After leaving the Three Broomsticks, Merula had taken ahold of his arm and apparated near what looked like a decrepit block of muggle apartments. Harry silently followed her to the eighth apartment where she unlocked the door with a series meaningful wand movements and taps, revealing within a safe house that certainly seemed to be lived in.

The living room was small and was illuminated only by the light filtering through the windows, putting focus on a coffee table littered with takeout boxes and muggle microwavable meals. The adjacent sofa appeared worn with balled up sheets and a pillow that was nearly flat on one of the armrests.

Harry awkwardly moved the sheets and almost didn't sit at the face Merula made in his direction. He only took a seat when she allowed herself to fall onto a recliner that creaked loudly when she opened the footrest, knocking over an open bottle of beer that was left on the ground.

With a wave of her wand the bottle flew into a trash can behind him, joining the others with a noisy clatter. With another wave, a scroll that was already on the table unraveled, knocking yet another bottle over to reveal the manic face of a man that looked familiar.

"Our target is Augustus Rookwood," Merula began. "Our investigations indicate he's hiding out somewhere in the forest near Great Hangleton."

"He looks familiar," Harry voiced his thoughts. "What did he do, you know, besides being a Death-Eater?"

"He might look familiar because you've likely already met him," Merula crossed her arms and legs as she continued to regard him. "Does the Department of Mysteries ring a bell?"

Harry felt a hot flash of anger course through him as he finally recalled exactly where he remembered the man from. "He was there the night Sirius died," he said as calmly as he could. He was now very much aware she was gauging his reactions and he suspected going off the rails wouldn't look good for him.

"That's right, but he's also wanted for many other crimes, you know, besides being Voldemort's fuck toy. Our mission is to capture him, alive," Merula emphasized the word. "And before you ask, we need him alive because he might have information about any other remaining Death-Eaters and their locations."

"I understand," Harry said through grit teeth, and he did understand. What he couldn't quite work through were his own feelings of anger. Of course he had every reason to hate the man for his part in his godfather's death, and he did. But what infuriated him further was the fact they needed to capture him instead of the alternative.

The realization gave him pause.

Was he really so willing to kill?

He killed Voldemort, but he was an undeniable evil in his own plain of existence. Could he then approach his followers with the same prejudice? They were, after all, just as capable and culpable of the same vile behavior.

But his current mission was to take the man in alive, so he wouldn't have to answer that question just yet.

"I need to know you'll be able to control yourself, Potter," Merula said pointedly. "Again, we need him alive if at all possible. Now don't think we'll be walking in with our hands tied behind our backs. If he leaves us no choice then we'll do what we have to, but you have to keep in mind he's currently more use to us alive than dead."

Harry took a deep breath he couldn't fully keep steady. "I understand," he repeated, with more force this time. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"We'll be flying over the forest to try and locate his hideout. You have your map with you?" Merula asked.

"Well yes but it doesn't display anything outside of Hogwarts," Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "You know, I was wondering how Madam Bones knew about my map."

"Intelligence is vital to aurors," Merula said sarcastically and with a purpose he was unaware of. "But sometimes our information is either outdated, flawed, or just plain wrong. We were hoping to find him using your map but I guess that would have been too easy. Looks like we'll just have to do things the old fashion way."

"So you don't actually know where he is then?" Harry asked, feeling slightly incredulous.

"Oh we'll find him," Merula stated confidently as she stood. "We've got his location narrowed down to a manageable radius. We haven't moved in any closer to confirm so as to not alert him. That's where we come in."

Harry followed her with his eyes as she trotted across the room to a cabinet filled with dusty potions. As she did so, his attention briefly straying to her body, her outline becoming visible from below her robes as she reached for something on the top shelf, his mind racing to places they shouldn't.

"How… uh," he cleared his throat when he lost he briefly lost his voice. "How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

She seemed rather young, actually. She couldn't have been much older than him, in fact.

