A/N
Gah! It feels like it's been FOREVER!
Thank you everyone for your patience! I had to write a real book, Broken, which published YESTERDAY! Get your copy today! /amandafayebooks
Broken was SUPER angsty and achy and broody and ack, so it took me a few days to get back in the Harry Potter mindset. Thank you SO MUCH to Happily_9 who allowed me to bitch to him about Broken as well as how hard it was to finish this damn chapter. Which is was. So bloody hard lol! But here it is, so I hope it was worth the wait.
Thanks again!
Chapter 47
Hermione
The door to the Head's dorm shuts with a resounding thwack, and I lean my back against it, trying to get my bearings back.
I thought I'd grown accustomed to the effect Harry has on the people around him and the attention that follows in his wake. However, this was the first time (and undoubtedly not the last) that I was the center of attention too. It's…a lot.
Like, a-lot , a lot.
I lean my head against the door with my eyes closed in a half-hearted attempt to gather my thoughts.
"Well. That was—"
Harry interrupts me, giving me a playful scowl. "Painful? Horrendous? Laboriously awful?" I push off the door and move towards the sitting room, where Harry is yanking at his tie.
I can't help my eye roll at Harry's winging. Harry links his arms around my waist and pulls me into his body, nipping at my lips.
"When did you become so loquacious?" I ask him playfully, linking my arms over his shoulder.
"When I started sharing a brain with you," he tells me dryly, then dips his head to kiss me soundly. His hand starts at my hip, then slides down my thigh, only to hit the edge of my skirt and work its way back up again. He moans like a kid who's just been given his favorite treat when he finds the tops of my stockings. Winky told me when she bought our uniforms for the term that as a married woman, tights were no longer appropriate for me. It's stockings and garters from here on out.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he mumbles against my lips.
My backside hits the edge of the couch, and with a lift from Harry and a hop from the tips of my toes, I'm sitting on the back with my legs spread and Harry making himself comfortable between them. His hands slide up the outsides of my thighs and push my skirt up to my hips.
He grins when he sees the lace tops of my black hose and the thick suspenders connecting them with the belt hidden under the waist of my skirt. His fingers caress me reverently, and he delves into my mouth, sweeping inside with his tongue. I cup the back of his head with my hands and tangle my fingers in his hair. I consider mentioning the six other matching sets Winky purchased me and the set embroidered with the Potter crest, and Harry jerks in my arms then melts into my touch, plucking the image from my mind.
My stomach twists deliciously as his desire mixes with mine.
By the time I'm done kissing him tonight, it'll look like he just hopped off a broom, black strands of hair sticking out in every direction. His fingers squeeze my hips; then his thumbs slide over my wet satin panties.
"Don't get used to it," I sigh when his lips trail down my jaw at latch onto the spot below my ear that makes my stomach clench and my toes curl in my shoes. "You know I prefer trousers to skirts."
"Such a shame, that," he whispers before catching my lips in a kiss again. "But since I get the feeling you're no longer wanting to wear them, why don't I do my husbandly duty and help you take them off."
"That sounds like an excellent idea," I sigh into his mouth. I give his hair a gentle tug and his enjoyment pings across my nervous system. "But—"
"We have plenty of time," he assures me.
Plenty of time. We have things to take care of once the castle settles down, but it has been a stressful day, and—
"You guys should really get a room."
The sound of Ronald's voice, a mixture of nausea and amusement, ends our little impromptu rendezvous as quickly as it brewed. My stomach muscles flex in frustration at promises unfulfilled.
Harry drops his head to my shoulder and mumbles to himself about beheading trespassers. I start in surprise then swallow back my giggle as I worry for a moment for Ronald's safety. I pat Harry on the back, and he helps me slide down from the furniture, straightening my skirt as I go.
"Bugger off, Ron!" Harry grumbles, fixing the front of his trousers before turning to face his best friend. "This is our room!" Ron is walking around the kitchenette opening cupboards, an apple already in his mouth. "What are you even doing here, anyway? Don't you have your own dorm to set up or something?"
Ron shrugs, flipping a knob on the tiny three-burner stovetop. I'm sure he has no idea how to work. For that matter, I'll have to ask Winky to show me how a magical oven works before I can use it. Or maybe Dobby, since Winky probably wouldn't teach me simply out of principle.
"Dobby already set our stuff up," Neville says, following Ron into our room. I get a glance of students trying to peek inside our dorm before Nev shuts the door behind him. He starts examining the head suite too but tries to do so inconspicuously. "Even made our beds. Without your four poster, Harry, there's a lot more space this term."
