A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but I changed jobs and was working all day,
then went to my second evening job. Basically, I had no time. Somehow I
managed to write these next two chapters; I think I was supposed to be
sleeping, but oh well, priorities. Originally, this chapter wasn't supposed
to even exist, but when I read all the reviews pushing for more Harry/Eva I
decided that I did need a chapter of down time for the characters right
before . . . well, you'll find out.
Btw, I blame this one on my sister, who loves romance books and boys in equal measure. Her life could almost be a soap opera, except that the acting is so poor. ; ) I despise romance, and therefore have no practical experience in any area of it. So I swiped from the nearest expert. *shudders* At least I did my research (as much as I could stomach). I do the characterizations, she does the mushy stuff, like: Roses are red, violets are plum, a kiss isn't a kiss without some tongue. Excuse me while I go gag up my lunch.
Ueshiba: I try to give credit to those people who inspire me enough to use their ideas. Unfortunately no, the parvellah is not a product of my twisted imagination. It comes from The Crimson Claw, second in The Alien Chronicles by Deborah Chester. It's described as an ancient Aaroun weapon of war, half hammer half axe made of iron, which despite its considerable weight is meant to be used single-handedly. In gladiatorial combat it's often paired with daggers or short swords; in ceremonial use, it cracks open the skulls of victims. For that matter, the word interdigitating isn't mine either. Long story, but a friend at college made it up in regards to the level of intimacy behind holding hands. In this case, intertwining fingers together to hold tightly tells of a close personal relationship, such as boyfriend/girlfriend. *shrugs* I found it funny.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm making no money off of this at all. But if you want to give me some, it's very much appreciated. College is expensive, as is gas for my car. Title is inspired by Shakespeare's Macbeth, in the famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy. If you haven't read it, go educate yourself. Perelandra is from CS Lewis' Space Trilogy, because I like it and I'm too lazy to make up my own names.
Chapter 29
The night breeze whistled gently through the open window and sent the drapes fluttering. But Eva felt none of it, as she was restlessly asleep in her bed, tossing and turning with the sheets slithering to the floor. Abruptly she snapped awakes, eyes automatically scanning the room as her mind groped for the reason for her awakening. A voice had been calling her, faint and indistinct. But recognizable. Harry.
Eva swiftly got out of bed and reached for her robe as she mentally reached for her protégé, then frowned at the poor connection. Still, his intention was clear. He needed her, now. She smiled, for even with the urgency and potential danger and depression hanging on his sense, she loved to hear his voice. Throwing on a decent set of clothes, Eva concentrated on forcing her mind through the dimensional barriers, and with a pop landed on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, right next to Harry.
Immediately she noted the stress lines on his face, the haunted look in his eyes combined with his pale face giving him the appearance of a much older man. Her happiness at seeing him again retreated quickly to be replaced by concern and alarm. Sitting carefully next to him, she murmured softly, "Hi, I've missed you." He gave her a small tremulous smile. "I'm missed you too."
He made as if to say more, then closed his mouth and half turned his head. Eva waited, sensing that he would open up when he was ready, and so while he studied the roof tiles she studied him. For a moment she lost herself in a daydream as her eyes indulged themselves on his figure, then jolted back to reality with his voice. "I . . . I don't know what to do," Harry confessed, using a tone of helplessness that she had never heard him use before.
"It's just . . . this whole war has messed everything up so badly . . . and ever since Sirius . . ." he swallowed hard, "I've been . . .well, afraid that I'll mess up again, and someone else will die because of me, because I made a mistake." His jaw clicked shut audibly, biting off the last word, and she knew how difficult it was for him to admit fear or fallibility.
For the moment she blanked on how to help him; her instinctual reaction was to gather him in her arms and kiss away his fear and pain. But that was her selfish desire, not his. So she spoke slowly, considering. "So the game has changed, and you don't want and can't afford to sacrifice any more." He nodded silently, and she simply looked at him. "Harry, did you ever learn how to ride a bike?"
He appeared startled by the change of topic but answered, "No. Dudley had a few bikes but they never let me so much as touch them. Like I might infect them or something." Eva bit her lip; that wouldn't work. "Okay then, think about riding a broom then." As expected, that elicited a small genuine smile, and she continued, "Were you able to do a perfect Wronski Feint the first time you tried?"
Harry quirked his lips. "No. That first time I misjudged my timing and nearly splattered myself all over the Weasleys' backyard. Made Hermione scream louder than a banshee." Eva pressed, "But you got up? Got back on your broom and kept playing, kept doing it until you perfected it?" This time his nod was pensive, as if he was beginning to see what she was getting at.
"You see?" She spread her hands. "This is the same, but on a larger scale. You try to minimize mistakes, or at least their impact, and you learn from it in order to accomplish your goal." Eva hesitated, then reached over and touched his cheek, turning his face towards her. "There are two types of fliers; those who have fallen off and those who will. It's inevitable. The question is, are you going to give in to fear and stay down? Or are you going to get back up and win? If you let fear and indecision rule you, Voldemort will win without having to fight at all."
Their eyes met for a timeless moment, then he adverted his gaze. "You sound like a fortune cookies," Harry said with an attempt at bitterness, but Eva saw the melancholy behind it and tried purposely for levity. "Actually, that's where I got it from. But my favorite is still, 'Help, I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory!'"
He snorted with involuntary laughter, and she smiled at him. Then it twisted into a frown as she let her strangely tingling fingers trace down his jawline. "Harry, you're freezing. How long have you been out here?" He shrugged, seemingly not feeling her hand stroking his neck and face, or at least ignoring it. "A few hours. I don't know exactly. But I can't stand being inside right now."