"Not something you should ask a lady," Merula snorted, glancing at him from over her shoulder. "But if you really must know, Potter, I'm twenty-five."

Tonks was the same age.

"Did you know Tonks?" Harry asked. "Nymphadora Tonks?" He clarified.

Merula paused briefly and never answered his question. Instead she returned a moment later with four potion vials, two sets of differing potions. She set two down in front of him and then put the other two away within a bag on the table that reminded him of Hermione's in that they seemed to disappear within.

"These potions are gonna help us on our mission. One'll give you enhanced night vision and the other increases your natural magical defenses for a time. Now don't get the wrong idea, Potter, you'll still die if you get Kedavra'd, but it should make you more resistant to magical attacks," Merula informed him, pointing out each potion in the process.

Harry took a moment to study the potions. One was dark pink in color and the other pitch black. The former was for night vision and the other for magical defense. He couldn't believe he never thought of brewing such potions while he was on the run with Hermione, a walking and breathing wealth of knowledge on the subject.

"When do we head out?" Harry asked.

"Once night falls," Merula walked out of the room again, this time into the kitchen. "Have you eaten anything yet? Figured we'd have a bite before we get into the nitty gritty?"

"There's more?" Harry asked. He could see her rummaging through the cabinets from where he sat. She pulled something form within and then moved to the fridge, retrieving form within an amber bottle. "And what's the nitty gritty, exactly?"

"Well if you do stick it out and become an auror, you'll have to suffer through what's called pre-mission briefings like the rest of us. Might as well give you a taste of what that's like right now," Merula returned with an uncut half loaf of bread. She stared at it, smelled it, made a face, before throwing it in his direction on the table in front of him.

It landed with a loud thump.

"I'm not hungry," Harry denied as respectfully as possible.

"Suit yourself," Merula allowed herself to fall back into the recliner once more and twisted the top off her bottle. She let go of the bottle and it remained floating in place, and with a flick of her wand, the picture of Augustus was projected above the table. "Augustus Rookwood, born April 17th…"

Harry listened intently as Merula droned on about their target's history of crimes and his known magical abilities with all the enthusiasm of Professor Binns during a History of Magic lecture. It was an experience for certain, hearing of the vile crimes committed by their target while her beer would occasionally float to her lips in between breaths.

She then proceeded to explain his own role as a mere support. Her command of the mission was never in question, but nevertheless, Merula made it a point he was not even allowed to sneeze without her approval.

All in all, it seemed like he was just an unwanted tag along.

"Any questions?" Merula asked.

Harry watched her as she continued downing her beer, wondering just how good an auror she really was. "Uh, yes actually, I — "

"Good," she finished her beer with a content sigh. "Then it's time to go." She was on her feet again. "Wait here, I got something for you, a gift from Madam Bones."

Harry looked out of the window, seeing the sun was getting close to setting. He didn't realize just how long that lecture of hers had lasted.

Merula returned a moment later with a red bundle she tossed roughly into his lap, surprising him by the sheer weight of it. "Madam Bones insisted you have this already. Feels like a bribe if you ask me," she said with a smirk.

He unraveled the bundle and smiled genuinely at the Gryffindor red auror's robe within. It was a soft cloth material with a golden trim along the arms, chest, and around the high collar with brass buttons along the chest. On the right shoulder was a silver stitching in the shape of an M.

"Magically enhanced to repel low level spells and most tears, along with a few other surprises I'll let you discover on your own. If you go to the bathroom you'll find the rest of your clothes there. Can't have you fighting in your school clothes now can we?" Merula said humorously.

Harry hurried to the restroom to get changed and found a bundle of clothing stacked neatly on the closed toilet. He ignored the decrepit look of the restroom as he quickly and excitedly dressed himself. When he was finished he looked at himself in the mirror and admittedly liked what he saw.

Beneath his red auror robes he wore a dark brown and heavily padded yet somehow fashionable button up dress shirt with matching colored pants. There were straps on his right thigh where he could house his primary or secondary wand, something he was beginning to consider, and a pouch on his upper left thigh. To complete the outfit were a pair of dark leather boots that were heavy to lift, but felt extremely light once on his feet.

