Harry Potter and the Infernal Plan Part VII
by Jori (orignally posted on ff.net under the name Jolyre)
e-mail: Jori@netroenterprises.com
Set during and after their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione asks something of Harry that will change their lives forever.
Rated R
Spoilers for all FIVE books. Most of this was originally written well before Order of the Phoenix came out but I decided to go back and do some edits. Some were very necessary while others were more cosmetic.
H/Hr story
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
*****************
Harry was busy unwrapping his last few gifts. Ron's had just arrived a few minutes ago by owl all the way from Romania. He sent him a collection of pictures from Romania along with his gift and in one photo, Ron had his arm around his new girlfriend and they kept kissing each other.
In his letter, he went on and on about her and how she was visiting Romania from Italy with her parents while they studied dragons with Charlie. Her name was Tullia and she had long, dark curls and Harry could make out silver rings on all her fingers. They matched all the hoops hanging from her ears. She was quite different than most of the girls he had ever met before (or any that Ron had ever found attractive) and that didn't pass Hermione's notice.
"She's . . . she's very . . . here, would you like to open your next present?" Hermione asked, handing him another box and moving off the topic of Ron entirely.
"Thank you!" Harry said after he opened it. She had been giving him gifts all day but this was his favorite. It was the picture that had first given them away -- the one that Colin had taken and handed over to Ron months ago -- and Hermione had it framed.
"Whatever you do, don't let my parents see it," Hermione said, looking at the photo Harry held in his hands. The image of Hermione was leaning over and kissing his image quite intently at the moment and Harry wished that the real Hermione sitting next to him would do the same thing. Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were in the next room watching the telly.
"You're going to have to tell them eventually," Harry said and Hermione frowned.
"What exactly do you want me to tell them? I'm not sure where to start," Hermione said. In the other room, her father laughed boisterously at something and they both looked in that direction as if they were pondering the question.
"There are aspects of it I would leave out for now but I think . . .when you're ready . . . you'll have to tell them I'm a little more than a friend now."
"I don't want to tell them. They'll . . . ask questions," she said, wrinkling her nose up at the thought.
"It's not as if they don't like me, Hermione. Your mum even went and bought me more presents than the Dursleys ever have. Between her and Mrs. Weasley's birthday gifts, I have enough sweaters and socks to make it through this year of school without looking like a complete slouch. Somehow, though, I think you had something to do with this one," Harry said, looking down at the shirt he had changed into before dinner. It had been in a package he opened earlier in the day and it made his eyes appear a more vivid green than ever.
"That's a good color on you," Hermione mumbled.
Harry caught the slight sound of embarrassment in her voice. It was such a 'girlfriend' thing to do, picking out clothes for him. Just like cooking dinner. Hermione Granger, topnotch student and extraordinary witch, was embarrassed that she had a tiny domesticated side to her. It wasn't that many years ago when she used to 'mother' Ron and Harry and remind them off all the rules but this was different.
"We can tell them together. Or we can just let them see this," Harry said, holding up the picture once more. "It worked with Ron."
"No, I'll tell them but not tonight. I have plans for tonight," Hermione said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Just the thought of what those plans might be made Harry's heart pound with anticipation and he found it growing rather warm in the room. Both her parents laughed at something this time and Hermione sighed. "But first we have to wait for them to go to bed. And I have to finish in the kitchen and wash some of the dinner dishes."
"I'll help you. If you wash, I'll dry," Harry said, carefully wrapping the picture back up and putting it into its box so no one could see it.
"Oh, Harry, it's your birthday. You don't have to do that," Hermione said.
"I don't mind . . ."
"Harry . . ."
"See, if I help you do the dishes, I can stand right next to you without them ever suspecting a thing," Harry said, his voice low so the Grangers couldn't hear him in the next room.
"Hmm. That rather sounds like something I'd think up," Hermione said, smiling.
"I've been studying up on this whole planning thing of yours. Besides, if we're going to be together for a long time, I better get used to doing the dishes unless you've changed your mind about house elves and we can get one," Harry, feigning pain when Hermione punched his arm playfully.
"I'm sure there are plenty of other magical ways to do the dishes. I'll have to look into it once we return to Hogwarts," Hermione said as he followed her into the kitchen. Harry let out a heavy sigh as he looked around at all the pots and pans she used to make dinner. The kitchen was now quite the disaster area and Harry tried to remember how Mrs. Weasley dealt with all the dishes after making meals for her large family. It was so much easier with magic.
"You better do that," he said as they both surveyed the room together, trying to decide where to start. "But first, can you look up those things you talked about last night? That sounds far more interesting than any magical pot scrubbers."
*************
It was definitely moving. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to see how it could possibly be sparkling like that but something made him keep his hands down. One hand was wrapped around his wand. He was safe with his wand. He was in control with his wand.
Someone stepped in closer behind him, a familiar form, telling him to take another look. He was in the Granger's house, staring at a painting he had seen at school. It had been hanging in the room he and Hermione had once escaped to . . . how did it get here?
"Move in closer," the voice said but Harry couldn't move. He didn't want to move. His heart was racing and he was scared but he wasn't sure why. The voice demanded for him to touch it.
He had no more control over his hands then. He stepped closer and his wand clattered to the floor and he didn't bother to pick it up. Everything was sparkling now . . .
The sound of his door locking woke Harry from his dream and he sat up, startled, fumbling around for his glasses. Hermione's hand found his before he could put them on and she whispered, "Don't. You're okay. It's only me."
"What time is it?" he asked, trying to see the slightly blurry numbers on the clock.
"It's a little after eleven so it's still your birthday," she said, putting his glasses back on the bedside table.
"I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I was tired and I was having this odd dream," he said as she climbed under the covers with him, her one leg immediately wrapping around his own.
"Probably from having to dry all those pots and pans," she said, resting the palm of her hand over his heart. It was still beating wildly from his dream
"That's not the only thing only thing making me tired. You do realize that after tonight, this will be the most times you and I have been together in a row . . . if my first night here counts. Does it count?" he asked and she propped herself up to look at him, her hand now moving over his chest.
"Of course it counts. Oh, I could do this every night. It's going to be so wonderful when we're older and free to do what we want to do. We can do this constantly," Hermione said. Harry didn't even get a chance to say that sounded great before she kissed him. Her tongue parted his lips almost immediately and his dream and all the dishes from earlier were forgotten as he felt her body slide against his.