Instantly her protective instincts kicked in. "Well, we can't afford for you to catch cold. Here." She conjured up a blanket, then scooted behind him. "Let me warm you up," she said as steadily as she could considering her fluttering heart, then wrapped both herself and the blanket around his chilled body, creating a warm cocoon.
At first he tensed against the strange contact, then relaxed as her arm snaked around his chest and held him tightly to her, lightly rubbing the exposed skin of his arms. "That better?" she murmured, and was inexplicably delighted to feel a shiver run through him. He swallowed once and softly answered, "Much." He half-turned his head to see her face. "Thank you."
They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the clouds chase each other across the night sky, dimly illuminated by starlight and a sliver of moon. Eva was infinitely glad that Harry felt no compunction to communicate mentally, for at the moment her mind was busy fantasizing. The fell of his body cradled against hers elicited warm memories and sensations, and she inconspicuously sniffed at his neck, memorizing his distinctive scent as hair ticked her cheek. She loved the way he smelled, especially right after he had been wearing his Wraith clothes and held the faint trace of leather; it was more intoxicating for her than any drug could ever be.
She tightened her arms around him, and instinctively he leaned back into her, sighing just a bit as some tension and anxiety left him. One of his hands absentmindedly stroked hers on his chest, fingers tracing light patterns to make her heart skip a few beats. "You know," Harry spoke softly, but it was sufficient to startle Eva from her increasingly vivid daydreams. "I like coming up here, on the roof. It's a good place to think, to get away from everyone." He tilted his head slightly. "It's private."
She caught his subtle change in tone and tried to clamp down on her emotions, forcing herself not to hope. "Privacy is good," she managed, but the steady voice was undercut by the breathy quality in tone. He twisted so he faced her, a bright gleam in his eyes yet with slight uncertainty. His voice had become oddly husky as he murmured, "Especially for some things."
His eyes were focused on her lips, and unconsciously she licked them, also staring as he closed in with aching slowness. As his lips touched hers, she sighed with pleasure and kissed back until they both broke away gently. She let a silly grin cross her face at his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, then leaned in for another kiss. He responded with more fire which she eagerly matched, letting her hands do what they'd been itching to do and run over his body in small caresses. He smiled against her mouth, and his hands began tracing her figure gently, almost worshipfully.
Kisses continued throughout, until Eva was dizzy, either due to lack of oxygen or his presence, she couldn't tell. His tongue tentatively snuck out to trace her lower lip, and as she opened her mouth with a low moan she felt like she was drowning, like she was falling . . . .
With a loud thump, an "oof!" and a splutter, Eva was forcibly knocked from her dream as she hit the floor. Disoriented and massively confused, she looked wildly around trying to find something, then her pillow slipped off the bed and landed on her head. Startled, she grabbed it and flung it away forcefully, so it impacted the wall and exploded with a large cloud of feathers.
Blinking against the atmospheric assault, the pain in her rear grounded her back in reality and with a frustrated groan and muttered invective she flopped back on the floor by her bed. Her dreams were seriously getting out of hand. Breathing deeply, she tried to expel the remnants of the dream, yet they clung tenaciously like vines, filling her mind with flashes of memories . . . Harry's face, his hands, his lips, on hers . . .
That wasn't helping. Hauling herself to her feet, she exited her bedroom and headed at a run into her gym where she immediately tackled the punching bag. Ignoring the fact that she was still in her nightclothes, she went through her warm-up and kickboxing routine with vigor, expecting the physical activity to purge her brain of any distractions.
For a while it worked, and with a final roundhouse kick Eva sent the punching bag swinging so hard the rope nearly broke. Blowing out a quick breath to get the hair out of her face, she sauntered over to the bench while stripping off her gloves and plopped down. That felt good; she briefly thanked whoever it was that invented kickboxing. Great tension reliever.
Unfortunately, now that she wasn't punishing the equipment with her frustrations, they all came flooding back. Evan an exhausting workout like this couldn't help; in fact, it reminded her once again of her chief source of problems. Harry. Groaning with exasperation, Eva buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? He was only her student, a mortal and a teenager at that. He hadn't even contacted her since they parted over the summer.
And yet her traitorous mind replayed imaged of him during training, whether sweat-soaked as they sparred or swimming down in the ocean or just sitting and reading together. Her ears remembered the sound of his voice, his laughter, while her hands recalled vividly his body against hers as she comforted him and chased away nightmares.
Now her face was red from more than just exertion, and briefly she was glad no one else was around. Buy maybe that was the problem. She was alone with nothing to do at the moment, and loneliness chafed at her. She should call him. No, that would seem desperate. Especially after that dream. Could she even face him now when all she wanted to do was . . .
Alright, enough! Eva forcibly wrenched her thoughts away from that disturbing path and strode out of the gym to head for the kitchen. Rummaging distractedly through the cupboards, she scowled to realize that even though her stomach growled loudly, nothing sounded good. Finally she grabbed two chocolate bars and headed out, wandering the compound aimlessly as she munched.
Unexpectedly her feet carried her to her room and she stared at the flat screen on one wall. The portal, the one that allowed her to peek in to any dimension and quietly observe. She could turn it on and check on Harry, watch him for a while to make sure he was okay. Might be good to check up on recent developments too; her last assignment had taken her out to Perelandra for far longer than she expected. She was curious as to what new events had directed the war.
Her hand hovered over the button . . . then she yanked it away as if burned. No, not like that. That was spying, and for some reason she felt uncomfortable with it. That confused her to no end, as she had done a lot of spying before with nary a thought; Eva scowled and bit fiercely into her chocolate. She should just go down and see him in person. That's what she really wanted to do anyways.
But that went beyond her 'meddling mandate,' as she termed the rules the Guardians had placed on her position. That strayed into the forbidden realm of involvement. Her heart fluttered at the possible double meaning, but then she ruthlessly clamped down on it. It would never happen. While Eva admitted to herself that she loved Harry (even to the point of exhibiting the symptoms of a silly school-girl crush beyond her considerable self- control), it could never happen. Harry could never love her back like that.
