Harry had a strange feeling since that night. Of course he felt incredible, drunk on his relationship with Hermione. Hermione! Hermione! HER! A mantra his scrambled mind repeated over and over. Like an endless feedback loop.
He didn't mind feeling like that forever. The sight of her was murtlap essence for his tired soul. And she was his now, truly his. Lovesick and in love, he'd seen a glint of it with Cho, and later somewhat with Ginny. But they didn't compare, and he had no idea why. No idea if it was because she had followed him for so long, lived and fought with him, sacrificed for him. He truly couldn't pinpoint it.
He turned as he heard her come out of the bedroom. Leggings. God help him, how was he supposed to restrain himself? His breath caught in his throat.
"Harry," she laughed. "Please snap out of it, you were going to show me where we're going."
"Right."
He stepped into the library and looked back with a smile, before pulling out a roll of parchment from behind a set of law texts. He brought it to the table and unfurled it, revealing a map of Britain. Hermione inspected the strange runes on it and frowned.
"What is it?"
Taking a deep breath, he prepared to explain. "So the Potter family used to have a manor, out in the countryside. But there's no record of its location. All I know – from second hand accounts in Orion's chronicles – is that it was destroyed in the 70's, and a little while later my grandparents died." She gave him a compassionate look, making his heart flutter. "Anyway, this map shows magical events, mapped through time. Since there was an attack on it, there should be a signature for when its enchantments were destroyed."
Harry tapped the map and hundreds of circles in different colours appeared. "Now, it doesn't register all magic, that would be crazy. Just really big outbursts. Here." He pointed to Hogwarts next to a circle annotated with '2 – 5 – 1998'. "When Voldemort assaulted Hogwarts."
"This is really amazing, Harry," she said, brushing her fingers over to the different circles on the map. "It seems like it goes back to the 19th century but not much more. Oh, what a shame! Think what we could learn!"
"Well," Harry said, tapping a symbol near the Shetland Islands, leaving only a few dozen. "Here are all the markers between 1972 and 1978. We can discount those at Hogwarts and near the cities, since the manor seemed to be in a less populated area." Some circles disappeared with a touch of his wand. "And I've eliminated some that are over known historical events," he continued.
"Sabermoor Castle, Highcoven, Fleecorn Parish." The circles disappeared one by one. "And this is what we're left with."
Five relatively large circles remained, all with dates between 1974 and 1977.
Hermione let out a deep breath. "So you can be studious once in a while," she smiled. "This is really well done Harry, but what are you hoping to find?"
"Hopefully more than nothing," he said with a smile. "So, are you ready to fly?"
She grunted in displeasure. "You know I hate being in the air."
He tried not to show too much disappointment, but he had expected it. "All right, but you'd have to make portkeys then."
"No!" she protested, her eyes drooping still. "I'll do it."
"Really?" His voice sounded dubious, and hopeful.
"Yes! I'll do it, I'll fly with you."
He was speechless for a moment, and his entire body filled with warmth. She nervously laughed when he hugged her and kissed her. It really meant the world to him.
She gasped as her lips left his. "Careful, Harry. I don't want to be dizzy on a broom."
"Up then, to the attic."
They went up and inside, where Harry took his broom and pushed open the door leading to the roofs. A small overhang allowed for easy broom travel. Hermione hesitated when she stepped outside, a mix of fear and excitement on her face.
"Get on it," he said as he hovered the broom. "There's a double foot guard, here. Good." He got on himself behind her. "See? There's no way you're in danger, I'm holding you in place. Now, disillusionment."
They both took out their wands and applied the charm, the familiar feeling of a cracked egg spreading from the top of their heads enveloping them in the illusory camouflage.
"You can see me?" she asked.
"Enough," he said.
He kicked off and could feel the tension in her body as they went in the direction of Ipswich. He had charmed his magical compass, affixed to the broom, to remember all five locations.
"It's a good travelling broom, the Cleansweep Delta. They redid their line a few years back and now take up much of the comfort broom lines. If you want just let your head rest forward and it'll be caught by a cushioning charm."
She tried it and rested with her torso a few inches from the broom handle.
"I had no idea," she said.
"I talked with one of the Cleansweep engineers… I think two or three months before I went on my assignment. Did you know they have five charms experts, only five? Fifteen witches and wizards who work with the wood and the bristles. All in all they hire no more than two dozen people. And they make thousands and thousands of Galleons."
"Meaning?"