Overall, Harry quite liked the way he looked and shook his head with a smile at the thought that becoming an auror seemed that much more interesting to him after seeing how they dressed. He even allowed himself to wonder what Hermione would think if she saw him, but just as quickly banished the thought.

He returned to Merula, who whistled at him appraisingly, making him blush slightly.

"Looking good, Potter. You'll bee batting girls off left and right if you show up to Hogwarts dressed like that," she joked.

"I don't know about that," Harry mumbled as he palmed the back of his own head nervously.

"Don't let it go to your head," Merula rolled her eyes and offered him her hand. "Come on then, we'll be apparating to a predetermined location near the forest. Our brooms'll be waiting for us there."

She bypassed his own outstretched hand to grab his arm and with a twisting of his vision, the feint scent of mold was replaced by the fresh smell of pine. While Harry recovered from ride-along apparation, Merula held out both her hands and closed her eyes. Before he could ask her what she was doing, two brooms shot out from the woods and into her hands.

"Here," she tossed him a broom before mounting her own.

"I need to learn more wandless magic," Harry said as he followed her lead.

"Sure comes in handy," Merula stated smugly before kicking off to rise slowly into the sky. "Control those quidditch instincts of yours now. We're not racing here. I just need you to follow me. We'll be flying pretty high in the sky in an effort to avoid detection from prying eyes below and wards."

"What's the matter, scared you'll lose?" Harry wasn't sure what prompted him to say that.

Merula surprised him by offering him another dimple smirk, this one challenging in nature. "You don't know where we're going for one, but beyond that, I wouldn't want to wound that lion's pride of yours."

"Oh yeah, how's that?" Harry asked, his own smirk stretching his face.

"I heard you were kind of good at quidditch," Merula's grin became a smirk as she leaned forward on her own broom. "Well, so was I!"

She shot off into the sky very quickly before ducking back into the tree line. Harry was smiling as he gave chase on his own broom. He was admittedly impressed by her ability to maneuver through the trees with a precision befitting a seeker. She even briefly took to broom surfing, jumped over and ducking beneath intertwining branches before finally breaking the tree line, slowing down considerably to a casual cruising speed.

"Seeker?" Harry asked as he pulled alongside her.

"For a couple of years, Slytherin," Merula stated casually. She was currently side saddling her broom as she looked down at the sea o green and then to the map in her hands. "Keep an eye out for any sings of human activity. You know, smoke or light. Also, keep an eye out for bodies of water; most people tend to camp near them."

"What if he's using a concealing charm?" Harry asked as he narrowed his eyes to look down to the darkening forest beneath.

"That's where these come in handy," Laura tossed him the night vision potion. She immediately knocked hers back with a grimace and tossed the empty bottle into the air, destroying it with a quick blast from her wand.

"Your eyes!"

Her eyes had become yellow with pupils narrowed into near vertical slits, almost like that of a cat. He wasn't aware potions could physically change one's appearance.

"You might want to pinch your nose," Merula suggested, ignoring his comment.

He uncorked his own potion and smelled it, nearly dry heaving in the process.

"Yeah, the nose thing isn't just to mask the taste," Merula said with a mean smirk.

He did as advised before downing it in a single swig, destroying his own bottle. It tasted as terribly as it smelled, like black licorice mixed with ear wax.

"Tasty, isn't it?" Merula joked.

"Madam Pomphrey has an extensive collection of tasty potions," Harry replied with a strained smile. The taste was still prominent in the back of his tongue. "This wasn't the worse I've ever tasted.

That distinction went to the Skelegrow potion.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Merula grinned at him again. "Brewed it myself. I might not be as good as Haywood, but I manage."

Harry didn't give much thought to whoever that was because he was staring at her dimpled smile. A smile he could see very clearly as everything had become an odd shade of grey and much more defined than even his usual daytime vision.

