David Clement Davies The Sight gave me Tor and Fenris. Questions? E-mail me.

Next: This chapter follows in the same vein as the previous two. PG13 is probably the best for the story. If anyone reckons otherwise, please say so.

Please forgive me if my comments seem a bit narky. I have a temper. And I act on my Temper. Waaaaaaaaay too quickly. ;)

Black Eyes Burning

HERMIONE POV

"Where's Harry?"

"I've got his broomstick."

"It was kind of hard to miss!"

"Hey! Lay off! We're all as tired as you Hermione. We've all fought as many Death Eaters today as you have. Harry as well. Maybe he's just taking a break! In the name of all that is Tor and Fenris, leave the man be!"

Ron's eyes flashed dangerously, so Hermione gave up. Looking around at the people around her, she suddenly felt very selfish and single-minded. Harry did deserve a break. The number of dead Death Eaters was astounding, even for the Order members.

Turning around on the spot, Hermione walked briskly off to the dungeon like bathrooms of the old school. Seeing Viktor, she gave him a wave, and kept moving. She could talk to him later. Right now, a quick wash sounded in order, even if the water had to be icy cold. It was better than being covered in blood.

Moving through the ice like corridors of the school, she wondered how Harry had known it was here. He might be a brilliant wizard, who knew most things before even she did these days, but the location of any other school bar his own was a feat beyond words. Then it hit her.

Giving an audible gasp, she hit her head gently against one of the cold stone walls. Viktor. She had even just waved to him. Durmstrang was his old school. Suddenly finding herself outside the doors to the bathroom, she heard a cold, harsh rustling sound, and froze. She knew that noise better than she knew her own face.

Dinah.

Memories suddenly flooded back to her mind. The cold cavern that had been her prison. The unsettling rustling's of the night. Even the harsh heat of the sunlight at midday. The cutting biting whip, the vicious words that still tormented her sleepless nights. And the cruelly scarred face, the remnants of one memorable battle. The livid red mark on the face of the woman who was anything but a woman was burned like a brand into Hermione's memory, so many times had she had it forced upon her helpless eyes.

Trying her hardest to penetrate the darkness that surrounded her, Hermione was struck by a sudden premonition. Seeing, for the first time in her life, not a logical explanation, but a baseless vision in her minds eye. What was unmistakably Harry's head biting into the warm dry papery lips of the one who's name she hated with a venom beyond even her own comprehension.

Dinah.

"No."

The silent protest of the echo that forced its way from between her lips seemed to burn like a brand. She could not spea. She could not breathe. Harry? Surely not! He was beyond such petty puppetry. He would not have the same fate at that coward, Snape! He would not be seduced by her poisoned, honeyed words. No. Surely not...

Unless. He was not immune to women. He was a human male after all. And his sexuality had never been in question...so? But she was not beautiful! She was not...

And yet, a cold voice chided gently in her ear, she has an allure abut her, a quality even you were not immune to.

Another rasp, and Hermione's mind was once more brought to the present. Seeing a shadow disappear into the ensuing darkness, she had a sudden feeling of loss. She was gone. It was Dinah's gift, to announce her leaving like that.

An unexpected shout rent the air, and Harry suddenly came charging around the corner, his eyes wild with anger, or fright, she was not sure which.

"She's here!"

HARRY POV

Charging into the toilets, Harry found himself in an empty room. A malicious grin spread across his face, vanishing and being replaced with a mask of horrified anger as Hermione entered the room behind him.

"She's gone."

Her voice was quiet, and he turned his face to hers.

HERMIONE POV

Looking at him, she suddenly realised that his eyes did not shine with anger, but with a hidden desire she had only ever seen once before. When he spoke of his relationship with Voldemort once, he had told her, inebriated as he was, that he sometimes longed for Voldemort's power to be evil, with no worry but to be the worst of the worst. The look scared her, and she wondered what would happen next. Would he hurt her?

Looking into his eyes, she abruptly found herself pushed against the wall, her hands above her head, and her lips claimed by his seeking mouth.

"Harry! No!"

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