Harry's irritation at constantly being interrupted tickles over my skin like a trail of ants.
Both boys have already changed from their uniforms, Nev wearing a pair of Gryffindor sleep trousers. I'd swear there's a knife around his calf from the way they lay against his leg.
"Congratulations," Harry says in a flat voice. He turns to give Ron a dark glare. "I regret telling you both the password to our dorm. I'm changing it as soon as you leave."
Neville blushes uncomfortably, but Ron just rolls his eyes, used to Harry's melodramatics.
There are two entrances to the head's suite, one from inside the Gryffindor common room and one from the hallway hidden behind another portrait. In an abstract sort of way, I knew that this room has always been here but had never given it much thought until today. Winky's elf wards shivered over my skin when we passed the threshold to our private space. Harry and I will each have to add our own wards, our family wards, but the elf wards now leave an impact.
Professor McGonagall was right. It's more like a flat than a dorm room. The seating area looks like a miniature version of the common room, though Winky has changed the furniture with our personal stuff from home. An oversized black couch sits with two cozy red reading chairs with tiny tables set beside them.
I'll have to ask what she's done with Hogwarts stuff.
The fire is already roaring in the fireplace, the hearth large enough for flooing. The floor is locked, I believe, for travel, but we can use it for communication. The kitchenette even has a small stove. The walls are painted a cozy cream, though they've been worn down with time. The Gryffindor and Hogwarts crests hang from tapestries, as well as the new Potter-Black family crest Harry designed. Scattered around the space are both magical and muggle pictures, mostly taken of us this summer.
I pick up the one with Winky and Dobby beaming for the camera and rub it with my thumb.
Rugs in shades of blacks and greys and reds and greens cover most of the floor.
Winky, because this entire setup has Winky written all over it, did a fantastic job.
Neville flings himself down in an armchair and pulls a book from somewhere on his person. I hear him mumbling about missing the microwave as he flips through this term's Herbology text.
The edge of the sheath sticks out from his trousers.
"My back is killing me," Harry complains, twisting his neck this way and that. "They held us captive forever."
"It wasn't that long. You just like to complain," Ron jokes from around his apple.
In truth, we were probably fielding questions and receiving congratulations for close to an hour. Not that we actually said much. I barely had time to utter a single word before another person was cutting me off to ask a variation of the same question.
It was like giving a press conference.
"They're happy for us." I say. Harry gives me a knowing smile. A blush colors my cheeks, but he already knows what I'm thinking anyway, so I might as well say it out loud. "It was kinda nice, being the centre of attention, for a reason outside of being the resident know-it-all, or for you dragging me into trouble."
I cross my arms over my chest and attempt to give Harry a stern look.
Harry looks up from pulling the zipper on his boots, smiling at me from down below.
"I resent being blamed for all the trouble we've caused," he says playfully. "You aren't as pure and innocent as you want everyone to believe. If I remember correctly, the DA was your idea, as was the hex that bloomed over poor Marietta Edgecombe's face."
Ron's head whips in our direction, and Neville looks at us from over his book.
"That's a story I haven't heard yet," Ron encourages, but I pointedly ignore him.
"The witch double-crossed us, but without telling anyone Hermione hexed the sign-up sheet for our illegal defence club. When Edgecombe gave us up, she had the word SNEAK written in boils across her face. It left a permanent scar. Even makeup wouldn't hide it all."
"Wicked," Ron breathes.
"That's kinda scary," Nev chips in from the chair.
I stick my nose in the air and give Harry my cheek, but Harry pulls me against his front and smirks down at me from under his glasses.
"She deserved it!" I hiss, and Harry laughs into my face before dropping a kiss onto my lips.
"Yes, she did," he whispers against my skin. "And what you did to her was a beautiful, beautiful thing." He releases his hold and begins to strip out of his clothes.
"Honestly, Harry. Right here in the sitting room? Don't you think you should remove your clothing where our friends aren't forced to watch?"
"What?" he says, looking around the room. "We shared a dorm for six years, Mi and we lived in a tent with Ron for one. If they don't like it they can go somewhere else."
"Four years," Neville says without looking.
Ron pushes himself up onto the counter. "I still don't think it's fair you hold things I did in another timeline against me," Ron complains.
"My point," Harry says with annoyance. I bite my lips so as not to smile. "Is that they've seen my arse before."