Pulling away from the kiss, Hermione sat up. In the darkness and without his glasses, he could barely make out her face but he could tell she was smiling down at him.
"What?" he asked, reaching up to touch her cheek and to run his fingertips over her lips.
"What would you like for your birthday?" she asked and he was a little confused.
"You gave me presents all day, Hermione. What more could there be?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Don't be daft. I meant . . . what would you like me to do here?" she asked, leaning forwards so that her long hair tickled him. "Anything from the book you'd like to try?"
His mind ran through the pages and pages of things to do to one's lover he had read about but he couldn't make a decision. The only thing he knew is that he wanted to be inside of her soon.
"You had said, that with the condom and all, that you would like for things to be a little less dry. You know. There," Harry asked and Hermione let out a tiny laugh.
"Do you talk that proper when you're with just the boys?" she asked, her body still moving slowly against his. "What do you they call it when you're all standing around the changing room in your Quidditch robes looking all manly?"
"First of all, there are more girls on the team than boys so if anyone is doing any talking, it's usually them and let me tell you . . . wow. I've learned a thing or two. Besides that, I don't talk about what we've done to anyone . . .boys or girls. As for my roommates, Ron would probably have some sort of seizure if I told him more than he already knows . . . Neville, too, I imagine . . . and there isn't anyone else really. Lupin knows we're better friends than we were before but I haven't told him quite how far it has progressed. So you're the only one I ever discuss any of this with which is probably for the best since you're the one I'm with," Harry said, grabbing her and quickly flipping her over. She nearly let out a little yelp but managed to stifle it in time.
"Yes, I am. The only one," she said.
"Yes, the only one," he said even though she already knew that.
"Where are they?" she asked, her voice full of dread.
"On the table but don't worry about that yet," he said, not realizing that this was indeed the best time to worry.
************
"We shouldn't have done that."
"No, we shouldn't have but it will be okay," she said again, not sounding as sure as she did before. She moved away from him long enough to cover them both up with the blankets. "You stopped in time, right? Right, Harry?"
"Even if I didn't . . . it will be okay. We'll be okay. I've got enough money to take care of us and if I play Quidditch, you can continue on with school and . . . oh, bloody hell! Why am I worrying already?" he asked and she let out a short laugh.
"Maybe because deep down inside, it's something we both want," she said and he pulled his arm away to look at her. "You want the family you never had and I want . . . you."
"If nothing happens, I think that it would be best if we wait until we're out of school before we make such major decisions, don't you?" he asked and she nodded. Hermione snuggled in close as he wrapped her up in his arms. "You have years of education ahead of you, Hermione, and I don't know what's ahead of me. I don't want to ruin your life."
"You're right . . . it was a foolish thing to do. But you could never ruin my life, Harry, because everything we have done, we've done together. Besides, I'm not worried," she said more confidently. He wouldn't be worried either except things always happened to him.
"If something does happen, at least it will be a birthday to remember," Harry said with a sigh.
"Please don't let this ruin the rest of our time together," she said, sliding one of her hands up and placing it on his cheek. "It's short enough as it is. One more day and then I have to wait a month to see you. I'm not sure I'll be able to stand it."
"How do you think I feel? I have to go back to the Dursleys. You don't know how much it means to me that your parents let me stay here even for a few days. You can't even begin to imagine how bad it is there. I see your life and how you got to grow up and it makes me hate them even more," Harry said sadly.
"You won't have to go back again after this. School will be over next year and you won't have to ever spend another summer there," Hermione said and the thought made Harry smile. They both stayed wrapped up like that for quite a while until finally Hermione slipped out of his arms and pulled her nightgown back on.
"I wish you could stay here in bed with me tonight," he said, knowing that wasn't anymore possible tonight than it was any other night.
"We have a lot to do tomorrow so you need to get some rest," said Hermione, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What do we have to do tomorrow?"
"You and I are going to the library in town so I can do research for my one paper. I need to find out about Muggles and their . . ." she said and Harry couldn't help smiling. "What?"
"Hermione, one of these days I'm going to figure out why you of all people have to leave your Muggle home to go to the Muggle library to find out anything about Muggles," he said and she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the same look she had given him for years whenever he made a comment about her schoolwork.
"Because I want it to be perfect. Besides, this way you can work on your assignments without worrying about your uncle catching you," she said, leaning in to kiss him goodnight. He grabbed one of her hands and held it tight.
"I love you," he whispered when she moved away.
"We'll see if you still feel that way after I make you finish your charms homework," she said, slowing getting up from the bed, her hand slipping from his.
"I will," he said. He missed her touch already.
"Happy birthday," she said for the hundredth time that day. "I hope it was great."
Hermione slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind her. He grabbed the pillow she had been resting on and hugged it tight, breathing in the scent of her that still lingered on it.
"Oh, it was great," he mumbled to himself as he struggled to fall back to sleep.
******************
Hours passed by slowly and he couldn't stop tossing and turning in his bed. He was trying not to worry about things he couldn't change. There were too many of those things in his life already without worrying about what happened between Hermione and him tonight.
He was more concerned about was why either of them had let it happen. They weren't ready for such things. Hermione had too much to do with her life that wouldn't necessarily involve him. She was so clever and good at what she did and he didn't want to tie her down to something she thought she wanted during a momentary lapse of good judgment. That's all it was. A momentary lapse. Just the two of them being stupid teenagers. No one should have to pay forever for that, right?
Harry wondered when his parents knew they were going to be together for the rest of their lives, however long that might be? How did they decide that they were ready to get married and have a baby? They looked so young in the pictures. He needed to ask Remus Lupin when he got the chance. With all he had learned about his parents in the last few years, there was still so much he wished he knew. He also decided it was time to tell his godfather more about his relationship with Hermione if only to protect her. If something happened, at least someone would have a clue as to why.
He loved Hermione and there was no denying that but could this last forever? Did she even really want it to or did she get caught up with him being here and playing house for a few days? He thought he knew how she felt but everything could change so quickly.
Pulling a pillow over his head, he counted the many ways their relationship could come to an abrupt end. Her parents could find out and ban them from ever seeing each other again -- or worse. Or the Dursleys could find out he was having sex with anyone and lock him up in the cupboard. Professor McGonagall would certainly feel that he was ruining Hermione's chances at a brilliant career and probably expel him the first chance she got.