"Well, I've been thinking of the Barnton situation. You have this group of magicals who are really well off, those that can get a job at Cleansweep, or work at the Ministry, or have their own business like Andrea Fortescue. If you're not good enough to get that position, or you don't have family that can get you a Ministry job, you're going to end up on the broke end of things."
"I see," she said, having relaxed somewhat. "And what does a rich person pay for that is worth his extra galleons?"
"Exactly. They buy other wizards or witches. I'm wondering if Barnton is just a part of it, there's a lot of other ways that can happen."
"You mean like how the well off families started to take in the odd hire to do their cleaning and such?"
Harry smiled, even if she couldn't see it. "But it's disorganized, and they still find adequate pay to be too expensive. Maybe we can find a way to fix that."
It was silent for a long while, but the tension in Hermione's body was gone as she thought things through. "Solving that problem would buy us a lot of goodwill with the public."
"We have the manpower. All we have to do is guarantee safety – by making sure those Barnton clients are powerless to do anything."
"It won't be easy. And don't think I forgot that we have to study later! We need to know everything there is to know about all members of the Wizengamot! Plus legislation, plus procedure, and we have to talk strategy. I'm not meeting with Owen alone again!"
"I promise," he chuckled, "but first we go on our date."
A date. He felt nervous even saying it, and he really wished he could see her reaction right about now as they were flying over the green fields and forests. It was the end of summer, it was obvious in the air, that hint of a chill that made you almost shiver. There was no better time to do this.
About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the destination of the first marker. His compass let out a continuous blip-blip that became more frequent as they descended and touched down. They undid their disillusionment charms and looked around. They stood in a field a few hundred yards from a good sized lake, and some farmhouses and buildings could be seen in the distance, but not much else.
"A bit of a strange a place to put a manor," Harry said.
"Well it's not far from the lake," Hermione said.
He watched her hair billow in the wind. It was a strange thought, but even with the pink leggings and jumper she looked like a proper witch.
"What are you smiling about?"
"Nothing," he said, turning to look at the ground. "I can't see any signs that there used to be something there. Foundations… anything."
He cut the grass to see better, revealing only more dirt. Nothing from his detection told him anything had ever stood here.
"A bust?" she asked.
"Probably. Let's go see the lake just to be sure."
They did. Harry even flew over it (invisible of course), and there was nothing down there but silt and mud.
"Well, onto the next one," he said, and they hopped back on the broom.
The next marker was even less interesting. It was in the middle of several small towns, right on top of a tree trunk. The tree was not magical, nothing was in the nearby area. But there was a discarded coke can, bleached by the sun.
The third marker was the most promising, situated in the north-east part of the North York Moors. Hermione let out a cry of glee when they flew over the blooming rows of heather and bright green grasses. The whole landscape looked like a pastel painting of red, green and violet. The quaint villages in between only added to the magic of the place. They set down on an expanse of grass between two hills.
"It's so pretty around here," she said with a sigh.
"Good place to build a house," he said.
She blushed, and he kissed her cheek when he finally understood the double meaning of his words. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Gently she pushed him back with her hand.
"Let's go looking," she said.
It was getting to be near noon, and it didn't take them long to find the scattered stones of what could only be the foundations of the manor. Whatever once stood here had been completely obliterated and grown over with time.
"I don't know why you wanted to come – it's been lovely though! But really, what can we find? It's just rocks and dirt."
Harry grinned in victory when he spotted the slight glint a few meters away and ran over. He pulled at it, revealing a latch. A few heavy-duty cleaning charms revealed the wrought iron trap door sunken in the earth.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"I didn't. Just – a lot of manors had hidden cellars. Maybe it's empty and they took everything, or maybe the protections faded, or maybe it just shows it to me because I'm a Potter." He shrugged. "Anyway, care to explore?"
"Of course," she said primly.
It took a lot of his strength, but using a stick from nearby as a lever, he unblocked it and opened the hatch. Cutting the darkness with a lighting charm revealed a ladder.
"I'll go first," he said, "so you don't have to be afraid of falling."
With his wand in his mouth, he descended into the underground, finally spotting the stone floor below and quickly shining light around. There was a short tunnel ahead, or hallway. It was nicely decorated with dusty tapestries and stone carvings.
Hermione came down with the help of his lit wand, and he put out his arms to catch her on the last step. Side-by-side they went forward. The path branched into two hallways, of which they took the left one.
The hallway bent left and led into a chamber parallel to the entry hallway. It seemed to be a sort of living space. Shelves, a table and two fairly large beds.
