Chapter Two
Patching Up A Wound"Okay, okay. I deserved that." Harry said, picking himself up off the rain-covered steps. He brushed off a few stray strands of grass and then spat, wincing as he did. "I think you loosened a tooth or three." He grinned.
Hermione hit him again.
"Damn it." Harry muttered, picking up his glasses that had been knocked off. "Who the hell taught you how to punch." He rubbed his jaw and looked at her. There was still a bit of mirth in his eyes and slight grin on his face. "Any more?"
How could he find this funny? Hermione punched again. This time Harry moved faster, his hand shot out and gripped her right hand wrist, her clenched fist only inches from his face. With his right hand he grabbed her left wrist as she tried to punch him in the stomach.
"You know the funny thing? I kind of was expecting this to happen." Harry said, his face just inches from hers. Hermione could see the green of his eyes behind his rain streaked glasses and the easy smile that was on his face. She tried jerking her hands free, but his rough hands held them in viselike grips. "How have you been, Hermione?" He asked softly, his face so close to hers. He suddenly let go of her hands and took a step back, a small smile still on his face.
"Fine." Hermione said shortly, rubbing her wrists. She looked down and saw that her hand was smeared with something crimson. After a moment realization dawned upon her. Blood. Hermione's eyes snapped to Harry, scanning him up and down. There. A darker than dark spot upon his clothes, just below his ribs on his right side. "You're hurt." She said.
"Well, you do hit pretty hard." Harry said, rubbing his jaw.
"No, you fool." Hermione pointed to the spot on his clothes.
"Oh, that." Harry said, looking as if he were surprised to see it. "It's nothing, just a little scratch. It'll heal alright in a couple of days or weeks."
Hermione frowned; she knew what his definition of a scratch was. Basically anything that didn't bleed you to death before you could find bandages to stop it. "Come inside." Hermione said, stepping away from the doorway.
Harry smiled. "I was starting to enjoy the rain." He stepped inside and then stopped, looking around. "Damn, I've seen charms and I've seen charms. Isn't this a little over zealous on your part?" He said, his eyes taking in all the layers of charms that protected the house.
Hermione paused as she headed for the kitchen. "I've got my reasons." She said. "Take off your coat and your shirt."
Harry glanced at her and chuckled. "I haven't even been here a minute and you're already trying to get me out of my clothes." He said.
"Don't be daft. I'm going to heal that so called scratch in your side." Hermione said, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen.
"Don't bother." Harry called after her. "Magic's not going to help it heal. That bastard used Nocturn Powder on his blade. It's gonna have to heal the old fashion way."
"Thankfully I'm also skilled in basic Muggle medicine." Hermione said, coming back into the living room. In her hands she carried a small white box with a red cross on it. She had almost forgotten where she put it. There wasn't much call for first aid kits in the Wizarding World, not when you could Heal things away.
Harry shrugged and pulled off his long black coat, draping it across the back of a chair. Hermione frowned; the coat was dripping water onto her carpets. He then pulled off his shirt, also black, of course.
Hermione paused for a moment and took in the sight. The years had changed him, in more ways than they had changed Hermione. Though she could understand, he lived a harder life than she did. His face was more angular, as if the softness had been carved away to reveal the bedrock beneath. His green eyes were harder and grimmer, witness to how many horrid sights Hermione didn't wish to know or think about. Though a trace of the easy smile he always had was still there, a reminder of the boy he used to be. As Hermione watched him, she wondered if that boy was still somewhere in there or had it, like all the things from their childhood, been washed away with fear and pain?
She shook her head softly and walked to him, pulling up a chair as he sat perched on a footstool before the fireplace. The light was dim and soft, but it was enough. Unconsciously she traced a long scar, running from his shoulder to the middle of his back, ending in a puckered scar. She felt him shudder under her touch and she jerked her hand back, as if burned.
"I see you've added to you collection." Hermione said, clearing her throat.
"Its rough and dirty line of work I'm in." Harry responded simply. "At least they haven't added anymore to my face. One scar's good enough to get all the ladies hot and bothered. Anymore would just ruin my good looks." He laughed and then stopped as he noticed Hermione's expression.
"Let's just get this cleaned shall we?" Hermione said. She opened the box and began cleaning his wound. It was shallow and only a couple of inches long. If she added too much antibacterial to the wound, and scrubbed it a bit too hard, she was only being through. Harry didn't flinch or move, he just sat there with his eyes closed and small beads of rainwater running down his skin.
Hermione sighed to herself as she unrolled a length of sterile bandages. Being so close to him again brought back all the memories she had tried to put away. They flashed through her mind, hot and bright. Good times, bad time, wonderful times, and horrible times. Hermione closed her eyes, forcing her hand not to shake and tried to concentrate upon what she was doing. Nocturn Powder tended to block the body's immune system, allowing bacteria to take hold and spread. It needed to be cleaned thoroughly and bandaged tightly. The powder was magical in nature, but Muggle antiseptic and medicines usually would take care of it, it only affected magical healing.
"How did this happen?" Hermione asked.
"Nothing special. Just a wannabe Dark Lord gathering minions and taking way out of his league. He popped up on my radar an di had to take care of him." Harry said, casually. Hermione took a breath, trying not to imagine the sweat, fear, pain, and death that had taken place. Unfortunately she had experienced too much of it not to know what happened in situation like that.
"And this new Dark Lord?" Hermione asked, anything was better than thinking of him. Of being so close to him, of touching his skin, breathing in his familiar smell, or feeling the warmth of his skin under her hands. Hermione shook her head.
"He didn't really rate Dark Lord level. Just a little nobody, but with a surprisingly large amount of toys on hand. Good with a sword, but obviously not good enough. I had to flash his ass in the end. Can't let rubbish like that spread, next thing you know we'll have another Grindelwald or Voldemort on our hands." Harry said, his voice casual and calm. He could have been talking about the weather for all the emotion in his voice. No, he was trying to sound calm and casual. Hermione realized, there was an undertone of anguish and pain in his voice, hidden but still noticeable if you knew where to look. "He didn't even come up with any fancy name, too. Honestly who calls themselves the Grim Lord?"
Hermione nodded slowly. What had happened? What had he faced? She was quiet for a moment, hoping that he would continue talking, to tell her what had happened, but he was silent, staring into the fireplace. Maybe she was mistaken. The years had changed him. In all the years she had known him, he wasn't one to casually talk about killing another person. That thought sent a shiver of fear down her spine. How he so easily spoke of killing a living person, as if it were a common everyday thing. The more she thought about it, the more she was afraid that for Harry it was. That thought chilled her even further.
"I'm done." Hermione said. She pinned the bandages tight, wiped her hands upon a sterile towel. and then packed up her first aid kit.
Harry nodded his thanks and pulled his shirt back on, after drying it and cleaning it with a spell. He looked about the living room, as Hermione cleaned her hands and set everything back to rights.
"Nice place you have here." Harry said. Hermione looked up at him, his face was expressionless, but his eyes were roving around the room. She knew that expression, it was the one he used when trying not to show what he was feeling. His Poker Face. "A bit of a challenge in finding though."
Hermione nodded. It was because of its remote location that Hermione had bought the cottage. "I have my reasons." She said.
And that reason walked in on them, bleary eyed and asking for water. She stopped, staring at the stranger in their midst, bright green eyes opened wide in shock.