Author's Note: Updated as of January 2020. (Note: Early chapters may have typos since they are still being beta read.)
Chapter 15 ~ Amongst Us Part 2
"No one is truly evil. They simply see things from a different point of view."
~ Lots of People
"In the long history of bad ideas, this may be the worst," Weasley muttered, staring down the alleyway. The threshold of the Forbidden Forest stared menacingly back.
"Look on the bright side," Potter grunted, releasing his hold on the windowsill and dropping to the ground. "If there are Death Eaters out there Aragog probably ate them first."
Weasley paled considerably.
Kally frowned, shooting Potter a questioning look. To her utter shock he actually grinned, mouthing, really big spider at her.
Her head darted towards the forest and she took an instinctive step back, not-so-silently questioning his sanity.
Weasley overheard. "Kaylens, never before have we been so much on the same page about something."
Potter just snorted. Loudly.
Luna's striped orange and black socks appeared out the restroom window, and the blonde dropped from the sill to the dusty ground, landing rather elegantly despite the large cloud of dust rising around her. Spying this, the girl smiled, squatting down to spray a fine stream of water from the tip of her wand right onto a sizeable dirt pile.
Kally's brow wrinkled, curious, and then Luna plunged her hands into the murky concoction, stirring it around as if it were pudding.
"Hey gang, the roof looks clear," Amarante hissed from his precarious position atop two trash cans. "Give me two minutes and then I'll be ready to cover you."
She looked up and saw the only adult wizard grinning down. He'd tried something called the Floo network to call for help, but it'd been disabled. Then he'd tried something called apparating, but that too hadn't worked. Then he'd tried a 'patronus charm' to send a message, but apparently was a bit rubbish at them so it'd failed.
Potter had tried to send one too, but it'd hit some kind of a magical barrier, one that had prevented it from escaping the village.
They were in a black hole of communication. Great.
"Kaylens?"
Kally glanced up, right as Potter's calloused hand fell on her arm. There was a determined expression on his face. "You're going with Luna and Ron."
The way he stated it left no room for question, but plenty for argument. She opened her mouth to give exactly that-
"Please, no arguments," he anticipated.
Her lips clamped shut, but she stared at him for another second, another long second. Shadows of warm autumn light crossed his face, his eyes startlingly green. "You can't possibly expect me not to argue," she finally said. "Your head didn't get hit nearly hard enough."
"Actually," he said with a bit of a smirk, "it did. Hurt like a bitch too."
"I'm kind of jealous. If anyone was going to hit you I wanted it to be me."
Those green, green, green eyes danced. "Raincheck?"
He still hadn't removed his hand from her arm, and feeling his skin on hers…it practically burned.
She sucked in a breath and softly argued, "You're not going alone, Potter."
"Yes," he said, and his tone changed, "I am."
"That's idiotic."
He gave a barely there smile. "Your point?"
They both stood there for a minute, neither saying a word. A gust of wind tunneled down the alley, sending Potter's unruly hair flipping into his eyes. He grimaced, letting go of her arm to shove it out of his eyes, his glasses getting in the way. A piece of black hair got stuck in the frame, Potter actually growling in annoyance.
It was almost laughable.
But there was nothing laughable about a perfectly healthy person wanting to risk their life, not when someone who was going to die anyway could do it instead.
Kally shifted her attention away from him and onto literally anything else. "At least tell me why you want to go alone?" she whispered.
Potter finished warring with his glasses, and any ghost of a grin on his face disappeared.
Instead his expression grew strained.
"I'm a better piece of bait than anyone else here, Kaylens, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt. Voldemort's quarrel is with me, not you."
She couldn't help it. Her eyebrows shot straight up. "Oh?" she said, incredulous. "I'm a part creature he's tried to take more than once, Potter. And you're saying it's just with you?" He stiffened at that, but she barely noticed. "Seriously, he's a megalomaniac with psychopathic tendencies and major league control issues. His quarrel's with everyone, not just you."
His mouth opened, as if to say something, and then closed. His hand lifted, hovering by her arm, but he didn't touch her. His fingers opened and closed on thin air, and he heaved a hard breath.
By the time his hand finally dropped onto her, she felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.
Either that or shake him. Either option seemed appealing right now.
He gave her a tug, Kally tripping a step forward. "Realize this might be asking a lot," he said, and his hardened face hovered above her own, "but think you could trust me for maybe five minutes? Because it is. So it'd be really nice if you'd just accept it, and not argue."
If he hadn't just saved her literal neck she might have remembered that she was still mad at him. Instead she shook her head. "You've really got a thing about speaking in riddles, don't you?"
He smirked, but there was no humor in it.
"There's still an issue with your logic."
Now it was his turn for his eyebrows to raise. "Oh?"
"Yes. You've got more to lose than me."
A ghost of anxiety flickered within his eyes. "Why would you say that?"
"Because regardless of whatever quarrel you might," emphasis on might, "have with him, they've already taken everything from me, Potter. I don't have anything left to lose. You do."
She said it mechanically, voice devoid of emotion. It was almost like she wasn't talking about her entire family being butchered right in front of her. It was almost like she wasn't talking about he own expiration date.
Potter's fingers went tense on her. "You still have your life."
"No," she said plainly, "I don't."
Potter's gaze changed, looking at her with something she didn't recognize. She didn't want to. She just gave him a tight smile and reached up to remove his hand.
"Besides Potter," she added with a forced smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I can't let you have all the fun now can I?"
Lines formed around his mouth.
"Plus," she continued, spotting the frown, "you shouldn't go alone. You can get all chauvinistic on me later, but right now I'm coming with you."
A slight cough drew their attention to Weasley's blatant annoyance. "Just let her do what she wants, Harry. If she wants to get killed let her, but we need to go."
Her eyes narrowed onto the red head, but her short retort was cut off by Potter.
"I'm fighting a losing battle here aren't I?"
Her resolute expression remained her response to this statement.
"Then we stick together," he said seriously, drilling his gaze into her own as if it would help the information sink in. He held her eyes a second longer than necessary, then turned to Weasley. "You and Luna stick together too."
"Aye, aye Captain," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Like I would want to walk around in the monster infested forest alone anywa..."
His voice fell dead, for Luna had just stood up, her face completely covered in mud. "Actually Ronald, I can move faster by myself."
Kally almost choked on a laugh.
Potter, on the other hand, was shaking his head, looking as displeased as Weasley. "No Luna, you could be seen and-"
"I've been invisible for over four years," the blonde interjected. "One more day isn't asking too much."
Oblivious to the despondent quality of her own words, Luna, the nonplused witch, resumed her attack on Weasley's face, insisting that blending in with the woodsiemores would help him to evade Stubby Boardman and his band.
As Weasley twisted and turned, trying to evade her attempts, Amarante appeared overhead, dangling precariously over the roof's edge. Nodding his approval at Luna's methods, he threw she and Potter a glance. "Won you over did she? Well I'm ready to cover whenever you're both ready to go."
And then he disappeared over the edge with a grin far too wide for the situation.