She clenched her fists tightly, railing impotently and silently at her superiors in the hierarchy. That bitch Fate ordered him to be a soldier, with emotions such as love to be considered as unwanted baggage and discarded. Eva should go over and pick a fight, just to release stress caused by rampant emotions and unrequited love. She sighed; no, that wasn't a good idea. They were both firebrands and rather stubborn. The consequences weren't worth it.
She remembered vividly the last time she and Fate had fought; everyone was distracted from their jobs in their realms since the fight was so entertaining, and the Black Plague had swept Europe, decimating the population. And that was just one realm. Another had disintegrated under chaotic influences and self-destructed. Eva wrinkled her nose at the memory, and the screaming match that sunk the Titanic. Fights among the Guardians were not good.
With a vicious bite of chocolate, she knew she wasn't in the mood to deal with Fate today. Maybe she should go see Death and whoever her new company way. She made a face. No, Death tended to creep her out, which wasn't unusual considering their circumstances, and the newly taken tended to whine about their changed statue. After all, there is no death, only a change of worlds.
Now that she had rejected all of her possibilities, the time seemed to stretch like taffy around her into one endless sheet of boredom. Aggravated and restless, Eva finally just stalked outside and flopped down on the grass, mind still firmly fixed on Harry. *Men suck,* she thought sourly to herself. After all, it was a male that started this whole mess.
****************************************************
Voldemort shivered, ice trickling down his spine and yanking at his nerves despite his proximity to the fire. Or rather, because of it, for this fire was not the comforting heart of red-gold oxygen combustion. This fire licked with tongues of ebony ice, illuminating nothing with wavering nonlight, and within the flames stood a person.
No, not a person, but a creature of pure blackness and evil, the immortal Master of Darkness and Voldemort's only Lord. He bowed low and addressed the creature reverently. "My Master, the time draws near. I wish for your guidance in this final stage. When should my forces attack, and how?"
Lucifer regarded him with glowing eyes, evaluating his servant. "Yes, the time does draw near. We must not wait any longer. Seize the talisman before All Hallow's Eve and complete the ritual, so that my power will be the strongest that night. Then, and only then, will we be able to kill Potter and pave our way to glory."
He stepped away from the fire, pacing around like a predatory cat. "The Guardians grow restless, knowing as they do what my ultimate goal is. Only Chaos is somewhat pleased, but he is still not entirely happy with the situation. Fortunately, they are still bound by their own rules, unable to interfere with my plans here." He hissed between pointed teeth. "But Potter . . . he is another matter. His meddling has set back our plans and cost us too much."
He spitted the kneeling form of Voldemort with fierce annoyance. "The demons are not an infinite resource, and yet you keep deploying them where he or that accursed Wraith is at leisure to destroy them utterly." Voldemort shuddered at the malevolent displeasure directed at him, and he bowed lower.
"My Lord, we have still been unable to determine how they are able to pinpoint our attacks so rapidly, but neither Potter nor Wraith were present during our attacks on the Ministry. I propose that we deploy the demons to Hogsmeade for the first phase, so while Wraith is busy protecting the village, my Death Eaters proceed to Hogwarts. Potter is sure to have hidden the talisman within the school. We will find it."
Lucifer let his fangs gleam in the black nonlight. "Very well. Do not fail me." One clawed hand reached out and almost tenderly caressed his servant's bald head, making the pale flesh redden and sizzle. "Soon, my servant. Soon, with the talisman, our powers will be combined, unmatchable by any in this realm or without. No one can stop us."
With a final croaking laugh, the creature stepped back into the fire and together they faded. The flames sputtered then shrank back into the black orb at the base. Biting back his pain, Voldemort knelt and picked up the first talisman, flicking the eyes shut when they rotated to glare balefully at him. He let a small smile twist his face. Yes, soon.
They all will be forced to kneel and call him Master.
******************************************************
Yet again, Harry spent another sleepless night up on the roof of Gryffindor Tower. He should have probably just moved his bed up there in the first place; he'd be able to sleep, and the other guys in his dorm would have more room to scatter their dirty socks. Plus the stones became pretty uncomfortable very quickly, and a blanket would cut the chill wind nicely.
But he ignored the elements, unwilling to venture back inside. Lately being around people made him uncomfortable; sometimes it took everything he had just to make it to class, where he sat in the back at a solo table, ignoring the professors. His Dueling Club required every ounce of self- discipline to make it through, and even Quidditch could be a trial.
There was only one person he really wanted to see, but she was also the one he could not. Eva. Somehow the lack of her comforting presence amplified every bad thing that had happened to and around him lately, and he felt utterly alone. Soul aching with loneliness, he reached out for her again, yelling intangibly along their bond. *Eva! Please answer me! I need you! Eva!*
His shout echoed in his head for several long moments, then with a sigh he started to withdraw. But he paused as something flickered, then Eva reached back for him with a soothing warmth that made his breath catch. She was coming, and that simple fact sent sweeping relief through him so strongly that, inexplicably, he wanted to burst into tears.
Sternly he tamped that weakness back into its iron box, and just in time for Eva popped into existence next to him, smiling. That smile faded as she looked at him, and when she sat he wanted to look away, embarrassed because he knew he must appear as awful as he felt. Her words banished that thought. "Hi. I've missed you." Involuntarily he smiled back. "I've missed you too."
He started to say just how much he missed her, then caught himself and glanced away, a bit confused as to why his emotions were in such a turmoil. Even as his heart leapt at her presence, his stomach was clenching with nervousness. He sensed her waiting patiently but expectantly, and thrust away that confusion to search for something important to say to make her stay.