"The wind's in our favor tonight," Merula continued. "Just a tip; keep an eye out for trees that aren't moving. That's how we find Rookwood. If you were listening to me earlier, you'd know his specialty is, as it is with most Death-Eater grunts, offensive magic, not illusionary. Pay close attention to anything that doesn't quite match the surround environment like a bunch of trees that are still while others move."

Merula began to drift away, holding up a hand to stop him from following. "You go that way and I'll go this way. If you find something, channel your magic into this."

Harry didn't take his eyes off hers as he caught whatever she'd thrown at him above his head.

"Not bad," Merula said despite having rolled her eyes. That didn't keep her cheek from dimpling again.

Harry was confused as to why, beyond her base appearance, he was so satisfied by her reaction. He quickly looked to the pocket watch he'd just caught before he was accused of staring.

"That's what we call a way-pointer. When activated, the watch hands'll point you in my direction, or vice versa," Merula explained. "It's currently tuned to me but you can add more magical signatures to it for any other aurors you might work with in the future. With that, let's get started. Good luck, Potter."

As he watched her go, Harry came to the decision that maybe working with Merula wouldn't be so bad. Not only did she play quidditch as a seeker, a big plus in his books, but she was quick with her wit and very easy on the eyes. There was certainly a lot to like about her but inevitably, his thoughts strayed and lingered on his best friend.

With a shake of his head, Harry hung the watch from his robes and flew away in his own direction.


Hermione paced back and forth within the Gryffindor common room, her front teeth biting painfully into her lower lip as she waited for Harry to come through the portrait door. She could't stay angry at him anymore. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to apologize for striking him the moment she did so, and then again when she turned away from him, but her pride got the better of her.

She'd never hit Harry before, or really anyone outside of duels and fights for her life and the guilt of doing so was eating away at her insides. Her actions were even more vile considering the life he lived before coming to Hogwarts. One filled with abuse, verbal and likely physical.

It was only an assumption because she never had the heart to ask, but Hermione was almost certain Harry faced abuse from the Dursleys. The muggle family he rarely mentioned without spiteful remarks or growing pale. At least that's what he did when he was younger.

Thinking back on his first few years of Hogwarts, the signs were all there. Harry was always smaller than most his age; a clear sign of malnourishment. There were other signifiers of a troubled home life and she was ashamed to have overlooked them all, an unfortunate by product of her constant concern for her friend.

It was ironic, really. To have been blinded by her own worry.

Oh, and how she worried for him. It's all she'd done all their years of friendship, only for him to imply he had nothing to live fore truly and deeply hurt her feelings.

Did Harry not consider her reason enough to live for? Had all their years together, their friendship; did they all mean so little to him?

Because it meant everything to her.

Something had changed between them in their time together on the hunt for the horcruxes. At least for her they had. Feelings she thought to have long since buried had resurfaced full force and she could no longer deny the fact she was in love with her best friend, Harry Potter.

And it took almost kissing Ron to realize it.

She wanted to like him because it meant not having to face a world in where she couldn't be with Harry, so Ron would have have to suffice as a replacement. It was a vapid mindset, to be certain, but Hermione didn't realize just how much of a mistake she was making until they moved to kiss.

She saw Harry in place of Ron and suddenly it felt like she was committing a betrayal, so she turned her head in the last instant. Even feeling his clammy lips against her cheek felt wrong.

To her surprise, Ron seemed to understand. In fact, he seemed to know immediately why whatever they may have had, came to an abrupt end when he muttered Harry's name in defeat.

What followed was a long, awkward, and difficult conversation that ended on both agreeing to remain simply as what they always were, just friends.

Of course Harry had chosen the time of her realization to make himself scarce. He always seemed to have something to do on the weekends as of late, leaving her and Ron with little else to do than to visit the burrow to keep the still grieving Weasley family company.

Though she did miss spending time with Harry, her time with Ron and his family helped to further cement in her mind the fact their relationship would have never worked. They were just too different and in her case, opposites did not attract.