Luna managed to streak a smear of dark mud across the red head's vibrant hair, and Weasley's frantic attempts to wipe it away only served to further embed it, lessening the color. He grumbled something, but Luna had already picked up another handful of mud.
Kally shook her head, amused. "Leave it, Weasley."
The look he shot her could only be described as 'pure malice.' Either that or he was mentally trying to set her on fire.
"Red is the first color the human eye sees," she explained, ignoring his scowl. "Your hairs not exactly a natural color for the forest, so Luna's right. Dulling the tone down increases your chance of not being spotted."
Ron's mouth flapped. "Why would you even know that?"
A stab of pain shot through her chest, but she fought it back. "My dad taught science."
Potter's attention was back on her, a strange furrow in his brow. She looked at the side of the building to avoid it.
Luna, however, practically bounced. She grinned widely then stepped back to survey Weasley with a critical eye. She pronounced him ready with a sharp nod, flouncing away without another word.
"Ruddy nutters," Weasley muttered, smearing his cheeks with his sleeve, stalking off down the alley.
Besides her Potter seemed to tense, as if debating something, and then…"Hey Ron."
Weasley halted, turning to glower at Potter as well.
"I bet red's one of the colors Aragog can see," he said with a shit-eating grin.
Ron blinked. Then blinked again.
Then he scowled. "Bugger off, Harry."
"You first."
"Seriously mate, that's bloody cruel."
Potter's lips twitched, and so did Weasley's. The temporary thaw lasted all of five seconds, then the latter wheeled around and set off towards the forest at a much slower, less jubilant pace than the one Luna had set.
Potter watched them go, dragging a hand over his head and tugging at the roots. He looked stressed.
She bit down on her lower lip and honestly had nothing to say – nothing that would help. So instead she followed him in silence, stopping at the threshold of the alley, where the alley opened up onto the main road.
Potter crouched down immediately, giving her sleeve a tug to indicate she should follow. She did, watching as his eyes darted around, looking beyond intense. She, on the other hand, just felt awkward.
"Any marvelous plans for distracting them?" she finally asked.
He nodded.
"Shall I guess," she asked, "or did you plan on just being reckless?" Her slight smile softened the impact of her words, earning her a snort
"Well, if reckless is what you want..."
Without preamble Potter stood and stepped out into the road, whistling loudly, like a tightly wound atom bomb about to go off.
Kally gaped.
ECOTS
Surely if she had a shred of intelligence she would stay put.
Harry never had a single intention of letting her come in the first place. Now he stood in the middle of High street, the main path through the heart of Hogsmeade, whistling and twirling his wand like he'd lost his bleeding mind. Kaylens gaped at him from the alleyway, looking unrestrainedly annoyed.
But hell, at least she was staying put.
Good.
The characteristic squeak of poorly oiled hinges echoed across the road, and two cloaked men with their hoods drawn emerged from the apothecary.
He smiled deviantly.
With all the fanfare of a recently escaped psych ward patient approaching a rampaging rhino he strolled towards them, giving a cheerful wave. "Oi! Inbred blood purists! Fancy seeing you here! I fancied a talk with that snake master of yours. Any idea of where I could find him?"
Tick.
Colorful leaves scattered past. They dipped down on an air current, grazing the dirt before the updraft reclaimed them.
Tock.
Quietly in the alley, Kaylens began cursing his name, an oddly amused grin onto his face.
Tick.
Through the apothecary storefront there was movement. The Death Eaters were clearly keeping everyone indoors, and he took note of this.
But why?
Tock.
The shrouded figures stared at him, and he stared back.
Only he was at least smiling.
Really, it was the polite thing to do.
"Amarante your aim better be damn good," he said in a low undertone, eyes casting about for an escape route. He had been so preoccupied with getting rid of Kaylens, with keeping her safe, that he had forgotten that one crucial detail.
There was no point in both of them getting hurt.
The Death Eaters looked slack jawed for another moment, and Harry seriously wondered if they'd been hexed deaf and dumb.
He decided to test this.
"You know when someone says hi, it's polite to say hello back." He waited just a tic. "Don't you cover this in Bad Guys Anonymous?'
From the alleyway came a strangled laugh.
And that was when Amarante took things into his own hands.
A single blinding flash blasted out, slamming into the compost directly behind the two Death Eaters. Funny thing about manure: it was full of methane.
And methane was explosive.
Incredibly. Fucking. Explosive.
The detonation sent a shockwave rocketing out, slamming into the backs of both Death Eaters and tearing them off their feet. Pieces of timber and chunks of manure flew, falling down in a cascade of literal raining shit. Dry leaves ignited, scattering in the wind, and the roar of the blast struck Harry's ears so hard it physically hurt.
When it was over both masks were on the ground and half a shopfront was gone. Fire licked at the Death Eater's billowing cloaks and it missed by inches.
Well, that was unlucky.
And then a leaf that was on literal fire floated down. It'd been red once, the flame making it almost glow as the edges curled in, turning into black ash. It swept right past an enchanted bat and drifted down.
Death Eater one rolled over onto her back, groaning and looking up.
The leaf landed on them.
The cotton cloak went up in flames, the woman jerking and screaming.
Harry was still standing there when she stumbled to her feet, yanking and jerking at the cloak, attempting to tear it off as her hair caught fire. The sickly sweet stench of burnt flesh got battered to Harry on the wind before the other Death Eater had the sense to knock her to the ground.
Death Eater two kicked dirt kicked dirt onto his downed colleague in a misbegotten attempt to smother the flames, leaving Harry momentarily forgotten.
Red leaf: 1; Death Eaters: 0
Another shopfront door opened…
Harry bolted.
Harry ran for the farthest alley, moving in the opposite direction that Luna and Ron had gone. Another spell was heard lancing out, the ground physically shaking as Amarante dug a brand new crater into the center of High Street with his blasting hex work.
A door was practically punched open right in front of his face, and it nearly took Harry out. He dodged, barely, Quidditch reflexes good for something. He tripped over a piece of uneven cobblestone, hit the ground and rolled and was back on his feet and moving before that particular brand of cloak had even realized where Harry had went.
And then a flash of red burned past, the common stunning spell barely missing him.
Shit.
Someone shouted, other shouts rising up, and a set of pounding footsteps was right behind him, hard on his heels.
Amarante had been right, if the Death Eaters had been given orders to kill surely that jet of light would have been green – not red.
Two meters to go and another Death Eater emerged from the very alley Harry had been running for, blocking his path altogether, pinning him in between two armed men right as the sun disappeared behind gray storm clouds.
Shadows fell across Hogsmeade's center road, another flash of bright red light brightening the scene as he stood helplessly between the two malefactors, wand raised in preparation to only be taken unconscious or dead.
The stunner hit the roof near the edge of the alley, sending pieces of thatch and dead leaves that had clogged the gutters flying free.
All three of them – Harry and the two Death Eaters – ducked instinctively.
Nothing happened.