Then there was the big one -- he could quite possibly get killed any day now and never see it coming. That would definitely slow down the relationship. Harry wasn't even sure it would necessarily be Voldemort bringing about his demise. Drew Rowntree would probably like to see him dead, too.
He tossed around more, throwing the covers off and then pulling them back on again. Hedwig hooted softly from the corner and Harry lifted his head to look at his owl who was focusing in on him with her big, bright eyes. He had completely forgotten she was there earlier when they were having sex. How embarrassing. He should have sent her off for the night but Hermione coming to his room wasn't really in the plans. A lot of things weren't in his plans.
His owl looked restlessly towards the window and Harry sat up, turning on the light at the side of the bed. "Would you like some exercise?" he asked, digging his pajama bottoms from out of the blankets and tugging them back on. "I really should write Professor Lupin and let him know where I am and what I've been doing."
Hedwig hooted again, this time with indignation.
"No . . . I don't think I should tell him about that in a letter. You weren't supposed to see that and I apologize. It won't happen again," said Harry, getting up to dig through his bag, looking for his writing supplies. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began his letter to Professor Lupin. Since Sirius died, he had grown a little closer to Lupin but it still wasn't the same. Most of the effort was put forth by Lupin and not Harry and sometimes he got tired of him trying so hard to replace someone he could not.
Dear Professor Lupin -
I wanted to let you know that I have been away at the Granger's house (Hermione's parents) over my birthday. It was nice to get away from the Dursleys and I can't wait until next summer when I no longer will have to return there. I would like to ask you a few things concerning my parents once I get back to Hogwarts. Nothing too important -- just a few questions I've been thinking about. Also, I've had a few unusual dreams lately but since my scar has remained pain free, I'm certain it's nothing to worry about. I think Hermione's Muggle ex-boyfriend is a bigger threat than anyone else. I'm positive he hates me. If you hear about some boy named Andrew Rowntree on the run from the law, you'll know why.
Hope you are well,
Harry
He sealed up the letter in an envelope and gave it to Hedwig who looked all too happy to get out of this room. He opened up the window, reminded her that he was returning to the Dursleys soon and then watched his owl take flight, heading off to wherever Professor Lupin might be this time. Hedwig never had trouble finding him no matter where he might be.
After putting away his supplies, he climbed back into his bed, hoping that he would eventually drift off to sleep.
******************
The Muggle library wasn't much more exciting than the one at Hogwarts. Hermione sat across the table, a stack of books piled up on either side of her. She occasionally looked up and smiled at Harry but most of her time was spent scribbling notes about what she discovered in the books.
Harry was still mystified at how she could possibly need a book to explain Muggles or even why, since she dropped Muggle studies years ago, but he knew Hermione well enough to let her do it her own way. She shut a book on air travel and put it aside as she picked one up on electricity.
"Why don't you work on your homework?" she whispered and Harry shrugged.
"I'd rather watch you," he said and she blushed, placing the large book in front of her face. "What? You're suddenly embarrassed to have me watch you? You didn't seem to mind me watching you earlier . . . ouch! What did you have to go and do that for!"
She kicked his leg under the table before he could go further. He moved his chair back and pretended to go about attending to his wounded shin.
"Study something," she said from behind her book. "The sooner you stop bothering me, the sooner I can finish and we can get out of here."
Harry doubted that she would really be done anytime soon. He picked up one of the textbooks Hermione had lent him, opened it and hid the cover from anyone's prying eyes. No need to let the whole town know that he was studying charms. Or at least pretending to study charms.
He couldn't focus on the words before him and Hermione was beginning to look quite irritated at all the shuffling around he was doing. Closing the book, he stood up and pushed in his chair.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked and Harry looked around the small library.
"I don't know. I just want get up and stretch a bit. Maybe take a look around . . ."
"And avoid your homework?"
"Yes, and avoid my homework. I'll be back in a few minutes and I promise I'll work on it then," he said and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
Harry left her reading her books (and looking quite happy to be doing so) as he began to wander around the stacks. It wasn't a very big library and most of the people sitting about reading books were rather elderly. A group of people about his age were huddled around a table, the girls giggling about something while the boys were trying hard to look cool. They all turned to look at him and Harry quickly brushed his bangs over his scar before he remembered he didn't have to. They would have no clue who he was. They might know Hermione but he doubted it. They didn't look like they spent the entire summer with their noses pressed in books.
He walked past them toward a small room at the back of the library and the girls all whispered something and started giggling again. Harry slipped out of their view and went about looking around the room. Books were haphazardly stacked everywhere, most of them so old their bindings were falling off. Obviously, they didn't have Madam Pince working here, making sure everything was repaired and in good order. Of course, they also didn't have magic to help repair them.
Harry also noticed that this seemed to be the room for discarded artwork. It reminded him of the one room at Hogwarts where he and Hermione would meet secretly except none of the people in these paintings ever moved and the statues weren't of old men dressed in robes with pointy hats. Instead, they were some sort of abstract thing probably done by some local artist years and years ago. Perhaps that's why they were relegated to the back room.
One painting did capture his attention. It seemed so familiar and he walked towards it, wondering where he might have seen it before. There was so much art at Hogwarts but none of those paintings would ever be hanging in a Muggle library. But still . . . he was sure he had seen it or at least something like it before. Stepping closer, he was quite sure he saw something on the canvas flutter. Or maybe spark. That couldn't be possible because even the ones at Hogwarts stopped moving before the end of the term and no one had figured out how to fix them.
"Isn't it nice?" someone asked from behind him and he turned around quickly to find Drew standing at the door.
"Oh, it's you," Harry said before turning around to face the painting again. He would rather look at that than at Hermione's ex-boyfriend.
"My mum painted just a few years ago and donated it to the library recently. They obviously don't like it much," Drew just said and Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. The painting wasn't exactly something one would compliment. It was a sea of browns and golds and had no real . . . point.
"It's . . . it's interesting," Harry managed to stammer, hoping that Drew wouldn't want to discuss if further and would just go away. A few seconds passed and Harry realized he wasn't going anywhere.
"She painted a few others. They're all around town and some are even in other parts of the country. I think the Grangers even have one of her paintings in their house . . . since Hermione wouldn't accept it as a gift when I sent it to her . . . she tried to send it back right away but her mum decided to keep it instead. Unfortunately, Hermione never did invite me in while you were there. Most aren't stuck in some back room like this one. Of course, having it here makes it easier since you and I are technically alone," Drew said and now Harry was quite puzzled.