He flips open the buckles across his chest and sheds his outer robe before he slides the scabbard down his arms. He flings the sheath across the couch and starts on the buttons of his shirt, yanking it from the waist of his pants at the same time he loosens his tie. As soon as his shirt is off, he throws that on the back of the couch too.
"Have I mentioned how much I hate these stupid uniforms?" he asks rhetorically, not even looking at me.
"Says the person who was just admiring my school skirt."
Harry grins, and I avert my gaze when a blush blooms over my features. "You're leaving a trail of clothing everywhere," I lecture. "You've become a spoiled prat with Winky and Dobby waiting on you hand and foot. I'm going to tell her not to pick up after you anymore."
He bends to touch his toes, stretching out his back muscles that have been pulled long and tight from hours with the sword strapped to him. My neck bends sideways in sync with his back, watching him draw and curve as muscles earned by hours of hard work flex and bunch before my eyes. I have to shake my head to clear it when I realize I've taken a step closer to him.
That. That right there is why the Headmaster insisted we have our own space. Harry may still be narked about the whole thing, but I, for one totally understand, and am rather grateful for the ability to ogle my husband in private.
My eyes flick to the two shadows that trail us everywhere.
Private-ish.
Harry pulls his arms behind his back and stretches again, and I scrunch my face when his joints pop disgustingly. It's not as if he's not accustomed to wearing the sword for hours at a time, but usually, he's doing more than simply sitting or standing in one spot.
The chances of me talking him out of wearing it at the school are slim to none, but he's going to have to adjust if he insists on keeping it on his person at all times.
"I do," he says, replying without being prompted.
"Stop reading my mind!" I say in a huff, not stomping my foot.
"Stop projecting so loud then," he replies, his standard remark every time we have this fight.
I pick up the scabbard from the couch and hold it in my hands, turning it over and over. I really don't like the idea of him wearing it around the castle. It's just asking for trouble.
But maybe…
"I'm not leaving this suite without it," he says, looking for the room that holds our stuff. I follow him out of the sitting room and into what Winky has already set up as our sleeping chambers. Our bed from home is here, adjusted in size to fit the smaller space. There are matching wardrobes in a corner, and Harry hightails it over to them, checking to see which one holds his clothing.
Though the bed frame is the same, the hangings have been changed to Gryffindor red, the sheets to some sort of soft cream colour, and swatches of this fabric hang on the walls, bringing warmth to the stone.
"You know this is bullshite, right?" Ronald grumbles, and I look over my shoulder as he follows us into the bedroom. Nev comes in right after and takes the armchair Winky wedged into a corner. "That you get an entire house to yourself, even inside the castle? Sometimes it really sucks to be your friend."
Harry gives him a flat look.
"It's not a house. It's the head dorm. Two of your brothers lived here too. I don't see you getting angry with them. Try a little harder in classes the next two years and maybe you can live here too." Fat chance of that happening. "Besides, I'm sharing a brain with Hermione, remember." It must be an argument they've had before.
Ronald stares at me hard, and I'm about ready to open my mouth and snap at him when he finally looks away.
"Yeah, okay," he says sullenly. "You win."
"Excuse me!" I thunder as Nev and Ron burst into laughter. Harry comes up beside me and drops a kiss onto my cheek, trying to placate me and failing miserably.
"Don't worry," he says quietly. "I like your brain."
I've never.
Harry shoves his trousers off his hips, and I roll my eyes before turning my attention to the scabbard in my hands.
"Winky?" I say, and "in the library Mistress," comes from the other room. I take my outer robe off and drape in on the bed, then push my shoes off before following the sound of Winky's voice. She's changed the secondary room into a library/office space, with bookshelves lining the walls, top to bottom, and our table and chairs, plus the couch from our bedroom arranged artfully in the middle. There is a pile of portraits sitting on the table, and on closer inspection, they're Hogwarts portraits. Silenced yet still yelling at the edges of their frames in anger at having been removed from the wall.
"Ummmm, Winky?" I ask, and she stops in her book, organizing to tip her head in my direction.
I point to the muted portraits on the table, and she gives them a disdainful glance.
"We's don't want Hogwarts pictures on yous walls. Winky will take them to storage, and brings the pictures from home."
Ahh.
"Good call, Winky," I tell her with a smile.
"Thank you, Mistress," she says pleased, giving me a tiny curtsy before turning back to her task. I smile when I see she's wearing a miniature Hogwarts uniform, complete with a pleated skirt and outer robes.