Slowly the Death Eater in front of him swiveled his head back, looking right at Harry with crazed black eyes, his lips curling back in a yellow toothed snarl. Had Harry not been trapped he'd have made a terse comment about 'walking stereotypes'.
Instead there was a metallic creak.
And then the gutter that had been attached to that roof broke off, that long piece of aluminum snapping to swing like a pendulum. It flung dirty water on all parties, right before its pointy edge connected sickeningly with yellow-tooth's head.
He went down, and suddenly spells and curses were being shot towards the alley Kaylens stood in.
Kaylens had sent the stunner, and yet another Death Eater was now pursuing her.
Harry stuttered in his step for only a second, then threw away the idea of trying to help her. He didn't get much of a choice in that decision. His new friend made sure of that, given they'd just caught him around the throat, throwing him to the ground with all the subtlety of a bludger taking out the opposition in a Quidditch cup final.
Harry's trachea crushed in and for a second he saw literal black. But before he even had a chance to defend himself, curse Kaylens, or contemplate how very crushable throats were – that seemed like one hell of a body design flaw - another spell from Amarante hit the Death Eater and sent the man flying.
The cloaked body thudded down on its head, landing next to the gutter and rolling over with a sickening crackle.
He was pretty sure a neck wasn't meant to sound like that.
Harry scrambled to his feet, reclaimed his wand, and disappeared into what he seriously hoped was an unoccupied alley.
The thing about Hogsmeade was that all the alleys were identical. Really, the shopfronter's association must have had one hell of a pull, because the same brick and same stone were used everywhere. Hell, even the same brand of trash bins were used, every empty crate stamped with the same newt logo.
The point was it was easy to get lost if you weren't right in front of each individual shop to tell what it was.
You could also hide for hours in them, weaving in and out, particularly given they all ended in the same place: the Forbidden Forest.
And that was exactly what he intended to do.
Hell, maybe Aroagog would finally do him a solid and venture close to Hogsmeade. Then he could lure Death Eaters right to the oversized arachnid and give him a little buffet. It might buy him enough goodwill so that next time the bastard spider wouldn't try to eat him.
Yeah right.
One thing Harry was realizing, and he was realizing it damn quick, was that while he was fast on his broom he'd never actually run for his fucking life. As it turned out he was fast, but his endurance...
He couldn't count on it outlasting what could be a highly trained Death Eater, let alone on being able to outrun and outmaneuver all of the flung curses.
Hogwarts seriously needed to change its curriculum and add physical education to it. Fuck. He'd be seriously pissed if he wasn't otherwise occupied by the curses that yet another Death Eater was aiming straight at his head.
One reverberated off a crate and Harry ducked, barreling straight down the alley. He got to the end and by some act of luck, defiance of bottleneck laws, or his dead parents and godfather having his back he reached the end without getting hit. Harry rounded the corner so fast he nearly lost his footing in the loose muck and grime, and he threw himself against the rear wall to what smelled distinctly like Madam Puddifoots.
Harry flattened himself against it and mentally cursed Cho Chang. The witch might be hot, but that single disastrous date had left him permanently traumatized.
He stayed flat to the wall and waited a count of two, and then the Death Eater came flying blindly out of the alley, which is exactly what Harry wanted.
Mister Mask got greeted with a hard elbow right to the face.
Harry flipped his wand and a quick stunner ended Mister Mask's conscious awareness.
It was probably for the best; Harry'd distinctly felt something – like the man's nose – get crunched. So technically he was doing him a favor.
Shuddering he looked around, not seeing anyone else, and he grabbed the bastard by the ankles, dragging him out of sight and into the Forbidden Forest. He dropped him with an unceremonious thud, right in a thorn bush. A few follow up spells made sure the man was silencing charmed, bound at the hands and feet, and gagged. Stunning charms weren't exactly meant to knock one out indefinitely, and Harry wasn't about to risk having to deal with the same bastard twice.
Death Eaters were like cockroaches after all; as soon as you thought one was dealt with, it rolled right back over and kept on coming.
It was annoying as fuck.
It was there, crouched behind the foliage, that he heard the approaching footfalls. Thanking Merlin that he had been concealed he attempted to get a glimpse, only catching sight of an indiscernible dark cloak.
Great. Another one.
And he didn't have a clear shot.
Harry crept through the undergrowth and waited with all the patience of a spider in a web, and the second they were close enough he sprung.
Harry lunged and grabbed the smaller figure. He got them from behind and in a heartbeat he'd spun them around, the two falling against the back wall of Puddifoots. Harry's back slammed against the wall, the Death Eater captured against his chest, and his wand pressed tight to their carotid. "Not a sound," he threatened.
The thing was, the Death Eater wasn't struggling.
That was just a little unnerving.
A deep golden tress flitted out from beneath the hood, and the sight froze his lips mid-hex, as did the clearly recognizable, highly incensed huff of air.
"Damn't Potter!" she spat, somehow twisting around to face him despite the constant grip he held on her torso. For a half second he wondered if he just sucked at capturing people. This witch was like a damn worm.
He blinked. "Damn't me? Damn yourself. I could have hexed you!"
"Yes well, if you hex me you'd have no one to bother once we get out of here," she said, casting a surreptitious glance back the way she'd come. "I saw you get chased back here and managed to get across the road unseen I think."
"You think? Bloody hell Kaylens just lead them right towards us."
Her champagne colored eyes narrowed, golden flecks burning dangerously. "I believe getting their attention was the point, was it not?"
"I was wondering where your sarcasm went," he mumbled, and his heart thumped like a damn drum, fueled by the realization that he'd nearly used a dark curse on her. Fuck. He'd nearly hexed her!
"It came back the second you lied about doing this together, Potter!" she hissed, and her eyes flashed angrily. "You lied! And to think, I was starting to believe that you actually were sorry about earlier."
"Right up until you introduced me to the finer points of butterbeer," he countered, his hands dropping to her waist, his head falling back against the bricks. Hell, he could still smell the butter beer on him. He was like a walking, froth-covered advertisement with just a bit of dirt and blood mixed in for zest.
"Speaking of that take this." Kaylens shoved the broken off shard of a butterbeer bottle into his hand. "I nicked it from the pub."
He frowned, looking at its reflective surface. "Gee, thanks. I'll just reflect the next curse sent my way with it."
"Funny, didn't seem that nonfunctional to the Death Eater I sliced."
His eyes widened. "You did what?"
"He caught my arm and was trying to hex me," she said, indignant, their whispered conversation growing dangerously loud. "It's not like I killed him." She paused, adding, "Thought crossed my mind..."
He stared at her in abject shock, and then, eventually, managed to force his vocal chords to work.
"Then I'm glad you had it," he said, surprising even himself. He let go of her long enough to slip the glass shard into his cloak pocket, and then put his hand right back where it'd been. "Because if anyone is going to hex you it's going to be me, not some Death Eater with an attitude."
"Sod off."
"Gladly."
Yet neither moved, content to glare.