"Some kind of shelter maybe," Harry said.
"Yes."
There wasn't much here. But surprisingly some tinned food was stacked on one shelf, although neither of them cared to try it. The armchair in the corner, wood with red velvet cushions, was covered by a thin film of dust.
"Try the other side?" she asked.
"Sure."
He moved forward slowly, a bolt of reverence passing through him. This was in the end the only physical proof left of his heritage, the place where Potters like him might have grown up and lived. He only had the traumatic memory of his parents, something so deep and buried, it only came to the surface as a ghost. And he had never known any of his grandparents. He felt something like kinship for their memory.
"I can't believe it's actually here," he said with a trembling voice, and pointed at a dusty coat of arms embedded in the walls. "Look."
A stag, standing on its hind legs, framed by the canopy of a forest.
"The Potter heraldry," Hermione said.
He smiled back at her.
They went into the next passage and entered what seemed like something close to a shrine. Candles on the walls and on two candlesticks on some form of altar, stone and wood. He clicked his fingers and the room lit up with warm candle flame. High above, a portrait of a man wearing a scintillating cloak and a woman with hair black as night.
"Ignotus Peverell, I assume," he said.
"A shame they're not magical portraits."
"Yes," Harry sighed, "Those might have been kept inside the manor."
Now the room was revealed, Harry badly hoped they would find something Anything to ground him to his family's past, and he would be happy. And as he peered through the glass of two doors at the sides of the altar, he smiled. It appeared to be potion brewing equipment, and if his eyes didn't fool him, binders full of parchment.
Carefully he opened the first one and took out the leather-bound book. He dusted off its cover. 'Studies of Magical Unguents and Their Properties,' by Linfred of Stichcombe. He passed it to Hermione who, delicately as if she were handling a newborn, took it and went over to a side table to peruse its pages.
There were more such notes, each for different members of the Potter family, building on the knowledge of their predecessors. Notably one was Fleamont Potter's notes and recipe for the Sleekeazy Hair Potion, a contribution that still filled the Potter vault with royalties to this day, although they weren't substantial enough for their purposes.
Hermione was thoroughly engrossed in the notes, so Harry was left to explore, or pilfer on his own. In the centre of the altar was a sort of box with a keyhole, indented into the wood. Harry could tell by its sheen and reflection it was protected magically. Save for bringing in a curse breaker – something he wasn't particularly keen to do – only the key would work.
Harry laughed slightly as he went to his breast pocket and felt for the chained key; the key to his Potter vault. He shrugged internally and held it over the silvered lock. It slotted in without forcing it, and with a twinge in his heart he turned it counter-clockwise, feeling the mechanisms spring open. Of course, locks were goblin-made.
The box' lid as it first seemed, fell inside the altar, allowing a single burgundy tome to come sliding into view. Harry carefully took it, the waxen leather soft under his fingers. 'Liber Agape.' Harry knew some latin, so he could infer. 'Agape', stood for love. A book of love? In a way it all made sense. He shivered, thinking that his mother might have seen this tome, and held it in her hands.
"Hermione," he said in almost a whisper. He knew this was a big deal, and he didn't want to open it without her.
He could hear her swallow as she saw what he held. "Let's open it," she said almost too eagerly.
So they did, on the lip of the altar, where a space was carved seemingly only for that tome. Together, they flipped the pages, strong and unblemished despite the passage of time. Harry, for his part, could make very little sense of it, but there were definitely some runes that he recognized.
"This is very in depth, deals with large concepts," she said, almost in a trance. "Mind, body, soul – it uses alchemical principles, but… some of these spells… some of this magical theory. This one goes on for pages." And they were large pages, black with script, careful diagrams between it. He never saw this, even in his NEWT level theory.
As incredible as it was, the day was far from over. And their find reminded Harry of why he wanted to go on this date in the first place. The fog in his mind needed clearing, or clarifying. Finding a book of love in its whole magical complexity was more of a sign than Harry could ever have imagined. But he was still scared of what might come of it.
He lifted the bag he was carrying at his side. "Extension charmed. We can pack up anything we want."
"Oh," she said, a note of disappointment at having to stop reading. "Yes, of course. Do we apparate back?"
"Actually, do you mind if we take another trip? I was kind of hoping to take you somewhere."
She glanced at the book and smiled at him, stashing it. "Of course we can."
They took all the writings, which really was the only thing of any sentimental or academic value, aside from the portrait. But it seemed better to leave it here, as a reminder that the Potter family once lived here above.