His mind whirled with the events of the past two months, of what he knew was coming, and words spilled from him. "I . . . I don't know what to do. It's just . . . this whole war has messed everything up so badly . . . and ever since Sirius . . ." he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat that threatened to stop his voice, "I've been . . .well, afraid that I'll mess up again, and someone else will die because of me, because I made a mistake."
Harry stopped abruptly, as he realized what he was saying and shame flooded him. Here he was, her protégé and great warrior for the light, War Mage and Phoenix Lord, and he was crying to her about his private insignificant fears. He huddled into himself, hiding like he used to as a child, then stopped and forced himself to straighten like a man, abandoning his babyish reaction.
Eva stopped his mental floggings with a thoughtful tone. "So the game has changed, and you don't want and can't afford to sacrifice any more." He nodded, and a moment later she completely threw him off track. "Harry, did you ever learn how to ride a bike?" Startled, he wondered momentarily why she was asking stupid questions, but answered gamely, "No. Dudley had a few bikes but they never let me so much as touch them. Like I might infect them or something."
Mentally he winced at the memories of long years at the Dursleys. He remembered the one time he did touch his cousin's old bike, a broken ten speed. Dudley had caught him examining the gears and punched him hard enough to crack a rib. Luckily Eva again interrupted his thoughts. "Okay then, think about riding your broom then."
Unconsciously he smiled, recalling the overwhelming sense of freedom accompanying the wind in his hair and the pervading lightness of body and soul. "Were you able to do a perfect Wronski Feint the first time you tried?" That memory was still one of his favorites, more because of the reactions he got than the actual experience. "No. That first time I misjudged my timing and nearly splattered myself all over the Weasleys' backyard. Made Hermione scream louder than a banshee."
Eva now had a determined gleams in here eyes, explaining the significance of his own perseverance. He was thinking about her words when a warm, soft hand touched his face to turn him towards her, but also leaving him surprisingly short of breath. Startled, he looked deep into her eyes, ears registering none of her words because his brain was currently preoccupied with drowning in those hazel eyes that radiated so much emotion: concern, determination, a suppressed happiness, and . . . no, he was seeing things.
Flustered, Harry broke eye contact and muttered, "You sound like a fortune cookie," without really knowing what she had said. Instantly she kidded back, "Actually, that where I got it from. But my favorite is still, 'Help, I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory!'" The sheer randomness made him snort with laughter and his spirits lifted a bit.
Then her fingers moved from his cheek, trailing a path of sparking nerves down his jaw even as she noted with a frown, "Harry, you're freezing. How long have you been out here?" His mind raced frantically even as he shrugged; how long had it been? "A few hours, I don't know exactly. But I can't stand being inside right now."
*Yes, because you're out here, with me,* his mind whispered, and mentally he slapped it, barely noticing that she was saying something about catching cold. Suddenly Eva was behind him, softly saying in his ear, "Let me warm you up," and then he was cocooned with warmth, her soft body wrapped around his back and a blanket encircling them both. Harry tensed, wide-eyed at the unexpected contact that sent shivers that had nothing to do with temperature through his body.
Her arms clasped him tightly, protectively, bringing such a sense of security that consciously he relaxed back into her embrace. Her hands rubbed him gently and she murmured in his ear, "That better?" letting her warm breath tickle the side of his neck. Failing to suppress another shiver, he swallowed once and managed, "Much. Thank you."
She seemed inordinately pleased, and while his eyes turned back to the sky his attention was solely fixed on the girl - no, woman - enveloping him, and the riot of emotions tumbling through him too fast to correctly decipher. What did she feel for him? What did he feel for her? Why did his heart seem to want to melt in a puddle, and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth? He may have been skilled in the arts of war, but this was completely out of his range.
A slight breath of air brushed his neck, and abruptly he realized she was . . . smelling him. Why? Her arms tightened again in a brief hug, and that additional pressure made him lean back into her and sigh away some tension. His hand, without communication from his whirling brain, took the initiative and stroked the backs of her hands, and distinctly he felt her heart flutter one.
A smile curled his lips and his tongue loosened, deciding to risk it. "You know, I like coming up here, on the roof. It's a good place to think, to get away from everyone. It's private." He caught the slight quiver of muscle before she murmured, "Privacy is good." Encouraged by her tone but a bit hesitant, he twisted around to whisper huskily, "Especially for some things."
Her lips captured his attention, their soft redness beckoning him closer, and when her tongue swept out to wet them he knew he was caught. Slowly, gently he pressed his mouth to hers, a bit awkward until she kissed him back with a sigh. The contact broke, and when he opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, she smiled brightly and took the initiative to start again.
*Okay, that wasn't so hard,* he vaguely thought as their hands spread and continued the kiss, communicating by touch more than words could say. She was so warm and soft, yet powerful, as he could feel the muscles trembling under his hands covered by silky skin. Remembering something Ron had once told him, he let his tongue touch her lips gently, and she immediately accepted the invitation. The kiss deepened as his sense narrowed down to just the feel of Eva . . . .
Abruptly she disappeared, the blanket falling down around him in a puddle of material as the cocoon broke open, and all the warmth vanished with a flash of icy air. Goosebumps instantly prickled his skin and Harry felt like he'd been slapped . . .
And then his eyes snapped open and he found himself in bed in the sixth year boys' dorm in Gryffindor Tower, tangled in his sheets and breathing hard. Disoriented, he glanced over and saw that the window had been cracked open, then flung wide open with a gust of wind. The ambient temperature nearly resembled the inside of an abandoned igloo. Groaning softly, Harry untangled himself as he raised a hand at the window, which promptly shut and latched itself.
Shivering slightly, he curled back into his warm sheets, yawning as he thought, *Nice dream. More interesting that Voldemort anyway.* Then he shrugged to himself and fluffed his pillow. *It'll never happen.* Content and warm again, he dropped off to sleep to dream not of Eva, but Lady Death, bound by thick chains that shackled her to some shadowy figure who tugged her around like a puppet.