"Easier to do what?" he asked.
"It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did," Drew said instead of answering Harry's question. "You got in the way of all the plans."
"What plans?" Harry asked, not sure exactly what was going on. He did get in the way of Drew and Hermione being together but that wasn't his fault. It just happened.
"I was supposed to meet Hermione. I was to make her to like me early last summer but it took her the whole summer to even notice me considering she always was reading a book or scribbling out notes. I was to talk her into meeting you last summer. We were supposed to become friends a long time before now. . . "
"I wouldn't say we're friends now . . ." Harry interrupted but Drew kept going on.
"Instead, the two of you somehow ended up together and all the plans had to be delayed. Delayed until today, that is. I have never felt luckier than I did watching the two of you come into the library together," Drew said, coming closer. Harry was certain that he was right behind him. He could feel anger rolling off of him and he knew Drew was trying hard to fight it.
"And what was supposed to happen then? What's supposed to happen now?" Harry asked, taking a step forward and away from Drew. He was now so close to the painting that he could see the small and careful brush strokes that went into making it. He also noticed that it wasn't quite the same shade of brown and gold that it was when he first looked at it. It was looking more like the painting in the empty room at Hogwarts. They were nearly identical now.
"It was the least I could do, considering I turned out to be a Squib and not a world famous wizard like yourself," Drew said and Harry froze.
How could Drew know about what he was? And he was a Squib . . . making Drew's parents wizards? He didn't meet Hermione by accident? What was the least he could do? So many questions were flying around Harry's brain and he didn't know what was happening.
"Drew, I don't know what you know about me or how you found out but I didn't mean to come between you and Hermione. . ."
"This really has nothing to do with that," Drew said from so close behind him that Harry could feel his breath close to his ear. "She was just a way to get to you."
"I'm here now. What do you want from me?" Harry asked. Something inside him was whispering that he should turn around and run out of here but he needed to know more. He had to find out if any of this involved Hermione and if she was in danger.
"Move closer," Drew said and Harry instinctively reached for his wand. It wasn't with him or at least not on him. It was in his book bag that was sitting at Hermione's table. He thought that would be close enough if something happened. He had no plans of wandering into Hermione's ex-boyfriend or of having him turn out to be anything more than that. Drew noticed Harry patting down his jacket and smiled. "You don't have it with you? This will be easier than I thought."
"I'm not moving any closer to that thing until you tell me what's going on," Harry demanded.
"My mum is not only a brilliant artist but also an amazing witch. She spent much of her time at Hogwarts studying their extensive art collection and what exactly made them tick," Drew said, stepping even closer to Harry, forcing him to move closer to the painting.
Harry tried to remember if that if in all his years at Hogwarts he had ever heard of the name Rowntree before but he was drawing a blank. Perhaps his father went somewhere else. He didn't know of all of the schools of witchcraft and wizardry there were in the world so it was quite possible he could have gone anywhere.
"So, she's the one responsible for what happened to the paintings at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Not entirely," Drew said. Harry was trying to listen and devise a way to get past Drew and back to Hermione. Every direction he moved in, Drew was right there with him. He knew he was capable of doing things without his wand but he didn't have that much control over it and there was that whole underage . . . wait. He was no longer underage. No one could ever get him on that again.
If it came right down to it, he'd just scream. This place was so small that everyone would come running.
"Then who is?" Harry would keep asking questions so he could think of something or until Hermione would come looking for him. Damn her and her studies. It could be hours before she would even notice he was gone.
"My father was always fascinated with the dark arts. Having lived in Australia, he was always disappointed that he was so far away from the rise of the Dark Lord all those years ago but he's here for his return to greatness. The only thing he was ever more disappointed in . . . was me," said Drew solemnly. Harry struggled to remember every word he ever heard Hermione mention about Drew when he was her boyfriend but most of those conversations were only shared with Ginny. After a certain point, he didn't want to hear them.
"I'm sure that's not true," Harry said, trying to say anything.
"Do you know what it's like to have people hate what you are? Hate you for something you can't fix or that you have no control over?" Drew asked.
"Yes," Harry answered truthfully.
"Do you know what it's like when it's your own father? Of course not. Your parents loved you so much they were willing to die for you."
"Drew, listen, I'm really sorry that you feel . . . "
"But now I have the chance to redeem myself in his eyes. It has taken me a year and my day has finally come. I'm going to be the one to ensnare Harry Potter. My mother and I have spent so long devising this plan in the hopes of making it work just right. Over this past year, we've had a few problems but I think they're solved now. We just had to silence all those other people running around the portraits before any of them could open their gobs," Drew said.
"You turned off the portraits? How?" Harry asked, coming up with more questions. Drew was like most of them that aspired to be evil. They liked to talk about it instead of just do it and keep quiet.
"Haven't you been listening? I can't do a thing. All I could do is get you in the right place at the right time and I've done that."
"I think you're making a big mistake. I do know what it's like to have people hate you for what you are. I know it very well and I think . . . er . . . well, Hermione has always spoken well of you and she really likes you. She's a powerful and clever witch, Drew, and you don't want to cross paths with her," Harry said, saying Hermione's name louder than the rest of his words. Too bad his clever witch of a girlfriend couldn't get her nose out of a book long enough to come in here. "Hermione would be very angry . . ."
"That's enough of that!" Drew said, an quick flash of rage crossing his face. "Soon, everyone will know my name, not yours. My father will be rewarded by the Dark Lord for finally ridding the world of you and he will be pleased with me. All you have to do is move closer . . ."
Harry didn't get a chance to step back willingly. As soon as he opened his mouth to cry out for Hermione, Drew shoved him into the painting behind him. Drew had a pained look on his face and his hand crackled with an unnatural green energy that Harry knew the Squib boy couldn't have produced himself. It had to have come from him but it didn't matter. It was too late.
There was a strange tug, and it wasn't unlike using a portkey. He thought at first that was perhaps what the picture was and he panicked, knowing what happened the last time he had been sent somewhere against his will by a portkey. He had just finished calling out Hermione's name when he realized that it wasn't a portkey at all. No, he had nothing in his hands when he hit the ground. It took him a moment to adjust as he tried to stand up but he kept falling down. Whatever was under him was soft and he wasn't sure what was going on.
All he was certain of was that he was alone now and surrounded by blinding white light.