Once again charmed invisible, they took off and the longer near one hour flight was a good way to calm his nerves. Less than if he'd been flying alone, as the slight breathing form of Hermione was pressed against him. Fields gave way to trees near the end of it and Hermione stirred.
"Are you… Are you going where I think you're going?"
"I am," he said in her ear.
He spotted the clearing easily. He'd only come back once since the war, and back then he had no idea why. It's not like he forgot anything there. As he stood there, pacing anxiously in the summer of 1998, he had felt very confused. About his future, about what had happened. He tried to reconcile the memory of his two teenage friends with their future as adults, and had faltered. He sat there for hours, in the grass, trying to make sense of things. In the end, no epiphany came, and one week later he had started his Auror training.
He knew things wouldn't be easy to start off, but he had prepared a way to cut the awkwardness. He took out a square patterned blanket and spread it over the grass overlooking the trees, and put up a basic muggle repelling charm. He put down his bag and took out various foods and drinks that Kreacher had prepared. Sandwiches, eggs, fresh veggies and a bottle of wine and some iced tea.
"I thought you would be hungry," he said.
"It's very thoughtful of you," she answered, sitting beside him and eyeing a smoked salmon sandwich.
They ate something, not much, the fireworks building in his stomach cut his appetite. She sat in his lap as they finished, both holding a glass of wine. They kissed, the red wine going well with lips and tongue, and soon the glasses were tossed aside and Hermione was beneath him. As cruel as it was, he interrupted them.
"I wanted to ask you something," he said quietly, and she nodded, but her worry didn't go unnoticed. "I love you, and I know that.. But if I had never gotten cursed, if – if we never had changed the way we have, would we still be here?"
She turned away from him, tears wetting her eyes, and while it pained him, he had to know.
"I loved you before this. But now, it's all so much stronger and overwhelming. And… Hermione, I know that you know it has something to do with the curse." He unbuttoned his shirt, showing the bright red scar carving a line down to his stomach. "I'm not afraid of that – that this is the reason we got close so quickly, but I am afraid of losing it."
"Is it so bad?" she answered, turning back to him. "I don't want to care about the reason why… this," she put her arms around his neck, "is happening. Do you?"
"No," he answered, relaxing, "but if it's so obvious I'm wondering how I didn't see it before. There's just you now, and everything else feels like empty space… almost everything." He smiled, a tentative smile that was more of a question than anything. "That's a bit scary, even for me."
"It's not just the curse," she said, achingly thumbing over his lips. "I know why you brought us here. Because if there was any time for… us to happen, it was back then. But things changed. We've changed, I think because of how we feel about others, not us."
He felt a bead of sweat running down his back and a cold stirring rage settled into his stomach. He wrapped his large hand around her chin and dug in his fingers.
"You know, you're right," he said in a baritone voice laced with sizzling fire. "It is about others. I don't like that I didn't have you to myself. In the summers. When you were a prefect. And when you married. It made me angry at times."
Her eyes, twinkling brown, darkened like an endless abyss, and it kept pulling him in.
He kissed her forcefully pouting mouth, his tongue darting across her lower lip. "When I saw you in that immaculate wedding dress, I wanted to be the one to fuck you. Maybe I should've broken into your room that night and taken you for myself."
Like a wild animal she bit at his thumb, making him pull back and smile.
"You'd be the first to do so," she said with a derisive chuckle. "Ron was passed out drunk. Who do you think I was thinking of when I got myself off that night?"
There was a moment of acknowledgement, of two predators facing off, fighting for control. Then he pounced.
She pushed her hands beside her as he assaulted her with a manic need. Her leggings were ripped from her legs and tossed aside, her jumper pulled off. The strips of her bra tugged at her flesh before he undid the clasp. She let out a piercing shriek and pushed herself to tumble above him. And with a crazed and passionate frenzy, she did the same, tearing the clothes off his body.
In the mad wrestle of erotic plunder, as their bodies clashed together, her nails bit down in his back and cut a desperate mark. Harry bit into her lip with the bliss of pleasure and pain. An ocean of red blinded him.
Right then he knew, that his doubts were meaningless. Because even if she tried, he'd never let her get away. And she would return the favour, spitefully so.
AN: I won't put lemons/smut in this story (keeping the rating to M). So when I do write things close to this, it's not for that purpose.
Thanks for following. Sorry if I don't reply to some comments, and don't PM reviews on FFnet. But if it's a clear question I will always answer.
