hermione smiled softly and nudged Ron in the ribs. "Oh you," she scowled at him before walking over to help Harry to his feet. "Are you alright?" she asked, brushing soot off his clothing as he struggled to a kneeling position.
He glanced up at her with a slight grin, one lens of his glasses cracked along the top.
"Oh Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a look that suggested she was speaking to a two-year-old.
"What?" he asked innocently, brushing off a few stray ashes from his shirt.
"You've broken your glasses again," she pointed out. "You best take them off so Mrs. Weasley can fix them for you."
He shot her a saucy wink before complying with her order. "But that's what I have you for," he said slyly, handing her his glasses and squinting at her.
She blushed, ignored Ron's strangled grunt of laughter, and helped Harry stand to his feet, making sure he didn't fall over. She didn't have to go far to hunt down Mrs. Weasley.
"Hermione, dear," the plump woman greeted with a wide smile and a hug. "How lovely to see you again. And Harry," she turned to find him looking quite different than she remembered. "Where are your glasses?" she questioned.
"Here," Hermione piped up, extending her hand to show Mrs. Weasley the cracked lens. "He's broken them yet again."
"Oh dear," she muttered, pulling her wand out of her apron pocket. "We'll just see to that," and with a swish, Harry's cracked lens returned to its normal state. "There you are, fit as a fiddle," she smiled.
"Thank you," he said as Hermione handed him his glasses once more.
"No problem dearie," she turned to walk back into the kitchen. "See if you two can motivate Ronald to leave his room," she called over her shoulder. "He's been lying about all summer."
Ron blushed and took the opportunity to glare at his retreating mother's back. "She's been saying that for weeks now," he groaned.
"Well," Hermione gave him a thoughtful look. "Have you started on your homework?"
"Ack!" Ron cried, flinging his hands over his ears. "Trust the Great Brain to bring up homework," he grinned. "And I suppose you finished yours within the first week?"
Hermione dropped her eyes before gaining her composer and sending Ron a withering glare at his new name for her. "Great Brain," she snorted. "At least I've done mine," she sniffed. "And don't you dare ask me for help Ron Weasley when you don't get it finished in time."
Harry snickered at their banter, knowing full well that an argument between the two of them was inevitable. "It's a wonder you two can even stand to be in the same room sometimes," he chuckled.
At that, Hermione swung her eyes towards him, forgetting all about Ron momentarily. "And you," she jabbed a finger towards his chest. "Have you done your homework?"
He gulped. "Erm – not exactly," he stuttered.
"Ugh, the both of you," she threw her hands into the air.
"Come on Hermione," Ron whined. "We still have a couple weeks until term starts again, we'll get it done."
"So," Harry intervened before another row could take place. "Maybe we should haul our stuff upstairs," he suggested. "I'm sure your mum doesn't want it sitting in here all day."
Ron nodded and scooped Hermione's belongings off the floor. "You're staying with Ginny again Hermione," he told her as he headed for the stairs.
She nodded and turned to follow him up the winding stairway but stopped when she felt Harry's hand on her arm. With a questioning look, she turned to face him, unable to ask what he needed before his mouth sealed over hers again.
"Love you, and you do have a great brain," he broke off their kiss and whispered in her ear just as Ron's voice came floating down.
"And none of that mushy stuff!"
~*~
They gathered in Ron's room that was still orange and still decorated with Chudley Cannon posters. The wizards and witches went zooming in and out of the boarders on their broomsticks and their robes flapping in the wind.
"Well," Ron said, flopping down onto his bed. "Now that the two of you are here, what should we do?"
Harry and Hermione both shrugged. "We could go play Quidditch," Harry suggested as Hermione paled.
"Nah," Ron shook his head much to Harry's surprise. "It would be us two since Hermione won't get on a broom, and Fred and George have locked themselves in their room all summer long doing who knows what."
Hermione scowled at her fear of flying, but said nothing in her defense. "Er – well," she stopped to think.