*************
To Be Continued . . .
e-mail: Jori@netroenterprises.com
Set during and after their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione asks something of Harry that will change their lives forever.
Rated R
Spoilers for all FIVE books. Most of this was originally written well before Order of the Phoenix came out but I decided to go back and do some edits. Some were very necessary while others were more cosmetic.
H/Hr story
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
*****************
Harry was busy unwrapping his last few gifts. Ron's had just arrived a few minutes ago by owl all the way from Romania. He sent him a collection of pictures from Romania along with his gift and in one photo, Ron had his arm around his new girlfriend and they kept kissing each other.
In his letter, he went on and on about her and how she was visiting Romania from Italy with her parents while they studied dragons with Charlie. Her name was Tullia and she had long, dark curls and Harry could make out silver rings on all her fingers. They matched all the hoops hanging from her ears. She was quite different than most of the girls he had ever met before (or any that Ron had ever found attractive) and that didn't pass Hermione's notice.
"She's . . . she's very . . . here, would you like to open your next present?" Hermione asked, handing him another box and moving off the topic of Ron entirely.
"Thank you!" Harry said after he opened it. She had been giving him gifts all day but this was his favorite. It was the picture that had first given them away -- the one that Colin had taken and handed over to Ron months ago -- and Hermione had it framed.
"Whatever you do, don't let my parents see it," Hermione said, looking at the photo Harry held in his hands. The image of Hermione was leaning over and kissing his image quite intently at the moment and Harry wished that the real Hermione sitting next to him would do the same thing. Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were in the next room watching the telly.
"You're going to have to tell them eventually," Harry said and Hermione frowned.
"What exactly do you want me to tell them? I'm not sure where to start," Hermione said. In the other room, her father laughed boisterously at something and they both looked in that direction as if they were pondering the question.
"There are aspects of it I would leave out for now but I think . . .when you're ready . . . you'll have to tell them I'm a little more than a friend now."
"I don't want to tell them. They'll . . . ask questions," she said, wrinkling her nose up at the thought.
"It's not as if they don't like me, Hermione. Your mum even went and bought me more presents than the Dursleys ever have. Between her and Mrs. Weasley's birthday gifts, I have enough sweaters and socks to make it through this year of school without looking like a complete slouch. Somehow, though, I think you had something to do with this one," Harry said, looking down at the shirt he had changed into before dinner. It had been in a package he opened earlier in the day and it made his eyes appear a more vivid green than ever.
"That's a good color on you," Hermione mumbled.
Harry caught the slight sound of embarrassment in her voice. It was such a 'girlfriend' thing to do, picking out clothes for him. Just like cooking dinner. Hermione Granger, topnotch student and extraordinary witch, was embarrassed that she had a tiny domesticated side to her. It wasn't that many years ago when she used to 'mother' Ron and Harry and remind them off all the rules but this was different.
"We can tell them together. Or we can just let them see this," Harry said, holding up the picture once more. "It worked with Ron."
"No, I'll tell them but not tonight. I have plans for tonight," Hermione said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Just the thought of what those plans might be made Harry's heart pound with anticipation and he found it growing rather warm in the room. Both her parents laughed at something this time and Hermione sighed. "But first we have to wait for them to go to bed. And I have to finish in the kitchen and wash some of the dinner dishes."
"I'll help you. If you wash, I'll dry," Harry said, carefully wrapping the picture back up and putting it into its box so no one could see it.
"Oh, Harry, it's your birthday. You don't have to do that," Hermione said.
"I don't mind . . ."
"Harry . . ."
"See, if I help you do the dishes, I can stand right next to you without them ever suspecting a thing," Harry said, his voice low so the Grangers couldn't hear him in the next room.
"Hmm. That rather sounds like something I'd think up," Hermione said, smiling.
"I've been studying up on this whole planning thing of yours. Besides, if we're going to be together for a long time, I better get used to doing the dishes unless you've changed your mind about house elves and we can get one," Harry, feigning pain when Hermione punched his arm playfully.
"I'm sure there are plenty of other magical ways to do the dishes. I'll have to look into it once we return to Hogwarts," Hermione said as he followed her into the kitchen. Harry let out a heavy sigh as he looked around at all the pots and pans she used to make dinner. The kitchen was now quite the disaster area and Harry tried to remember how Mrs. Weasley dealt with all the dishes after making meals for her large family. It was so much easier with magic.
"You better do that," he said as they both surveyed the room together, trying to decide where to start. "But first, can you look up those things you talked about last night? That sounds far more interesting than any magical pot scrubbers."
*************
It was definitely moving. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to see how it could possibly be sparkling like that but something made him keep his hands down. One hand was wrapped around his wand. He was safe with his wand. He was in control with his wand.
Someone stepped in closer behind him, a familiar form, telling him to take another look. He was in the Granger's house, staring at a painting he had seen at school. It had been hanging in the room he and Hermione had once escaped to . . . how did it get here?
"Move in closer," the voice said but Harry couldn't move. He didn't want to move. His heart was racing and he was scared but he wasn't sure why. The voice demanded for him to touch it.
He had no more control over his hands then. He stepped closer and his wand clattered to the floor and he didn't bother to pick it up. Everything was sparkling now . . .
The sound of his door locking woke Harry from his dream and he sat up, startled, fumbling around for his glasses. Hermione's hand found his before he could put them on and she whispered, "Don't. You're okay. It's only me."
"What time is it?" he asked, trying to see the slightly blurry numbers on the clock.
"It's a little after eleven so it's still your birthday," she said, putting his glasses back on the bedside table.
"I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I was tired and I was having this odd dream," he said as she climbed under the covers with him, her one leg immediately wrapping around his own.
"Probably from having to dry all those pots and pans," she said, resting the palm of her hand over his heart. It was still beating wildly from his dream
"That's not the only thing only thing making me tired. You do realize that after tonight, this will be the most times you and I have been together in a row . . . if my first night here counts. Does it count?" he asked and she propped herself up to look at him, her hand now moving over his chest.
"Of course it counts. Oh, I could do this every night. It's going to be so wonderful when we're older and free to do what we want to do. We can do this constantly," Hermione said. Harry didn't even get a chance to say that sounded great before she kissed him. Her tongue parted his lips almost immediately and his dream and all the dishes from earlier were forgotten as he felt her body slide against his.