Btw, I blame this one on my sister, who loves romance books and boys in equal measure. Her life could almost be a soap opera, except that the acting is so poor. ; ) I despise romance, and therefore have no practical experience in any area of it. So I swiped from the nearest expert. *shudders* At least I did my research (as much as I could stomach). I do the characterizations, she does the mushy stuff, like: Roses are red, violets are plum, a kiss isn't a kiss without some tongue. Excuse me while I go gag up my lunch.
Ueshiba: I try to give credit to those people who inspire me enough to use their ideas. Unfortunately no, the parvellah is not a product of my twisted imagination. It comes from The Crimson Claw, second in The Alien Chronicles by Deborah Chester. It's described as an ancient Aaroun weapon of war, half hammer half axe made of iron, which despite its considerable weight is meant to be used single-handedly. In gladiatorial combat it's often paired with daggers or short swords; in ceremonial use, it cracks open the skulls of victims. For that matter, the word interdigitating isn't mine either. Long story, but a friend at college made it up in regards to the level of intimacy behind holding hands. In this case, intertwining fingers together to hold tightly tells of a close personal relationship, such as boyfriend/girlfriend. *shrugs* I found it funny.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm making no money off of this at all. But if you want to give me some, it's very much appreciated. College is expensive, as is gas for my car. Title is inspired by Shakespeare's Macbeth, in the famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy. If you haven't read it, go educate yourself. Perelandra is from CS Lewis' Space Trilogy, because I like it and I'm too lazy to make up my own names.
Chapter 29
The night breeze whistled gently through the open window and sent the drapes fluttering. But Eva felt none of it, as she was restlessly asleep in her bed, tossing and turning with the sheets slithering to the floor. Abruptly she snapped awakes, eyes automatically scanning the room as her mind groped for the reason for her awakening. A voice had been calling her, faint and indistinct. But recognizable. Harry.
Eva swiftly got out of bed and reached for her robe as she mentally reached for her protégé, then frowned at the poor connection. Still, his intention was clear. He needed her, now. She smiled, for even with the urgency and potential danger and depression hanging on his sense, she loved to hear his voice. Throwing on a decent set of clothes, Eva concentrated on forcing her mind through the dimensional barriers, and with a pop landed on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, right next to Harry.
Immediately she noted the stress lines on his face, the haunted look in his eyes combined with his pale face giving him the appearance of a much older man. Her happiness at seeing him again retreated quickly to be replaced by concern and alarm. Sitting carefully next to him, she murmured softly, "Hi, I've missed you." He gave her a small tremulous smile. "I'm missed you too."
He made as if to say more, then closed his mouth and half turned his head. Eva waited, sensing that he would open up when he was ready, and so while he studied the roof tiles she studied him. For a moment she lost herself in a daydream as her eyes indulged themselves on his figure, then jolted back to reality with his voice. "I . . . I don't know what to do," Harry confessed, using a tone of helplessness that she had never heard him use before.
"It's just . . . this whole war has messed everything up so badly . . . and ever since Sirius . . ." he swallowed hard, "I've been . . .well, afraid that I'll mess up again, and someone else will die because of me, because I made a mistake." His jaw clicked shut audibly, biting off the last word, and she knew how difficult it was for him to admit fear or fallibility.
For the moment she blanked on how to help him; her instinctual reaction was to gather him in her arms and kiss away his fear and pain. But that was her selfish desire, not his. So she spoke slowly, considering. "So the game has changed, and you don't want and can't afford to sacrifice any more." He nodded silently, and she simply looked at him. "Harry, did you ever learn how to ride a bike?"
He appeared startled by the change of topic but answered, "No. Dudley had a few bikes but they never let me so much as touch them. Like I might infect them or something." Eva bit her lip; that wouldn't work. "Okay then, think about riding a broom then." As expected, that elicited a small genuine smile, and she continued, "Were you able to do a perfect Wronski Feint the first time you tried?"
Harry quirked his lips. "No. That first time I misjudged my timing and nearly splattered myself all over the Weasleys' backyard. Made Hermione scream louder than a banshee." Eva pressed, "But you got up? Got back on your broom and kept playing, kept doing it until you perfected it?" This time his nod was pensive, as if he was beginning to see what she was getting at.
"You see?" She spread her hands. "This is the same, but on a larger scale. You try to minimize mistakes, or at least their impact, and you learn from it in order to accomplish your goal." Eva hesitated, then reached over and touched his cheek, turning his face towards her. "There are two types of fliers; those who have fallen off and those who will. It's inevitable. The question is, are you going to give in to fear and stay down? Or are you going to get back up and win? If you let fear and indecision rule you, Voldemort will win without having to fight at all."
Their eyes met for a timeless moment, then he adverted his gaze. "You sound like a fortune cookies," Harry said with an attempt at bitterness, but Eva saw the melancholy behind it and tried purposely for levity. "Actually, that's where I got it from. But my favorite is still, 'Help, I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory!'"
He snorted with involuntary laughter, and she smiled at him. Then it twisted into a frown as she let her strangely tingling fingers trace down his jawline. "Harry, you're freezing. How long have you been out here?" He shrugged, seemingly not feeling her hand stroking his neck and face, or at least ignoring it. "A few hours. I don't know exactly. But I can't stand being inside right now."
Instantly her protective instincts kicked in. "Well, we can't afford for you to catch cold. Here." She conjured up a blanket, then scooted behind him. "Let me warm you up," she said as steadily as she could considering her fluttering heart, then wrapped both herself and the blanket around his chilled body, creating a warm cocoon.