"Hermione?"

Neville was descending the stairs while rubbing his eyes.

"Good evening, Neville," Hermione greeted respectfully but she was in no mood to speak with anyone who was't Harry in that moment.

"Don't you mean goodnight?" Neville said through a yawn. "What're you doing up so late?"

"I'm waiting on Harry," Hermione reluctantly admitted. She was well aware their fight was a rather public affair, as they tended to be, and would rather not hear others opinions on it. "I need to discuss something with him."

Neville looked at her strangely. "Did he not tell you?"

"Tell me what, exactly?" Hermione approached Neville in a march that had him taking a step back. "What do you know about Harry?"

"Oh, well, he's away on his first assignment," Neville said, nervously.

Hermione felt her stomach drop as worry gripped her. "He's what?"

"I thought he would have…" Neville seemed to think better of what he was about to say. "Erm, he told me he was going on his first assignment with the aurors today."

"Did he tell you what he was doing?" Hermione asked and continued before the poor young man could say anything. "Well, did he?"

"No, he didn't seem to know what it was himself," Neville took a single step back onto the stairs. "He only said he'd be back as soon as he could. I don't know anything else. Promise."

Hermione realized she must have been making a face because Neville, who, while still shy from time to time, had come a long way to properly representing his Gryffindor placement, appeared nervous, almost frightened of her.

His reaction was telling.

"Thank you for telling me, Neville," Hermione said softly and apologetically. Her thoughts were once more on Harry, hoping dearly he would be okay.

A stupid, irrational side of herself hoped their argument would not be the last memory Harry had of her.

No!

Harry would return to her. He always did and he always would. And she would always be waiting for him when he did.

"You know really cares a lot about you," Neville said.

Hermione was ashamed to have already forgotten about him.

"What?" Hermione felt her face burn at the thought.

"Harry," Neville clarified with a smile. "I don't know why you guys were fighting, but I can only imagine it has something to do with him working with the aurors. Either way, I can tell it was eating him inside every time he looked at you. He's never really himself when you aren't around, you know."

Hermione felt her eyes burn along with her cheeks but she smiled regardless. "Thank you for letting me know, Neville. I think I'll apologize to him when he gets back."

"Anytime," Neville suddenly looked bashful again. "You guys are my friends. I hate to see it when you fight."

"Me too, Neville," Hermione sighed. "Me too."


Harry had been scouring the tree-line for the better part of an hour when he felt the watch within his robes vibrate softly. He pulled it out, feeling it was also warm to the touch, and opened it to find all there watch ads were pointing at three, which became twelve when he reoriented himself.

He felt a jolt of exhilaration as he flew in the direction the watch hands pointed and shortly encountered Merula. She was now seated properly on her broom, looking downward. He pulled up alongside her and looked down as well.

That's when he saw it. A particular think bunch of trees remained deathly still despite the wind flow and there were a few felled trees in the clearings with cuts that were too clean to be naturally occurring.

"What's the point of disillusioning the area if you're going to leave evidence you cut firewood?" Harry muttered in a whisper.

"Good catch," Merula said, glancing at him. "That's actually how I found him."

"What do we do now?" Harry asked.

Merula handed him the second potion, the one for magical defense. It tasted worse than the first, like a rotten lemon dipped in acid. She drank her own and took his own empty vial and placed them both back within her bag. She then drew her wand and tapped it against her broom and hung her bag on the front end of the broom.

Harry was surprised when she jumped off her own broom and onto his, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

"Drop me off on the Northside near the beaten trail," he shivered as her breath tickled his ear. "You'll come in from the south. I'll try and apprehend him but you'll be there to keep him from running, or to kill him if he kills me," Merula said.

Harry turned to face her to find their faces were very close. "W-What?"

Merula's violet eyes bored directly into his own. "Don't act surprised or dwell on it too much, Potter. Just stay focused on the mission and observe. And don't interfere unless you absolutely have to. You'll know when that is; I'm trusting your judgment here."