"Actually, Winky. I need your help for a moment if you don't mind."
She immediately floats her stack of books to the side and tottles to beam in front of me. I ask for her help as little as possible. It still makes me uncomfortable, no matter that it makes her happy. Honestly, she tells me what to do most of the time. But even if I'm still squiggly about giving her orders, it's nice to see her smile.
I sit criss-cross on the floor, and Winky comes close enough so that we're looking eye to eye.
Using a severing charm, I remove the scabbard's leather from the pieces that slip around his chest and shoulders. I grab his wands from the holsters, then let the leather fall to the floor, and shove his wands into the bun at the back of my head.
"Can you help me find or make a new holster for Harry?" I ask the little elf. "I don't want him wearing the sword down his back, but he won't leave it in his bag or in the room."
I squish my face and attempt to shrink the sword down, not at all convinced it would bend to my will that way. I sigh in relief when it does. The sword shrinks to the size of Harry's wand, almost a replica of Neville's knives.
"If he insists on wearing it, and he's already accustomed to the over the shoulder draw, can we have another holster where he could wear the shrunk sword across his chest like he does his wands? The sword would need to be over his right side, as he pulls the blade with his left hand. If we angle it right…."
"Harry, come here!" I yell, climbing back to my feet. Winky climbs onto the table to give her better height.
Harry appears a moment later, wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt.
"Yeah, what—WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY SWORD!?" he yells, eyes going wide as he sees the ripped apart scabbard, his wands shoved into my hair, and the miniaturized sword of Gryffindor resting in my palm.
"I'm trying to help you," I say stubbornly.
"Yeah, How? By turning it into a toothpick?" He snarls and tries to yank it from my grasp. I hold it to my chest and turn to the side, so he can't take it from my grip.
"Oh, bugger off. It's just shrunk for ease of use. You can make it the right size again on demand, as you well know. Now stop complaining and come here."
Ron follows him in.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" he gasps.
Oh honestly! You'd think I'd ripped apart a book or something. I'm only trying to help!
"Harry looks ridiculous wearing the sword down his back. I'm designing him a new holster."
"She shrunk the Sword of Gryffindor," Harry says over his shoulder, radiating irritation.
"She WHAT?" Ron squawks, storming over to have a closer look.
"Exactly," Harry says with relish, giving me a vindicated look.
"Yes, yes. I'm horrible. The Muggleborn once again defiling wizarding traditions. Now shut up and come over here!"
He doesn't stop complaining, either in my head or under his breath, but he does come closer, with his hands at his side.
"What?" he asks, irritation clear in his tone.
"You look like an idiot with the sword peeking out over your shoulder. Not to mention, wearing it all day in class is going to be horribly uncomfortable."
He looks gorgeous with the sword peeking out over his shoulder. Disgustingly, unfairly handsome. But the uncomfortable part is true enough.
I place the scabbarded sword on his chest, moving it around until it looks like it's in a good position.
"Pull it," I tell him, and he rolls his eyes and does so. We spend several minutes moving the sword this way and that until Harry can pull the blade and resize it in one fluid motion. Winky sits on the table with a pad of muggle paper and a pen in her hands, making notes as we find a configuration that works best.
"Wands too," Harry says finally, and I stick the scabbard of the sword to him with a charm and pull his hands from my hair.
"I like the cross-chest draw," Ron says, removing a wand from one of his forearm holsters and holding it against his chest. "Do me next."
I unstick the scabbard from Harry's chest and swell its size just a smidgen to mimic Ronald's thicker broadsword, then latch it to his shirt next. It takes another few minutes of Winky giving instructions and Ron practising drawing the sword from across his chest before Winky and Ron both seem satisfied.
Winky sticks her pen behind her ear and hops down from the tabletop.
"I's have it Mistress. Yous want them tomorrow?"
"What?" I double-take, looking at the little elf. "It's much too late for you to work on it tonight, and you've already done so much today. Why don't you and Dobby take the rest of the night off. Whenever you have some free time will be fine. Harry can wear his spare holster until it's ready."
Winky stares at me, and I swear I see the cogs in her brain working overtime.
"It is as you say, of course. Winky is very tired. Dobby," she calls, and Dobby pops into view, holding a stack of cushions. He's wearing a boy's Hogwarts uniform, Potter written across the back of his robes.
Harry barks a laugh then swallows it down painfully.