At first he tensed against the strange contact, then relaxed as her arm snaked around his chest and held him tightly to her, lightly rubbing the exposed skin of his arms. "That better?" she murmured, and was inexplicably delighted to feel a shiver run through him. He swallowed once and softly answered, "Much." He half-turned his head to see her face. "Thank you."
They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the clouds chase each other across the night sky, dimly illuminated by starlight and a sliver of moon. Eva was infinitely glad that Harry felt no compunction to communicate mentally, for at the moment her mind was busy fantasizing. The fell of his body cradled against hers elicited warm memories and sensations, and she inconspicuously sniffed at his neck, memorizing his distinctive scent as hair ticked her cheek. She loved the way he smelled, especially right after he had been wearing his Wraith clothes and held the faint trace of leather; it was more intoxicating for her than any drug could ever be.
She tightened her arms around him, and instinctively he leaned back into her, sighing just a bit as some tension and anxiety left him. One of his hands absentmindedly stroked hers on his chest, fingers tracing light patterns to make her heart skip a few beats. "You know," Harry spoke softly, but it was sufficient to startle Eva from her increasingly vivid daydreams. "I like coming up here, on the roof. It's a good place to think, to get away from everyone." He tilted his head slightly. "It's private."
She caught his subtle change in tone and tried to clamp down on her emotions, forcing herself not to hope. "Privacy is good," she managed, but the steady voice was undercut by the breathy quality in tone. He twisted so he faced her, a bright gleam in his eyes yet with slight uncertainty. His voice had become oddly husky as he murmured, "Especially for some things."
His eyes were focused on her lips, and unconsciously she licked them, also staring as he closed in with aching slowness. As his lips touched hers, she sighed with pleasure and kissed back until they both broke away gently. She let a silly grin cross her face at his flushed cheeks and bright eyes, then leaned in for another kiss. He responded with more fire which she eagerly matched, letting her hands do what they'd been itching to do and run over his body in small caresses. He smiled against her mouth, and his hands began tracing her figure gently, almost worshipfully.
Kisses continued throughout, until Eva was dizzy, either due to lack of oxygen or his presence, she couldn't tell. His tongue tentatively snuck out to trace her lower lip, and as she opened her mouth with a low moan she felt like she was drowning, like she was falling . . . .
With a loud thump, an "oof!" and a splutter, Eva was forcibly knocked from her dream as she hit the floor. Disoriented and massively confused, she looked wildly around trying to find something, then her pillow slipped off the bed and landed on her head. Startled, she grabbed it and flung it away forcefully, so it impacted the wall and exploded with a large cloud of feathers.
Blinking against the atmospheric assault, the pain in her rear grounded her back in reality and with a frustrated groan and muttered invective she flopped back on the floor by her bed. Her dreams were seriously getting out of hand. Breathing deeply, she tried to expel the remnants of the dream, yet they clung tenaciously like vines, filling her mind with flashes of memories . . . Harry's face, his hands, his lips, on hers . . .
That wasn't helping. Hauling herself to her feet, she exited her bedroom and headed at a run into her gym where she immediately tackled the punching bag. Ignoring the fact that she was still in her nightclothes, she went through her warm-up and kickboxing routine with vigor, expecting the physical activity to purge her brain of any distractions.
For a while it worked, and with a final roundhouse kick Eva sent the punching bag swinging so hard the rope nearly broke. Blowing out a quick breath to get the hair out of her face, she sauntered over to the bench while stripping off her gloves and plopped down. That felt good; she briefly thanked whoever it was that invented kickboxing. Great tension reliever.
Unfortunately, now that she wasn't punishing the equipment with her frustrations, they all came flooding back. Evan an exhausting workout like this couldn't help; in fact, it reminded her once again of her chief source of problems. Harry. Groaning with exasperation, Eva buried her face in her hands. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? He was only her student, a mortal and a teenager at that. He hadn't even contacted her since they parted over the summer.
And yet her traitorous mind replayed imaged of him during training, whether sweat-soaked as they sparred or swimming down in the ocean or just sitting and reading together. Her ears remembered the sound of his voice, his laughter, while her hands recalled vividly his body against hers as she comforted him and chased away nightmares.
Now her face was red from more than just exertion, and briefly she was glad no one else was around. Buy maybe that was the problem. She was alone with nothing to do at the moment, and loneliness chafed at her. She should call him. No, that would seem desperate. Especially after that dream. Could she even face him now when all she wanted to do was . . .
Alright, enough! Eva forcibly wrenched her thoughts away from that disturbing path and strode out of the gym to head for the kitchen. Rummaging distractedly through the cupboards, she scowled to realize that even though her stomach growled loudly, nothing sounded good. Finally she grabbed two chocolate bars and headed out, wandering the compound aimlessly as she munched.
Unexpectedly her feet carried her to her room and she stared at the flat screen on one wall. The portal, the one that allowed her to peek in to any dimension and quietly observe. She could turn it on and check on Harry, watch him for a while to make sure he was okay. Might be good to check up on recent developments too; her last assignment had taken her out to Perelandra for far longer than she expected. She was curious as to what new events had directed the war.
Her hand hovered over the button . . . then she yanked it away as if burned. No, not like that. That was spying, and for some reason she felt uncomfortable with it. That confused her to no end, as she had done a lot of spying before with nary a thought; Eva scowled and bit fiercely into her chocolate. She should just go down and see him in person. That's what she really wanted to do anyways.
But that went beyond her 'meddling mandate,' as she termed the rules the Guardians had placed on her position. That strayed into the forbidden realm of involvement. Her heart fluttered at the possible double meaning, but then she ruthlessly clamped down on it. It would never happen. While Eva admitted to herself that she loved Harry (even to the point of exhibiting the symptoms of a silly school-girl crush beyond her considerable self- control), it could never happen. Harry could never love her back like that.