"Okay," he reluctantly nodded and silently vowed to follow her instruction.

Merula dropped off his broom and circled around slowly before jumping off his own broom, drawing his wand. The disillusionment charm really did seem sloppy compared to what Hermione could do.

The surroundings didn't exactly match the charmed area, with fallen leaves pilling around the affected area in a loose, circular shape; the border of the illusion.

Harry had the Expelliarmus spell on his mind as he moved through the illusion, revealing within a worn beige ten, illuminated faintly within the radius of a flickering fire. He saw Merula on the other side of the tent, who motioned for him to stay where he was with a hand command.

He did as he was told and observed, if reluctantly.

His heart began to race and somehow, his altered vision seemed to sharpen. He held his breath as she disappeared into the tent. All went silent for a painfully long moment before the tent exploded in brilliant flashed.

It took all of his will power not to rush in and help her, and he almost did, but he had his orders. Instead he cast a shield charm over himself less he catch a stray spell.

A purple flash ripped the tent in two, revealing the dueling witch and wizard and it was a sight to behold.

They circled each other, casting spells in near rapid fire, some without verbal incantations, others not. Augustus was firing forbidden curses constantly which were aptly deflected or all together blocked by Merula, her concentration almost tangible.

"Avada Kadavra!"

Merula looked panicked as she cast a spell that hit the ground, erecting a wall of dirt between herself and the spell. The wall exploded when the spell impacted, throwing her off her feet and obscuring everything in a plum of dust.

Harry couldn't stand by idly any longer and was already building his magic to conjure a spell of his own when a bright blue streak erupted from within the wall of dust an instant later, striking Augustus in his right knee. The man emitted a painful, high pitched screech as as he fell, his foot bending back in an unnatural angle at the knee.

Harry winced at the sight as Merula appeared from within the cloud, casting the Incarcerous spell to bind the dark wizard in place from his legs up to his arms, snapping his broken leg back into place. The man squirmed in place, angling his wand before she cast the Expelliarmus spell of her own, disarming him finally.

"Let me go you cunt!" Augustus growled as he writhed violently in his restraints.

Merula kicked him in the face with her heavy boot, leaving his mouth a bloody mess. "Keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll cut your tongue!" She threatened. "Remember, we have ways of growing it back, many times over if needed."

"You won't get anything out of me!" Augustus spat a bloody glob at her face that didn't quite reach. "Except maybe my prick! That way you'll be as useful to me as yer mother was!"

Merula's glare became absolutely venomous and with a flick of her wrist, the man's binds extended up to his neck, cutting off his breathing. "You're not the first to say they won't talk and yet here I am."

Harry stepped forward but didn't say anything or move to stop her. He could see the man's face growing blue but he expected Merula had the situation under control. A sentiment he almost immediately began to doubt as she continued to strangle the man

He wouldn't exactly be upset if she were to kill the man, but at the same time, it felt wrong and he didn't want Merula to get into any trouble for doing so. Yet he was reluctant to interfere. Not because he was afraid of her in her current state, but rather because there was a fury in her eyes he recognized all too well.

A branched snapped behind him and Harry acted on instinct, casting a shield charm over Merula just as he felt something white hot hit him on the center of his back. The shield he placed over her shattered upon the first impact of a pink jinx; a result of sloppy last minute casting, but it gave her enough time to erect her own shield.

Harry, meanwhile rolled onto his back, and then again to avoid another streak of blue that exploded the dirt beside him, sending him rolling further. He cast two knock back jinxes in rapid succession in the direction of the tree line he thought to have seen the spells manifest from before finally finding his footing.

He cast another shield over himself just as a wave of multi-colored spells began to rain down upon them like shooting stars streaking through the dark of the night.

"Get over here, Potter!" Merula shouted loudly at him to cut through the sharp whizzing and crashing of the spells. "I need you to shield us so I can fire back!"