"Yes, Winky," he says from around the black throw pillows covering his face, almost falling at her feet.
"We's tired," she instructs him, batting her eyes.
"We's is?" he questions, his face scrunching up in confusion.
"Yes. We's is. We's should go to the kitchens, then we's have some free time."
"T-t-together?" he stutters, his face pink and his big bat eyes so wide he can probably see the ceiling without tipping his head.
"Yes. Togethers."
The throw pillows disappear, and Dobby, almost drunk with delight, stumbles over to Winky, who rolls her eyes and curtsies before they both pop away.
"Wow," Ron breathes, and I glance at him and see almost the same dumbfounded expression from Dobby's face plastered on Ron's. Neville is shaking his head over Ron's shoulder. "Little dude has it bad, doesn't he?"
"Yup," Harry agrees, scratching at his head with a smile. Then he meets my eye. "You caught that, right?" he asks, a smirk on his face.
I sigh in resignation.
"Yes," I say dejectedly. "The quip about having free time."
Harry drapes his arm around my shoulder, and I place the still shrunken sword on a shelf before letting him lead me into the sitting area.
"Do you have my wands in your hair?" He questions lightly.
I ignore him.
It's almost midnight, but I don't want Harry walking around the castle until I'm sure most everyone is asleep.
"So, who's coming with me into the Chamber?" Harry asks, pulling me into the crook of his arm when we settle on the couch. I knock his feet off the table, only for him to place them right back on top.
Neville whips to look at Harry, and Ron scrunches up his nose.
"Is the Basilisk still in there?" Ron asks, and Harry gives him a bemused expression.
"I think so?" he says hesitantly. He presses his glasses further up his nose. "I mean, yeah, I would assume so. I didn't have any way of removing it and I didn't tell anyone else how to get into the Chamber. Even if I had, to the best of my knowledge, besides Riddle himself I'm the only Parseltongue on the continent. Why?"
Ron makes a disgusted face.
"I'm just trying to clarify if you're asking me to go into a pit where a dead and probably rotting giant snake has been decomposing for the last two years. Now that we have, you're on your own."
Huh. I sit up in Harry's arms, my mind whirring a thousand twists a minute.
"That's an interesting question though. Would the Basilisk decompose?"
"Why wouldn't it?" Neville questions. He's curled up in the same chair he was earlier.
I stare off into the fire, thinking about the possibilities.
"Well, it's a magical creature, for one. It was alive for…potentially over a thousand years in the bowels of the castle. What did it live on that entire time? Or was it in a magical coma, and something Riddle, and then Ginny in turn did wake it up? But still, it would have had to feed, wouldn't it? Does it have a way in and out of the castle that we aren't aware about? Perhaps we should all go down and take a look," I suggest.
I flush when I realize the guys are staring at me with slack jaws and glazed-over eyes while I was ranting.
"I'm going to pass," Ron says astutely, giving Harry a look.
"What happened to that Gryffindor courage?" I taunt him.
His face hardens, and his ears pink up.
"I'm not afraid. I'm disgusted. There's a difference. Besides, the less people that know where the entrance to the Chamber is the better."
"You already know, though," I tell him pointedly. "You've been in it before!"
Ron just shakes his head, like I'm the one being ridiculous and not him.
"Why are you going into the Chamber anyway?" Nev asks.
The fire dims in the hearth, and I wave my hand and send another log into the grate.
"Couple of reasons," Harry says. "See if it's possible to collect more venom, for one."
Hide the jars of magical cores in the belly of a rotting snake is another. He says silently.
Someone knocks on the interior door leading to the Gryffindor common room, and Ron rolls his eyes before getting up unasked to answer the door. My heart jumps up my throat wondering who would be at our door this late.
"It's the twins!" Ron hollers, even though they aren't that far away. I can see the twins from the couch leaning against our door frame, their shaggy hair and untucked school shirts giving them a devil may care attitude.
"Come on in guys," I gesture, then turn my attention to Harry. "I'm going to have to check the library for a spell that allows me to know who's at the door so I don't have to answer it if I don't want to. I'm terrified of Lavender trying to corner me alone."
With her preoccupation with boys and sex in the last timeline, I can only imagine her enthusiasm for asking me about my sex life this time.
A shiver runs through me, and Harry gives me a confused smile.
"We can help with that," the twins say as one.
"You can?" Ron says curiously.
"Of course, we can." "We had to develop a warning system." "With Mum snooping around." "To warn us when she was on her way."