She clenched her fists tightly, railing impotently and silently at her superiors in the hierarchy. That bitch Fate ordered him to be a soldier, with emotions such as love to be considered as unwanted baggage and discarded. Eva should go over and pick a fight, just to release stress caused by rampant emotions and unrequited love. She sighed; no, that wasn't a good idea. They were both firebrands and rather stubborn. The consequences weren't worth it.
She remembered vividly the last time she and Fate had fought; everyone was distracted from their jobs in their realms since the fight was so entertaining, and the Black Plague had swept Europe, decimating the population. And that was just one realm. Another had disintegrated under chaotic influences and self-destructed. Eva wrinkled her nose at the memory, and the screaming match that sunk the Titanic. Fights among the Guardians were not good.
With a vicious bite of chocolate, she knew she wasn't in the mood to deal with Fate today. Maybe she should go see Death and whoever her new company way. She made a face. No, Death tended to creep her out, which wasn't unusual considering their circumstances, and the newly taken tended to whine about their changed statue. After all, there is no death, only a change of worlds.
Now that she had rejected all of her possibilities, the time seemed to stretch like taffy around her into one endless sheet of boredom. Aggravated and restless, Eva finally just stalked outside and flopped down on the grass, mind still firmly fixed on Harry. *Men suck,* she thought sourly to herself. After all, it was a male that started this whole mess.
****************************************************
Voldemort shivered, ice trickling down his spine and yanking at his nerves despite his proximity to the fire. Or rather, because of it, for this fire was not the comforting heart of red-gold oxygen combustion. This fire licked with tongues of ebony ice, illuminating nothing with wavering nonlight, and within the flames stood a person.
No, not a person, but a creature of pure blackness and evil, the immortal Master of Darkness and Voldemort's only Lord. He bowed low and addressed the creature reverently. "My Master, the time draws near. I wish for your guidance in this final stage. When should my forces attack, and how?"
Lucifer regarded him with glowing eyes, evaluating his servant. "Yes, the time does draw near. We must not wait any longer. Seize the talisman before All Hallow's Eve and complete the ritual, so that my power will be the strongest that night. Then, and only then, will we be able to kill Potter and pave our way to glory."
He stepped away from the fire, pacing around like a predatory cat. "The Guardians grow restless, knowing as they do what my ultimate goal is. Only Chaos is somewhat pleased, but he is still not entirely happy with the situation. Fortunately, they are still bound by their own rules, unable to interfere with my plans here." He hissed between pointed teeth. "But Potter . . . he is another matter. His meddling has set back our plans and cost us too much."
He spitted the kneeling form of Voldemort with fierce annoyance. "The demons are not an infinite resource, and yet you keep deploying them where he or that accursed Wraith is at leisure to destroy them utterly." Voldemort shuddered at the malevolent displeasure directed at him, and he bowed lower.
"My Lord, we have still been unable to determine how they are able to pinpoint our attacks so rapidly, but neither Potter nor Wraith were present during our attacks on the Ministry. I propose that we deploy the demons to Hogsmeade for the first phase, so while Wraith is busy protecting the village, my Death Eaters proceed to Hogwarts. Potter is sure to have hidden the talisman within the school. We will find it."
Lucifer let his fangs gleam in the black nonlight. "Very well. Do not fail me." One clawed hand reached out and almost tenderly caressed his servant's bald head, making the pale flesh redden and sizzle. "Soon, my servant. Soon, with the talisman, our powers will be combined, unmatchable by any in this realm or without. No one can stop us."
With a final croaking laugh, the creature stepped back into the fire and together they faded. The flames sputtered then shrank back into the black orb at the base. Biting back his pain, Voldemort knelt and picked up the first talisman, flicking the eyes shut when they rotated to glare balefully at him. He let a small smile twist his face. Yes, soon.
They all will be forced to kneel and call him Master.
******************************************************
Yet again, Harry spent another sleepless night up on the roof of Gryffindor Tower. He should have probably just moved his bed up there in the first place; he'd be able to sleep, and the other guys in his dorm would have more room to scatter their dirty socks. Plus the stones became pretty uncomfortable very quickly, and a blanket would cut the chill wind nicely.
But he ignored the elements, unwilling to venture back inside. Lately being around people made him uncomfortable; sometimes it took everything he had just to make it to class, where he sat in the back at a solo table, ignoring the professors. His Dueling Club required every ounce of self- discipline to make it through, and even Quidditch could be a trial.
There was only one person he really wanted to see, but she was also the one he could not. Eva. Somehow the lack of her comforting presence amplified every bad thing that had happened to and around him lately, and he felt utterly alone. Soul aching with loneliness, he reached out for her again, yelling intangibly along their bond. *Eva! Please answer me! I need you! Eva!*
His shout echoed in his head for several long moments, then with a sigh he started to withdraw. But he paused as something flickered, then Eva reached back for him with a soothing warmth that made his breath catch. She was coming, and that simple fact sent sweeping relief through him so strongly that, inexplicably, he wanted to burst into tears.
Sternly he tamped that weakness back into its iron box, and just in time for Eva popped into existence next to him, smiling. That smile faded as she looked at him, and when she sat he wanted to look away, embarrassed because he knew he must appear as awful as he felt. Her words banished that thought. "Hi. I've missed you." Involuntarily he smiled back. "I've missed you too."
He started to say just how much he missed her, then caught himself and glanced away, a bit confused as to why his emotions were in such a turmoil. Even as his heart leapt at her presence, his stomach was clenching with nervousness. He sensed her waiting patiently but expectantly, and thrust away that confusion to search for something important to say to make her stay.
His mind whirled with the events of the past two months, of what he knew was coming, and words spilled from him. "I . . . I don't know what to do. It's just . . . this whole war has messed everything up so badly . . . and ever since Sirius . . ." he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat that threatened to stop his voice, "I've been . . .well, afraid that I'll mess up again, and someone else will die because of me, because I made a mistake."