Pulling away from the kiss, Hermione sat up. In the darkness and without his glasses, he could barely make out her face but he could tell she was smiling down at him.
"What?" he asked, reaching up to touch her cheek and to run his fingertips over her lips.
"What would you like for your birthday?" she asked and he was a little confused.
"You gave me presents all day, Hermione. What more could there be?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Don't be daft. I meant . . . what would you like me to do here?" she asked, leaning forwards so that her long hair tickled him. "Anything from the book you'd like to try?"
His mind ran through the pages and pages of things to do to one's lover he had read about but he couldn't make a decision. The only thing he knew is that he wanted to be inside of her soon.
"You had said, that with the condom and all, that you would like for things to be a little less dry. You know. There," Harry asked and Hermione let out a tiny laugh.
"Do you talk that proper when you're with just the boys?" she asked, her body still moving slowly against his. "What do you they call it when you're all standing around the changing room in your Quidditch robes looking all manly?"
"First of all, there are more girls on the team than boys so if anyone is doing any talking, it's usually them and let me tell you . . . wow. I've learned a thing or two. Besides that, I don't talk about what we've done to anyone . . .boys or girls. As for my roommates, Ron would probably have some sort of seizure if I told him more than he already knows . . . Neville, too, I imagine . . . and there isn't anyone else really. Lupin knows we're better friends than we were before but I haven't told him quite how far it has progressed. So you're the only one I ever discuss any of this with which is probably for the best since you're the one I'm with," Harry said, grabbing her and quickly flipping her over. She nearly let out a little yelp but managed to stifle it in time.
"Yes, I am. The only one," she said.
"Yes, the only one," he said even though she already knew that.
"Where are they?" she asked, her voice full of dread.
"On the table but don't worry about that yet," he said, not realizing that this was indeed the best time to worry.
************
"We shouldn't have done that."
"No, we shouldn't have but it will be okay," she said again, not sounding as sure as she did before. She moved away from him long enough to cover them both up with the blankets. "You stopped in time, right? Right, Harry?"
"Even if I didn't . . . it will be okay. We'll be okay. I've got enough money to take care of us and if I play Quidditch, you can continue on with school and . . . oh, bloody hell! Why am I worrying already?" he asked and she let out a short laugh.
"Maybe because deep down inside, it's something we both want," she said and he pulled his arm away to look at her. "You want the family you never had and I want . . . you."
"If nothing happens, I think that it would be best if we wait until we're out of school before we make such major decisions, don't you?" he asked and she nodded. Hermione snuggled in close as he wrapped her up in his arms. "You have years of education ahead of you, Hermione, and I don't know what's ahead of me. I don't want to ruin your life."
"You're right . . . it was a foolish thing to do. But you could never ruin my life, Harry, because everything we have done, we've done together. Besides, I'm not worried," she said more confidently. He wouldn't be worried either except things always happened to him.
"If something does happen, at least it will be a birthday to remember," Harry said with a sigh.
"Please don't let this ruin the rest of our time together," she said, sliding one of her hands up and placing it on his cheek. "It's short enough as it is. One more day and then I have to wait a month to see you. I'm not sure I'll be able to stand it."
"How do you think I feel? I have to go back to the Dursleys. You don't know how much it means to me that your parents let me stay here even for a few days. You can't even begin to imagine how bad it is there. I see your life and how you got to grow up and it makes me hate them even more," Harry said sadly.
"You won't have to go back again after this. School will be over next year and you won't have to ever spend another summer there," Hermione said and the thought made Harry smile. They both stayed wrapped up like that for quite a while until finally Hermione slipped out of his arms and pulled her nightgown back on.
"I wish you could stay here in bed with me tonight," he said, knowing that wasn't anymore possible tonight than it was any other night.
"We have a lot to do tomorrow so you need to get some rest," said Hermione, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What do we have to do tomorrow?"
"You and I are going to the library in town so I can do research for my one paper. I need to find out about Muggles and their . . ." she said and Harry couldn't help smiling. "What?"
"Hermione, one of these days I'm going to figure out why you of all people have to leave your Muggle home to go to the Muggle library to find out anything about Muggles," he said and she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the same look she had given him for years whenever he made a comment about her schoolwork.
"Because I want it to be perfect. Besides, this way you can work on your assignments without worrying about your uncle catching you," she said, leaning in to kiss him goodnight. He grabbed one of her hands and held it tight.
"I love you," he whispered when she moved away.
"We'll see if you still feel that way after I make you finish your charms homework," she said, slowing getting up from the bed, her hand slipping from his.
"I will," he said. He missed her touch already.
"Happy birthday," she said for the hundredth time that day. "I hope it was great."
Hermione slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind her. He grabbed the pillow she had been resting on and hugged it tight, breathing in the scent of her that still lingered on it.
"Oh, it was great," he mumbled to himself as he struggled to fall back to sleep.
******************
Hours passed by slowly and he couldn't stop tossing and turning in his bed. He was trying not to worry about things he couldn't change. There were too many of those things in his life already without worrying about what happened between Hermione and him tonight.
He was more concerned about was why either of them had let it happen. They weren't ready for such things. Hermione had too much to do with her life that wouldn't necessarily involve him. She was so clever and good at what she did and he didn't want to tie her down to something she thought she wanted during a momentary lapse of good judgment. That's all it was. A momentary lapse. Just the two of them being stupid teenagers. No one should have to pay forever for that, right?
Harry wondered when his parents knew they were going to be together for the rest of their lives, however long that might be? How did they decide that they were ready to get married and have a baby? They looked so young in the pictures. He needed to ask Remus Lupin when he got the chance. With all he had learned about his parents in the last few years, there was still so much he wished he knew. He also decided it was time to tell his godfather more about his relationship with Hermione if only to protect her. If something happened, at least someone would have a clue as to why.
He loved Hermione and there was no denying that but could this last forever? Did she even really want it to or did she get caught up with him being here and playing house for a few days? He thought he knew how she felt but everything could change so quickly.
Pulling a pillow over his head, he counted the many ways their relationship could come to an abrupt end. Her parents could find out and ban them from ever seeing each other again -- or worse. Or the Dursleys could find out he was having sex with anyone and lock him up in the cupboard. Professor McGonagall would certainly feel that he was ruining Hermione's chances at a brilliant career and probably expel him the first chance she got.