George (I think) takes out his wand and twirls it in a circle, and a scrap of paper appears before me. I snap it from the air and look at a warding configuration that announces who is at the door.
"You can adjust the distance at which the warning alerts." "But don't put it too far, otherwise it'll go off all day."
Harry leans over me and looks at the warding with a rueful smile.
"That would have been handy to have when we were living in a tent."
That…is an understatement.
The twins drop onto the floor in the sitting room.
"Sorry to bother you so late." "But with the announcement going out tomorrow." "We thought you'd want these sooner rather than later."
"Want what?" Harry asks, eyes flicking between the elder Weasleys sitting before us.
One of the twins holds up their finger telling us to wait.
Fred(?) pulls the bag off his shoulder and places it on the dark knee-high table he and his twin have sat beside. George removes a leather-bound journal, secured with a lock across the front, and Fred pulls a long silver chain from around his neck and passes it to Harry. There's a charm dangling from the metal, and my eyes widen when I realize it will fit the clasp on the diary perfectly.
Want to know how to tell them apart? Harry whispers in my head.
Yes! I exclaim, and Harry chuckles.
Fred always talks first. Watch.
"Hey Fred," Harry says, and the one on my left looks up distractedly before turning back to his task.
"Yeah?" he says distractedly.
"Nothing," Harry replies, grinning at me.
Now, wait to see...
That can't possibly work…
Watch! He insists.
Next comes a hand-held wireless, smaller than any magical wireless I've seen before.
"Here's the spell to change the password," Fred says, passing me a scrap of paper. Fred. Just like Harry pointed out. "Burn it after you memorize it. The current password is Weasley," says George.
Wow. I'll be damned. I had no idea.
Lastly, Fred reaches into the canvas bag and pulls out a plastic Tupperware bowl filled to the brim with buttons. He peels the lid off and places it to the side.
"They're crude, but they'll get the job done."
"What are they?" I ask, picking one up and examining it.
There must be close to one hundred buttons, and none of them are the same at first glance. There are a dozen colors and a dozen sizes in every combination imaginable.
"Listening devices!" Fred says, grinning ear to ear. "Or buttons, as the case may be."
"We know you didn't tell us what you wanted them for." "But it's a safe assumption." "That you'd like to have them in place before tomorrow's paper deliveries." "If at all possible."
Ron gives a confused glance, poking at the clear plastic holding the pile of buttons. I flip the journal over in my hands and run my thumb over the lock.
He transfers that confused glance to his brothers. "Um…"
Fred begins their explanation.
"We were trying to decide how to hide a listening device in a home like, for example," he gives me a shrewd look. "Malfoy Manor. You have to imagine that the House Elves do all the work, but that a woman like Narcissa Malfoy knows every nick-knack and bobble in her home." "Dobby, and whoever will be helping him, will be able to turn our devices invisible, but what happens when an elf who isn't part of the Order goes to dust that room and accidentally knocks an unknown bubby off a shelf. It will immediately raise the alarm."
Harry and I share a glance, not having thought that far ahead.
"After you told us about Skeeter and her Animagus form. "We thought about making our devices look like actual bugs, but that was quickly dismissed too." "People like the Malfoys would never tolerate a bug in their house." "But a button?"
George pops the lid on the Tupperware and picks up a small round satin-covered button. He flips it on his thumb then catches it before displaying it between finger and thumb.
"Who would ever question finding a button? Even if it fell to the floor at Voldemort's feet—"
"—don't say his name!" Ron hisses, and Harry rolls his eyes but nods his head. Harry twirls his finger and indicates that yes, we'll stop saying the name for now.
The twins sigh with identical exasperation before continuing with their story.
"Even if You-Know-Who were to pick it up with his bare hands." "The worst he'd do is lecture the Malfoys for keeping an untidy house."
George winks at me, then drops the button back into the tub.
As the twins talked, Harry and I moved closer and closer to the edge of the couch until Harry fell to his knees before the table.
Goosebumps break out over my arms at the power contained in the Tupperware in front of me.
"Bloody hell," Harry breathes. He jams his hand into the tub, letting the buttons fall between his fingers when he lifts it out of the container.
"That's brilliant!" I agree. "Absolutely genius."
George grabs the second, much smaller book and flips it open before handing it to me.
"Each device is listed by shade and colour." "When the elves notate where they hide it in the house." "A separate section in the record book will appear for them."