It occurred to Harry that he had Kaylens pressed rather close, his hands on her waist, and at some point the witch's hand had curled in the front of his shirt. It was either for balance or because she was repressing the temptation to shake him; he wasn't sure which, and he wasn't sure he cared.
Kaylens sucked in a shuddering, half-angered breath, and so did he.
"And you didn't answer me about that stunt back there Potter," she whispered, sounding downright pissed. "You just left me. I thought we were supposed to stick together."
Frowning, her sudden reversion back to hostility made sense to him. "Ah...so that's why you're mad."
She merely scowled, fist clenching against his chest, and he considered her damn seriously. They were in a bad situation; Death Eaters were crawling all over Hogsmeade, they were outnumbered, and their friends were attempting to get help back at the castle.
Yet she was mad he'd left here behind.
She'd followed anyway.
Well, no time like the damn present.
"You're sick," he said, and something within his stomach twisted. Giving voice to it made it real. "I overheard Pomfrey and Dumbledore telling you back in the hospital wing. You're pale as fuck and frankly look like shit."
Kaylens made an angry sound and tried to pull away.
He didn't let her.
Harry tightened his hold and pulled her right the hell back, tone damn serious. "I didn't say you look bad, just ill," he told. He'd seen enough of Ron bumbling with Hermione at this point to have a damn good idea what part had pissed her off, and judging from the way she stiffened beneath his hands he'd been on to something. "So given that," he pressed, "I wasn't about to let you walk into a firefight that you couldn't fight back in, especially since it sounds like you can't even hex."
And then he waited.
There were Death Eaters roaming the hell about, and yet here he stood, with a witch, behind Puddifoots, talking.
At some point Kaylens had determinedly stopped looking at him.
He wanted to punch things. Lots of things. Instead he just said her name. "Kaylens."
Her eyes lifted, finally meeting his, and Harry found them flickering uncertainly. But her fists were no longer clenched. One was lightly relaxing where his hand held her steady, the other still against his chest, and he didn't want to think about the host of issues that was causing him.
"Look," he said, a hell of a lot more gently than before, all previous annoyance vanishing. "For the moment can we just call a truce? Stop the bickering for a bit?"
She looked at him for a long, long moment. Then she nodded, her hood falling free, releasing her mane of tangled locks that a slew of leaves had somehow wormed their way into. "Okay." Her tone was tinged with apprehension. "But if you ever pull a stunt like that again..."
A small smile tugged at the edges of his lips, his hand clamping over her mouth, effectively silencing her protest. "It worked didn't it?"
"Hmph."
"And while we're on the subject of stunts," he continued, eyes peering over her head, deep into the tangled coppices where the Death Eater's body lay, "care to explain how you wound up in a Death Eater's cloak? You nearly had an Unforgiveable thrown at you."
Harry about fell over.
Beneath his palm she was laughing, her breath tickling his skin, a mischievous glint he'd never seen in her eyes.
He'd never seen her look like that before, but it suited her.
"Please tell me there's not..." he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
"A stunned Death Eater in nothing but..." she too trailed off, clamping down on her lower lip as laughter shook her. "I-I figured it was a s-suitable punishment for trying to h-hex me..."
Harry stared.
Somehow, with no more than weak stunning spells, she'd evaded capture, cut a Death Eater and knocked them unconscious, stripped them down, stolen their clothes, and still had time to change.
Yet again this girl had completely surprised him, a sudden horrible realization striking him.
"Right. Remind me to stop pissing you off."
Her lips twitched. "Somehow I doubt you'll be able to accomplish that feat."
"Then I'll steal your wand."
That light in her eyes vanished, an uneasy expression he did not prefer replacing it.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, lowering his voice. "It's just I thought you couldn't..."
"Do anything without it?" she finished for him.
Meekly he nodded.
She looked at him directly. "I'm an energy manipulator, Potter. Allegedly I should be able to do some very minor magic if it's electric in nature but…." She sighed and shook her head. "Three months. It's been three months of practice and the only bloody thing I can honestly do on my own is stun."
For some reason his hand had found its way to her hood, pulling it over her head once again. Her phrase forgotten, she observed him curiously, as he unconsciously began tucking her hair back beneath it.
"Best not to let anyone recognize you then," he said, brow furrowed. An unnatural, unexplainable protectiveness overcame him. "Besides, it would be a shame to not leech all of the use you can get out of this lovely fashion statement you acquired."
"You're thinking they won't attack me if they see me in this?"
He nodded.
"We'll you're right," she provided. "That's how I got across the road to you. I walked right past two of them."
Fucking hell, he'd left her alone for five minutes.
"Bit bold, isn't it?"
"Yeah well, despite you calling me a Slytherin-"
He winced. "You heard that."
She shot him one of those looks only females could master. "-repeatedly, I did get put in Gryffindor for a reason."
His mouth fell open and he made an understanding sound. "Ah, so you're as daft as the rest of us then."
She snorted, and Harry tucked the last strand of her hair back beneath the hood. He looked at her, damn stunned.
Months back he'd been right; she wasn't pretty, not by a long shot.
And fucking still…
"Clever Kaylens, who would have thought," he muttered, sounding half surprised himself.
She stared at him, features bathed in the gray shadows of her hood, mouth slightly open as if caught off guard. "I can't decide," she said slowly, "if I should take that as a compliment or not."
He grinned. "Take it as whatever you want, just don't steal my trousers."
She visibly shuddered. "Trust me, I left those on him."
"Good, because frankly if you had messed with a Death Eater's trousers, to extract revenge or not, I would have had you mind wiped for your own good."
"You can do that?" She looked horrified. "I thought Remus was joking when he told me that was a thing."
He quirked an eyebrow. "What exactly did you think we did to that witch back in the pub?"
"Hit her in the head really hard so she'd forget."
"I mean, I guess you could call it-"
Something crunched, like leaves underfoot, and they both froze. Harry gripped his wand and mouthed for her to go.
She didn't need told twice; she was already moving, only she'd shot out a hand and seized his wrist in a firm vice grip, tugging him as if he were her captive, dragging him with her.
"Look confounded," she muttered.
Hiding a smirk he did his best.
They kept close to the shadows, aware that her dark hood would merit a second glance before anyone attacked. That extra second could buy them enough time to do whatever it was they needed to. Like a labyrinth the next alley's egress appeared, but a swift shake of her head cautioned him to run past its opening with her, avoiding whatever lay down it. Harry could only assume she'd come from that way.
They walked at a brisk pace, traversing the winding outskirts of Hogsmeade's commercial properties, until the second to last alley was encountered.
Peering down its empty stretch they deemed it safe enough and ducked down it.
The stench hit Kaylens first.
Kaylens came to a dead halt and practically jumped backwards, colliding hard with his chest. He just steadied her, about to ask his three favorite words when it came to her – what the hell!?- but he never got the chance.
The reek struck him upside the nose like a well-placed punch. Foul excrement and feces, bile and refuse, all of it assaulted him without a hello or apology. It was a sickly sweet stench and yet smelled like an incredibly ill person's diarrhea. His stomach recoiled and his grip tightened on Kaylens, the witch spinning into his chest and clenching her eyes shut as she breathed hard and fast.