Harry stopped abruptly, as he realized what he was saying and shame flooded him. Here he was, her protégé and great warrior for the light, War Mage and Phoenix Lord, and he was crying to her about his private insignificant fears. He huddled into himself, hiding like he used to as a child, then stopped and forced himself to straighten like a man, abandoning his babyish reaction.
Eva stopped his mental floggings with a thoughtful tone. "So the game has changed, and you don't want and can't afford to sacrifice any more." He nodded, and a moment later she completely threw him off track. "Harry, did you ever learn how to ride a bike?" Startled, he wondered momentarily why she was asking stupid questions, but answered gamely, "No. Dudley had a few bikes but they never let me so much as touch them. Like I might infect them or something."
Mentally he winced at the memories of long years at the Dursleys. He remembered the one time he did touch his cousin's old bike, a broken ten speed. Dudley had caught him examining the gears and punched him hard enough to crack a rib. Luckily Eva again interrupted his thoughts. "Okay then, think about riding your broom then."
Unconsciously he smiled, recalling the overwhelming sense of freedom accompanying the wind in his hair and the pervading lightness of body and soul. "Were you able to do a perfect Wronski Feint the first time you tried?" That memory was still one of his favorites, more because of the reactions he got than the actual experience. "No. That first time I misjudged my timing and nearly splattered myself all over the Weasleys' backyard. Made Hermione scream louder than a banshee."
Eva now had a determined gleams in here eyes, explaining the significance of his own perseverance. He was thinking about her words when a warm, soft hand touched his face to turn him towards her, but also leaving him surprisingly short of breath. Startled, he looked deep into her eyes, ears registering none of her words because his brain was currently preoccupied with drowning in those hazel eyes that radiated so much emotion: concern, determination, a suppressed happiness, and . . . no, he was seeing things.
Flustered, Harry broke eye contact and muttered, "You sound like a fortune cookie," without really knowing what she had said. Instantly she kidded back, "Actually, that where I got it from. But my favorite is still, 'Help, I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory!'" The sheer randomness made him snort with laughter and his spirits lifted a bit.
Then her fingers moved from his cheek, trailing a path of sparking nerves down his jaw even as she noted with a frown, "Harry, you're freezing. How long have you been out here?" His mind raced frantically even as he shrugged; how long had it been? "A few hours, I don't know exactly. But I can't stand being inside right now."
*Yes, because you're out here, with me,* his mind whispered, and mentally he slapped it, barely noticing that she was saying something about catching cold. Suddenly Eva was behind him, softly saying in his ear, "Let me warm you up," and then he was cocooned with warmth, her soft body wrapped around his back and a blanket encircling them both. Harry tensed, wide-eyed at the unexpected contact that sent shivers that had nothing to do with temperature through his body.
Her arms clasped him tightly, protectively, bringing such a sense of security that consciously he relaxed back into her embrace. Her hands rubbed him gently and she murmured in his ear, "That better?" letting her warm breath tickle the side of his neck. Failing to suppress another shiver, he swallowed once and managed, "Much. Thank you."
She seemed inordinately pleased, and while his eyes turned back to the sky his attention was solely fixed on the girl - no, woman - enveloping him, and the riot of emotions tumbling through him too fast to correctly decipher. What did she feel for him? What did he feel for her? Why did his heart seem to want to melt in a puddle, and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth? He may have been skilled in the arts of war, but this was completely out of his range.
A slight breath of air brushed his neck, and abruptly he realized she was . . . smelling him. Why? Her arms tightened again in a brief hug, and that additional pressure made him lean back into her and sigh away some tension. His hand, without communication from his whirling brain, took the initiative and stroked the backs of her hands, and distinctly he felt her heart flutter one.
A smile curled his lips and his tongue loosened, deciding to risk it. "You know, I like coming up here, on the roof. It's a good place to think, to get away from everyone. It's private." He caught the slight quiver of muscle before she murmured, "Privacy is good." Encouraged by her tone but a bit hesitant, he twisted around to whisper huskily, "Especially for some things."
Her lips captured his attention, their soft redness beckoning him closer, and when her tongue swept out to wet them he knew he was caught. Slowly, gently he pressed his mouth to hers, a bit awkward until she kissed him back with a sigh. The contact broke, and when he opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, she smiled brightly and took the initiative to start again.
*Okay, that wasn't so hard,* he vaguely thought as their hands spread and continued the kiss, communicating by touch more than words could say. She was so warm and soft, yet powerful, as he could feel the muscles trembling under his hands covered by silky skin. Remembering something Ron had once told him, he let his tongue touch her lips gently, and she immediately accepted the invitation. The kiss deepened as his sense narrowed down to just the feel of Eva . . . .
Abruptly she disappeared, the blanket falling down around him in a puddle of material as the cocoon broke open, and all the warmth vanished with a flash of icy air. Goosebumps instantly prickled his skin and Harry felt like he'd been slapped . . .
And then his eyes snapped open and he found himself in bed in the sixth year boys' dorm in Gryffindor Tower, tangled in his sheets and breathing hard. Disoriented, he glanced over and saw that the window had been cracked open, then flung wide open with a gust of wind. The ambient temperature nearly resembled the inside of an abandoned igloo. Groaning softly, Harry untangled himself as he raised a hand at the window, which promptly shut and latched itself.
Shivering slightly, he curled back into his warm sheets, yawning as he thought, *Nice dream. More interesting that Voldemort anyway.* Then he shrugged to himself and fluffed his pillow. *It'll never happen.* Content and warm again, he dropped off to sleep to dream not of Eva, but Lady Death, bound by thick chains that shackled her to some shadowy figure who tugged her around like a puppet.