"Don't say it," Ron laughed, his blue eyes twinkling in delight.
"Say what?" she frowned. "And how do you know what I'm going to say Ron Weasley? Unless you've suddenly grown the ability to read minds and you've failed to tell us."
"Hermione, I've known you for almost six years now, I don't need to read your mind," Ron grinned at her. "I can tell by that look in your eye that you were going to suggest homework."
She huffed and looked away, arms crossed and a pout on her face. "Well you can't blame me for trying," she gave up with a long sigh.
They got no further in their discussion of what to do. A tawny owl, handsome and regal in appearance, flew through the open window, lighting softly on the back of Ron's old, wooden desk chair. It made a trilling sound in its throat and stuck out a leg to offer up its letter.
"Whose owl is that?" Hermione asked, glancing at a now red faced Ron.
Harry laughed at Ron's embarrassed look. "What's so funny?" Hermione tore her eyes away from Ron and focused on her chuckling boyfriend.
"Tell me," Harry ignored Hermione's eyes and looked at a very uncomfortable Ron who was slightly squirming on his bed. "Would that be an owl belonging to one Ms. Lavender Brown?"
"Lavender?" Hermione questioned, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open as Ron reddened even more. "Do you mean to tell me that you and Lavender…" she broke into a wide smile.
Ron cleared his throat and hopped off his bed, avoiding her eyes as he ambled past her. "I will say nothing," he said vaguely as he fed the owl an owl treat and untied its letter. There was a moment of silence as Ron quickly read the note. Finally he looked up with a dreamy smile and a faint pink color dusting the tips of his ears. "What do you two say about a trip to Diagon Alley?"
~*~
Mrs. Weasley finally let them go alone, after much pleading on Ron's part, since she was still swamped with housework. Even though Ron was sixteen, with Harry not too far behind, she still had some reserves about letting two underage wizards and one witch freely roam through Diagon Alley. Ginny, thankfully, was away with Mr. Weasley and wouldn't be back in time to join them. After promising that they wouldn't step a foot near the entrance to Knockturn Alley, and that they wouldn't spend all their money on sweets and candies, she finally relented.
Soon they found themselves flying out of the fireplace at The Leaky Cauldron, tumbling onto the worn and faded rug that cushioned their fall, along with many other witches and wizards in the past. Thankfully it wasn't too busy, as it wasn't yet noon. Picking themselves off the floor and bushing away dirt and soot, they flashed Tom, the innkeeper, wide grins and a wave, and then they were off.
They stopped just outside of Florish and Botts. "Look you two," Ron began, his ears turning red with his next words. "I'll meet up with you two in say, an hour?"
Harry and Hermione shared a smug look and glanced back at him. "Sure, right here?" Harry asked.
"Er – yeah," Ron scratched his head. "I've got to go to Gringott's for something," he muttered.
"You mean Lavender?" Hermione teased.
He only blushed harder.
"That's fine Ron," Harry clapped him on the shoulder, tucked Hermione's arm under his and took a step away from the entrance of the bookstore. "We'll see you in an hour."
Ron gave them both a bright grin and started off, leaving Harry and Hermione to entertain themselves.
"Come on," Harry pulled her away as she looked in longingly through the windows at the crowded shelves filled with her beloved books. "You can look at those later," he smiled.
She sighed. "I know, but there's this book that I really want," she allowed him to guide her through the street.
Harry chuckled and patted her hand in a loving gesture. "I'll buy you whatever book you want love," he leaned over and kissed her cheek, unmindful of the stares and sudden murmur that began around them. Gossip was being spread like wildfire; Harry Potter was kissing Hermione Granger, and in public. "In fact, I'll buy you the whole store if you'd like."
"Stop it you," she playfully swatted at him, her face flushed from his sudden display of affection. "I don't need scores of books to make me happy," she sighed and held tighter to his arm. "I just need you."