Harry, for his part, went entirely still.
There, in the alleyway, was a body.
The lifeless face of Seamus Finnigan stared straight up, eyes dull and glassy.
For one agonizing moment Harry froze. His muscles failed to obey his commands; his nerves refused to fire; his stomach jolted.
And he was ashamed to admit it, but it wasn't the fact that Seamus was dead that got to him first: it was the fact that he'd been with Ginny.
Ginny had been imperio-ed with Seamus, and Seamus was dead.
He croaked a sound he didn't recognize.
Seamus couldn't be dead. He couldn't.
Though there was no denying the blank, open eyed stare of the Irish boy staring forever up into the heavens, just as there was no way of getting around the stench.
Cedric hadn't smelled like that.
Seamus did. Whatever curse had been used had slit him from lower ribcage to pelvis, perforated bowel and shit literally everywhere. The soil was soiled around his dorm mate, and it occurred to him that Seamus had been dead for quite some time.
Someone's hand wrapped around his own, squeezing gently.
"Come on," she said from just besides his chin, "we can't do anything for him."
Harry didn't move until Kaylens applied pressure to him, pulling him up from the dent his knees had left in the dirt. At some point he'd fallen there and drug Kaylens down with him. He'd knelt there, besides the second student to meet the same fate his parents had, and stared.
He stared because in that moment everything changed.
They'd been wrong; the Death Eaters were killing. How many more were dead? "He was with, Ginny."
Kaylens eyes flicked down the alley, the witch gnawing her lip. "She's not her," she said, gaze shifting back to his. And this time, when she spoke, her words were actually gentle. "That's a good thing, Potter."
It took him a second to grasp what she meant.
And then he saw it.
Seamus wasn't the only body that had been dumped in the alley. There were at least a half dozen more, all older looking, all clearly villagers.
They were the ones that looked most likely to have fought back.
Inside him something began to simmer.
"There!"
The Death Eater's voice burst out from the opposite end of the alley, echoing down its length. Harry didn't move away. He just grabbed his wand and took a step forward, ready to meet them.
Kaylens shouted in his ear and tugged him back, and he resisted for a second, his hate filled gaze blazing a furious path even as the first spell blew up an old man's body just to the right.
The Death Eater's aim was absolute shit.
Kaylens gave him a tug that was so hard he was actually surprised, and with gritted teeth he stepped back with her. She couldn't hex. She couldn't. He couldn't get in a wand fight and risk getting taken out, not when she'd be left to their mercy after.
That didn't stop him from firing the most powerful blasting curse he could muster over his shoulder, not giving a damn that those were meant for killing, not dissuading.
Harry and Kally ran.
He fired hex after hex behind them, and in an instant he had to turn his attention forward to fire more. Less effective stunning spells streamed steadily from Kaylens cherry wooded wand, but they were laughably weak. It was a marvel she'd ever knocked him unconscious at all.
Another Death Eater emerged out of literally nowhere and Harry all but threw Kaylens back against a metal bin. They couldn't remain exposed like this. She shouted something, but he drove his shoulder firmly into hers, knocking her to the side, and they tumbled behind that same metal bin.
Kaylens swore besides him, grabbing her shoulder in clear pain, but there was no time to think on it.
CLANG!
CLANG! CLANG!
Curse after curse rained down. The onslaught assaulted the metal trash compactor, rattling the thick metal as if it were mere tin foil, and a corner of the bin began to steam, melting over.
CLANG!
His wand smacked hard against their temporary blockade, strengthening it with a shielding charm Hermione had taught him. There was no noticeable reaction, but the Death Eater's hexes now bounced from it as if they were mere pebbles, no longer clanging as if they were small boulders.
He glanced at Kaylens and their eyes connected. She was collapsed there, wand clenched in one hand and her shoulder in the other, her hair a mess and hanging in her face, but there was a fire in her eyes that made him wonder what the fuck he'd ever been thinking messing with her. She looked right back with equal intensity, hell she looked borderline concerned, and the silent question of if they were each okay was passed and answered before they turned both their wands back on their assailants.
Harry did his damn best to blow off their heads.
Kaylens tried another tactic. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be concentrating on something hard. Extremely, extremely hard. Then she wedged her wand into the minuscule gap between the bin and the brick wall, her breathing strangely regulated.
Her eyes flicked open, that strange glint back in her irises….
She sent a stunner blasting in a straight path along that wall, actually hitting home as one of the men pressed himself against that same wall in an attempt to avoid Harry's cast hex.
That Death Eater fell groaning and disoriented to the ground, yet the pale faced man was clearly still conscious. The wrinkling of Kaylens' nose evidenced her displeasure at this, and Harry blew up the ground in front of Death Eater Number Two, knocking them straight back into a brick wall.
That one didn't get up, but the remaining mask was no longer in their line of sight.
Shit.
Harry ducked back behind the bin and tried to think, and in the process looked up.
And then he realized….the only other spot to hide at that end of the alley, the one the Death Eaters were on, was directly beneath another gutter.
He barked out a laugh and flashed Kaylens a deviant grin. She was still hunkered down, looking oddly out of breath and taxed for someone who'd cast a single spell, but she still managed to raise an eyebrow.
He couldn't help it; he grinned, cockily.
Then he aimed his wand at the gutter and let it fly. It struck, an ear splitting screech of bending metal ricocheting down the alley. The gutter broke loose, scraping across the brick as it swung down from the thatched roof like a pendulum.
And it landed directly atop where the other assailant had lain in wait.
The man's screams reverberated down the alley with sickening clarity.
Kaylens appeared to be pouting. "That was my idea."
"Complaining?" he asked smugly.
She shook her head and scowled. "You still owe me one."
"Fair enough."
Unfortunately the refreshing sound of Death Eater screams was attracting attention, because no sooner had that trio of goons been taken care of then the sound of another pair of footsteps sprinting across the leaves resounded. Only this time the sounds were coming up the back alleys.
Sharing a glance with Kaylens all pretenses at humor once again left, both mutually acknowledged that their retreat could not occur in that direction, and together they took off down the length of the alley, passing the disoriented Death Eaters just before the alley ended, pouring them out onto the wide expanse of Hogsmeade's main thoroughfare.
Marching down the leaf littered road was the fourth Death Eater that they had either heard or encountered in the spanse of less than a minute.
Bolting across the cobblestone road, passing this new champion of cruelty, Kaylens fell into step behind Harry, her wand leveled at him as if she were the one in pursuit, effectively blocking the newly appeared Death Eater from firing anything at him for risk of hitting a comrade in arms.
The tactic worked, for the Death Eater was already swearing in frustration as he reached another alley across the road.
This alley was dark, darker than any of the previous ones they had been down, for the boughs of the surrounding forest hung overhead it, bathing the buildings in refreshing shade during the summer, preventing the snow from accumulating on the roofs in winter, and providing a haven for all those seeking to conduct business of the illicit variety.