Harry pushed past the pain spreading through his back as he ran in front of Merula, getting to her just as her shield was shattered. He pushed his magic into casting a powerful shield widening the area of protection.

"Fuck, they're behind us too!" Merula had only been able to cast two jinxes from around Harry's protection before she crashed into him, back to back, casting her own shield.

Genuine fear flooded Harry as the spells grew stronger and more accurate, all around them the flashes of light revealed masked figures emerging from the woods, encroaching on them steadily.

"What do we do now?" Harry's voice was strained with the effort of keeping his shield in place. With every spell blocked, he could feel himself being drained of magic.

"We need to get out of here!" Merula stated the obvious, her shield shattering in the middle of her proclamation.

Her spell-casting was quick, erecting another shield to take it's place immediately. But she was breathing hard and his peripherals revealed her shields were struggling to absorb and deflect.

"Can't apparate us out of here while holding them off! I need you to cover us!" Merula shouted. "Spread your protection around us both!"

"I can only cast a frontal shield!" Harry informed her.

"Just fucking do it!" Merula said as she dropped her shield, grabbing a hold of him.

Harry, instead of panicking, felt a calm wash over him as he wrapped an arm around Merula shoulders, bringing her flush to him. He pointed his wand upward, his thoughts were split between improvising magical theory to extend his shield a full three-hundred-sixty degrees around them, and doing so for a very specific reason.

He could not die in the forest.

He would not die in the forest.

He had to return to Hermione.

"Protego!" His shield became fully visible, encapsulating them like a bubble.

Harry wasn't sure how he managed it, only that he couldn't do so for much longer. "I can't hold this much longer!" He whispered through grit teeth, directly into her ear.

Merula remained silent, her eyes shut harshly, she continued to hold onto him. In any other context, Harry would have been found their positioning incredibly intimate but he knew she was currently trying to concentrate.

She also continued to breathe hard and she was visibly perspiring. It was obvious their initial scramble for survival had drained her.

Her eyes snapped open abruptly, meeting his briefly before the world twisted around them.

When they reappeared, they did so still in the forest, a few feet above the ground in fact. Harry realized this with the familiar feeling of brief weightlessness before he fell.

"Shit!"

Harry felt the burning sensation in his back become stabbing as he hit the ground, managing the singular curse before the breath was forced from his lungs. His altered vision swam with black splotches and what little breath he retained was expelled from him when Merula pushed roughly out of his hold.

After a few excruciating moments, Harry finally recaptured his breath with a gasp. He looked up to Merula, who was now standing over him, still breathing hard herself. "What in the hell was that?"

"That, Potter, was a fucking ambush," Merula was glaring at him, her words low a pointed. "You were supposed to be watching our backs. How did you not notice we were being surrounded?"

Harry felt anger of his own flood him but he was still in too much pain to stand. "I didn't hear or see them coming until they attacked! How in the hell was I supposed to know we were being surrounded?"

"It's always a possibility in this line of work," Merula ground out. "You of all people should know that."

"Then fucking tell me that next time!" Harry winced, feeling his back was now growing wet. WIth a groan, he rolled onto his knees.

"Oh shit, you're hurt!" Merula kneeled down next to him. "Fuck, Bones'll never let me off shit detail if I let the bloody Boy Who Lived, die."

Harry somehow felt betrayed and grew angrier hearing that. He pushed her away as he stood. "I'm fine," he said, but he wasn't.

He managed to take a couple of steps before dropping down to a knee with a pained groan.

"No, no you're not," Merula pointed her want to the sky. "Accio, my broom."

A few moments later, her broom descended from the sky.

"The broom didn't take long to get here which means we need to get moving soon," Merula said as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a very familiar green potion. "Drink this and take your robe and shirt off. I need to see your wound."

Harry downed the Wiggenweld potion and tossed it aside with a crash. The healing potion was one of the few that didn't taste horrible. In fact it tasted like a mixture of a type of berry he could never identify, and a sweet tart.