Talking with the twins always gives me a headache. I look at Harry and he's grinning like a loon.
"I don't recommend using them all." "We haven't spent as much time testing them as we'd like." "And we're not sure about cross interference."
"Key," Fred requests, and Harry hands it back to him. "Journal," George says, giving me his flat palms, and I place the journal they gave me on his hands.
George places the book in the middle of the table, then picks up a button and hands it to Neville.
"Go place this somewhere in the dorm and tell us where you put it."
Nev climbs to his feet and practically skips to the library, yelling needlessly loud, "I placed it next to the bookshelf."
George opens the ledger and writes the location next to the appropriate line. The journal glows red before a tab appears at the side. Fred places the key in the journal lock, and together the twins say "Weasley," while George points his wand at the lock.
It slides open silently.
Fred flips to the tab.
Fred lifts his voice and says, "Say something, Nev."
"Like what?" he yells back.
"Talk about what a ninny Ron is."
"Ron is such a ninny," Nev yells back.
The twins continue to band about insults, but I'm no longer paying attention. Instead, I pull the book in front of me and watch as every word they say appears on the page.
"It's spelled," Fred says, "so as not to run out of pages." "But still, if you attempt to record everything, that book is going to get very thick, very quickly." "Our suggestion is to listen for several days, then set up the filters." "Bring it back, Nev."
Nev reappears, and the twins deactivate the device.
"Filters?" I prompt, already running through a list of places to put the buttons.
"Filters." "List a predetermined set of keywords." "And the device will keep a record from an hour before and an hour after." "Otherwise, they'll stop recording when noise in the listening range stops." "And start again when the noise starts."
George taps the tiny wireless.
"You can also listen to it live. Each button is set up to a frequency, just like our communication mirrors."
"That's amazing," I say enthusiastically.
"How wide is the listening range?" Harry asks.
"We didn't want it so big that conversations from different bugs would overlap and jumble." "But big enough that we wouldn't miss anything." "So, about twenty square feet."
I turn to look at Harry.
The Malfoys drawing-room was much larger than that.
So, we put a button in every corner—one on the chandelier.
We need to call Draco. I want it set up before the release tomorrow.
"Anything else we need to know?" Harry asks, and the twins, much more perceptive than people give them credit for, immediately reach into their bag.
"Just one," Fred says, and George drops a plastic Ziploc bag full of bangles on the table.
"You shouldn't have," Ron says sarcastically.
The twins share a guarded expression, then pull out yet another booklet.
"Even before we knew." They look at Harry significantly. "We knew, you know?"
I smirk, and Harry nods his head ruefully.
"We've been working on them all summer." "Wanted them finished before the Azkaban raid." "But the animagus transformation messed with the magic."
Fred pulls open the baggie, and George reaches in for a bangle. He rustles through until he's found the one he's looking for, then gestures for my wrist.
"It opens," Fred says. George pops the clasp I didn't even see, then he snaps it closed around my wrist. "Then," he whispers a spell with his wand on the metal, low enough that I miss the words. It heats momentarily, then settles into a gentle hum. Within seconds, I forget it's even there.
Fred hands me the second ledger.
Fred Weasley, Married Dorm-Gryffindor, Tower Hogwarts, Alive
George Weasley, Married Dorm-Gryffindor, Tower Hogwarts, Alive
Hermione Potter-Black, Married Dorm-Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Alive
"It's a tracker…." I breathe, showing it to Harry.
Fred whispers another spell, and like the diagnostic charm healers use, a list of active trackers appears in thin air.
Amazing.
"They'll work for the elves as well." "Adjust to the size of the wearer." "And as of yesterday." "Continue monitoring while in animal form."
George sticks out his foot, lifts his trouser to show one around his ankle and promptly transforms into the fox. I glance at the ledger again to see his reading has changed to indicate his change.
George Weasley, Married Dorm-Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Alive-transformed
"That's—"
I'm out of words. I'm never out of words. My jaw sits unattractively on my chest, and butterflies twist in my chest at how important these just became to us.
"Brilliant," all three of my boys say as one.
George transforms back with a smile on his face.
"They'll continue to transmit." "Even after death." "Until the spell ends."
I decide not to linger on that terrifying thought. We haven't told the others about the list of people we lost last time.
Rising from my seat on the edge of the couch, I walk to the other side of the table. Stretching my arms as wide as they'll go, I link an elbow around each of their necks and wrap myself around them. They make a huffing sound as I force them closer together, and Harry and Ron laugh at the twins' strangled expressions.