The alley was bathed in sinister shadows, but he had always liked the dark, and did not hesitate to turn down it, the pounding of their pursuers resonating in the breezy air behind them. Diving behind a group of haphazardly dumped trash bins the realization that Kaylens was no longer with him struck hard.
How had she fallen behind?
She rounded the corner, wand gone and the hood of her pilfered Death Eater cloak torn off, with the pale one's hand shooting out after her, catching her arm in a vicious grip.
He saw all of this through the trash bins, eyes widening at the malignant look shining beneath the pursuer's hood.
"You!" snarled the man. "I killed you! How can yo-"
A loud howl broke from the goon's throat, the shadows darkening the alley having dulled the flash of the broken glass in her hand. Now that shard shone, reflecting the deep ruby red that could only stem from an artery.
The man's arm was spurting.
Kaylens wheeled around in her attacker's grasp, slashing his arm until the vice grip broke, and she sprinted down the long alley.
The Death Eater screamed and fell to the ground, but his wand was up and aimed at her back.
In the end she wasn't fast enough.
A spell fired out, lighting up the shadows with a sickly gray, and a hastily incanted shield charm died on Harry's lips as the dark light connected with her. She tumbled forward, scattering the leaves littering the alley, and crashed directly into the dirt.
Her tumultuous fall terminated directly in front of where Harry had lain in wait, and though his eyes remained glued to her he couldn't go to her, not yet. Everything in him screamed in protest to act, to do something, but he forced himself to wait, posed in a crouch, ready to spring.
"Broussard what have you done?" Another figure wearing the symbolic shroud of the devil himself rounded the corner, shouting furiously. "Our orders were not to kill! He's not going to be pleas-"
"She's supposed to be dead! I killed her!" Broussard's voice was tinged with hysteria, a madness in his eyes.
The newcomer cast a spell and the spurting in the bastard's arm ceased, the healing spell taking effect. The two stood there, one covered in bloodied robes and looking pale, the other merely dusty.
The pale one, Broussard, stalked forward, his still injured arm shaking as he leveled his wnad directly at Kaylens back.
She let out a small groan, trying to move-
That attempt dissolved in such a violent round of coughing his stomach dropped. What had they hit her with? His fingers clenched around the shard of glass in a tight fist and blood prickled up, but by god he waited.
"I'm ending this," Broussard hissed, Harry silently counting his steps.
One.
Two.
One more...
Broussard passed the gap between the bins and that was all Harry needed.
He sprang out of the shadows, throwing his arm around the tall man's neck, slashing savagely at every major artery and vessel he could reach. A hot spray of blood misted over them as he struck true and Broussard's severed carotid collapsed. The Death Eater made a choked, gurgling sound and fell straight down, his kneecaps hitting the dirt, and for a second he hovered there like a child's play tower of precariously stacked toys.
Broussard still wore a mild look of surprise.
Harry shoved the bastard and the dead man pitched forward, the body taking the brunt of the next hex as the Seeker dove out of the way. Harry hit the ground rolling, eleven inches of Holly already cocked and aimed, the killing curse tearing from his wand.
Green light flashed and it struck.
The thud of the Death Eater's body hitting the ground, the cessation of the other's desperate gurgling, brought him no joy.
Instead Harry felt sick.
He'd killed someone. He'd killed two someones.
Somehow he'd thought it'd feel different.
Kaylens let out a soft moan and his attention jerked from what he'd fucking done back to her. She lay in a scattering of dirt, blood from Broussard's carotid tracing a crimson path across the ground, passing within inches of her left arm. She was clutching her chest, the soft lines of her face screwed up in pain, and his stomach plummeted.
"You know, Potter," she gasped, chest heaving as if it wouldn't quite work. "I hate...when yo...you're right."
Harry was up on his elbows before he'd processed that he'd even moved. "Right about what?" He scrambled and barely noticed that he'd crawled through the blood, it smeared across his shin. He just got by her side, on all fours on the ground. "Kaylens, what'd he hit you with? Did you hear it?"
"About...n-not being...taking care of...myself..."
It was like she'd only heard part of his question.
The disjointed caliber of her speech terrified him.
"Kaylens!" he demanded, voice full of urgency. "What did he say? What incantation did he use?"
Clouds shifted and dappled shadows spilled across her face. Kaylens shook her head weakly, her voice even weaker. "I don't-don't know."
Her voice faded, a hacking cough resuming.
"Damn't…" he hissed, casting a furtive glance at their surroundings. They were in the middle of the alley, exposed. Two stiffs and an injured comrade. Shit. Shit. Shit.
A foul odor was already rising from the fresh carcass nearby.
He snapped his head back to her and grimaced. "Hey," he whispered, forcing the panic from his voice. "We need to move you. I'm going to move you, alright?"
She nodded weakly, and he felt her hands curling around the folds of his cloak, grasping onto him for support as he lifted her away from the fallen Death Eater. Harry hauled her across the ground, blood and dirt mixing in a drag line, until he got them between two crates.
At least here they'd have a second or so of warning before anyone crept up on them.
Harry set her down against the crate and brushed her golden hair aside. "Kaylens," he said, voice low and urgent, "what were you hit with? Try to think." Eyes dark as volcanic rock searched her face, looking for a sign, anything at all, to indicate what possible curse could be running its course within her. Harry didn't know his eyes had changed, that they'd shifted. He just knew that Kaylens was pale, an ashy quality to her skin, her chest rising and falling too shallow for his liking.
And he hadn't heard what curse hit her.
"Kaylens," he prompted, trying not to panic.
"I… d-don't know…" She shook her head against the crate. "I didn't hear.."
She stopped.
She simply stopped.
Any adrenaline that had kept him going earlier had long since evaporated. Now his muscles were racked with microscopic shaking, and the first fledglings of real fright crept into him.
She appeared unnaturally deprived of breath.
"Kaylens…"
"H-harry…it h-hurts…"
His insides froze. "What hurts?"
"Chest…"
An invisible hand had latched onto his throat and begun to crush. Kaylens had gone limp against the crate, making small discomforted sounds.
Her chest was barely moving now.
Harry moved her, shifting her until she was on the ground, the witch going without complain. The back of her head thumped against the ground, her golden hair splayed out around her head like a fan, and she didn't seem to even notice.
He was at a literal loss of what the fuck to say.
Harry was bent over her, hovering. His eyes raked over her as he searched for a mark, some type of clue to tell him what spell she'd been hit with, and he came up empty.
"Shit," he muttered. There wasn't a scratch on her. Not even a scorch where the curse had struck. "Your chest hurts, anything else?"
He swore he'd heard Pomfrey say that to him a dozen or so times after matches.
And then Kaylens body jerked, undulating off the ground so violently he physically grabbed both her arms to keep her from hurting herself.
"Kaylens!" The sound of his low, urgent voice terrified him nearly as much as the unnatural stiffening of her arms.
Her hand flailed and found the front of his shirt.