Then there was the big one -- he could quite possibly get killed any day now and never see it coming. That would definitely slow down the relationship. Harry wasn't even sure it would necessarily be Voldemort bringing about his demise. Drew Rowntree would probably like to see him dead, too.
He tossed around more, throwing the covers off and then pulling them back on again. Hedwig hooted softly from the corner and Harry lifted his head to look at his owl who was focusing in on him with her big, bright eyes. He had completely forgotten she was there earlier when they were having sex. How embarrassing. He should have sent her off for the night but Hermione coming to his room wasn't really in the plans. A lot of things weren't in his plans.
His owl looked restlessly towards the window and Harry sat up, turning on the light at the side of the bed. "Would you like some exercise?" he asked, digging his pajama bottoms from out of the blankets and tugging them back on. "I really should write Professor Lupin and let him know where I am and what I've been doing."
Hedwig hooted again, this time with indignation.
"No . . . I don't think I should tell him about that in a letter. You weren't supposed to see that and I apologize. It won't happen again," said Harry, getting up to dig through his bag, looking for his writing supplies. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began his letter to Professor Lupin. Since Sirius died, he had grown a little closer to Lupin but it still wasn't the same. Most of the effort was put forth by Lupin and not Harry and sometimes he got tired of him trying so hard to replace someone he could not.
Dear Professor Lupin -
I wanted to let you know that I have been away at the Granger's house (Hermione's parents) over my birthday. It was nice to get away from the Dursleys and I can't wait until next summer when I no longer will have to return there. I would like to ask you a few things concerning my parents once I get back to Hogwarts. Nothing too important -- just a few questions I've been thinking about. Also, I've had a few unusual dreams lately but since my scar has remained pain free, I'm certain it's nothing to worry about. I think Hermione's Muggle ex-boyfriend is a bigger threat than anyone else. I'm positive he hates me. If you hear about some boy named Andrew Rowntree on the run from the law, you'll know why.
Hope you are well,
Harry
He sealed up the letter in an envelope and gave it to Hedwig who looked all too happy to get out of this room. He opened up the window, reminded her that he was returning to the Dursleys soon and then watched his owl take flight, heading off to wherever Professor Lupin might be this time. Hedwig never had trouble finding him no matter where he might be.
After putting away his supplies, he climbed back into his bed, hoping that he would eventually drift off to sleep.
******************
The Muggle library wasn't much more exciting than the one at Hogwarts. Hermione sat across the table, a stack of books piled up on either side of her. She occasionally looked up and smiled at Harry but most of her time was spent scribbling notes about what she discovered in the books.
Harry was still mystified at how she could possibly need a book to explain Muggles or even why, since she dropped Muggle studies years ago, but he knew Hermione well enough to let her do it her own way. She shut a book on air travel and put it aside as she picked one up on electricity.
"Why don't you work on your homework?" she whispered and Harry shrugged.
"I'd rather watch you," he said and she blushed, placing the large book in front of her face. "What? You're suddenly embarrassed to have me watch you? You didn't seem to mind me watching you earlier . . . ouch! What did you have to go and do that for!"
She kicked his leg under the table before he could go further. He moved his chair back and pretended to go about attending to his wounded shin.
"Study something," she said from behind her book. "The sooner you stop bothering me, the sooner I can finish and we can get out of here."
Harry doubted that she would really be done anytime soon. He picked up one of the textbooks Hermione had lent him, opened it and hid the cover from anyone's prying eyes. No need to let the whole town know that he was studying charms. Or at least pretending to study charms.
He couldn't focus on the words before him and Hermione was beginning to look quite irritated at all the shuffling around he was doing. Closing the book, he stood up and pushed in his chair.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked and Harry looked around the small library.
"I don't know. I just want get up and stretch a bit. Maybe take a look around . . ."
"And avoid your homework?"
"Yes, and avoid my homework. I'll be back in a few minutes and I promise I'll work on it then," he said and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
Harry left her reading her books (and looking quite happy to be doing so) as he began to wander around the stacks. It wasn't a very big library and most of the people sitting about reading books were rather elderly. A group of people about his age were huddled around a table, the girls giggling about something while the boys were trying hard to look cool. They all turned to look at him and Harry quickly brushed his bangs over his scar before he remembered he didn't have to. They would have no clue who he was. They might know Hermione but he doubted it. They didn't look like they spent the entire summer with their noses pressed in books.
He walked past them toward a small room at the back of the library and the girls all whispered something and started giggling again. Harry slipped out of their view and went about looking around the room. Books were haphazardly stacked everywhere, most of them so old their bindings were falling off. Obviously, they didn't have Madam Pince working here, making sure everything was repaired and in good order. Of course, they also didn't have magic to help repair them.
Harry also noticed that this seemed to be the room for discarded artwork. It reminded him of the one room at Hogwarts where he and Hermione would meet secretly except none of the people in these paintings ever moved and the statues weren't of old men dressed in robes with pointy hats. Instead, they were some sort of abstract thing probably done by some local artist years and years ago. Perhaps that's why they were relegated to the back room.
One painting did capture his attention. It seemed so familiar and he walked towards it, wondering where he might have seen it before. There was so much art at Hogwarts but none of those paintings would ever be hanging in a Muggle library. But still . . . he was sure he had seen it or at least something like it before. Stepping closer, he was quite sure he saw something on the canvas flutter. Or maybe spark. That couldn't be possible because even the ones at Hogwarts stopped moving before the end of the term and no one had figured out how to fix them.
"Isn't it nice?" someone asked from behind him and he turned around quickly to find Drew standing at the door.
"Oh, it's you," Harry said before turning around to face the painting again. He would rather look at that than at Hermione's ex-boyfriend.
"My mum painted just a few years ago and donated it to the library recently. They obviously don't like it much," Drew just said and Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. The painting wasn't exactly something one would compliment. It was a sea of browns and golds and had no real . . . point.
"It's . . . it's interesting," Harry managed to stammer, hoping that Drew wouldn't want to discuss if further and would just go away. A few seconds passed and Harry realized he wasn't going anywhere.
"She painted a few others. They're all around town and some are even in other parts of the country. I think the Grangers even have one of her paintings in their house . . . since Hermione wouldn't accept it as a gift when I sent it to her . . . she tried to send it back right away but her mum decided to keep it instead. Unfortunately, Hermione never did invite me in while you were there. Most aren't stuck in some back room like this one. Of course, having it here makes it easier since you and I are technically alone," Drew said and now Harry was quite puzzled.