"Thank you!" I tell them as sincerely as I can. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Don't. "Mention it." the twins garble. I let them go and fall back onto my heels, and together they rise to their feet. Fred gives a playful salute to Harry as George ducks a half-hearted swat from Ron.
"We'll leave you to it." "Darkness is ticking."
It is at that. Now we have another task to complete before we find our beds tonight.
When the twins open the door, there's no one left in the common room to peek into ours.
"You asked the twins for listening devices?" Nev breaks the silence.
"The elves can get in and out of Malfoy Manor," Harry says without looking up from the instructions for the tracking bracelets. He reaches over and plucks a wand from my hair. "On top of that, Malfoy has a personal elf, not sworn to the family. She's loyal to him alone. She's already helped us sneak stuff from the Manor."
"That seems like a huge lapse in security," Nev says incredulously. He moves to sit next to Harry when my husband gestures for him. Neville holds out his hand and allows Harry to snap a black bracelet onto his wrist without being prompted.
"The hubris of purebloods," I say, trying to determine how many devices we'll need.
"You know Ron and I are both purebloods," Neville says with amusement.
"Barely," I reply.
"I'm debating whether to be insulted by that," Ron says with amused irritation.
I look Neville in the eye.
"Can house-elves just walk into your homes willy-nilly?"
"Only the ones keyed to our wards," he concedes. "But that has nothing to do with my blood status and more to do with the fact that my Gran acknowledges the power of other magical beings."
I slump my shoulders in defeat.
"Fine. The hubris of bigotted arseholes then," I amend, and Ron snorts.
Harry slaps a bracelet on Ron, and I glance over long enough to see his name join the list of the others.
"You want to do this tonight, yeah?" I confirm with Harry.
"Absolutely. But we'll need Draco and Missy," he reminds me.
I pull my communication mirror from my pocket. I turn to Ron and Nev, who are comparing the runes on their tracking bracelets.
"Are you guys staying for this, or are you heading to bed?"
"Staying," Ron and Neville say as one.
I flip open my mirror and type in the code for Draco. It takes him forever to answer.
"What in Slytherins name could you possibly want this late?"
His hair is messier than I've ever seen it and the pale expanse of skin I see confirms he was probably asleep.
"The twins got the listening devices finished." His eyes go wide, and he looks to the side before giving his attention back to me. "We thought maybe you'd like to hear what your parents feel about tomorrow's morning Prophet."
I can see him sliding from his bed.
"I'm on my way," he says excitedly.
"Wear your cloak! I don't want you in detention the first night back."
"Yes, Mum," he says sarcastically before he snaps the mirror closed on my face.
Well.
Harry stands up, leaving the bag of bangles on the table.
"It's going to take him ages. He'll probably press his slacks and wear a three piece suit."
I watch as Harry walks into our sleeping chambers and comes back, fastening his pack around his hip and thigh. He pulls out his invisibility cloak and throws it around his shoulders until only his head is visible. He throws out his hand, and his firebolt slaps into his palm.
"Where do you think you're going!" I demand, climbing to my feet and putting my hands on my hips.
"I'd like to go to bed before dawn," he says dryly. "I'm going to the Chamber of Secrets while we wait for his majesty."
Neville immediately stands up.
"I'm going with you. We move in pairs, remember. You don't go anywhere alone."
Harry growls in frustration, then meets my eye.
Are you ever going to tell Draco about the Horcruxes?
The question takes me by surprise. I hadn't really thought about it. It's always just been the three of us, for our protection and for the safety of anyone who might be tortured for the information. But Draco was given a pureblood education that the three of us certainly missed, and his other knowledge has already come in handy. I'm sure Neville received that same education, even if he isn't as up in your face about it.
I don't know. I admit. Maybe? Should we?
Harry looks to Ron, who, with the intuition of boys rarely apart since the day they met, shrugs a shoulder and tilts his head. Go for it; he seems to say.
I'll tell Neville tonight then. We'll search the Chamber while you deal with Draco and the elves.
He turns to face Nev.
"Come on then. I don't want to be at it all night."
Neville beams and his hands do their usual (or at least now customary) slide across all his hidden weapons, ensuring they're in place.
"I'll get the spare cloak," Harry sighs in resignation.
"I've always wanted to go into the Chamber of Secrets," Neville says excitedly, and Ron barks out a laugh.
Maybe we should have brought Neville along for all our adventures.