"Crushing…" she gasped. "Can't… Breath…" Her lips parted as if trying to speak further, emitting only a gasp, her fist coiling tightly around the folds of his cloak.
Crushing? Crushing, crushing, crushing.
There was no fucking way she'd been hit with something run of the mill.
Harry sorted through his scant repertoire of dark curses, limited only to the texts he had borrowed from the Restricted Section, Kaylens nails scraping against his chest in a way that might have sent him shuddering had he not been so full of abject panic.
And then his brain found it; it caught onto a single sentence from the book he'd been reading the night he'd pinned Kaylens to the wall and forced her memories out of her.
The Verpletterend adem is capable of crushing the air from its victim's lungs….
It was like embalming fluid had been injected into his veins.
She'd been hit with a crushing hex. It would crush the air from her lungs, slowly, painfully, eventually suffocating her by sheer force.
Her breathing was already shallow, coming in short, quick bursts of hyperventilation, her chest barely rising because it couldn't.
He looked at her and his entire mouth went dry. "Kaylens," he croaked, "stay calm okay? You need to relax."
Weakly she nodded, her jerky movements striking evidence to her pressing need for air.
The counter curse that relieved the crushing hex….Harry tried to think what it was. He clutched onto Kaylens arms and physically closed his eyes, trying to think!
A choked whimper distracted him.
"Kaylens please…" he pleaded desperately. He was losing her, helpless as her eyes took on a glossy quality. They flickered aimlessly. "Focus on me." He released her arms and grabbed onto either side of her face, tilting it to force her to look at him. "Look at me okay?"
Her lips parted like she was trying to talk, but all it did was flap wordlessly.
"Come on Kaylens, talk to me. Please!" Her form stiffened and her hands, once clutching onto him so tightly, released his cloak, reaching to grasp blindly at her slender throat.
"No!" He snagged her hand and trapped it within the confines of his own. "Breathe, Kaylens. Try to breathe."
Harry tried to sound calm, but he was doing a piss poor job of it.
Kaylens clawed at him; he grabbed that hand too.
And then all of a sudden she was fighting him.
"Kaylens fucking STOP!"
A voice inside his head and pointed out that she sure as fuck wouldn't. She was oxygen deprived. She was using her last reserves to fight him irrationally, reverting back to what they all were at the end of the day: animals with baser instincts.
That voice sounded strangely like their DADA instructor.
Fuck.
Her back arched up from the dirt and her feet kicked out, sending dust scattering up. She struggled and choked and a rasping, wheezing sound came out of her throat. A second later she wrenched her arm out of his grip. Her lips had gone a strange shade of pink-blue they weren't before and Harry's stomach leapt straight up his throat and he well and truly panicked.
She was going to die.
He didn't have time for this.
Harry caught her arm, capturing it in a grip ordinarily reserved for the Quidditch pitch. His forearms bulged out, Harry straining and fighting her, but his decision was made. He couldn't help her if she was fighting him.
He shoved her arms down and swung his leg over her waist, straddling her. She struggled and bucked and tried to hit, but he pinned her wrists beneath his knees. Her hips, her entire body rose, pressing into him, against him again and again, but his hands were now free to work.
He tried to think of the counter curse, but all he could think of was a variant of finite meant for dark curses that only might work. It was non-specific. It wasn't designed for this curse, but fuck he had to try.
There was no time left.
"Fuck." Harry didn't hesitate. He grabbed at her cloak and tore it apart, the button breaking free as he shoved it off her shoulders. "Kaylens, stay the fuck with me," he muttered, staring at her chest. The fleecy wool of a well-worn sweater covered it, and it moved up and down in ragged attempts to gasp.
Amidst the Death Eaters trying to kill them and the spell trying to kill her, Harry realized that Kaylens had cleavage.
His entire throat locked up.
He had time to feel actual nerves; they penetrated the adrenaline and fear of the situation. It would have been laughable if things hadn't been so dire.
He fucking forced his mouth to work.
"You can punch me later," he said, shoving both his hands on top of her chest, directly atop where her lungs lay, or where he thought they lay. He'd study anatomy better. If Kaylens lived, he'd pick up a textbook on it. He'd actually listen when Tres babbled about first aid and its importance.
Right now he shoved his hands on top of her chest and gripped his wand between both fists. Kaylens hair was splayed out around her head, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, her pale skin damp and exposed above her collar line. Every shallow breath she took made her collarbone stand out, and he tried not to stare as her head fell back against the ground-
Kaylens suddenly went limp.
Her chest stopped moving, her fingers loosening from his shirt and where they'd latched onto his pants. Her hands slipped away and fell dully to the dirt, arousing far more than panic within him.
Her eyes flickered halfway shut, as if no longer really seeing.
Harry went still. He went incredibly, impossibly still.
"Kaylens?"
Silence.
The entire alleyway was eerily silent, and Harry realized in that instant that she wasn't breathing.
His throat constricted violently. "Hold on," he croaked.
The counter spell, the generalized finite for stronger, darker curses was force of will magic. It was like the patronus. You had to want it. You had to believe, and Harry….
Harry wanted it to work.
He closed his eyes, shoving the entire length of his wand against her damp skin, just above her collar line. His hands remained on her chest, all concentration contorted into the effort of relieving the pressure, of getting the curse to lift, of getting her to breathe.
"Sterk Ademendum Finite Incantatum."
The words were practically ground through his teeth and his eyes shot open.
Harry Potter sat on top of Kaylens in that shadowy alley and looked at her. He looked and looked and looked.
And there was nothing.
He felt nothing.
The hands he pressed so hard to her chest tensed, his fingers curling imperceptivity against her sweater and skin, and a surge of desperation so potent and so powerful rose up that it threatened to consume.
There was nothing.
And then he felt it: a pull from a place he couldn't quite name, from a place he couldn't identify. Nevertheless it pulled from deep inside him, as if a string had been carefully wound through each and every one of his veins before being tugged slowly and gently out by a well-meaning hand.
A gentle blue mist began to form, pouring forth from his palms, and it cascaded across Kaylens chest like an opaque fog. Harry felt it. It poured out of him and into her, seeping into her skin, and he forced every bit of will he had into it.
Slowly, surely, it faded from sight.
Harry was left oddly winded. He nearly collapsed forward, catching himself before he crushed her. Then he grabbed for her. His free hand sought hers, finding her fingers and weaving his through as tight as he could. He clutched onto her with a damn need he couldn't describe, running his thumb across her knuckles, a silent mantra pouring from his lips as he hovered and tried not to fall. "Come on, Kaylens. Come on."
He held himself up with one arm, the hand propping him flexing in the dirt, his forearm fatigued. That entire arm shook with borderline violence. He murmured desperately, Kaylens head lolling to the side to thump against that same forearm. Her nose pressed against it and he felt nothing come out of it.
No air, no breath, no incensed huff. Nothing.
He was watching her, searching for something, anything, to indicate success.
He saw nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
He felt sick.
There was no air against his skin.
"Kaylens fucking please," he begged, dropping lower over her. His head fell forward and he closed his eyes. "Just hang on…" he pleaded. They had lost someone already. The village had lost more. And Ginny could be-
No.