They strolled down the crowded streets, Harry weaving them in and out of the crowd as neatly as you please. They spent the better part of the hour chatting happily, either hand in hand, or with Hermione's arm tucked through his, and sharing a brief kiss or two when they thought no one was watching. They had just passed the opening for Knockturn Alley when Harry froze, his sudden action cutting Hermione off in mid-sentence as people continued to stream around them like flowing water.
"Harry?" she tugged at his arm to gain his attention, her eyebrows knit together in a line of worry. "What is it?"
"Didn't you hear it?" he asked, his voice lowered and his shoulders tense.
"Hear what?" she looked at him curiously, as if he'd suddenly grew two heads. "Harry Potter, if you're hearing talking snakes again…" she trailed off at the look of concentration on his face.
"No, no," he shook his head, turning it this way and that, straining as if to hear something. "It's not that," he glanced carefully over his shoulder towards the shadowed entrance of Knockturn Alley.
Hermione tilted her head to see if she could pick up what he was hearing, and then froze.
"Boy," the faint sound of a weathered voice called softly, sounding as if it were a great distance away from where they stood.
"Harry," Hermione murmured, swallowing thickly.
"Shh," he pressed a finger to his lips in a signal to keep her from asking questions he had no answers for. His green eyes scanned through the crowd, trying his best to locate the source of the call.
"Yes you," the voice cackled, filling his head with its rough and grating sound.
"Okay," he whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Please tell me you heard that."
Wariness filled her eyes as she gripped his arm tighter and nodded once. Stepping in front of him so she could see over his shoulder, she tried to send a casual glance back to where she thought the voice was coming from. The voice laughed again.
"Yes, yes. I've heard about you too, Hermione Granger."
She stiffened in Harry's arms and a brief look of fear crossed her face. Then, one eyebrow arched as her eyes narrowed in thought.
"Come," the voice urged once more and out of the dark shadows of an arched door, a twisted hand poked out, beckoning with a bony finger for them to come closer.
As if it was a dream, Hermione watched as Harry turned away from her and took a step forward.
"Harry," she hissed and clung tighter. "What are you doing?"
He looked back at her, startled out of his trance-like state by her strong grip and the tone in her voice. Blinking a bit he looked from her back to the door, a lost look upon his face. "I – I don't know," he said honestly, rubbing the back of his neck.
In truth he didn't know. At hearing the calling voice, something stirred deep within him and he was drawn to the beckoning hand like a moth to a flame. A part of him was greatly intrigued, wondering why an unknown figure would be calling to him. The other part of him was telling him 'no', that he shouldn't venture over to Knockturn Alley as it could be some trick. As he wavered internally, not quite sure of what do to, his feet turned of their own accord and began to take faltering steps towards the voice.
"Can't you feel it Hermione?" he asked, softly.
"Feel what?" she frowned, tightened her hold, and bit her lip.
"It's just, er – well, something in the back of my head is telling me to go find out who's calling us," he shook his head.
"But Harry," Hermione said, a bit more forcefully than she would have. "That's Knockturn Alley!" she pointed out. "We promised Mrs. Weasley we wouldn't go near it."
"I know, I know," he muttered helplessly.
"Besides, what if it's a trick of some sort?" she questioned him further. "A trick by You-Know-Who."
"I offer no tricks Hermione Granger," the voice came again, this time soothing and gentle. "I only ask to talk to you, the both of you, because of an important matter."
"Well?" Harry's green eyes peered into hers.
She sighed, torn between her own curiosity and her desire to not break Mrs. Weasley's trust in them. Finally she gave in, mentally cursing those green eyes that could make her do anything. "Anywhere you go Harry, I'll always follow."
"It'll be okay Hermione," he turned again, grasping her hand tighter in his as he went.
She muttered to herself as she trudged behind him, her mind telling her that things wouldn't be the same after they had their little chat with whoever was calling them. "I hope we don't regret this."