"Easier to do what?" he asked.
"It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did," Drew said instead of answering Harry's question. "You got in the way of all the plans."
"What plans?" Harry asked, not sure exactly what was going on. He did get in the way of Drew and Hermione being together but that wasn't his fault. It just happened.
"I was supposed to meet Hermione. I was to make her to like me early last summer but it took her the whole summer to even notice me considering she always was reading a book or scribbling out notes. I was to talk her into meeting you last summer. We were supposed to become friends a long time before now. . . "
"I wouldn't say we're friends now . . ." Harry interrupted but Drew kept going on.
"Instead, the two of you somehow ended up together and all the plans had to be delayed. Delayed until today, that is. I have never felt luckier than I did watching the two of you come into the library together," Drew said, coming closer. Harry was certain that he was right behind him. He could feel anger rolling off of him and he knew Drew was trying hard to fight it.
"And what was supposed to happen then? What's supposed to happen now?" Harry asked, taking a step forward and away from Drew. He was now so close to the painting that he could see the small and careful brush strokes that went into making it. He also noticed that it wasn't quite the same shade of brown and gold that it was when he first looked at it. It was looking more like the painting in the empty room at Hogwarts. They were nearly identical now.
"It was the least I could do, considering I turned out to be a Squib and not a world famous wizard like yourself," Drew said and Harry froze.
How could Drew know about what he was? And he was a Squib . . . making Drew's parents wizards? He didn't meet Hermione by accident? What was the least he could do? So many questions were flying around Harry's brain and he didn't know what was happening.
"Drew, I don't know what you know about me or how you found out but I didn't mean to come between you and Hermione. . ."
"This really has nothing to do with that," Drew said from so close behind him that Harry could feel his breath close to his ear. "She was just a way to get to you."
"I'm here now. What do you want from me?" Harry asked. Something inside him was whispering that he should turn around and run out of here but he needed to know more. He had to find out if any of this involved Hermione and if she was in danger.
"Move closer," Drew said and Harry instinctively reached for his wand. It wasn't with him or at least not on him. It was in his book bag that was sitting at Hermione's table. He thought that would be close enough if something happened. He had no plans of wandering into Hermione's ex-boyfriend or of having him turn out to be anything more than that. Drew noticed Harry patting down his jacket and smiled. "You don't have it with you? This will be easier than I thought."
"I'm not moving any closer to that thing until you tell me what's going on," Harry demanded.
"My mum is not only a brilliant artist but also an amazing witch. She spent much of her time at Hogwarts studying their extensive art collection and what exactly made them tick," Drew said, stepping even closer to Harry, forcing him to move closer to the painting.
Harry tried to remember if that if in all his years at Hogwarts he had ever heard of the name Rowntree before but he was drawing a blank. Perhaps his father went somewhere else. He didn't know of all of the schools of witchcraft and wizardry there were in the world so it was quite possible he could have gone anywhere.
"So, she's the one responsible for what happened to the paintings at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Not entirely," Drew said. Harry was trying to listen and devise a way to get past Drew and back to Hermione. Every direction he moved in, Drew was right there with him. He knew he was capable of doing things without his wand but he didn't have that much control over it and there was that whole underage . . . wait. He was no longer underage. No one could ever get him on that again.
If it came right down to it, he'd just scream. This place was so small that everyone would come running.
"Then who is?" Harry would keep asking questions so he could think of something or until Hermione would come looking for him. Damn her and her studies. It could be hours before she would even notice he was gone.
"My father was always fascinated with the dark arts. Having lived in Australia, he was always disappointed that he was so far away from the rise of the Dark Lord all those years ago but he's here for his return to greatness. The only thing he was ever more disappointed in . . . was me," said Drew solemnly. Harry struggled to remember every word he ever heard Hermione mention about Drew when he was her boyfriend but most of those conversations were only shared with Ginny. After a certain point, he didn't want to hear them.
"I'm sure that's not true," Harry said, trying to say anything.
"Do you know what it's like to have people hate what you are? Hate you for something you can't fix or that you have no control over?" Drew asked.
"Yes," Harry answered truthfully.
"Do you know what it's like when it's your own father? Of course not. Your parents loved you so much they were willing to die for you."
"Drew, listen, I'm really sorry that you feel . . . "
"But now I have the chance to redeem myself in his eyes. It has taken me a year and my day has finally come. I'm going to be the one to ensnare Harry Potter. My mother and I have spent so long devising this plan in the hopes of making it work just right. Over this past year, we've had a few problems but I think they're solved now. We just had to silence all those other people running around the portraits before any of them could open their gobs," Drew said.
"You turned off the portraits? How?" Harry asked, coming up with more questions. Drew was like most of them that aspired to be evil. They liked to talk about it instead of just do it and keep quiet.
"Haven't you been listening? I can't do a thing. All I could do is get you in the right place at the right time and I've done that."
"I think you're making a big mistake. I do know what it's like to have people hate you for what you are. I know it very well and I think . . . er . . . well, Hermione has always spoken well of you and she really likes you. She's a powerful and clever witch, Drew, and you don't want to cross paths with her," Harry said, saying Hermione's name louder than the rest of his words. Too bad his clever witch of a girlfriend couldn't get her nose out of a book long enough to come in here. "Hermione would be very angry . . ."
"That's enough of that!" Drew said, an quick flash of rage crossing his face. "Soon, everyone will know my name, not yours. My father will be rewarded by the Dark Lord for finally ridding the world of you and he will be pleased with me. All you have to do is move closer . . ."
Harry didn't get a chance to step back willingly. As soon as he opened his mouth to cry out for Hermione, Drew shoved him into the painting behind him. Drew had a pained look on his face and his hand crackled with an unnatural green energy that Harry knew the Squib boy couldn't have produced himself. It had to have come from him but it didn't matter. It was too late.
There was a strange tug, and it wasn't unlike using a portkey. He thought at first that was perhaps what the picture was and he panicked, knowing what happened the last time he had been sent somewhere against his will by a portkey. He had just finished calling out Hermione's name when he realized that it wasn't a portkey at all. No, he had nothing in his hands when he hit the ground. It took him a moment to adjust as he tried to stand up but he kept falling down. Whatever was under him was soft and he wasn't sure what was going on.
All he was certain of was that he was alone now and surrounded by blinding white light.
*************
To Be Continued . . .