Merula pointed her wand at him and mutter an incantation under her breath. His body grew heavy and the pained numbed ever so slightly. Harry looked at her oddly.

"Episkey. It's a minor healing spell I've learned to tweak to add a numbing affect," Merula answered the unasked question. "I imagine you probably won't be able to pull your clothes off otherwise. I suggest you hurry, though. It won't last long."

Harry managed to slip out of his robes with little problem, allowing them to fall off behind him and then slowly worked on unbuttoning his suit. Despite the spell and potion, his mobility was still very much limited by the pain growing in his back. Merula helped pull his suit off and he grimaced at just how blood soaked it was.

It made a disgustingly wet sound as it was dropped next to his robes and Harry oddly lamented seeing his awesome new robes had a hole in the back, its edges singed black.

"I guess it was a good thing Bones made me give you the robe," Merula commented as she reached into her bag for another potion and a bandage. She uncorked it with her teeth and handed it to him. "Don't know what that spell was, but judging by the burn patterns on your robes, it looks like a piercing spell. Probably would have gone straight through your heart if not for the robes, and the potion."

Harry didn't understand why such a close death didn't seem to bother him as much as they used to. He didn't dwell on it much, though as he downed the second bottle of Wiggenweld.

"I think that's the most potions I've ever taken in a day," he said after having wiped his mouth on his bare arm.

"If that's the case you'll be feeling it later," Merula said from behind him. He could only hear she was removing the bandaging from its packaging.

"What do you — " Harry winced at the sudden feeling of a cool blast of cold water on his back. "What the fuck are you doing?" He flinched and glared at her from over his shoulder.

"Making sure you make it to Saint Mungos alive," Merula stated flatly as she slapped the bandage onto his back with no consideration to his injury.

"What the hell is your problem?" Harry hissed as he pulled away from her.

"My problem is this fucking assignment!" Merula snapped back. "If I didn't have to babysit you, I would have killed that bastard!"

Harry was taken aback by the proclamation, but he didn't show it other than narrowing his eyes. "I thought we were supposed to capture him alive?"

He recalled Augustus' words and wondered if the mention of her mother may have played a part in her change in demeanor.

"That's what I meant," Merula didn't even bother to sound convincing as she turned away, pointing her wand into the darkness. "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing but a silver whip shot out from the tip of her wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" Merula tried again but was no more successful. "Fuck!" She cursed and attempted the spell twice more to no success.

"Are you trying to report to Madam Bones?" Harry guessed.

"Yes but I can't bloody…" Merula trailed off angrily. Though his augmented low-light vision was beginning to wear off, he could still see there were unshed tears in her eyes and she seemed to be truly frazzled.

"What do you want to say? I'll send it," Harry offered but there was no kindness in his words. The pain of his injury was increasing by the minute and they weren't exactly out of the metaphorical or literal woods yet.

"Just tell her to meet us at Saint Mungos," Merula sighed as she mounted her broom. "We're flying there. Can't risk apparating there in your sorry state."

Harry closed his eyes to focus his already near exhausted magical reserves and to better remember the dance he shared with Hermione in that tent. It was the exact moment he realized he was hopelessly in love with his bookworm of a best friend.

With a genuine smile, he summed his Patronus. The large stag bowed to him briefly before bounding away with its orders.

"Must have been some memory," Merula sounded bitter. She tapped her broom with her wand and it extended at least a foot in length. "Get on behind me and keep your hands on the broom or your ass is walking to Saint Mungos."

With a pained grunt, Harry bent over to retrieve his robes and shirt, throwing them over his shoulder, he mounted the broom. As they took into the sky and the chill in the air made his back ache further, he began to question whether or not he made the right choice considering his first ever mission with the aurors was a total failure.


I don't remember if potion use is all that prevalent in the books or movies since I haven't really read or watched either in a long time, but I'm taking a Witcher-like approach to their use. Too much and you'll get sick but they'll be useful for specific activities like seeing in the dark and so on.