No one else. No one else was dying.
"Just a little longer," he said. "Stay with me."
Kaylens had to live; she had to. What if he hadn't gotten to her in time? What if-
She moved.
Harry's eyes shot open, and only then did he realize how impossibly close he'd gotten. He was bent low over her, holding himself up with one arm, and his face was mere inches from hers.
His eyes were glued to her face. "Kaylens?" he asked, almost afraid.
Her body gave a shudder in response.
And then her lips parted, a shallow breath drawn between them.
It was so damn quiet even he barely heard it; but he heard it.
He grabbed at her face and dropped his head against hers. "Kaylens," he gasped. She was still limp. He had a firm hold of her hand, but her fingers remained lifeless. "Come on Kaylens," he muttered, "one more time."
This time her chest rose, ever so slightly, as if the pressure upon it were being released by a cruelly slow force.
Harry's hand went to her neck, tracing it, feeling for the gentle throbbing just beneath the skin, and he found her pulse beating weakly.
It was weak, but it was there.
Gulping hard he pulled back, giving her space. His hand returned to her face, pressing against her cheek and gently turning her head until mottled shadows and sun cascaded over it. In class Professor Gai had talked about airways, and he'd taught them that it was easier for someone to breathe when their chin was directly in line with their chest, so Harry did exactly that.
He let his hand there and his thumb ran over her cheekbone, not giving a shit about his permission.
A long, long time passed. Every time he heard a sound his head would jerk up. He half expected another Death Eater, a creature, something to show up, but nothing had.
Every time the alley remained empty and his head shot right back down to hers, watching.
Kaylens was breathing now. It was shallow, but it was something. He kept her head in place as her chest began rising with more and more regularity, and with each breath she got more and more alert.
Eventually her eyes flickered slightly, the small sign betraying him. Harry's body began to shake in abject relief the instant he felt her hand squeezing back gently against his own.
"That…" he croaked. "That wasn't funny."
She let out a breath. "Wasn't…wasn't meant-"
"Shut up." He could have laughed. She'd nearly died and she was arguing.
Feebly she nodded, lips parted as her breath came ever more steadily. Long moments passed and his eyes stayed glued to her, watching the color return slowly to her features. First the unnatural tinge to her lips faded, light pink replacing ghostly gray, and then a vague warmth rose across her cheekbones.
She was still pale, but at least she wasn't blue.
Harry dragged a sleeve across her damp brow, waiting for the hitching of her breath to fall under control. Kaylens fingers tightened around his, as if relieved he was there.
Fuck, this had gotten weird.
A second later she tapped against his leg, still looking out of breath, and only then did he realize that he still had her one arm pinned under his knee.
He flat out snorted. "You needed to sit up anyway," he told, sliding down and off her legs, before flat out recollecting her into his arms. He didn't ask if that was okay and he didn't give a shit if she wanted to slug him. He just gathered her against his chest and let her collapse against him, Harry collapsing back against the nearest crate.
Her hair tickled his nose, and it occurred to him that there were leaves in it. A bright red one threatened to poke out his eye.
He took a deep breath, breathing in her earthy scent, and a second later he flat out buried his face in her hair. "Fuck…" It struck him that she was trembling, and Harry wound his arms around her damn tight, flat out clinging to her. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Fuck," he repeated, voice thick and raspy, "for a second I thought you were dead."
She made a small, weak sound, and if hard pressed he'd say it was almost amused. But he never asked. Weak fingers clung to him, that Kaylens' only response.
Unconsciously he found his hands tangling in her hair, combing through her tangled tresses, giving in to his burning urge to touch, to feel her presence directly beneath his hands. Somehow, the feel of her against him relieved him in a way that just the sight of her breathing could not.
He'd just finished raking out another knot in her hair, Kaylens face slightly turned, silently watching his progress with a tired, bemused smile. "You're grooming me," she murmured.
"Someone had to."
"You-" she stopped, and whatever she was going to say got abandoned. "Thank you."
"That's one you owe me now." His fingers caught around a bright auburn leaf in her hair, carefully extracting it from behind her ear, and Merlin…
His fingers fucking lingered, Harry feeling a small tremor coursing through her.
"You're still counting?" she whispered, the hint of a smile on her tone.
She had tones.
Harry crushed her to him, unsure of his sudden need for physical contact. "Have to stay ahead of you somehow."
She laughed, the sound breathless, and Merlin he hadn't heard her make that sound before. "So…back to bickering."
Turning her face until her hazy eyes peered into his own, he said, "I guess so." He was studying her now. He looked and looked and looked yet was alright, but he didn't quite believe it, even if she was warm and moving in his literal arms.
She'd thrown butterbeer in his face not three hours ago, and now…
"You're alright….but we're still exposed here. Think you can stand?"
She smiled wanly. "I'm exhausted, not immobilized."
Despite the angle, despite how awkward it was, he shifted her in his arms and pressed his forehead against hers. "Good," he murmured, his nose rubbing against hers, "because I'm not carrying you."
"Like I would let you."
He chuckled softly at the light rasp to her voice, a light object breaking free from his neck at that moment, falling onto their intertwined laps.
In the preceding scuffle the Kunnskap must have snapped, for the miniature pensive had fallen, landing on Kaylens' outstretched legs, its chain dangling onto his own.
Kaylens' fingers wrapped around it, another bemused expression tracing her features, like she couldn't quite solve the puzzle that was him. "Never pictured you as one for necklaces, Potter."
He scowled, snatching the chain while she held onto the vial, the wizard fully intending to reclaim his property, but he never got the chance.
At the far end of the alley, at the threshold of the Forbidden Forest, something snapped.
Then something crashed, twigs breaking and leaves being crushed, sounding like a scuffle.
Immediately Harry jerked, his fist clenched around his wand. He wanted to move, but he didn't know if Kaylens actually could yet.
And then another sound met his ears.
It was growling.
Loud growling.
Two fully grown werewolves burst out of the undergrowth and tumbled into the alley, one's fangs firmly imbedded into the hide of the other, hauling it away while the other struggled savagely against it.
Kaylens was still staring in shock when he'd started moving.
He grabbed her, hauling her to her feet, not bothering to wonder why there were werewolves in the middle of the day, or why one was acting protectively rather than savagely.
There wasn't enough time to dive down that psychological wormhole.
The rabid one broke free, tearing down the alley. The other thundered after it.
It wasn't fast enough.
The first lunged for the kill and Harry let loose a hex of silver particles, but not before the Kunnskap clutched between their hands started to glow. The wolf howled, and there was just enough time to feel a sharp pull behind his belly button.
In a brief instant, before the entire world was compressed into an impossibly tight and swirling space, he realized that the Kunnskap was a portkey.
It was only after they landed, entangled in one another, that it occurred to him that Dumbledore had made it an emergency portkey, only activated during mortal peril.
Dumbledore you clever man.
Thank Merlin Kaylens had been holding on as well.
